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empressofthesunwriter · 8 months ago

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Yin and Yang: Book 1.12

Balance is a key aspect in the world, so why shouldn’t the Avatar have an opposite?

In a world where Raava and Vaatu merge with humans, the Avatar and the Daimon try to keep the peace between the four nations.

Aang and Hua are the current incarnations, but wake up 100 years in the future.

How will these two learn all four elements in one year and defeat the Fire Lord?

Check out my DeviantArt or Wattpad to see the Art of the FF ;D

Book 1.12: The Storm

Water.

Earth.

Fire.

Air.

Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony.

Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked.

Only the Avatar and Daimon, masters of all four elements, could stop them, but when the world needed them most, they vanished.

A hundred years passed, and my brother and I discovered the new Avatar and Daimon, an airbender named Aang and an earthbender named Hua.

And although his airbending and her earthbending skills are great they have a lot to learn before they’re ready to save anyone.

But I believe Aang and Hua can save the world.

***

It’s a beautiful dawn sky.

Happy Hua lays with her head on Katara's lap, while the older girl strokes her black hair.

Jaiyi was cuddled up on her side, yawing cutely.

Aang was enjoying with Momo on his shoulders the last rays of the sunlight.

And Sokka was relaxing on the border of Appa saddle.

Hua could even hear Appa's happy rumble.

All was good.

All was perfect.

“We need you, Hua.”, cooed Katara at her, twirling a piece of black hair around her finger.

Smiling Hua answered: “I need you too. All of you, guys.”

She notices something out of the corner of her eyes. As the Daimon turns toward it, her expression changes to shock.

The sky's colouring has changed to a dark, ominous grey, revealing a churning storm cloud.

“Oh no, we need to get away from it!”, shouts Hua.

The Daimon turns to her friends, but only she and Jaiyi are on Appa's saddle.

“Guys?!”

A light shines from above and Monk Gyatso in lotus, floats downward, positioning himself in front of Hua.

Surprised Hua calls out for her old mentor/grandfather figure.

“Why did you disappear, little flower?”, he whispers sadly.

“I never wanted this…I…I just wanted to be a normal girl again.”, admins Hua devastated. “I was selfish, forgive me!”

She reaches out to Gyatso, but before she can touch him, Gyatso turns grey and dissipates into smoke; it blows over Hua, causing her to raise her left arm in front of her face and turn away to shield herself from it.

Lightning splits the sky.

Suddenly it’s raining and Aang is sitting on Appa's head, holding the reigns and screaming at the top of his lungs in terror while they go down.

Hua holds with everything she got into the saddle, holding Jaiyi tight to her chest.

A potent gale throws them off the saddle as Appa and Aang splash into the waters of the ocean.

Appa resurfaces again, and growls, but is quickly subdued anew by another wave.

Humans and animals fall unconscious into the water.

As Aang releases the reigns and drifts off, his eyes and tattoos start to glow brightly.

At the same moment, Hua's eyes start to glow orange.

They slam each of their fists together, creating a bluish-white, orange-dark sphere that encases all four of them.

As the air sphere slowly solidifies into an icy globe, the young Earthbender hears voices calling for her.

“We need you, Hua!” Gyatsu.

“We need you, Hua!” Katara.

“We need you, Hua!” Sokka.

“We need you, Hua!” Her mother.

“We need you, Hua!” Her father.

“We need you, Hua!” Bai.

“We need you, Hua!” Bumi.

“We need you, Hua!” Kuzon.

“We need you, Hua!” Suki.

“We need you, Hua!” Ai.

“We need you, Hua!”, a thousand known and unknown voices.

“Don’t leave again!”, shout all the voices together.

The darkness around her goes up in flames.

A male silhouette stands in the inferno and attacks her with his flames!

***

With a scream, Hua wakes up.

At the same moment, Aang awakes from his nightmare too.

He startles Momo, who was curled up on top of him.

Momo leaps onto Katara's stomach, causing her to shoot up with a startled look, before jumping on Sokka's, who shoots up, still sleepy, halfheartedly wielding his dagger and boomerang.

“What's going on?”, asks Sokka drowsily, looking around. “Did we get captured again?”

Hua and Aang find the eyes of each other and see the same terror.

Ah, they had nightmares each again.

“We just had nightmares, again. Go back to sleep, Sokka.”, tells Hua.

The water tribe boys don’t let him tell it twice and snuggle back down in his sleeping back.

Worried Katara looks at her two young friends. “Are you all right, Hua and Aang?

Both say at the same time they are okay.

“You both seem to be having a lot of nightmares lately. Do you want to tell me about it?”, offers Katara.

“I think I just need some rest.”, says Aang rolling himself in a ball.

Meanwhile, Hua stands up.

“I gonna splash some water on my face.”

“Okay, be careful.”

“Always, Katara.”

As Hua makes her way over to one of their water container she hears how Sokka wants to tell about his dream, but Katara just gives him a look and he stops.

After she washed her face, Hua curls back into her sleeping back.

She waits a few seconds before she pokes Aang.

“Hey, you awake?”

He opens his grey eyes.

“Mmh, mmh.”

“Wanna go for a walk?”

“Sure.”

Quietly to not wake their friend they walk away from camp, along the coastline of the ocean they camp.

“Did you dream the same again?”, wants Hua to know.

Aang makes a sad sign and nods.

“Me too.”, murmured Hua in defeat, but Aang still heard her. “I think they are our heavenly punishment because we run away like cowards from our destinies as Daimon and Avatar.”

Thoughtful Aang picks up a stone and lets it spring over the water's surface.

“I’m starting to think this too. Also, the feelings of guilt we have don’t help either. How could we leave anyone hanging?”, he wonders.

Hua picks also up a stone and lets it spring over the ocean.

“We were dumb and selfish. It’s that simple, we didn’t wanted to listen to how the world needed us.”

“The world still needs us. This time we can’t run away.”, reminds Aang, letting a stone spring again.

“Yeah, but we also need some sleep.”, mumbles Hua tired. “I don’t know how long I can go without a good night's sleep.”

“When was the last time we slept well, it seems so long ago.”

Surprisingly a cute blush forms on Hua's face, which makes something in Aang's stomach all fuzzy.

But the good kind.

She looks very pretty with a blush.

Now he starts to blush because of his thoughts.

“You remember our little canyon adventure?”, begins Hua sheepish. “And the next morning when we woke up cuddling and said we never gonna talk about it again? That was the last time I slept well.”

This…makes Aang feel a lot of confusing and strangely nice feelings.

His blush gets darker.

What was going on with him?

“Oh…you know I slept well that night too.”

Both twelve-year-olds play nervously with their hands.

Then they talk over each other and don’t get what the other says.

Ever the gentleman Aang tells Hua to go first and she suggests they should cuddle with each other to fall asleep.

Now both look like peperonies.

“It’s completely platonic.”, explains Hua fast. “Bai and I shared a lot of times our beds and cuddled. It will be just like that.”

Something in Aang practically whines at this.

He ignores it.

“Sure, we can try.”, he murmurs shyly.

He was so tired and sick of nightmares, if cuddling with one of his best friends helped then by all means.

A pretty smile formed on Hua's lips and no, Aang didn’t though about how otherworldly beautiful she looked under the moonlight like this, this were his past lives bugging him.

Perish this thought.

So they made their way back to the camp and well…they cuddled facing each other like when they were in the canyon.

Not even five minutes later they fell asleep.

And no more nightmares this night for them.

***

Morning came and Team Avatar-Daimon packed their campsite up.

Katara carries their packs towards Appa, who yawns. As the animal closes its mouth again, Aang is revealed sitting on his head.

“Look at those clear skies, buddy!”, cooed Aang at his bison, petting him. “Should be some smooth flying.”

Katara looks into a bag before holding it upside down, and sprinkling the ground with crumbs; Momo and Jaiyi instantly eat them.

Sokka walks past her toward Appa, carrying some of their luggage.

“Well, we better smoothly fly ourselves to a market, 'cause we're out of food.”, tells them Katara, as she climbs on the saddle.

Hua, with their sleeping bags, joins her. Momo and Jaiyi follow.

“Guys, wait. This was in my dream.”, exclaimed Sokka. “We shouldn't go to the market.”

All turn to look at him and Katara ask what his dream was.

“Food eats people!”

This only made Katara shake her head and Hua made a facepalm.

Oh Spirits, not this early!

“Also, Momo could talk. You said some very unkind things.”

Momo's ears droop as Sokka speaks.

After this little episode, they finally fly themselves to a little harbour.

They looked around for food, but Katara was not convinced to buy the watermelon the merchant lady formally threw into her face.

However, since they are out of money, they can’t buy it.

Frustrated the four teens walk around.

Sokka bemoans how they are out of food and out of money.

What should they do?

Katara sasses back that he should get the job.

It’s like the universe wants to do them a favour since they hear how a fisherman and his wife argue about going fishing.

The wife doesn’t want to, because she feels in her bones that a big storm is coming, for which her husband proclaimed her crazy since it was a beautiful day.

Yet the fisher wife won’t change her mind.

So the fisherman said he would give the next person who wanted to help him the doppel of her money.

In a beat of an eye, Sokka was on the side of the fisherman and was hired on the spot.

The rest of Team Avatar-Daimon stared at Sokka.

“What? You said to get a job ... and he's paying double.”, reminds Sokka.

The fisherman rounds up on Sokka with a wild expression: “Double? Who told you that nonsense?”

Well, what was done was done and Sokka had to work now.

Just as he helped the fisherman load his boat, Aang and Hua noted how the sky became darker.

Both remember the faithful storm which ended with them trapped in the iceberg for 100 years.

They are getting scared.

“Sokka, maybe this isn't such a good idea. Look at the sky.”, points Aang at it.

“You can still back down, we will find another way to get money.”, adds Hua.

“I said I was going to do this job. I can't back out just because of some bad weather.”. disagrees Sokka.

The fisherman's wife speaks up: “The boy with the tattoos and the Earth Kingdom girl have some sense. You should listen to them!”

This makes the fisherman stop, turning to Aang and Hua.

“Boy with tattoos? Airbender tattoos. Earth Kingdom clothes. Well, I'll be a hog monkey's uncle. You're the Avatar and you must be the Daimon, ain't ya?”

“That's right.”, confirms Katara.

All three of them smile friendly.

“Well, don't be so smiley about it.”, snarled the fisherman, making them frown. “The Avatar and Daimon disappeared for a hundred years! You both turned your backs on the world!”

“Don't yell at them!”, shouts Katara back. “Hua and Aang would never turn their backs on anyone.”

“Oh, they wouldn't, huh? Then I guess I must have imagined the last hundred years of war and suffering.”

It’s like Hua and Aang get slapped in the face. The old feelings of shame and guilt reappear.

“Hua and Aang are the bravest persons I know. They have done nothing but help people and save lives since I met them.”, defended Katara, not seeing how both were stepping away and gripping each other's hand. “It's not their fault they disappeared, right Hua, Aang?”

Finally, she turns to her friends and sees how freaked-out they look.

“Hua, Aang, what's wrong?”

As an answer Aang opens his glider, Avatar and Daimon grip each other and the glider with one hand each and fly away.

They ignored Katara's shouts for them and the fisherman's harsh but true words.

They…they just can’t face it, alright?

They know all is true, but it still hurts been remember how utterly selfish they had been.

Any day they fight with these feelings, getting them thrown at them makes it even worse.

And then sweet Katara who believed in them and protected them.

How would she react when she knows the truth?

Neither wants to find out.

They find a little cave on the side of a cliff face.

Entering it they just sat down in the darkness, back to back, facing a wall.

None of them had anything to say.

What could they say, what they didn’t talk about already?

Time passes, the weather changes to a storm and Katara turns up in their hideout.

“We’re sorry for running away.”, chorus the Avatar and Daimon together.

“It's okay. That fisherman was way out of line.”

“Actually, he wasn't.”, disagrees Aang.

“What do you mean?”

“Neither of us wants to talk about it.”, confesses Hua silently.

“It has to do with your dreams, doesn't it?”, suspects Katara and puts a hand on the shoulders of Hua and Aang. “Talk to me, guys.”

Aang and Hua search for each other eyes and after a moment they nod.

“Well, it's kind of a long story.”, begins Aang.

Suddenly, Momo and Jaiyi leap past Hua, Aang and Katara, startling them.

Appa has also entered the cave.

He nuzzles Aang's head with his nose, making Aang smile. Aang pats Appa's chin.

Jaiyi curled up on Hua's lap licking her cheeks. The Daimon pats her between the ears.

Katara asks if Hua can make a little fire and the younger girl agrees.

Making a campfire was like second nature to her now.

They all sit around the fire, Momo and Jaiyi on the laps of their master, as Aang begins to tell his side of the tale.

How he was showing his friends the air scooter, the council of elders who talked with him, telling him he was the Avatar because of four toys, the Avatar relics, he picked and how war was coming and that’s why they told him at 12 and not at 16 his identity.

Now Hua took over.

She stared into the flames and it was like the day her life changed came alive before her…

***

Gritting her teeth Hua followed after her mother and father. Bai was holding her hand, looking utterly bored.

The Lower Ring of Ba Sing Se was as always full of poverty and misery.

Sometimes Hua had the feeling she could taste the negative emotions in the air, but this was silly.

No one could do this.

“Mom!”, she whined. “Why must we go to the temple, it’s not like we are religious.”

“It’s so stupid, I wanted to play with Daisuke and the other's earth ball.”, whined Bai also.

“I wanted to meet up with Ai.”

Ah, pretty Ai with the auburn hair.

The prettiest girl in their neighbourhood and she liked Hua!

Hua!

The one boys were scarred because she could bend better than them and the girls mocked for ill-fitting clothes.

But Ai told her she was like a warrior princess from her favourite book and admired her.

That’s why she became her friend.

Now they were more than friends.

Hua could still feel her hot lips on hers.

Ai was such a good kisser.

“Kids, please the Earth Sages send us personal a message.”, explained Haruka for like the 1000 times her children the reason they had to go. “We can’t ignore an official invitation.”

Their father turned to them giving them a grin.

“Maybe they just want to convert us. Don’t worry kids, we will be just really annoying and they will let us leave!”

“Kun!”

“What?”

“Don’t tell our kids to be annoying they have to show the Earth Sages their respect.”

Their parents kept on bickering, which made Hua and Bai roll their eyes.

This was their parent's weird way of flirting.

Hopefully, they wouldn’t get another sibling.

Five mouths to feed was already a lot.

When they reached the temple, Hua already got a weird feeling as one of the sages said, only she could enter the centre chamber and her family had to wait.

Nervous she sat before the five sage who stared at her with green piercing eyes.

What they told her, changed her whole life in a beat of an eye.

“Are you sure?”, she asked desperately.“The Earth Kingdom is so big, maybe you are wrong!”

The Great Earth Sage just looked stoic at her.

“Believe me, young Hua, we have our way to pit-point where the next Daimon is born and also…do you remember this.”

He earthbend to her a scroll which opens up.

In it are four different toys.

A feeling of familiarity washed over her.

“These are the Daimon relicts. Toys of past Daimons of your past lives.”, he explains. “Eight years ago we tested all the children of Ba Sing Se, you were the only one who picked this.”

Like in a trance Hua's hand strokes over the toys.

“I totally forgot this day…but I’m remembering it now.”

The Great Sage nods pleased.

“Good. Now we don’t have much time. You must be united with the Avatar. Only together you will stop this war on the horizon.”

A bad feeling takes its place in Hua’s stomach.

“What does it mean?”

“You will be immediately brought to the Southern Air Temple to meet the Avatar. You have five minutes to say goodbye to your family.”

***

Back in the present Hua looks up from the flames and sees how tears are in the corners of Katara's eyes. She feels her own too.

“They really only gave me five minutes. I couldn’t even say goodbye to my friends to my girlfriend or pick up my things. I was carted away like some cabbages.”

“Oh Hua, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay Katara, you aren’t at fault here.”

“So you were upset that you were the Daimon Hua and you the Avatar Aang?”, summarized Katara. “Why wouldn't you be excited about it?”

“Well, I didn't know how to feel about it. All I knew was that after I found out, everything began changing.”, told Aang.

Hua agreed with a nod.

Aang starts again with his tale.

How his life changed because he was the Avatar, his friends not anymore playing with him, training and waiting for the Daimon to arrive.

“Monk Gyatsu told me I would feel better after I met my other half.”, began Aang.

“But the day I arrived at the Southern Air Tempel, we both just saw in each other how our whole lives changed. It was easy to direct this anger to the other.”, enden Hua.

Katara looked at them in compassion.

“You felt like you couldn’t choose anymore right?”

The twelve-year-olds nodded.

“What happened then?”

“I began living in the Southern Air Temple and me and Aang were drilled in our elements. One of the Earth Sages, Master De, stayed with me there to make me an earthbending master, but Monk Gyatsu was my guardian, like Aang, and he decided over us. He wanted us to stay kids a bit longer.”

Again Hua stared into the flames and was transported into her memories.

***

Hua was sitting on a windowsill reading a scroll about legendary animals and where to find them, while Monk Gyatsu and Aang played a round of Pai Sho.

“Very interesting move, young one.”, mussed their guardian.

“What do you mean?”, asks Aang.

At the right moment, the girl looks up to see how Gyatso uses airbending to make a spiral, flipping a part of Aang's clothing.

Quickly Gyatsu moves two pieces around.

Aang flipped his clothing back into place.

“Hey!”, he called, but all three started to laugh.

That’s when the door opens and Monk Tashi and Sage De enter.

“You're playing games with him?”, scolds Monk Tashi.

“And you let her read some fantasy story?”, adds Sage De.

“The Avatar and Daimon should be training!”, they annoucon together.

Calmly Gyastu answers: “Aang and Hua have already trained enough for today.”

“Time is short.”, barks Monk Tashi and waves Aang over. “Come with me. I must test you on some high-level techniques.”

“Daimon Hua stop reading this nonsense and come with me, we still have to work on your basic forms.”, reminds Sage De.

Disappointed Aang and Hua stand up to join with them, as Gyasti states: “No. As long as I'm their guardian, I will decide when they train ... and when he gets his butt kicked at Pai Sho and she can read the scrolls she loves.”

With a huff, both Monk and Sage leave them.

Happy Aang and Hua smile at Gyastu.

They are so happy to have him.

***

Hua returned from her shared memories with Aang, which he told Katara, as he explained how one day all turned worse.

The other monks and the Earth Sage wanted to take him and Hua away from Gyatsu since he was too close to them.

They should be brought to the Eastern Air Tempel to complete their training.

“That's awful, Aang and Hua.”, says Katara. “I don't know what to say.”

Angry Aang stands up and goes into Avatar State shouting: “How could they do that to me? They wanted to take away everything I knew and everyone I loved!”

He makes hot ciders fly, but Hua, also in Daimon State, just bends them away saying with a cold voice: “They took me away from my family and wanted to take me away from my new one too. I couldn’t forgive them.”

“Hua, Aang.”, calls Katara out to them.

It helps and they get out of their States.

They say sorry for losing their nerves.

“You two have the right to be angry after the monks sent you away like that.”, reassure them Katara.

“Well, that's not exactly what happened.”, signs Aang. “I was afraid and confused. I didn't know what to do. So I talked to Hua.”

The Daimon took over: “Aang came to my room, telling me how he had spied at the council meeting and what would happen to us. I told him I would rather be back home with my family if they have us leave Gyatsu.”

“What, are you saying…”, Katara trailed off. She didn’t want to say what she thought.

But she didn’t need to, because Aang took over the story.

How they packed their things, left notes for Gyatsu and ran away.

Then how they got caught up in the storm and froze there.

Aang ends the story with his next memory of waking up and seeing Katara for the first time and Hua adds she remembers looking into Sokkas face.

“You two ran away.”, summed up Katara astonished. So she had understood right before.

“And then the Fire Nation attacked our temple. My people needed me and I wasn't there to help.”

“We weren’t there.”, reminds Hua, laying a hand on his shoulder. “We are both at fault here.”

“Hua and Aang don't know what would have-.”

They interrupt Katara together: “The world needed us and we weren't there to help. The fisherman was right! We did turn our backs on the world!”

Full of compassion Katara looks at her friends, these two children, who just wanted to be normal and were burdened with the most important task in the world.

Who would live their lives full of regrets because they made a decision when they were hurting so badly.

It was unfair.

“You two are being too hard on yourself, even if you did run away.”, tells them Katara. “I think it was meant to be. If you had stayed, you would have been killed along with all the other airbenders.”

“You don't know that.”, disagrees Aang.

“I know it was meant to be this way. The world needs you two now. You give people hope.”

Hua and Aang just look at each other. What could they say?

Katara still believed in them…maybe it was enough.

That’s when the fisherman's wife enters their cave asking for help. The storm has turned into a typhoon and her man and Sokka aren’t yet back from their fishing trip.

Immediately the young heroes jump to action to save them, while the fisher wife stays in the cave.

They fly as fast as they can on Appa through the typhoon to find the two missing people.

After a while they find them.

Aang jumps down onto the boat. As a pole is falling down, Aang brings up four pouts of water, splitting the pole in half.

After the pole splits in half, Sokka and the fisherman are shown hugging each other.

Hua throws them a rope and yells at them to climb it up.

The fisherman and Sokka do so.

Appa starts flying again.

The rope swings up, making Sokka and the fisherman land on the saddle.

A big wave hits the gang underwater. Everyone is shown floating away from Appa.

Hua and Aang go into the Avatar and Daimon State and save everyone.

They all go back to the cave safe where the fisherman's wife is.

The fisherman's wife runs up to the fisherman and hugs him.

“Oh, you're alive! You owe this boy and girl an apology!”

“He doesn't have to apologize.”

“I would like to have one.”

“Hua!”

“What, Aang?!”

“What if, instead of an apology, I give them a free fish and we call it even.”, suggests the fisherman.

“He doesn’t eat meat.”, explains Hua with crossed arms.

“Fish ain't meat!”

“Seriously, you're still going to pay me, right?”, joins them Sokka.

As an answer, the fisherman gives him a fish.

Hua huffs, but turns with Aang to Katara.

“Katara, I think you were right before. I'm done dwelling on the past.”, proclaims Aang.

The Daimon lays a hand on his shoulder and both smile at each other.

“What my other half wants to say: we both are done with it. We will never know if we would have died with the air nomads or not. We can’t change the past, but we can create a new future.”

“That’s a wonderful thought.”, agrees Katara. “Me and Sokka will help you along the way. I don't think you two are gonna have those nightmares anymore.”

Then the fisherman steps towards them and actually says sorry and thanks them.

“Do you hear that?”, ask Sokka. “It stopped raining.”

Everyone goes outside. Appa shakes raindrops off himself, splashing everyone.

“Appa!”, scolds Aang, yet a second later all start to laugh.

The storm outside and inside was over and now possibilities were on the horizon.

***

That night Aang and Hua didn’t have any nightmares.

They dream of a world, full of peace and love and harmony with all their loved ones.

They smiled in their sleep and cuddled each other tighter.

With soft eyes, Katara looks at her two young friends.

She was happy for them and how they were free from their nightmares, they deserved it.

A little smile forms on her face as she lies down and thinks about how these two idiots will ever realize how they are falling in love with each other.

One could only hope they realized it before one of them nearly died, this would be too dramatic.

And done!

Next Chapter The Blue Spirit and anything will change :D

I can’t wait for it!

See you next time!

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chaos-cousins · 9 months ago

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Musharna Malice! Someone else's memory.

You step forward, despite the foreboding that licks over your bones, into the room that seems to ooze it like nothing else. And as the door slams shut behind you, you're wracked with a fit of dizziness that drives you to your knees and then-

You blink, and you're standing before a trio of entities.

A Girimehkala, larger and stronger than you've ever laid eyes on before. Cu Chulainn, armor polished, posture straight, stare icy, spear's lethal edge glimmering in the low light.

And a shirtless young man, covered in tattoos from head to toe. They're ink black, but outlined in a vivid, beautiful sea glass teal that glows starkly. His eyes glow a sick, poison yellow that casts his face starkly.

His face is... blank, neatly set. There's a glimmer of interest in those poison yellow eyes, and his posture is one of someone excited for a fight despite the empty look painted across his face. And then, suddenly, as those eyes flick across your party, the excitement is replaced by annoyance.

It's hard to quantify the feeling. One moment you're standing there, reeling, preparing for battle, the next you're choking on the horror that you have offended something miles upon stronger than you are- stronger than you are ever capable of being. It feels a little like dying and a little like being like prey and a lot like watching a supernova in real time.

His eyes close, and you watch his shoulders rise with a deep breath as his hands and arms come up to frame his face, fingers curled into claws, then his eyes open. Poison yellow seems to bore into your soul, and then poison yellow swirls searing blood red and you're simply locked on the spot in pure, unfiltered, unadulterated terror. His arms shift, and he lifts them above his head with one hand wrapped around the other forearm, before falling back open.

He leans backwards, arching in a way that even around your terror you find nearly sickeningly deep, arms on either side of him, palms upturned with his fingers still curled like claws.

And the ground seems to break apart with the wrath of God itself. Divine light sears through you, your scream stuck in your throat as you crumple and it continues to rip through you and rip you apart for what feels like uncountable hours-

Then it stops, and you can taste your death coming, mere seconds away, darkness encroaching. Then you hear a voice. A man's voice, smooth and rich, like silk and dark chocolate.

"Was that truly necessary, Demi-Fiend?"

The darkness washes higher, and you only barely catch a ruined, gravelly voice clearly seeped in annoyance spit back-

"They came to fight as cheaters, I only treated them as they were."

Then the darkness swallows you whole-

-And you jerk awake, heart in your throat, still swallowed by steadily cooling fear.

Fucking. Ow.

Like. Shit, I think that was worse than being hit with attacks beyond my comprehension? I think I'd rather have not be able to comprehend that.

...I'm not even sure if Margaret could beat her.

#pokeblogging #rotomblr #//pov local persona protag faces the wrath of an smt protag

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valthepoetess · 2 months ago

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✮ The Adventures of Saturna ✮ Vol. 1

(This story is in latin spanish available on Wattpad!)

This story tells, pardon the redundancy, the adventures of my oc Saturna Cloudford!

⋆ From the beginning of her life, until giving her heart completely 💕

⋆ Ship Saturna x Simon Ghost Riley (just because 😍🥰)

⋆ Action, romance, drama, MORE ACTION and more romance.

⋆ References to pop culture lol don't judge.

⋆ I promise you'll have fun!

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Saturna Cloudford is an interesting and passionate woman, Lieutenant and paramedic leader in the UK Armed Forces, mainly in TF141. Here I will immortalize her experiences as the beautiful OC that she is. Enjoy 💕💞

∘₊✧─────────★─────────✧₊∘

Prologue

Saturna Cloudford, born on March 22, 1996, in the beautiful and iconic borough of Queens, NYC, grew up in a house in the suburbs, in a middle-class neighborhood with her father, Oliver Cloudford, and her mother, Marie Conetti.

Oliver was a decorated US Navy Colonel, who perished in battle after 20 years of service, and was awarded a Purple Heart medal in his honor. He died when Saturna would have turned 16 years old. Marie is a woman from Italy, who moved to America to seek a better life away from her family, and then met Oliver.

Saturna is a woman currently 28 years old, with short, dark wavy hair that is very difficult to deal with, just as her mother told her, "hair reflects personality." She is about 1.75 (5'9'') tall, with a usually athletic build, although not very defined. She has quite expressive and dark eyes, a round nose and her upper lip is larger than the lower one (as if they were inverted). Thin and fine eyebrows, and a light brown complexion. Don't forget her tattoos, the most recognizable is a small tattoo of a carnation on her chest (🏵) She also has the logo of her favorite band (Måneskin) tattooed on the back of her neck, and a star design on her lower back.

She has always been outgoing and friendly, exuding self-confidence and mostly good humor. She is kind, thoughtful and passionate, determined in everything she does. She considers herself an activist and has quite liberal morals, although politics is not something she likes very much, she is always up for a debate. He loves to talk, and let's say more than usual. She considers herself an atheist, not a believer in any god per se, but she believes that there is some powerful force that governs everything equally, she considers it the universe. She is agile, flexible and good at hand-to-hand combat, quick to think and skilled at making decisions under pressure. Despite her work, or her life in general, what identifies her is her relaxed and unflappable attitude towards things, she is not someone who gets stressed easily, and she has carried that within her since the beginning of her life. (…)

Now our Sat was heading towards a new chapter in her life. Sitting in the back of the taxi, with her suitcases on her lap, looking out the window with her headphones on and thinking about what kind of adventures she would have now. He was heading to the main base of TaskForce 141, a Multinational Special Operations Unit located in London. Or well, on the outskirts of it. This unit, mostly anti-terrorism, specifically senior commanders like Captain John Price had offered a spot on their team for Cloudford. Also because Sat had been recommended by CIA agent Laswell. Maybe she had seen something useful in her.

Naturally, Saturna was full of doubts and nerves. She was a Lieutenant and a lead paramedic, why would she be indispensable in a place like this, surrounded by military personnel and soldiers far more experienced? “Weren’t there plenty of paramedics here?” she thought. A smile appeared on her face at the thought.

"Great, now my job will be to patch up injured cadets and prescribe meds" she said to herself.

Of course, she was joking. The fact that she was part of such a unit was a complete privilege, and she wasn’t the least bit unhappy about it. She was genuinely excited. Even so, the thought of being treated like a medic or doctor didn’t sit well with her (and that was based on experience). She simply sighed and leaned her head on her hand, gazing out the window as the landscape grew colder and wetter, moving along the lonely road with her favorite song, “So High,” playing in her ears.

At some point during the trip, the horizon changed from dense forests and trees to open, green fields, with the sun now shining more brightly. “That must mean I’m close,” she thought. And indeed, the taxi driver was already glancing at his meter and announcing their arrival. Saturna felt her excitement grow. Then she noticed the large gray barracks with brick walls surrounding it, buildings no taller than five stories, and a wide field in the center of it all. She had arrived at the base.

The taxi came to a stop right in front of the threshold near the end of the road. Saturna’s heart stopped along with the vehicle. She saw the flags waving on either side of the main gate, representing the 141 and the United Kingdom. Moments later, Saturna was out of the car with her carry-on bag, as the driver helped with the luggage from the trunk. As she took her bags in her arms, a bearded man with a distinctive fisherman’s hat walked out through the gate, accompanied by a younger man in a cap. He walked up to the threshold and stopped a few meters in front of Saturna. She was more nervous than ever, but she still paid the driver, rolled her suitcase beside her, and walked toward the Captain. With a big smile, she stood before him.

“Saturna Cloudford, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” the man said as he extended his hand.

“The pleasure is all mine, Captain.” She shook his hand.

“Please, call me Price.”

Saturna nodded, and as Price noticed she had brought more luggage than she could carry, he motioned to his companion to lend her a hand.

“Gaz, come over here,” the Captain said, and Gaz quickly grabbed Saturna’s rolling suitcase.

They headed into the base, with Price walking in front of the two. Saturna looked around, observing and taking in as much as she could while trying to keep up with the quick pace of her new Captain.

“Welcome to our main base,” he said. “This is the meeting point, where you’ll find the cafeteria, common rooms, and the parking area outside, along with some more offices further in. To the south are the residential buildings, and I’ll get you the key to your room as soon as possible. As you can see, there’s the field.” He gestured to the green field in the center of the base. “You can run or train there, as it’s right in front of the gym. We also use it as a shooting range. The gym itself is small, so most soldiers train outside or on the field.”

Saturna listened closely, trying to absorb all the information the Captain was giving her.

“The armory is next to the parking area, which you probably saw on your way in. The showers are close to the residential buildings, connected to the locker rooms. And finally, the medical building was added relatively recently; that’s where most of your work will be.” Price stopped walking and turned to face Saturna, as Gaz stepped beside him. “Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

“Good,” Price said in his firm tone. “I’ll leave you to explore the place and get familiar with it. I’ll be in my office and will give you your dorm key later.” Saturna nodded, and Price gave a parting wave.

Saturna was then left standing with Gaz, who was still holding her luggage.

“I’m Kyle, but everyone calls me Gaz,” he finally introduced himself.

“Nice to meet you, Gaz. I’m Saturna.”

“Where are you from?”

“New York, though I’ve been here in London for a few days. And you?”

“I’ve lived here most of my life. But hey, it’s nice to have Americans on base.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked curiously.

“Well, there aren’t many Americans here, and they’re pretty useful in battle. At least the ones I know,” he said with a grin.

“Oh, I see. Well, yes, I’m American. And I think chocolate milk comes from brown cows,” she joked, and Gaz laughed.

“Well, I guess everyone’s got a belief… like that. I like you, Saturna. And because of that, I’ll show you around a bit more—since Price’s ‘tour’ was pretty basic,” he said. “Come on.”

“Sure, thanks,” she replied, and they both began walking around the base.

(...)

Price sat in his office behind the desk, holding Saturna’s file in his hands. With her arrival, as with any new team member, he had to thoroughly review her history before giving final approval. He noticed that the file seemed a bit thick. He sighed and got to work.

He opened it, and the first page was her standard résumé, along with a photo of her.

Full Name: Saturna Cloudford Conetti

" SATURNA CLOUDFORD

Alias(es): "Sat" - "Poetess"

Rank: First Lieutenant (Elite)

Other: Lead Paramedic Rescuer (Elite)

Age: 28

Nationality: American

Date of Birth: March 22, 1996

Place of Birth: Queens, NY, USA

Eye Color: Black

Hair Color: Black

Height: 5'9" / 1.75 m

Weight: Approx. 60 kg

Blood Type: A+

Ethnicity: Mixed (American-Italian)

Native Language: English

Other Languages: Spanish, Italian, French

Marital Status: Single

Address: [N/A]

Insurer: [N/A] "

Everything seemed normal to Price, and he continued to the next page.

"High school and preparatory school completed. Half a year of university at Columbia University, Manhattan, in 2015."

Saturna had been withdrawn after six months from university, by her mother’s decision, without completing her degree in Communications and Journalism. Instead, she was sent to a convent outside of D.C. (Washington), called Santa Clarissa di Fresa, Convento delle Monache e Riformatorio, where she would remain for the rest of the year.

Price was intrigued by the fact that Saturna had left university to be sent to a convent, especially one with a questionable record of conduct. Still, he didn't dwell on it. It wasn't his business, he thought.

In 2017, Price read, Saturna had completed her studies and graduated as a nurse with honors from the Mercy Health Institute in New York. But it seems she didn’t stay in the healthcare center. Instead, in 2019, at the age of 23, she joined the Civil Guard Academy, becoming a paramedic, and months later, a rescuer. From 2019 to 2021, Saturna would be recruited and sent all across the United States alongside the country’s Special Forces, on rescue missions to reach civilians in the most inaccessible places possible. Saturna had no trouble with this work, which is why she was often assigned to those kinds of situations.

The most significant part came in 2022. At the age of 26, Saturna was awarded the "Orange Eagle" distinction, an honor given to rescue operators and civil defenders, for saving and securing 1,433 lives during Hurricane Ian that hit Florida that same year. She was known as "Poetess" for two reasons: The first was her ability to calm civilians, especially children, with her words and quotes. The second reason was that during her time at Columbia, she briefly played in a rock band where she was the lead vocalist, and her stage name was "The Poetess."

Finally, Price reached the last page of the file. It simply mentioned that she had carried out some missions alongside the Armed Forces and the CIA, possibly meeting Kate Laswell in the process, who would later offer her the job in the 141. And the rest, as they say, is history.

"Lord… Finally." Price muttered as he stretched in his chair. "Next time, I'll have someone else review the new recruits' files."

With that, Price gave Saturna's file the green light, marking it with a red seal.

(...)

Saturna knocked on the office door, and Price invited her to come in from inside.

"Here are the keys to your room. It's 505 in Building B," said the Captain, handing her the keys.

"Oh… 505, what a wonderful coincidence," she said with a playful smile as she put the keys in her pocket.

"Huh?" Price asked, not sure what she meant.

"Nothing, sir," she replied. "Thank you for everything so far."

"It's my job. And I expect you to do yours well." Saturna nodded. "Though, after reading and reviewing your history, I have high expectations."

Saturna’s face lit up. She hadn’t expected to make such an impression on her Captain so quickly.

"I’ll give my best. Thank you."

"Dismissed."

Saturna walked across the base to Building B. She had already toured a bit of the base in the afternoon, running into some people who welcomed her, like a friendly Scottish guy they usually called "Soap." When she arrived at 505, her suitcases were already outside the room. Maybe it was Gaz.

She entered with her luggage, taking in her surroundings. It wasn’t a five-star place, but it certainly wasn’t what she had expected. She tested the bed by sitting on it and then lay down, staring at the ceiling.

"To think that just a few weeks ago I was sharing an apartment with strangers," she said to herself. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand beside the bed. It was 8:50 p.m. "Alright, time to get to work."

Saturna got up from the bed and hurried to unpack her things, adding a little shine to her new room. She filled the place with her style, placing her clothes in the empty dresser in the corner, toiletries on top of it, her belongings like a notebook and pens on the desk next to the window, a small dreamcatcher hanging on the window, as well as her thousand accessories, including quartz necklaces, handmade bracelets, and countless pairs of earrings in all shapes, colors, and styles. To finish, she placed a framed photo of her and her best friend from college on the nightstand next to the bed.

"Good…" she said, looking around with satisfaction. She hadn’t made the biggest change of all, but at least the place now had her personality.

She was starting a new chapter in her life. There was still so much ahead to go through, to live, and to experience on a path filled with adventures, and she was determined to give her best. To think that just a few weeks ago, when she arrived in London hoping for a new job thanks to Laswell, she was living uncomfortably in a small apartment, sharing space with complete strangers. And to think that just a few years ago, when she was back in her home country, she worked tirelessly day after day to create a better future by doing what she loved: helping people. And to think that all of this stemmed from her drive to follow in her father Oliver's footsteps, and one day be remembered and respected just as he was in life. And to think that all of this came about because she chased her dreams and gained independence, leaving her mother’s home… Now, she was here, living what she had once only dreamed of. This was much bigger than she had imagined, she thought. It was far more important.

And she was grateful for every part of the journey that had brought her here.

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THANKS!!!!!1111!!111

#HistoryandChronology #✮ The Adventures of Saturna ✮ Vol. 1 #original story #prologue #Saturna Cloudford #call of duty #cod oc #oc #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #oneshot

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angeliicheartt · 8 months ago

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first kiss (ever) w mr ryomen sukuna right after he shows r his true form !!! ouggghh i need him bad and romantic!!!

ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴋɪꜱꜱ

includes: ryomen sukuna

fem!reader

a/n: love love love this lil idea! i gave sukuna the nickname ‘little one’ for reader, hope that’s fine ! also idk how sukuna goes into his true form soooo he js kinda poofs into it 😭 but here u are babes 😚 <3

you waited patiently in sukuna’s chambers, he was currently talking to uruame just outside the door. through the door you could hear uruame’s voice and make out a few of their words as they spoke lowly to sukuna.

“..my lord… your true form..”

at least that’s all you got out of their sentence and all focused on until sukuna came into his chambers, seeing you propped up ever so nicely on his ginormous bed.

“hello, little one,” he murmured lowly as he got onto the bed with you. his arm wrapped around your waist as he laid down, pulling you down with him.

your eyes widened as your back hit the bed and your head hit the pillow. you turned so that you faced sukuna, your eyes roved over his face, each of his tattoos, his four eyes, the words “your true form,” ringing in your head. sukuna’s two biggest eyes were closed, but his smaller ones were trained on you. his right eye cracked open, an amused smirk growing on the king of curses’s face. “yes?”

your face flushes as sukuna props himself up with his elbow, still on his side facing you. the mental image was to die for.

“well.. i overheard some of your conversation with uruame..,” you glance up, trying to gauge his reaction. so far sukuna only urged you to go on with a slight raise of his eyebrows.

“..could i see your true form?” you braced for his reaction. you felt the mattress shift and dip as sukuna moved to sit up. he grabbed your legs to pull you closer to him and then set you on his (large) lap.

“you want to see my true form, little one?” he speaks lowly, his face blank besides, possibly, a hint of amusement.

you nod meakly under his gaze. he contemplates it for a few moments, his eyebrows pinching in slightly.

“you understand, in my true form, i don’t look human, i’ve been told my true form is very.. disturbing.. to humans.” he speaks seriously, sounding almost worried about how you’ll perceive him if you see the real him.

“i understand,” you say softly, looking into his eyes. he pets your hair before lifting you gently off his lap and back onto the bed. the mattress dips once again as he gets up. he leans down to place a kiss to the crown of your head before standing a few feet away from the bed.

a few moments later, the semi-human looking sukuna had vanished and his true form stands in his place. taller than before, two extra arms, and a semi-different face.

he was still so beautiful to you.

sukuna stands still under your scrutinizing (adoring) gaze as he waits for your response, already you haven’t screamed in terror, so that’s a good sign, right?

you get up slowly from the bed, as if not to spook him. your cheeks have taken on the same flush from earlier as his eyes track your movements.

eventually, you make it so that you stand right in front of him. you look over all of his tattoos again, some having changed from his form before. your eyes trail back up to meet his crimson eyes.

his hands, the four of them, all twitch at his sides, wanting to grab onto you and hold you, but he holds himself back. he doesn’t want to scare his precious one.

“sukuna..” you say softly, your arm tentatively trailing up his top right arm, tracing over the grooves of his muscle.

“hmm?” he hums, his head dipping down slightly, to engage with you.

“you’re beautiful..” you murmur before your hand moves to cup the side of his neck and you kiss him.

you had never kissed anyone. ever. and sukuna knew this. which is why he froze when he felt your soft lips against his for the briefest moment before you backed away again.

you gave your first kiss to him. the real him.

you smile up at him, at his slightly furrowed brows as he processes what’s happened. it’s not very often the king of curses gets thrown for a loop.

but once it does finally click in his head that you had kissed him. a glorious grin accents his face as he swoops you up into his four arms.

“yeah, little one? ya’ think i’m beautiful?” along with his grin, his ego’s back too, making you roll your eyes at him. he walks the two of you over to the bed before plopping you (gently) in the middle and landing right on top of you, his torso between you legs, his arms pinning you to the bed. “now how bout’ i show you a real kiss.”

#𐀔 // elle writes !#jjk drabbles #jjk writing #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk #sukuna ryomen x reader #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna

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steele-soulmate · 1 year ago

Text

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 537, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death, abandoned baby

WORDS: 1253

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

I came to slowly, the obnoxious sound quickly driving me close to insane.

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

But such a serine feeling of safety and love was next to me, just a little to my left.

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

I wrenched my eyes open, and my eyes saw a truly magnificent sight.

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

One Peter Thomas Ratajczyk was wearing only a pair of extremely loose sweatpants and a band for an IV wrapped around his forehead. He was shirtless, cradling three tiny babies across the vast plain of pure manliness.

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

They are so beautiful, my love.

“Yes, they are, sweetheart,” he rumbled, leaning over to press a simple kiss to my forehead. “You had everyone scared for a while.”

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

Why?

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

“Your blood pressure was through the roof,” he explained as one of the babies, donned in a blue bonnet, green socks and a diaper, let out an adorable yawn, a tube in his nose for easy feedings. “Once I got into the operating theater, you calmed down enough so that the doctor could perform the surgery.”

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

How long have I been asleep?

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

“Twenty three hours,” Peter told me after glancing at the clock. “Isabelle took the kids home last night and they’re all waiting out in the waiting room for you to be awake and give them the okay to come in.”

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

Yeah. Okay. They can come in now.

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

“Yeah?” he chuckled, swiping his phone from the table and dashing off a quick text message.

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

Laughter and cheers sounded out from the hallway before a band of inflatable dinosaurs erupted into the room, giggling and making dinosaur noises alike.

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

Peter and I both erupted into laughter at the return of the inflatable dinos, little girl parading up to me.

“Mama Wen Wen?” she meeped, dancing on her tiptoes as she held her arms up. “Uppie up ups?”

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

I couldn’t stop laughing as a nurse popped her head into the room, cackling at the sight of the cluster of tyrannosaurus rexes, who had apparently terrorized the hospital. She came over and unzipped little girl before lifting her up onto the bed next to me.

“Baa bee?” she asked excitedly, wriggling as Peter expertly handed over of one the little boys, keeping the other two babies on this chest. “Baa bee?”

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

“Bitty and Katie went with the triplets to where the doctors weighed them and cleaned them up,” Peter explained in a soft voice. “I stayed with you while the doctors stitched you up and transferred you to this room.”

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

“Hello wittle baby,” she hummed, gasping with delight when I helped her to cradle her newborn baby brother.

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

“Mommy?” Baby Tommy toddled over, being helped out of his inflatable dinosaur costume and lifted up onto my other side. Peter handed the nurse the baby in the pink hat, who she brought over for the chubby little man to hold. “Mommy, Baa bee Joojoo is pwetti!”

I smiled as Elizabeth and Katie both helped each other out of their costumes before Peter handed them the third baby.

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

“Hey Isabelle,” I greeted her, realizing how dry my throat felt. “How are things?”

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

“Things are really good,” she told me with a gentle hum. “Katie did laundry last night and Elizabeth got in touch with most of the family. Jackie is in the waiting room with food.”

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

“My love?” I then remembered my husband’s own medical plight. “What happened with your vasectomy surgery? I sensed that something went wrong, did that instigate the triplets’ birth?”

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

“I suffered a nasty allergic reaction to the anesthesia used,” he explained. “The surgery wasn’t performed after all, and I’m to heal for at least a full month before the doctor attempts performing the manly snips again.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel.

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

“Hey sweetheart, can you look at me, please?” he asked me, coming around to take a seat on the side of my bed, dragging an IV pole dripping fluid into my arm. “You are a whirlwind of emotions right now, and that is perfectly normal. You just had a traumatic procedure done on you, and now your body is playing catch up from before you got pregnant with three remarkable babies.”

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

My lower lip tremored for a brief moment before my eyes were overflowing with fat, jibbly emotional tears.

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

“Don’t cry, Mama Wen Wen.” Bless little girl and her caring personality. “Need tissue?”

Over to the side of me, Baby Tommy was singing to Baby Jojo, just a continuous loop of words as the little brunette baby stared at her big brother with her mother’s blue eyes. The baby that little girl was cradling had my brilliant red curls and his father’s hazel blue eyes.

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

“Sweetheart.” I turned my attention to Peter, who was holding out a box of cheaply made tissues for me to blow my nose with. “Baby Mattie was born first, then came Baby Teddy, and finally, Baby Jojo. She has a mild form of Spina Bifida called occulta. The doctor told me that surgery would not be needed, and that she is a perfectly healthy little lady.”

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

Wah… wah… wah… sniggled Baby Teddy before erupting into a sudden WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH…

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH… screamed Baby Mattie, both babies screaming their heads off as Baby Jojo slept on as only an extremely sleepy little baby could do.

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

The babies continued to scream as a new nurse popped her head into the room, smiling at the girls getting bottles of mommy milk ready to be devoured. Elizabeth popped her bottle onto my husband’s travel sized bottle warmer while Katie fitted a bottle with a bag of mommy milk.

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

I smiled as a sudden rush of pure, raw exhaustion settled over my mind, and so I sat back, relaxed and closed my eyes.

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@ch3rry-c01a

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in-death-we-fall · 2 years ago

Text

A New Beginning

A year ago when Terrorizer spoke to Joey Jordison, the drummer was a man of (sic) the edge. Now the Slipknot founder is in a different headspace and facing the future with heady determination.

Words: Tobyn Dorcian Pics: Kane Hibberd Terrorizer #224, July 2012 (google docs link)

**self harm warning for questions 4 and 5 and image 4**

When Joey Jordison was in Australia in March 2011, he was a wreck. Ten months afterPaul (sic) Gray, Joey’s best friend and fellow Slipknot originator/bassist had died from a drugs (sic) overdose, and the drummer was psychologically frail. To distract from his grief, Jordison had over-committed to Soundwave festival as both guitarist in the Murderdolls and drummer for Rob Zombie – exhaustion led to him cancel (sic) a Sydney show.

A year on, Jordison is the antithesis of that vision. Once again in Australia, this time with Slipknot for their 7pm slot at Soundwave festival, he is chipper and energetic. Near unrecognisable with a bush ranger-like beard and moustache, the 37-year-old is in such a great mood he insists on doing two interviews: one at 6.30pm prior to Slipknot’s Melbourne arena sideshow, and another at 11.40pm at its conclusion.

How has the past 12 months been for you? “Very positive. I’m happier than I’ve been for a long time.”

The death of best friend and Slipknot bassist Paul Gray had put you in a bad place. What’s helped you to move forward? “I went right into the studio. I’ve been working non-stop, pouring all my energy into writing music, and nothing but good results have come from it. I am happy being (sic) the studio and am working on music because that’s my life-blood. We all have deaths in our family but you have to move on. [Pauses] It’s really hard for me to talk about Paul’s death…”

Do you ever feel Paul’s presence? “Oh yeah. I’ve been writing stuff since his death and he’s with me at all times. I will be sitting writing a riff, and I know the exact part where he is coming in. I almost talk to him, in a weird way.”

** As a tribute to Paul, Corey [Taylor, vocalist] got a tattoo of him on his leg. “I don’t have any tattoos but I have this. [Rolls up his left shirtsleeve to reveal two several inch-long scars on his shoulder]. After he died, I cut two lines [Paul Gray was Slipknot number 2] into my arm. He remains on my snare hand.”

** What do the lines represent? “That he’s with me at all times. I will never have tattoos, ever. I don’t put ink in my body. I am the only one in the band that doesn’t have them. I don’t want anyone putting my memory into my body but me. This will never go away. When I did it it cut pretty deep. Now, he is playing with me at all times.”

You have spoken about your life in Iowa, that you live in isolation. In your house there are no clocks, the windows are blacked out and you rarely answer the phone. To what extent has that changed? “I now have three cats: Mokey, Melvin and Murray [previously, Joey had Mokey], but nothing has changed. That part of me will always remain the same. It [that feeling] is even happening right now. When I walk out of this room [backstage at Melbourne’s Rod Laver Arena], I can’t stand it until I get behind my drums; that’s my safe zone. That’s where I feel at home, besides in my house with a guitar. I didn’t pick isolation – this is not a story piece, that’s fucking bullshit – It’s the way I am. I like things that I like and I stick to them. I’ve been like this since I was a kid.”

What do you think that’s about? “I don’t necessarily know. I guess I was so interested in music when I was a kid and was so engulfed by it that it was all I could think about. I was like, ‘This is what I want to do and this is my calling’. I knew what I wanted to do at a very, very young age, so I am very lucky in that respect. On tour, I have done the sightseeing and it is beautiful and I love that but if I want to see something I’ll got (sic) and see it. If I want to stay in my [hotel] room and listen to music… that is what I usually do. It just depends on my mood, which is a little different every day.”

You feel comfortable at home and behind the kit, but not so much in the places in between. “I can’t relate to too many people. When I was very young my grandma told me that if you have just one really close friend you should consider yourself lucky, and I still live to that rule, because honestly, you cannot hardly trust anyone. That’s why I termed the song ‘People = Shit’. I had that term on a t-shirt when we were a club band, way before we got signed.”

It seems like you don’t fit in. “I don’t. I have never been that person who goes out to try to make friends intentionally. I like to have a drink here [at the venue] and hang out with good people but I don’t go out anymore. I like hanging out with my family and my cats and my guitar. I am probably one of the only people who has a guitar in their bathroom. It’s there just in case when I have to go shit [Laughs], I have a cool idea. I always wake up with a riff, so when I have to go and do the morning thing, I play guitar while I’m doing it.”

Something might come of it… “A lot has come of it. [Laughs] I like taking baths. I’m not a shower guy too much. I love soaking in the bath and I get really good ideas there too. I like coming out and grabbing my guitar. Even if I write some of the craziest, fastest shit of the Slipknot catalogue, I am always at peace. I have to be at peace. I can never write anything unless I am at peace. That’s what’s good about having this sort of [musical] gift.

“I watch a lot of shows on the Discovery Channel about how things are made: it intrigues my brain. Some of the science stuff makes me feel a little stupid, but then I’m like, wait, what they (sic) hell are you talking about? They can’t do what I’m doing.”

Surely, you are in the wrong business [music] if you are looking for trust? “I can’t bitch about anything because I am very lucky, but luck has nothing to do with where I am right now. That luck shit can fuck right off. I work my fucking ass off to be like this. I did this to be true to myself and to my friends. Then you have all these assholes come in and they are like, ‘We can’t play a goddamn note but we learnt how to market a bunch of shit and collect off you’. I cannot stand one of them. Slipknot is a product of the shit we hate, and when we go out onstage it is vengeance.

“On the other hand, the maggots who come to our shows, I have something in common with each one of them: that’s how much they understand my music. Our music becomes their music. They give it right back to us and it gives us energy. I can see in kids’ eyes what we have done, what a movement we’ve created. Not many bands have done what we have.”

Last year Clown [Shawn Crahan, percussionist] told Terrorizer he wasn’t sure if he wanted to do Slipknot anymore. “I don’t believe that at all. Plus, there isn’t any shit that needs to be ‘repaired’, like there’s a rift between band members. We all do other stuff. There are no fights. We are getting along so well right now. The feeling is like it was in 1999, when we first came out. Corey and I understand each other more than we ever have. The thing is that we have never not gotten along; it’s the fucking press that turned us against each other. In fact, I brought Corey into Slipknot. Back then, no one even wanted him in the band.”

Why not? “At that time we were like an eccentric death metal circus act. It was great, but something was missing. I said to Clown that we needed to get Corey to sing for us. Shawn [Clown] is hardcore, he is the dad of our band and we respect his opinion. He was like, ‘Fuck no’, but said he liked Corey’s vocals. So myself, Mick [Thompson (sic), guitar] and Shawn went to the porn store where Corey used to work. When we arrived Corey was really nervous, like we were going to beat him up or something. Shawn went up to Corey and asked him if he wanted to try out and he freaked out.

“The next day he parked his car around the back of the studio – because we didn’t want anyone to know – and it was just me and Shawn. The first song he demoed was ‘Me Inside’. I sat next to Shawn and said, ‘Watch this shit, I know what’s going to happen’. Corey got to the chorus and Shawn looked at me and was like, ‘You were right’. Corey’s relationship with me has come full circle. We love each other very much.”

Right now, what binds Slipknot together? “We started to think, what if it [Slipknot] did go away, and realised how much the band meant to us. The songs mean more to me now than they ever have… remembering the crap we went through, all the stupid bickering and crap that never needed to happen. All of that has been weeded out and now it’s like we’ve been rebuilt, stronger than ever. Slipknot is a machine right.

“Our band is nine fucking extraordinary personalities, extreme, intense personalities, who live all over the place and yet we are still together, so fuck you. I would die for these guys. If I died onstage, I wouldn’t care. This is going to sound stupid, but it would be from my heart. It’s a fucking war onstage, it isn’t safe.”

Your temporary bass player [Donnie Steele] is out of view. Why? “The other guy [Donnie] is not allowed onstage, no fucking way. He is behind the stage and does a great job. We are nine people and we unfortunately lost one. But it doesn’t matter; we are still nine. We can never replace Paul, but that’s why I bought (sic) Donnie into the band. He was the first guitar who played before I came into the picture, when we were The Pale Ones. He is a really cool guy and very mellow.

“We haven’t decided on another bassist yet. We don’t want any marquee names or anything like that. It doesn’t make sense to bring anyone in from another band that’s huge. We want to keep it in the family, and he’s part of our family and it’s been great ever since.”

Will the next Slipknot album still be “the darkest one ever?” “It’s going to be dark no matter what. There ain’t no changing that fucking statement.”

How much darker than ‘Iowa’ can you go? “That’s up to us. So far, I’ve written and recorded 40 songs.”

Is there a song about Paul? “Yes, my working title is ‘Gray’.”

Have you been working with the other guys or by yourself? “To tell you the truth, it’s just been me. Everyone is writing stuff, but people want to do other projects [Corey Taylor and Jim Root and (sic) working on a new Stone Sour album. Clown has released a photography book], and so I’m writing alone until we can all come together. Then we can start playing and go from there. That’s how we wrote, ‘Prelude’, ‘The Blister Exists’, it’s how we start a lot of songs.”

With the next album, what is the journey you wish to take the listener on? “This will be our deepest, most celebrated record. The journey is that we are trying to live our lives, just like everyone else is trying to live theirs’. We all have weird shit in our lives and a lot of our songs reflect that. On the next record we will be exorcising, getting out a lot of the crap out that I think personally, we have held in too much, against each other.”

What sort of emotions will come out? “Both positive and negative. Jealousy? That doesn’t exist in this band. That is the worst emotion; it kills people. You know who fucking does that? It’s the press, and it just pisses us off. People [journalists] keep putting words in our mouth. If they want to keep doing it, keep doing it, because it’s pissing us off right now. Everyone on the outside – journalists, business manager, accountant – this album will be the worst in terms of ‘fuck you’. ‘Iowa’ was kind of playful. This one, as far as emotions go, is going to connect with everyone way more than any of our others.”

Where do you see Slipknot evolving from here? “Slipknot can do two things: either leave the legacy where it is now or cut everything that’s been before and take it even further. That’s where my mindset is at. I can only see it getting even bigger.”

In the early 2000s, Clown had stage props of cow heads on spikes. What is the most shocking thing Slipknot has done? “We never look to shock anyone. If it’s shocking to some people, then I guess you can call it shock but that was never the intent. That’s just Shawn being Shawn. We used to go down to the meat packing plant [in Des Moines] and were really intrigued by the smell of dead animals. We’d just sit there and gawk at them. We just liked the fucking smell of it. No matter how pungent or grotesque.

“Bringing that type of stuff out was part of the ‘Iowa’ cycle and it made sense then. I don’t think it makes sense now. The thing about that is you never know what we are going to do tonight. I don’t know what the rest of them are doing (sic) to do; they don’t have to know what I am going to do. We don’t have structure. Ours is no choreographed shit.”

You’ve been doing Slipknot for almost 20 years. To what extent have you mellowed? “Not at all. I’m still punk rock. I will travel in a van; I don’t care. It doesn’t matter to me: trains, buses, planes, whatever, I’ll get there. As long as I have my leather jacket and maybe a toothbrush, throw me in a fucking corner and I’ll sleep there. I don’t give a fuck.”

Slipknot must have made a lot of money. Looking at you, you’d never know it, as you are in no way ostentatious. “To tell you the truth, I have no fucking clue about it. [Laughs] It’s there, but money and all that shit doesn’t register with me. I don’t calculate it. Maybe it’s stupid but I don’t give a fuck about money, which is maybe why I’ve been ripped off in the past, but I just don’t care. Money is bullshit to me. I hate it. It’s an evil fucking thing. It controls the world and that’s why I don’t like it. With our band, it was never about that and it still isn’t. The last thing we think about is that. But if there is money to be made, of course we want to make it and not get ripped off.

“When we were starting we thought maybe we’d sell 30,000 records. Even getting signed was weird. When someone says, ‘You need to get business smart’, I’m like, fuck all that. I am still that little punk rock kid. That little kid that was in his basement playing drums, blast-beating and learning all this shit from the bands I grew up listening to.”

What does your number [1] mean to you? “Now it doesn’t really mean much. When we started it was an idea and I am number one for a reason. I was that number because I am the base of the band, the rhythm section, its glue. I don’t really look it at (sic) much anyone (sic), I try to think of us by our names, but I’m glad to still have that number.”

In 2000 you let my 15-year-old socially awkward nephew watch Slipknot from the side of the stage [in Melbourne, Australia]. 12 years later as his mother was dying of cancer, he recalled how much that meant to him. And how you looked after him. “That means a lot to me. [Pauses] I’m glad he had that outlet [Slipknot] because that’s what I needed when I was young. I needed it because I was an outcast. I don’t have many friends and I don’t want them: that is my sickness. The ones that I have are the guys in my band; they are my brothers. They would do anything for me.

“When I was young… that’s why I was so attracted to music. Everyone else was into sport and extra curricular activities and so I was the misfit. Music just felt safe. It spoke to me so loudly that it made everything seem clear – nothing else at that time did. In a weird way, it almost chose me. The demon grabbed me by the throat and put me on a mantle and said, ‘This is what you are going to do’. I have been stuck there ever since. [Laughs] It’s not a bad place to be. It makes me comfortable and keeps me warm.”

‘Antennas To Hell’ is out on July 16 on Roadrunner www.Slipknot1.com

Joey on:

Watain “They are the real deal, man. I think [frontman] Erik Danielsson is in the top 3 black metal singers of all time. That guy’s voice is pure. Watching them, people want to do the whole pit thing, but I am the opposite, I find it relaxing. It’s weird. The blood they put on, that’s real. They are coming to Iowa, so I will probably be in the front row, being a fan boy.”

Burzum “I loved ‘From The Depths Of Darkness’ [2011]. A lot of people focus on the murder [of Euronymous], but I look beyond that, to his music. I don’t condone murder, but I’m like, ‘Get over that and listen to this shit’. The Count is about as dark as you get and I totally love everything he has done. I haven’t met him, but he’s definitely one of the people I’d love to meet.”

Marilyn Manson “I met him a long time ago and we became friends after that. What I like about him more than anything is that you never know what’s coming. He is unpredictable and that is punk rock. That to me is true fucking art. I think that’s why him and me really connected. He gets me and I get him too. I haven’t talked to him for a while, but he’s always been nice to me.”

#lemme know if you want anything else from this scanned #terrorizer 224 july 12 #joey jordison #slipknot #interview

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getosubaru · 3 years ago

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𝑔𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝑔

ryomen sukuna x gn!reader

best friends to lovers drabble series; based on these prompts

wc: 639

tw/notes: small text only for description; no curses AU; sukuna & yuuji as twins; choso as their brother; violence (not @ reader); reader gets cheated on; everyone’s 21+; as fluffy as you can get for sukuna

prompt: punching the guy that broke your heart

He might scowl when others call him your bodyguard, but there’s an air of truth to it.

So when you burst through his door in tears, his previous guests flee with a look of terror on their faces.

Everyone knows better than to fuck around with you.

Everyone, it seems, except the piece of shit you’ve been dating for a few months.

Sukuna gets the story out of Yuuji, quick texts sent while you bawled into his ratty t-shirt.

The waste of carbon decided to cheat on you with the coworker he swore was just a friend.

You only found out because you stopped by his apartment to grab your gym bag.

Sukuna’s always been careful to keep his temper away from you, never wanting you to see him go off the deep end. You knew about the bar brawls, the street fights, the run-ins with the cops. But you’d never actually seen him strike anyone.

He locks all that away with you. Your calm, gentle presence humanizes him in a way that he had learned to crave. You bandaged his knuckles, paid his bail, and never asked for more than he could give you.

He wants to give you everything.

But never at the risk of damaging you with his own brutality.

Sukuna waits until you’ve exhausted yourself crying into his chest. Yuuji accepts your weight when his twin passes you to him, nodding at the barely contained bloodlust on his face.

“Choso’s got eyes on him,” says Yuuji. “I’ll text you when Sleeping Beauty wakes up.”

Their eldest brother flicks his finished cigarette away when Sukuna approaches, gesturing at the packed bar across the street. “Megumi and Maki are taking bets over who’s going to be the one to hook the fish.”

“What are the odds on Maki?” asks Sukuna, voice bored and at ease. The only sign of his building rage is his fists buried in the pockets of his hoodie.

“Good enough that Megumi will be paying for most of my back piece.” Choso holds out a collapsable baton, only for Sukuna to shake his head. “Tsk. You’re the one who’s going to have to explain your fucked up knuckles.”

True to form, a grinning Maki leads your ex out of the bar by the hand. He’s a dead man walking, but he hasn’t quite figured it out yet.

Sukuna is happy to catch him up to speed in the alley behind the bar.

“If I ever see your face again…” He punctuates the threat with a kick to the man’s kidneys. “If I ever have to even hear your name again…”

He’s idly aware of Megumi and Choso arguing in the background, his twin’s boyfriend more than a little put out about how expensive Choso’s tattoo artist is.

Sukuna draws your ex up by his bloodied collar and shoves him against the wall. The fucker probably won’t remember any of this, but he’s going to make his point.

“Death will be a mercy too good for you. Understand?”

His answer comes in the form of blood and booze vomited on his shoes.

Sukuna showers the night off, wrapping his hands once they’re disinfected. You’ll scold him if he just lets them heal without anything.

Yuuji’s washed your face and swapped out your tear-stained shirt for one of Sukuna’s old band shirts. The neon horror printed on the fabric is comically contrasted with the peace you radiate in his bed.

You roll over when he climbs in next to you, arms reaching out to pull him closer.

Sukuna thinks you’re still sleeping, still lost in a hazy dreamscape as you nuzzle into his chest and trace your fingers over scars you’ve long since memorized.

“Thanks, ‘Kuna,” you mumble.

He might be the one dreaming when you kiss his chapped, split lips.

“You always protect me.”

tagging a few friends ilysm: @73sorcerer @bunnaccino @satorhime @xo2dee @abberant-butler @muertasanta

a/n: i got way too attached to this little AU so i might come back to it. lmk what characters y'all wanna see next and throw me an ask if you wanna get tagged!

#ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #lo.writes #lo.bffs

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filmtv2022 · 2 years ago

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By Your Side: Chapter Thirteen (18+ Minor DNI)

Previous Chapter

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Masterlist

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x Reader & platonic!Perry x Reader

Chapter Summary: Rhett & Y/N ride the waves that come in the aftermath of the past few days. Amy yet again finds herself dealing with the school bullies, but Y/N has an idea of how to help the little girl manage her own sadness. A beautiful night with family, unfortunately, gives way to yet another issue fueled by what happened with Perry, Rhett & Trevor at the Pit Bar. Y/N is forced to bring Royal into the fold as things swell beyond her and Rhett’s control.

Summary: Returning to Wabang was never something that Y/N had planned on, but with the loss of her father leaving her the sole owner of her family’s farm she must go back. Time spent at home forces Y/N to face the people she left behind. Will Y/N be able to navigate the murky waters of her past and present as the lines between them blur?

Warnings: SMUT (steamy scene incoming right at the beginning with more spice throughout) + language + night terrors + Anxiety

A/N: Sorry this one is so long. I couldn’t figure out a good place to stop it and really wanted to make sure we got to sit in all of these moments with the Abbotts & the reader. Thanks for all of your support and for waiting a few extra days for this one.

__________________

Wanting to give you time to rest, Ceci didn’t bother waking you and Rhett before church. Ushering the others out of the house as quietly as possible, she left a note on the table letting you know that they would be back later after they finished up at church, and got the grocery shopping done. Shielding your eyes from the light, you rolled back into Rhett’s side. During the night you’d moved away to give yourself space to stretch out. Sliding over you rested your head in the crook of his shoulder, drawing featherlight patterns with your fingertips on the exposed skin of his chest. Humming in appreciation, Rhett reached for your hand, holding it still.

“Mornin’. How ya’ feeling? ” He mumbled softly, his eyes still half-lidded with sleep.

“Good, actually got some sleep last night. How about you?”

“I’m wakin’ up with you in my arms… can’t think of anything that could make this better.”

“Nothing? Hmmm… I might have a few ideas of what could make this better.”

Pushing up onto your elbow, you brushed your lips over the tattoo on his pec. Your tongue traced delicately along the lines, while your other slipped from his grasp and began to wander, grazing temptingly over his inner thigh. Rhett sucked in a sharp breath at the feeling of your hand on him. Letting your lips move freely, you left a trail of love bites from the hollow of his neck to the waistband of his boxers.

Groaning, Rhett reached for you, pulling your lips to his with a needy hand in your hair. Swinging your leg over his waist you leaned down to deepen the kiss, your tongue toying with his as he gripped tightly onto your hip with his other hand. Moaning into Rhett’s mouth as he pressed you down, you could feel him sitting hot on the inside of your thigh. Swirling your hips, you searched for the friction you so greatly desired. You broke the kiss just long enough to peel off your shirt and let it fall to the ground. Mirroring you, Rhett sat up too and scooted back to lean against the headboard, taking you with him. Adjusting you so that you were seated perfectly on top of him, he kneaded your breasts in his hands, chasing your moans with his lips. Pulling you closer, he mouthed at the soft flesh of your chest, soothing his bites with tender kisses.

Tipping your head back, Rhett moved his attention to your neck finding the spot that sent chills down your spine.

“Rhett, please…”

“Tell me what you want baby.”

“Touch me.”

Rhett ran his hand along your inner thigh, the feeling of his calloused fingers on your sensitive skin was intoxicating. Brushing along your clothed core, he searched for more delicious noises from you. Sliding your hand into Rhett’s hair you tugged on the soft strands as he finally gave you what you were searching for so desperately. Finding your lips again, he licked into your mouth as he dipped into your core, his fingers wet with your slick. The sound of heavy breathing lewdly filled the room adding to the lust that ran in electric waves through you both.

Wanting more you reached between you and Rhett, fumbling with the waist of his boxers. Stopping his previous ministrations to help you out, he smirked as you whimpered at the loss of his touch. Leaning to the side, he opened the drawer of the nightstand, searching for a condom in its depths. Finding one, he tore open the wrapper quickly, sucking air through his teeth as he rolled it on.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Holding you by your hips, he guided you down onto him. Thrusting his hips up, a filthy moan ripped from Rhett, the feeling of you around him left him almost speechless. Falling forward, you tried to tuck your face into the side of his neck, but he wouldn’t let you. Taking you by the back of the neck, he brought your face in front of him, your breath warm against his already flush skin.

“Look at me baby.”

Your eyes snapped to his, as more luscious sounds tumbled from both of you. Whispering obscene encouragements, he let his hand drift between you, settling where you needed him the most. The feeling of him touching you there made you jolt.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

The two of you continued like this, searching for your high together. Thrusting up to meet one final drop of your hips, Rhett felt you tumble over the edge. He followed soon after, slowing down as he worked you both through your climaxes. Digging into your hips, he rested you in his lap for a moment while he caught his breath. Your arms looped around his neck, foreheads pressed together as your muscles relaxed.

You practically purred against his lips as you spoke, “Told you there was something that could make it better.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at your comment. The fact that you were even able to think straight after what had just happened was incredibly impressive. Pressing his lips to yours, he tightened his grip on you and flipped you over, his body finding a home in the space between your legs. Lowering himself, Rhett pulled you in for a lazy kiss.

The two of you spent the next several minutes reveling in the fact that you were able to share this time together. Seeing your chest finally stop heaving, Rhett rolled off of you and stood from the bed. Heading to the bathroom, he quickly cleaned himself up and grabbed a warm rag for you. Making his way back into the bedroom, he tenderly took care of you, dropping the cloth into the laundry basket before helping you get dressed. The rest of the morning flew by as the two of you let the world turn without you.

The rest of the Abbott crew returned after tackling church and the grocery store. Amy was instantly flying through the house exchanging her church for hiking clothes. Skidding back into the living room she practically begged you and Rhett to go for a hike. Seeing no reason not to go, the two of you joined her for a short hike before dinner. The sunset cast a golden hue over everything it touched. Amy ran slightly ahead, as you and Rhett mozied behind, chatting about his next competition. Checking the time, the three of you decided to turn around a little before the destination Amy had in mind.

The little girl had already made it into the kitchen for dinner by the time you and Rhett made it back to the front porch. The clomp of your boots sounded loudly on the wood of the front porch as you reached for the door handle. Joining the rest of his family at the table, the mood of the room was already off kilter by the time you took your seat. Royal was so lost in thought that he didn’t even react when Amy asked him a question, while Perry plowed through multiple beers in one meal.

Finishing up your food, you didn’t even bother offering to clean, your frustration boiling over. Turning to Amy you offered to help her get her stuff around for school the next day. Clearly, on the verge of frustrated tears herself, Amy hopped up from her chair and took off for her room. Pausing to give Rhett a kiss, you followed behind her, pushing the partially open door out of the way, you found her rummaging around. Grabbing her backpack, you shoved the folders on her desk inside, watching as she set out the clothes she wanted to wear tomorrow. Double checking she had everything back in her bag, the two of you continued on with your nightly routine. Rhett ducked his head into his niece’s room as you tucked her into bed. Begging him for more stories about her mother, he couldn’t help but oblige.

With Amy fast asleep, you and Rhett made your way out of the room, trying hard not to let the floor creak under your weight. Parting ways temporarily, you headed to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth. Setting your phone face down on the counter away from the sink, you turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. Gathering water in your hands you leaned over, trying not to splash as you blindly dampened your face. Taking only a minute or two, you dried your face on a towel from under the sink before hanging it from the same hook Rhett’s was on. Reaching for your toothbrush you heard your phone vibrate on the hard surface. Your heart sank at the sound. Dropping your toothbrush back into the cup, you snatched it up, glancing quickly at the screen. An immense weight lifted off your shoulders when you realized that it was just a push notification from an app. Trying to relax, you continued on with the rest of your routine, but the panic had rushed in lightning-fast, taking hold of your nervous system. Your hands still shook lightly as you finished up and headed to bed.

Slipping into the room, you hopped into bed as quickly as possible, not wanting Rhett to notice how shaken up you were. Tucking you into his chest, Rhett rested his hand on your stomach. Feeling his breathing even out into the deep waves of sleep, you found yourself slipping under, anxiety still ringing in the corners of your mind as you drifted off.

…..........

That night at the diner… Rhett kneeled before you as the world crashed down on top of you, blurred with the last time you’d seen James. The bright lights of the restaurant gave way to the dim living room you’d once shared with him, and the searing pain of the glass cutting into your skin consumed your thoughts. You could once again feel the blood, your blood, pooling hot and sticky beneath you as you waited to call for the ambulance. The distant voices of the EMTs as they worked around were lost in your struggle to hold on, slipping back into consciousness only for a few moments at a time. The enclosed space of the ambulance gave way to the sterile lights of an ER. The ripping pain that ran through you lessened as the cold crept through every inch of your body. Feeling your last foothold on this world fall away, the numbness masked the agony, and your vision faded completely as you let yourself go. The drone of the heart monitor rang like a death toll, mixed with the bone-chilling timber of his voice… “I told you not to run.”

Rhett felt your body jerk upright out of his arms, a strangled scream tore from your chest as you crashed back into reality. Your breathing came in ragged gasps as you sobbed, your heart beating out of your chest. Pulling your legs into your chest, you wrapped your arms around your legs as you buried your face into your knees. Startling awake, Rhett immediately snapped to attention, pulling himself up to sit with you. Placing his hand on your back he felt you tense under his touch before slumping into his side. Your tears caught on the already damp neckline of your sweat-soaked sleep shirt. Holding you close, Rhett felt the shivers racking your body, the tremors caused not only because of the chill of the room, but also the aftershocks of your adrenaline falling away. Adjusting his position, he laid back down on the bed, taking you with him, your back flush with his chest just as you had been before. Pulling the covers back over you both once you were settled. His lips brushed a soft kiss over your shoulder as he felt your body relax back into him. True sleep evaded both of you as a bottomless void of emotional weariness consumed your thoughts.

…

The hustle and bustle of a weekday morning floated through the house as the rest of the Abbott family started their day. The slamming of the doors, followed by the grumble of trucks backing out of the driveway was in high contrast to the silence that settled over the house. Turning over you tucked your head under Rhett’s chin, his lips pressing into the top of your head as he fixed his grip on your body.

“I’m sorry.” Your words barely more than a whisper.

Leaning his head back just enough to look down at your face, Rhett stared at you with confusion as he spoke, “You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry about sweetheart.”

You started to protest, but he cut you off with a kiss.

“There is nothing to be sorry about.” Each word was slow and deliberate, his hand cupped your face as his thumb swept along your cheekbone.

Feeling wetness collect on his thumb, Rhett leaned down again to capture your lips. Running his hand down your back he felt the muscles still stiff under your skin. Wanting to help you relax, he got up from the bed, reassuring you that he’d be right back before heading to the bathroom. Turning on the water in the shower, he let it warm up before pushing the stopper down into the drain. Filling the tub, he added some body wash under the running water, the bubbles creating a light layer on top as the level rose.

Not wanting it to overflow, he turned off the faucet and headed back into his room. Peeling back the covers, he helped you sit up, your legs hanging over the edge of the bed for a moment before he took your hands and pulled you up. Shuffling your way into the bathroom, Rhett locked the door behind you, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he gently pushed you back against the door. Kissing you tenderly, his hand drifted up your side under your shirt, sweeping along the soft skin under your breast.

Sliding back down, he gripped the bottom of your shirt, slipping it off over your head as carefully as he could. Tossing it away, he hastily took off his own, letting it join yours next to the sink on the floor. Stepping back into your space, he traced the delicate curves of your body. Taking his time he kissed over your exposed skin, Kneeling down he mouthed along the top of your thighs, the cotton of your underwear felt smooth in his grip as he dragged them down your legs.

Standing back up, Rhett took off his boxers, letting them pool around his feet as he guided you to the tub. Stepping in first, he helped you in before easing himself down into the water, pulling you with him as he went. Settling you between his strong legs, his left arm circled around your waist while the reached for your hand which was resting on his right knee. Falling back into his chest, you held his hand to your body as he continue to place silky kisses along the top of your shoulder. Your breaths came in sync the longer you sat together.

…

Time passed in a blurry haze. Anxiety-filled nightmares plagued your mind frequently over the coming days, each one leaving you feeling more depleted than the last. Your body ached from the lack of sleep. Never leaving your side, Rhett held you through every attack, his presence acting as the only anchor during the darkest moments. With the days bleeding into one another, the nightly dinners with the rest of the family tethered you both to the rest of the world & its problems.

…

Standing in the kitchen you gave the contents of the crockpot in front of you a quick stir as you watched Rhett work on your dad’s truck through the window. Placing the lid back on, you set the spoon you just used on the ceramic rest next to the stove. Slipping on your shoes, you joined Rhett outside, returning to the camping chair he’d put out for you earlier in the day.

“How’s it coming?”

“Uhmm… it’s comin’... not fast, but we’re gettin’ there. Probably gonna need-”

Rhett wiped his hands on the oil-covered rag he’d hung over the edge of the hood. Turning to look at you as he continued, his words were interrupted by Perry pulling into the driveway. Amy was out of the vehicle and pounding towards the front door before you could even say hi, the sight of tears streaming down her face yanked you from your seat. Standing up, you follow behind Amy, throwing Rhett and Perry a look over your shoulder as you rushed away.

Leaning against the hood of the truck, he turned to his brother, “What the hell was that Per?”

“It's those goddamn girls in her class again. They were at the diner after the rodeo… they’ve been sayin’ shit about Y/N all week. Callin’ her crazy.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“ An’ Amy’d had enough today, she got detention for screaming at ‘em during lunch. The Principal called me into the school to talk about it all. I don’t even know what to tell ‘er Rhett. Having Y/N home’s the best thing that’s happened to her since…”

“I know.”

…

“Bug?”

You peeked inside her room, not wanting to invade her space without announcing yourself. Pushing the door open, your eyes landed on the little girl’s bed, the covers lumped messily as she’d rushed to hide herself under them. You could hear her soft sobs as she buried her face into her pillow under her blanket. Joining her on the bed, you placed your hand on her back over the blanket, the worn cotton of the quilt felt soft under your fingers.

“I’m here whenever you’re ready.”

Laying down on the bed next to Amy you tried to keep your mind from spinning out of control. Listening to the quiet of the house, you found that it was next to impossible to keep your anxiety from spiraling. The rustling of blankets being pulled back refocused on you the present. Turning on your side you found yourself face to face with Amy, her eyes red from crying.

“There you are.” Smiling sadly, you tucked an errant strand of her blonde hair back behind her ear.

“Girls at school were talkin’ about you.”

“Oh.”

“They were at the diner, and they… they saw what happened.”

You just nodded your head as you waited for her to gather her thoughts.

“They were callin’ you crazy, an’ they kept sayin’ that you were gonna run off and leave me… just like my mom”

Amy grew quiet, as you gained the strength to speak, the back of your throat tight with tears you fought to control.

“Look at me, Bug.” You waited until her bright blue eyes found yours before continuing, “That’s not gonna happen, okay?”

Sitting up, you motioned for her to join you. Nuzzling into your side, Amy let her head rest on your shoulder. The two of you stayed like this until her tears stopped flowing. Reaching out you plucked a few tissues from the box on her nightstand and handed them to Amy. Looking down at her, an idea struck you.

“How ‘bout this? Why don’t we drag your dad and your uncle out for a night on the town, hmm? Dinner, ice cream?”

Giggling, she perked up a bit as she used the tissue to wipe her nose.

“Ice cream before dinner?”

“Sounds good to me. Come on, let’s go tell the boys.”

Traipsing downstairs, you and Amy proposed your plan to Rhett and Perry who were now seated at the table drinking a beer. Simply happy to see his daughter smiling again, Perry quickly agreed to go along with the plan. Rhett couldn’t help but smile as he watched you and Amy head back out of the room to get dressed for your adventure. Amy peeled away to find something to wear as you did the same. Scrounging through your bag, you were thoroughly convinced that there was nothing until you felt your fingers close around the supple fabric. Grasping the dress in your hand, you extricated it from the depths of your bag.

Giving it a quick once over, it was clear that you’d need to pop it in the dryer for a few minutes to get rid of the wrinkles. Bopping back downstairs you tossed it in before turning around and heading back to brush your teeth and hair. By the time you were finishing in the bathroom, Rhett was making his way into the space to do the same, setting the shirt he was holding on the counter before picking up the bottle of Listerine. His left hand settled on your hip as he swished some mouthwash, the minty scent tinged with alcohol burned your nose. Shifting out of the way slightly, you leaned back on the counter as he spat into the sink. You could see the concern in his eyes as his gaze found yours.

“What’s got you worried now, Rhett?”

“It’s nothin’, Y/N.”

“That’s not true. Clearly, something’s bothering you.”

Inhaling slowly he worked up the courage to speak.

“What if he shows up again? It’s just… don’t you think it's odd that he hasn’t tried to contact you since that night? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Nothing about this makes sense, but I can’t live the rest of my life holed up waiting for the other shoe to drop. Besides, I think it’d do Amy and I both some good to get out of this house for a while.”

Nodding his head, the grave look in his eyes settled deeper. It wasn’t that you didn’t share many of the same reservations, but given what Amy had been dealing with… and all because of you… your mind was already made up. She deserved the opportunity to just be a kid for once.

Giving him a quick kiss, you left to go get dressed. The warmth of the dryer still clung to your dress as you slipped it on over your head, the heat encasing your body deliciously for a few moments before dissipating into the air. Looking in the mirror, you decided to forgo wearing a bra seeing as the thin straps of the dress did little to conceal the undergarment. Unhooking your bra, you slid it off without removing the dress, tossing it on top of the dresser. Taking another look in the mirror you smoothed your hands over the front of your dress, admiring the delicate pattern of daisies that decorated the greyish-blue cotton. Returning to your bag, you felt the slit running down the left thigh part as you bent down to put on the flats you’d found hiding in the midst of your clothes. Trying hard not to lose your balance as you put on your shoes, you didn’t hear Rhett come into the room.

“Goddamn.”

Turning around you found Rhett leaning against the door frame, undressing you with his eyes. A small smirk pulled at the corner of your lips as you returned the favor. The blue of his shirt complimented his eyes perfectly, the brim of his hat casting a small shadow over his face.

“Like what ya see?”

Taking a few confident strides, he made his way over to you, his hands falling to your waist and the back of your neck. The hand on your waist raked down to your ass, his fingers digging in as he backed you up into the nearest wall. A small huff escaped as you hit the firm surface, his hand moved to the back of your thigh as he hiked your leg around his hip. The slit allowed the fabric to fall away as he ran his hand along the side of your leg.

“So beautiful.”

Leaning down his lips found yours, your mouths working in time with one another, tongues exploring as your hands roamed over his chest, snaking around to feel his strong back. The taste of his mouthwash filled your nose as you continued. Using your strength, you yanked him closer, the motion forced a breathy moan from him. In the back of your head, you knew this was risky, Amy was just down the hall, and the bedroom door was only partially closed, but neither of you could bring yourself to care. Painting down your neck with kisses, Rhett groaned as he reached the exposed swell of your breast.

“Fuck”

The hand that had been in your hair, slid down your neck, pushing the strap to the side as he kissed between your breasts, the top of the dress fell down to expose more of your chest. Waves of lust thrummed through your body, clouding your judgment as your back arched from the wall seeking more. A sudden sharp knock on the wall next to the door followed by Perry’s gruff voice tore you and Rhett apart lightning quick.

“Eat now, sex later. We’re leaving in five.”

Breaking his contact with your chest, Rhett adjusted the hat on his head as he chuckled. Smiling up at him, he looked deep into your eyes as he set your leg down and fixed the strap of your dress. Giving you a quick peck on the lips, he stood up, and let you finish fixing your outfit as he did the same. Grabbing the jacket he’d let you borrow the other day, he draped it over your shoulders. Not wanting to keep Amy waiting, you and Rhett made your way to the living room where you knew she’d be waiting.

“You ready, Bug?”

“Yup!” Looking up from her spot on the couch, her smile grew wide.

Amy joined you and Rhett as you headed for the front door. Perry wasn’t far behind and caught up with you three as you approached the trucks. Taking a minute, the four of you decided where to head first. Parroting Amy’s vote for ice cream before dinner, the four of you took off for the local ice cream stand. The drive into town was peaceful, quiet country music played over the radio as Rhett’s hand rested on your thigh, his grip sliding higher the longer the drive went on. You could feel eyes flick over to you every so often.

“Eyes on the road, cowboy. I don’t want to have to explain to the cops that we got into an accident because you couldn’t control yourself.”

He could hear the humor in your voice as you placed your hand on top of his, holding it in place on your leg.

“Sweetheart, I ride bulls for a living… I promise you that we’re not gonna get in an accident.”

Turning his hand over, he grabbed yours and pulled it to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand before returning to your leg, only slightly higher up this time. Letting your head fall back, you watched Rhett as he drove, the scruff of his beard catching the setting sun beautifully. His hand never left you for the rest of the ride.

…

The night with Amy and the boys flew by, the weight that had settled over everyone lifted in earnest. Perry laughed with his daughter, the two looked perfectly happy in one another’s company in a way you hadn’t seen since coming back home. And even Rhett, you had been on high alert since leaving the house, seemed to relax a little, though he was always within reaching distance of you. As the night wore on, you could see Amy’s eyes grow heavy with fatigue. Seeing her yawns grow more frequent, Perry asked for the bill and paid.

“How ‘bout this? Why don’t you and I go back home, and watch a movie before bed?”

Perry’s question was met with a stunned expression from Amy. The blank stare gave way to the brightest smile as she realized what he was offering.

“Does that sound good?” Perry prompted seeking affirmation that he’d said the right thing.

“Yeah!”

Amy practically sprang from her seat as soon as the waitress returned with Perry’s credit card. Giving Amy a hug, you followed them out, watching as the father-daughter duo made their way back to the truck. Rhett stood behind you, tipping his head down to whisper into your ear.

“I know we’ve already had dinner, but let me take you on that date I promise.”

Turning around to face him, he could feel your palms slide up his arms and onto his chest.

“Okay. And what did you have in mind?”

“Drinks,” his lips brush yours, “some flirting,” another brush, “some kissing,” he mouthed hungrily at your lips this time as his hands held you firmly by the waist, “and maybe a room at the hotel to top off the evening. How’s that sound?”

“I’d like that very much.”

He could feel your smile on his lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tip toes to deepen the embrace. Dropping back on your heels, you laced your fingers with his and started off in the direction of the Handsome Gambler.

…

The guests at the Handsome Gambler were getting rowdy as the night progressed, but that didn’t seem to matter to Rhett as he sat close to you in one of the booths toward the back of the bar. Pressed into his right side, you were practically sitting on his lap as your left leg was pulled over his legs, his hand mapping the back of your thigh as you let yourselves get a touch carried away with one another. Things slowed down when you heard the murmur of other people's voices filling in the booth next to you. Neither you nor Rhett minded a little bit of risk, but after everything that happened at the diner, you didn’t feel like giving the gossip mill that is Wabang any more fuel. Simmering down, most of the night from there on out centered around light conversation, focusing mainly on what you'd missed during your time away, but as Rhett sipped away at his latest beer of the night, things shifted.

“Do you think you’d ever go back? To school I mean.”

“Not sure. One thing I do know is that we’ve gotta get the hell out of this town. Soon rather than later or it's gonna be the death of us.”

Rhett hummed in agreement. He knew you were right, and he wanted that too, but figuring out how to make that a reality… well that seemed to grow trickier the longer he thought about it. Reaching out with his right arm to grab his beer, he felt a sharp shooting pain radiate up from his wrist. Unable to hide his reaction, you shifted to get a better look at him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just my damn wrist.”

Sliding his hand into his jacket pocket, you could hear the bottle of pills rattle as he pulled it out.

“What you got there?”

“Oh, painkillers.”

“You gotta be careful with those, Rhett.”

“Oh, yeah. I know it. I know it.”

Twisting the cap off, he dumped a couple onto the table before picking them up and popping them into his mouth, following them with a swig of his drink. He grew quiet for a moment, his eyes holding your own in his infinite blue stare.

“You wanna dance with me?”

“Since when can you dance?”

“Well, I’m not drunk. An’ I’m willin’ to try for you.”

You gave him a hard stare as you contemplated dancing with him in the packed bar.

“Come on, let me dance with my girl.”

Rhett stood up and reached for your hand, helping you out of the booth. Letting his hand go you situated your dress as it had shifted severely out of place during the heavy petting you and Rhett had been occupied with earlier. And that’s when you felt it, a massive weight slammed into your shoulder, knocking you off balance. Not even glancing back the man called a weak apology back at you.

“Whoa, hey. Hey, hey. Where are you going, pal? I think you owe somebody an apology.”

Rhett had the man by his arm, the look in his eyes growing more deadly by the second.

“It’s all right, Rhett. I’m fine.”

“Do yourself a favor son, and sit back down. I told her I was sorry.”

“Well, tell her again.”

“I’m not much for repeatin’ myself.”

The other man shoved Rhett away as he spoke.

“Well, let’s change that”

Rocking forward Rhett tried to lunge at the man, but the alcohol he’d consumed impaired his movement causing him to stumble back into the edge of the table you’d been sitting at.

“Just give me a second, hold on a second here. Wait, wait. Hey.”

The stranger just walked away, not willing to bother with Rhett whose drinks were finally catching up with him now that he was standing. You couldn’t help, but laugh a little at his actions. You hated that he’d consumed so much alcohol, but you loved the fact that he was ready and willing to defend your honor… even if he’d ended up making a fool of himself in the process.

“You okay, there?”

Leaning with one hand on the table, Rhett’s hair fell into his face as he looked at you. Sweeping it back out of his eyes, you waited for his response.

“You impressed yet?”

“Let’s get you out of here.”

Picking up his hat, he placed it on his head as you looped your arm around his, leading him out of the bar.

“Let’s get me out of here.”

Outside the wave of the cool night air that hit you both was a welcome change from the stuffy bar. The scent of the stale beer cleared from your nose as you took a few deep breaths.

“For what’s it worth, I would’ve still taken that guy.”

“Oh, yeah, anyone could see that.”

Sarcasm dripped from your words as you paused on the sidewalk, Rhett’s hold on you shifting to drag you closer.

“How ‘bout that hotel room you promised early? Is that still on the agenda for tonight?”

“Yeah, but there’s one thing I wanna do before we go.”

“And what’s that?”

“This.”

Tipping his hat up with two fingers, Rhett cupped the side of your neck with his hand, his lips finding a home on yours immediately. The caress was gentle at first, growing needier as he turned you around and walked you back into the side of the bar. His right hand steadied himself on the wall above your head, while his left grasped at your waist. Threading your arm behind his back, you pulled him closer, a sharp exhale fell from Rhett as he moved further into your space. Letting your hands roam, you threaded your fingers through his hair, your tongue running along his lips asking for more. Focused on the sensation of his body pressed against yours, you forgot where you were until the wolf whistles yanked you out of the moment. Rhett’s lips continued to move with yours as you tried to slow down.

“Okay. Mmm.” Your breath came in quick pants as you broke away, his hand sliding up to hold your face near his as he caught onto the change.

“Come on, Rhett. Let’s go get that room.”

“All right.” His voice was hardly more than a whisper as he gave you another peck on the lips.

“Shit. I left your jacket inside. Why don’t you go start the truck while I get it?”

You could see the hesitation on his face.

“It’ll be okay, Rhett. I’m just goin’ in to get the jacket.”

“Okay.”

Giving him another kiss, you pushed him away gently, forcing him to head to the truck. Turning away, you made your way back into the bar. Getting the coat took a touch longer than expected as someone had already turned it into the bartender when they took the booth you two had been in before. A few minutes later you were out the door with the coat in hand, but what you saw sent panic rushing through your veins. Rhett was standing next to one of the Sheriff’s squad cars. You recognized the deputy who was right by his side helping him into the back of the vehicle.

“What the hell is goin’ on here?”

Your words cut like a knife through the quiet night air, stopping both Rhett and the Deputy in their tracks. When neither one responded right away you asked your question again.

“I said, what the hell is goin’ on here?”

“You’re man was pissing on the back of my car.”

“Jesus Christ, Rhett. You can’t be serious.”

He didn’t say anything, finding it wiser to keep his mouth shut.

“Mark, come on, he’s drunk. Let me drive him home okay. I’ve only had one beer, and that was hours ago.”

“No can do Y/N. He’s gonna have to come with me.”

“Fine. I’ll follow behind, and I’ll take him home when you're done.”

“Can’t let ya do that either, not with everything that’s going on right now. It’ll have to be an immediate family member that picks him.”

“That’s not the fuckin’ law Mark, and you know it. You’re just makin’ shit up now.”

Rhett spoke for the first time since you came back with the jacket.

“Y/N, stop. Just take my keys, and go home.” He paused for a moment as he considered his next words, “Tell my dad what’s goin’ on, and I’ll call him when I can.”

“But, Rhett this is bullshit, he can’t-”

“I know, but right now he is.”

“Fine.”

You walked over to Rhett, and plucked the keys from his jacket pocket, turning away before you could make things worse with another ill-advised comment. You watched as the squad car pulled away in the opposite direction. The engine idled loudly as you composed yourself enough to drive.

…

Back at the Abbott ranch you tried to take a few calming breathes before entering the house, but nothing helped settle your nerves. Flinging the front door open, you pounded around the corner into the kitchen. There you found Royal and Ceci sitting at the table, a pot of coffee sat between them, steam floating out of their freshly poured cups. The look of alarm on your face was enough to cause even Royal worry. Setting his mug down on the table he opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“It’s Rhett. They’ve got ‘em down at the station.”

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

@lostinthefandoms11

@hope-love-equality2

@eugene-emt-roe

#rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott x female reader #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #lewis pullman #outer range

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thesmokingguns · 2 years ago

Text

Peach and the Megaphone

Minors DNI 18+

"Daddy's a meanie, I won't suck his weenie." Peach had broken free from the hotel room she had been placed in timeout in. A megaphone in her hand as the ultimate weapon, a horrified look on Nikki's face as he wondered if this was really happening or if he was imagining this hell, "Called me a brat, won't eat my cat." she continued her rhyming, kicking her feet as she sat on the stage, looking out at him with the evil smirk she had mastered.

Nikki who was aging daily and thinking that it was due to the fact that Peach had been transforming into a master brat with the heatwave the US was getting and the constant movement of tour. For some reason the hustle and bustle was becoming too much for her and instead of just telling Nikki that she had turned into a true terror.

“You should probably handle that.” Tommy said as he watched Nikki’s girl sitting on the stage with her pout firmly stuck on her face and the megaphone still by her side, ready to be used at a moment's notice.

The deep sigh of exasperation NIkki let out, his fingers moving to push through his hair as he headed towards the stage where Peach was sitting. As he got closer he noticed her long jeans, baggy with holes in the knees, the silk scarf was tied around her top and the glisten of her skin in the sunlight was warm and welcoming.

Peach was beautiful but Nikki saw her in a different light, he saw the youthfulness about her that he sometimes forgot about. Her inexperience in these situations was starting to shine through and he felt guilty. He should have prepared her better for all of this.

Being on the road was a lot to handle. For Peach who had never had a secure root of a home, never had roots for a home…He hadn’t thought about her past when he was talking about the tour. He had just thought of taking his girl and what an adventure it would be. He wanted to have these memories together.

“C'mon down now, Peach.” She was thrown off by the softness of his voice, the way he held out his arms for her. Usually when Nikki was mad his mouth was small, lips pressed together but he didn’t seem like that.

She was thinking of a tantrum, Nikki could see it in her posture how she thought of picking up the megaphone and coming up with another one of her cheers but instead she held her arms out, the man carefully lifting her off the stage and down to her own two feet.

“Why don’t we go home on the break instead of Mexico for the week? I miss holding you in our bed.” The word ‘home’ and ‘our’ made Peach reach out for Nikki’s lips, feeling the way the words were on his lips and letting the vibrations reach her heart.

She was softer now, moldable like playdoh and Nikki worried at the exhaustion she must feel to be this way. She didn’t say anything, the words were caught in her throat but her nod confirmed it.

Nikki had her hand in his as they moved backstage, he would take her to his dressing room and use the afternoon to kiss all the sorts of her body he loved, start drinking the top and work his way down and climb back up again. He’d hold her and just put on a movie for them to watch, try to show her that life on the road meant he could be her home for a while instead of an actual place.

Peach being quiet as he held her on the couch threw him off and he glanced down several times to make sure she was still awake. Her hands were over his, Holding him in place with his arm wrapped around her as they watched whatever was playing on Netflix.

Nikki’s other arm slid over her jeans, trying to read the signs as he slipped the button through the loop, watching and seeing what she would do as he pulled down the zipper. Maybe Peach had been right that he was mean. Maybe all the time on stage had left him not giving her the attention she so desperately needed to have.

The worn fingers, faded tattoos slid over her stomach up to the knot of her silk scarf, tugging the knot free and pulling gently so that the scarf fluttered on the floor. Peach didn’t comment that the scarf was $1300 dollars of Dior silk that Nikki was casually discarding, usually she was careful with all her nice things but the silk had been cold and Nikki’s hands were so warm.

He heard the purr from her lips as his hand covered her breasts, the rough skin on his fingers and palms. Calloused from the bass playing against her soft skin. His poor little Peach was touch starved and aching for him, acting out because she needed her Daddy’s attention. Well, she had it now.

Nikki shifted trying to pull her pants off, glad she cooperated and could be naked against him. Her lips lowered, hands adjusted to push his finger between her lips, tongue flickering over the digit as he moved it deeper. The vibrations as she whimpered while sucking his finger, finger fucking her lips so they got sticky with the mix of lipgloss and drool.

Peach lifted a leg, opening herself as she laid against him, back to Nikki, needing him to feel between her legs. Needing his thick thumb to strum against her clit, go make her whine when he pushed the hood back and tapped at her over exposed flesh.

The bassist could take a hint, his eyes flickering between the way his girl was sucking his fingers, her oral fixation hard at work and the way his hand moved between her legs. His pinky and pointer finger spread her lips, so wet that when they came apart the glistening liquid made a sound like two wet pieces being pulled apart. Nikki’s forehead came down and his teeth sunk into her shoulders as he moaned at the way her body was reacting.

His middle finger slid into her, the soft surprise of it made her lips soften in an ‘ oh’ around his finger and made him smirk. Pulling out her replaced one finger with two, pushing fully into her as she locked her toes behind his knees to keep herself open for him.

When was the last time he had her like this? Writhing against him from just his fingers? Poor Peach so touch started that she whined and hummed, bucking her hips as she craved more but couldn’t even ask for it.

“Nikki-“

“Daddy.” He corrected her, his wet fingers sliding from between her lips down to her breasts, teasing the pink stiff buds as she shivered helplessly in his arms. “I’m your daddy, Peach.” Nikki’s voice was warm against her ear, his breath teasing each word out as she whimpered and moaned.

His fingers twisted and if his arm wasn't banded over her breasts she would have fallen off the couch as she cursed, lewd and loudly. The way her body was hot with pleasure, leaking out down his fingers over his knuckles made him with his cock was buried in her. Shifting in the small space he pressed his hard cock against her ass, lips on her earlobe as he rolled his hips from behind her, pretending he was fucking her as he bumped into her ass, fingers slipping in and out of her core as she gripped the arm around her breats. Nikki shifted upward so his thumb could pull down her lip.

Peach’s tongue lapped at it, moving to suck the tip as she shifted and rolled her hips against his fingers, wishing he was pressing her against the mattress, pinning her under him as he fucked her. The orgasm in her core building, the rocking against him, her wetness covering not only his hand but down the front of his jeans. Sticky pussy, it was so loud and Peach was covering the sound of her pussy making wet squelches by making loud moans.

Nikki had almost forgotten how loud she could be, the way she moaned in the back of her throat and whimpered. She would whisper little yes’s, lips curling upward as she panted, head turning left and right as she sucked on his finger to try and keep herself quiet. But he wanted to hear her sounds, pulling his finger from her lips as she whined out. The soft sound made Nikki groan as his lips kissed her neck, down to her shoulder. His teeth were biting and leaving marks on her skin.

“Daddy,..Daddy…daaaa.” the way she clenched around his fingers, Nikki keeping her still as he curled his fingers inside of her as she orgasmed around his fingers, needy as her orgasm poured through her.

His finger eased out of her, the way Peach shivered at the loss of contact, her legs falling closed as he lifted the fingers. Her cheeks burned for a second as she listened to the man suck the taste of her clean from himself. She was feeling sleepy, half exhausted from the force of being played with and pleased. But she could feel Nikki’s cock straining in his pants and wanted more of him.

“You’re so hard for me, Daddy. Why don’t I take care of you?” Peach rolled over, her eyes looking at Nikki as her fingers pushed down the zipper of her pants. Her fingers sliding into his space and stroking him up and down as she watched the way he reacted to her touch.

“Peach…” her eyebrow raised as he tried to get out his point but was unable to as she shifted them both, rolling so she was on top of him. Nikki’s hands instinctively went to Peach’s hips as he helped guide her down, eyes watching the way her pussy glistened as his cock slipped inside of her, vanishing into the wetness of her body.

She wanted to show Nikki what he had been missing and prove to him she wasn't the only one that was missing out on affection. By the way his eyes were fluttering under her she knew that he was getting the point.

Taglist: @ayablackwood @rocknrollsoul76 @greeneyezblackheart @lady-jane3 @rocketgrrrl27 @slutforstradlin @theoutsiders25 @fispapercrafter @bbyamberx @brezeblog @samanthasgone @aggressive-slytherin @clover270 @grayxiu @another-obsessed-with-duff @badfvith @bia003 @queenbae18 @axl-roses-rose @d-ahliaa @beebemarie @guns-n-roses-gal @themoonbelongstome @pinksweetgirl18 @cemmia @bieberhoodforever

#Peach and Nikki #Nikki Sixx imagine #Nikki Sixx fanfic #Nikki Sixx fan fic #Nikki Sixx fan fiction #Nikki Sixx headcanon #daddy sixx #Nikki Sixx fanfiction

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voicesfromnowhere · 2 years ago

Text

Day 6 - Supernatural - @hellcheerweek

Read on AO3

Rated Explicit, 18+

——

This story is based on the amazing Witch AU art by @lunateayart ! Thank you for letting me include your art in the mood board for todays fic!

——

Chrissy’s life had been turned upside down in only a month. If you had told her she would be hiding her demon familiar from her parents who had only ever raised her to be a good witch that practiced good, pure magic, the old Chrissy would have laughed you off. But now, in the short time she’d known the demon, he’d managed to push every last button she had.

When the adorable black cat followed her home, she was ecstatic thinking her fairy familiar had finally found her. It was a rite of passage and the Cunningham family had partnered with fairy familiars for generations. Apparently that didn’t apply to Chrissy though. When she got home and snuck the cat to her room upstairs, she thought she would surprise her parents in the morning and they would be proud of her. However, her plans vanished like smoke when she’d performed the familiar bonding ceremony. She’d always been told to do it right away, for delaying the ceremony could be seen as an insult to a fairy.

She’d known something was off when the incantations and sigils took on a darker hue, an inky blackness enveloping the cat that had sat before her. In the blink of an eye, the cat had disappeared and a very large, very handsome, and very naked demon was sitting in her room. Inky black covered his arms from his elbows to his fingertips. Horns were protruding from his shoulder length mop of hair that Chrissy wanted to run her fingers through. Her also had wings like a bat that took up most of the space in her room. She’d been lost for words and had felt her face flush as she thought about the final act of sealing the bond.

Chrissy still cursed the fact that she’d chosen to wear a low cut dress that night as his gaze raked over her form and she felt herself flush at the attention. It was like the universe was playing a cruel joke on her. The demon man had chuckled and the low reverberations had sent her heart spiraling into her throat and her stomach was suddenly tied in knots.

“Heart of my Heart, and Bone of my Bone,

I hath been accepted as this witches own,

Sealing the vow, I willingly give,

My fate is now hers, bound by my kiss.”

Still unable to speak, Chrissy had only stood there, face red with embarrassment as he’d wrapped a dark arm around her waist, warm and solid, before leaning down, pulling her dress down further until almost her entire left breast was revealed, leaving little to the imagination. He never broke eye contact as he licked his lips with a smirk and placed a kiss as far down her breast as he could. Chrissy thought she had died in that very moment.

The sigils around them condensed at the sign of the ceremonies final act being performed and they branded themselves in a small circle, right where the demon had kissed her. The tattoo was a binding contract and it was only when everything calmed down that she’d started to panic.

Since that night a little over a month ago, Chrissy learned a few things about the demon that she had bound herself to.

1. His name was Edward but he insisted she call him Eddie, which she’d found kind of adorable.

2. Eddie loved being in his cat form so that he could terrorize her parents, take cat naps in Chrissy’s lap, and easily get from place to place.

3. Eddie was the biggest tease Chrissy had ever met and it was driving her absolutely insane.

Sighing to herself, Chrissy realized she had drawn the same sigil in her notebook about ten times while she’d been lost in thought. Getting to know Eddie had been a rollercoaster of emotions for her. There was no denying that he was beautiful, deliciously dangerous, and sometimes he would say or do something that stoked a fire in her, but Chrissy couldn’t let those thoughts get the better of her. She had to remind herself that Eddie was a demon and that meant that this was just how he was. She imagined that it was hardwired into his DNA. She wouldn’t allow herself to let him get under her skin, or to seduce her in some way. She wasn’t actually special to him because that’s just how demons were. End of story.

Deciding to put her things away, she arched her back in a stretch that felt deep and satisfying after sitting for so long, a happy squeak leaving her throat.

“You know how much I love your private shows just for me sweetheart, but the least you could do is warn a guy.” Shooting an annoyed but flustered look over her shoulder, Chrissy huffed as she brought her arms back down to her sides and stood.

On a day to day basis, when Eddie wasn’t a cat, he took on the seemingly normal looking form of a man with tattoos. But his aura was still this bubbling form of defiance that oozed off of him with everything he did. He definitely used it to his advantage when it came to driving Chrissy insane too and it wasn’t just the innuendos or other things he said to her. It was the way he would look at her, like he wanted to eat her alive. It was the way his hands would sometimes skim any piece of exposed skin her outfit showed that day. It was the way he would curl up beside her at night as a cat, only for her to wake up in a heated tangle of limbs with soft hair tickling her in the middle of the night.

“I know you think you’re corrupting me Eddie, but you just sound ridiculous. You know that, right?” Chrissy had found the only way to not lose her mind was to not encourage him, so she usually defaulted to shooting good natured quips right back at him. “Besides, you need to transform so we can go check up on the barriers with Jason again.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He stood and turned away from her. In a moment of indulgence, Chrissy felt her cheeks warm as she watched him remove his shirt, his lean muscles on display. It would be a complete lie to ignore the fact that Eddie was attractive and it would also be a complete lie if she said she’d never sneaked a glance here or there. Suddenly, Eddie looked over his shoulder and smirked at her, giving Chrissy a once over with his eyes. She knew she’d been caught. “Thought you said I wasn’t corrupting you princess. Oh and just for the record, I still think Jason is a prick. Be careful with him tonight.” Before Chrissy could even sputter out an embarrassed rebuttal, he was a cat again.

“I’m glad you can’t run your mouth as a cat, have I ever told you that?” Eddie simply meowed at her and looked at her with his eyes that were just as expressive, even in this form.

——

Checking the magical barriers that surrounded Hawkins wasn’t a difficult task, but it usually fell to the families that were held in high esteem in the community. The Cunningham’s were one of those families all thanks to Chrissy’s mother holding them to a high standard. She was constantly talking about their ancestors and the role they had to play. It was also partly why Chrissy was still hiding Eddie from her mother. Eddie found it hilarious, but Chrissy found it mind numbing.

The Carver’s were a family that Chrissy had grown up with her whole life, and so she was constantly matched with Jason Carver by proxy. They were the same age and always saw each other at the countless parties and events put on by the magical community in town. It was never lost on her that both of their mothers were always pushing them together in the hopes that they would date, or even marry. Jason was traditionally handsome. He was an all-American, blonde hair, blue eyes, athletic warlock that any young witch would be falling over themselves to marry. Chrissy never felt that way though. There was always something that was holding her back, apprehension that was there niggling at the back of her mind. She’d always trusted her gut, so that meant keeping Jason at arms length, even if he was more than happy to comply with their mother’s schemes.

The two of them had checked the barriers a handful of times together, so this was nothing new. The only difference now was Eddie. Said demon was perched on her shoulders, hitching a free ride as she walked up to where Jason was waiting for her.

“Chris, hey! You made it!” Jason was all smiles and perfect teeth as he waved at her. The nickname was one she didn’t exactly like, but it really didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. She didn’t want to make a big deal over nothing.

“Hey Jason! Hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“Nah it’s okay. I’ve only been here about five minutes.” Jason paused as he noticed the cat circling Chrissy’s legs protectively. “Got a friend?”

“Oh! This is actually my familiar! I forgot you hadn’t met him yet.”

“Why are they in their animal form? Too shy? Scared?” Jason laughed but the jab made Chrissy prickle. It was rude to insult a familiar but Jason had always been cocky. Chrissy had told this story a thousand times so the lie came out easily.

“Actually, my familiar hasn’t shown their true form yet. It’s something special that must be earned through service together. They’re a traditionalist.” It wasn’t necessarily untrue, since some old school familiars really did use that rule, but it was rare nowadays. However, nobody questioned her when she threw the story out. The truth was she couldn’t afford to let anyone know that Eddie was a demon. It would crush her family.

“Oh got it! Weird, but hey! Whatever floats your familiars boat.” Jason shrugged and they slowly began their walk of the perimeter. The two of them poured their magic into the weak points when they found them, a simple task that didn’t take too much energy. By the end of the walk, it was late, and Chrissy was ready to go home, maybe take a bath, and then just collapse into bed. Before she could leave, Jason stopped her one last time.

“Chrissy, listen. Before you go, I was hoping we could talk. About us?” Chrissy was puzzled at the question. Eddie had frozen and his words from earlier echoed in her mind.

‘Be careful with him tonight.’

“What about us?” She asked cautiously. The magic in her gut was roaring to life and Eddie was frozen, staring at Jason like he wanted to murder the young man. It all set Chrissy on edge and she didn’t even know why.

“Well, you know our parents are wanting us to go to the Beltane celebration together. I just thought that we could make things, you know, official.” He carefully reached out and took her hand while she was frozen in place.

Oh.

“Jason I… look I’m flattered really… but I… I just can’t.” Jason was still smiling but his eyes became confused. Chrissy felt as Eddie leapt back up to her shoulders, settling on his haunches.

“Chrissy look. You don’t have to play hard to get. You’re the girl for me okay? You’ve always been the girl for me.” He sounded genuine, but Chrissy just couldn’t reciprocate. Images of Eddie suddenly came to mind, his eyes locked with hers, the way he made her feel hot inside, how it felt to wake up tangled up with him in her bed, the way he smelled. Chrissy didn’t know how to process any of this yet but it was obvious she didn’t want Jason.

“Jason I’m really sorry. I don’t like you that way. You’re wonderful, but there’s so many other girls that would be a much better match.”

It was at this statement that the warmth in Jason’s blue eyes turned to ice and his grip on her hands tightened. This. This was why her gut and Eddie were on edge. She’d never seen this side of Jason before but she immediately knew she didn’t want to.

“That’s not an option Chrissy. You don’t seem to understand.” His grip tightened and Chrissy tried to rip her wrist out, but found it almost impossible. Fear raced down her spine.

“I’m afraid you’ll need to get your disgusting hands off of my witch.” Eddie’s voiced was laced with venom as his arms came to wrap around her from behind. Glancing down, his forearms were pitch black and Chrissy knew exactly what Jason was seeing for the first time. Eddie was in his full demonic form, just like the first time she’d met him. His face contorted in fear and he dropped Chrissy’s wrists like he had been burned.

“Demon.” Jason spit the word out like it was sacrilege.

“I prefer Edward but whatever works for you.” His arms tightened around Chrissy and she could feel the brand of sigils on her chest burning under his touch, a sign that if Jason pushed him, Eddie wouldn’t hold back. Familiars protected those they bonded to fiercely when they thought someone was a threat.

“Jason let go.” Chrissy looked at him with firm eyes, hoping he would have enough sense to not let this escalate. As if Eddie sensed her thoughts, he ran his hands up and down her arms, before one of his hands came to cup Chrissy’s jaw delicately. He was putting on a show for Jason, playing up his corrupted bad boy act, even though Chrissy knew better. She knew that and yet her body still came to life under Eddie’s touch. Trails of fire were left in his wake and she felt goosebumps raise where he’d touched her. By the time he was turning Chrissy’s chin to look up at him, her face was flushed and her lips were parted, unable to control the way her body was reacting to him.

“You sold your soul!” Jason had taken a few steps back, and his voice was carrying through the quiet night around them. “You sold your soul Chrissy, and you’ll have to pay the price. How could you?”

“Jason, he’s just my familiar. Nothing more. Go home, please.” She spoke in an even tone, hoping he would stop before Eddie decided he’d had enough of the boy’s insults.

“I suggest you listen to sweet Chrissy here.” Eddie leaned down next to her ear and Chrissy shivered when she felt his lips graze the shell of her ear. “I’d watch your next words carefully if I were you, Jason.”

As if woken from a dream, Jason seemed to remember that Eddie could cause him extreme harm if the demon chose to. It caused him to quickly shake his head, turn, and run back towards his own home. Chrissy breathed a sigh of relief and tried to lighten the mood to calm her rapidly pounding heart.

“Did you really have to put on the theatrics Eddie?” Her breathy laugh fell dead on her lips when she looked back at Eddie again. His eyes were dark and full of an emotion that Chrissy was too scared to identify in that moment. He looked mildly annoyed at her statement.

“He was going to hurt you.”

Her heart thumped and skipped a beat at his words, but she still couldn’t find it in herself to admit what she knew was happening between them.

“It’s fine Eddie. I’m fine.”

Eddie huffed, and he was clearly annoyed. It was a side that she had never seen of him. He was usually playful, warm, happy. Never upset. But he very clearly disapproved of her aloof attitude and his only answer was to transform back into a cat and walk quickly back home. Chrissy had to jog to keep up. When they reached her home, instead of coming inside, he turned and trotted away. It wasn’t the first time he’d done that, taking personal time here or there for himself, but it was the first time that it made Chrissy’s heart ache.

——

Chrissy had taken her time unwinding from the night’s sharp turn without Eddie there. She was finding it difficult to relax since the only thoughts in her head were her replaying the feeling of Eddie running his hands along her sides, whispering in her ear, and the tone of voice he used to threaten the one thing threatening her. It made her core tighten and as she sat in the bath, alone with only her thoughts, she finally admitted to herself that she was falling for Eddie, and she was falling hard. It was easier to admit without the man here to constantly tease her and get her worked up. She breathed a sigh of relief at that thought.

She went through the motions as she continued cleaning up, putting on her usual sleepwear. The only thing that still hurt was Eddie leaving her. He’d never been annoyed at her, but since she was in the habit of admitting things to herself tonight, she didn’t defend herself. Eddie was right. They’d both seen how Jason acted and he wasn’t wrong. Jason tried to hurt her. Even she knew Eddie was right based on how Jason had been giving her bad feelings lately.

And she’d tried to blow it off like it was nothing.

Curling up on her bed and wrapping herself up, she felt a tear fall and she wiped it away as fast as possible. To anyone else, it might not seem like a big deal, but Eddie was her familiar, her closest ally in the magical world. They were supposed to be there at all times for each other. But more than that, Eddie had become her friend and roommate over the last month. They’d bonded quickly and they knew things about each other that outsiders almost never got to see. The bed felt colder without him and she wanted nothing more than for Eddie to leap up onto her window sill and make a place for himself next to her pillow. She didn’t know when but somewhere in between letting more than a few tears fall and wiping her face clean, she fell asleep wanting nothing more than to apologize and see Eddie’s smile.

—

At some point in the middle of the night, Chrissy woke up feeling something tickling her face. I’m her sleepy fog, she also felt warmth radiating from beside her and decided to nestle into it, wanting to feel comforted. What woke her up though was the smell that was coming from whatever solid, warm, space heater she’d found in her bed. It was like all of her favorite warm, spicy scents that made her want to never leave the paradise she’d somehow found. Finally, her brain caught up and Chrissy’s eyes flew open, remembering that she was supposed to be alone in bed.

Eddie, in his human form, was cradling her head gently into his chest, breathing soft, deep breaths that told her he was still asleep. Her eyes stung with the threat of tears and she didn’t care if she woke the demon up as she squeezed her arms around his waist and held on for dear life.

“No harm, no foul sweetheart.” Chrissy looked up, desperate to make things right. When she did so, she stopped just short of his face, not even inches from hers. She could feel him inhale sharply at her sudden closeness, but not even that could stop her. She gazed fiercely at his chocolate eyes before she brought her lips to his.

Tasting Eddie was even better than touching Eddie. Chrissy whimpered into his mouth when he responded to her, everything quickly becoming a heated frenzy between the two of them. His arms were solid and his chest was hot and bare. Chrissy ran her nails across it as her tongue slipped into his mouth and she was pretty sure she had died and was in some kind of heaven. Eddie wasn’t far behind her, his hands coming to hitch one of Chrissy’s legs over his hip. When both of their cores met at the action, Eddie let out a groan from the back of his throat. Chrissy felt heat pooling at her center and she jutted her hips, searching for friction.

She could feel Eddie, hard and heavy, through the thin excuse for sweatpants he wore and she moaned as she let herself find relief against him. At her sounds, he took the chance to run hot kisses down the column of her neck, only pausing to turn them so that he was hovering above her, his mouth at the top of her breasts.

“Mine,” he snarled, not breaking eye contact with her. Chrissy didn’t even think before she responded.

“Yours…” The truth rang out between them for a few agonizing seconds, before Eddie essentially ripped her clothes off of her. She had no time to respond as he moved down her body licking and suckling a path down to the branded sigils on her breast, above her heart. Chrissy’s head fell back when Eddie laved the spot with his tongue, kissing it tenderly.

“We don’t have to do more if you don’t want.” His voice was soft and questioning as he checked with her one final time.

“I thought you were corrupting me Eddie,” she bit her lip to hold back a laugh. “Don’t stop while you’re ahead.” She ran a hand through his mess of curls gently, amazed by how soft they were. It was all of the permission Eddie needed.

Eddie kissed her nipples without warning, suckling them in the most mind numbing way as every thought exited her brain. The feelings were sending jolts of pleasure down to her core and she knew she needed him sooner rather than later.

“Eddie… Eddie please…” Chrissy gently pulled his face up to her again before reaching down between them to grasp his length. Her eyes widened at how long he felt in her hand and it made her mouth water at the thought. Taking a finger through her folds, Eddie reciprocated the action and licked his lips.

“Shit Chrissy. All this for me?” All she could do was nod, her ability to speak gone as soon as she’d felt that finger touching her in the one place she needed him.

“Need you Eddie. Can’t wait, please.”

“Anything for you sweetheart.” Gripping his cock, Eddie lined himself up with her entrance, taking his time to run the head up and down her folds, covering himself in her slick. When he finally pushed into her core, they both moaned at the feeling they brought each other.

“Knew you weren’t a good girl at all. I knew it.” Eddie babbled filthy things to her as he built up a rhythm, rutting into her like it was nothing, like they were meant to go together this whole time. Chrissy could only moan in response to everything he said, the feeling of him stretching and filling her too much to handle. He hit a delicious spot inside of her that had her seeing stars and chanting his name like a prayer. She was fluttering around him, signaling that she was getting ready to come.

“Fuck baby,” Eddie gritted out as he brought his thumb to her clit, running tight circles over it. “You’re mine. Nobody else can ever have you. Don’t want anyone to ever feel you like this. Only me.”

“Y-yes, oh… fuck Eddie… only yours…” Chrissy could feel herself nearing the edge, ready to topple over into the abyss with Eddie.

“Come on baby, come just for me. Come around my cock and give it to me like I know you want to.”

His words flung Chrissy off the precipice she’d been standing on and she felt herself come hard and fast around his length. It was more intense than anything she’d ever given herself and she knew she was already addicted to the feeling. Eddie let her ride him through her orgasm, the feel of her gripping him quickly becoming his undoing. Once Chrissy had come down from her high, he only lasted a few more thrusts before he was coming inside of her, hot and thick. As Chrissy watched and felt the aftershocks of her pleasure, she thought Eddie couldn’t possibly be a demon because when he came, he looked too beautiful to be anything but an angel.

Eddie came down and collapsed next to Chrissy, both of them breathing hard and looking only at each other. She looked up at him, her arm draped over his chest, relishing in the skin to skin contact. He peppered her face lightly with kisses and didn’t stop until she was laughing at him to stop. Once he did stop, he had the biggest smirk on his face, and Chrissy rolled her eyes playfully.

“Knew you were bad,baby,” he said gently. “Just didn’t realize how much you’d like it.”

“Well you never asked, did you?” Chrissy stuck out her tongue and anything else she was planning to say died in her throat as Eddie captured her mouth yet again.

#hellcheer week #hellcheer week 2022 #my fic #hellcheer #witch AU #witch Chrissy #demon eddie #eddie munson x chrissy cunningham

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hmratking · 2 years ago

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Six Years Wiser

“Hello, Ann’da.”

“Hello, my princess.”

“Minn’da always told me that you are a kind and loving man.”

“Do you believe it?”

The red haired girl stared at Melaeth for a moment. With a faint smile, she nodded. “Yes.” Her small hand reached out and touched his hand. He was more than happy to swoop her hand into his, lifting her hand to his lips as he gently placed a kiss upon her skin. He smiled at the six year old girl and she gasped. “You have sharp teeth. Are they dangerous?”

Melaeth’s lips closed to cover his teeth, but the smile lingered. “Not to you.” The little girl canted her head to the side and gazed at her father curiously.

The man inched away against the wall as the tall elf approached him from the shadows. He had trapped himself and, desperate to find a way out, he tried to run to the side, but he saw grotesque humanoid things scowling at him from the sides. He knew what they were. Ratz. He turned to see a sharpened smile coming toward him. “It’s so good to see you again, Gerald,” the elf said. “You owe me something.” The Ratz grabbed the man’s arms and legs and before he could beg for mercy, the elf leaned in and the sharpened teeth dug into the man’s neck, like little daggers tearing into his skin before a chunk of flesh was ripped off

The little girl’s eyes shifted up his face, examining his features she had only heard in stories. “We don’t have the same eyes,” she said softly. Melaeth gazed into her green to light blue eyes.

“No, but your eyes are very similar to mine a long, long time ago.”

“Really?” She smiled and reached up to touch his eye lids.

The man gasped for breath as the deranged elf’s brilliant green eyes stared at his brown eyes. “Did you think you could hide from me? I have eyes everywhere, Gerald.” He smiled again with now blood-stained teeth. “Everywhere.” The man couldn’t help but stare at the mad eyes that terrorized him at that moment.

“Will they ever go back to this color? Minn’da’s eyes are not so green.”

“I don’t think they will, my princess,” Melaeth said softly. He gazed up at a tree off in the distance. He could see her silhouette, watching them closely, listening closely. That was as close as Lily would dare to be. He understood. They had promised to stay away for Amaranth’s sake. Meeting once more would be disastrous. That she had granted him permission to speak to Amaranth and spend time with her was a blessing. As long as he did not disclose who he was to the rest of the world, he could spend time with his daughter. It was a simple request that Melaeth could attain to.

Amaranth’s eyes shifted down his neck and torso, looking at the tattoos and trying to decipher what lay beneath his fur vest. She looked at his hands again. They were rough, but slender and soft to handle. She saw the nails that extended into sharp points and she said, “And your hands look like claws.” She giggled a little, “Like minn’da.”

The Rat King stared at the dying man and he laughed softly. “I’m not going to lie. I enjoy this part very much. Just watching you take your last breaths. It’s quite satisfying.” The man continued to gasp, choking on blood. “But you’re not dying fast enough.” The King punched the man a few times, then he dug his nails into the man’s chest, as if his nails alone could rip through his chest to grasp his failing heart. The beat slowed and the man gasped a few more times before he stopped moving altogether. The Rat King retreated his hand and licked the blood off his fingers and nails. “Get rid of him,” he ordered. The four Ratz with him drew weapons and began to tear the man apart before anyone walked into the alley.

Melaeth smiled and nodded. “They are there to protect you. I promise you, my princess, no one will ever harm you.” He smiled at her and then gazed up at the tree. “No one,” he said again, a little louder. Turning back to Amaranth, Melaeth reached down to kiss his daughter’s head.

“Happy birthday, my beautiful princess,” he said.

“Thank you, ann’da,” she said. Without hesitation, she leaned into his fur vest, wrapping her little arms around him. There was something about his scent, a musky sweet, coppery scent that made her feel safe and comfortable. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my princess,” Melaeth said softly, closing his eyes to take in the moment that only took place twice a year.

#The Rat King #Lilysa Liao #Amaranth #6 years old #daughter #Melaeth #traditions #duality

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insomniac-dot-ink · 4 years ago

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Headlights Girl

Genre: Urban fantasy + wlw romance

Words: approx. 8k

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

My book 🌸 Ko-fi 🌸 Patreon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she wasn’t talking to me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gimme a moment.”

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

I was out the door before the midnight bus arrived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hated those dreams.

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

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

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

“Not sure. What do you want, kid?”

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

“Come here.”

I didn’t know why I was chosen.

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

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

“You like art, kid?”

I snorted. “No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you serious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm.” He scratched his grey beard.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shrugged. “Not today.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Go dunk your head, Annie.” I huffed.

“Afraid you’ll blind her in bed?”

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

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

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

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

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

The door dinged instead.

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

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

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

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

I think she recognized me too.

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

She cleared her throat first.

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

The door was right there.

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

“A tattoo?”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know yet.”

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

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

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

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

“Yes!” She gushed. “It was gorgeous.”

“It was fine,” I corrected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Some college girl.” I grumbled.

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

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

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

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

“Any of them come visit?”

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

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

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

“You like poetry.”

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

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

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

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

“Mags?” I snorted. “No. Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

I barely looked over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Drink up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m looking.” I said carefully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So pushy.”

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

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

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

I was the one that scooted a little closer.

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

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

“Kinda fluffy? You’re getting there.”

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

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

“A storm cloud butterfly?”

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

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

“Why?” I rasped after a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

“You got money for that?”

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

“Kids are fucked up.” Park contributed simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In the butterfly?”

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

“What did you want to be?” Soft.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I scowled back at her feathered little feelers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

“I wasn’t thinking . . .”

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

“Okay?��

“And Davies. And that front desk guy.”

“Daft Jeff. Yes.”

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

“Alright . . .”

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

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

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

“Park?” My voice cracked like a question.

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

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

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

“My parents aren’t the weather.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

“Maybe.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.”

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

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

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

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

“Are you going to share with the class?”

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

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

“Do you know what they say about moths?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, those were her exact words.”

“So?”

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

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

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

“Why?”

“Because they follow the light.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----------

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