#Mavis Cross | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ak319 · 2 months ago

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Oooo hear me out, it's up to you, something inspired by "me and the devil" by soap&skin for platonic arthur and reader?

(AN: Lmfao this is smth else, hope this caught the essence of the song!)

Warnings: Not incest, strictly platonic, fluff

──୨Pre-camp୧──

You’d always been content with the fact that Arthur and your friends hadn’t crossed paths yet. After all, there’s something universally embarrassing about siblings mingling with your friends, especially a brother like him. But today, fate seemed to be laughing at you.

You waited on the porch of Mrs Anne's house with Isla, Faye, and Mavis, caught up in a lively discussion that had everyone too engaged to notice time passing, mostly about what happened in your classes today. Usually, your friends would have left by now, but something had kept the whole group lingering in a close-knit circle.

“Alright, guys, we should really go,” Faye finally said, glancing around. Isla nodded, then smirked at you.

“Oh, right,” she teased. “Forgot you’re waiting for him. Where is he? Late again?”

You clutched your bag, trying to brush it off casually. “He’ll be here soon. You guys can head out if you want.”

Please do, please do, please do-

Before anyone could move, Mavis stretched lazily and patted your arm. “By the way, we’ve never actually seen him. I mean, I haven’t.”

“Trust me, he’s… well, you don’t want to,” Isla added, chuckling with an odd mix of awe and apprehension. “I have, and he’s terrifying, honestly.”

“Is he?" Faye raised an eyebrow at Isla's earlier comment. “I mean, your dad’s not like that. Quite normal, actually, like he’s nice.”

You rolled your eyes. "Isla, he's just a bit...tall that's it. Which to be honest I hate. I mean like how dare he be taller than me! Eugh. Anyway, you guys, he's nice too, much nicer than Dad I would say-"

"But I never saw him smile." God, Isla. She's literally your younger annoying sister who can't shut up, at this point.

"He does smile!"

You could feel Mavis and Faye’s curiosity prickling at Arthur’s character, especially since they had no clue about his line of work. Isla, though, knew enough, which left her more spooked than skeptical. You nudged her with a playful yet pointed elbow, a silent but clear Don’t spill the beans, or I’ll make you spill your teeth. Thankfully, she caught on quickly.

“Yeah, it’s more of a… ‘you had to be there’ situation,” Isla tried to wave it off, though her tone just made things more awkward. Before anyone could respond, a voice drifted over the porch, a voice that could freeze or haunt your dreams.

Arthur had arrived.

“(Y/n)!” Arthur’s voice cut through the chatter, and all four of you turned to see him, perched on his horse, dressed head-to-toe in black. But what really set your teeth on edge was the bullet belt strapped across his chest along with some guns, a blatant display of everything you’d been trying to hide. You glanced back at your friends, who stared in wide-eyed shock as if Arthur had just ridden straight out of a legend, or a nightmare. Isla, though, wore a triumphant smirk, her dramatic warnings about your “scary” brother proven right.

You shot them all a quick, apologetic goodbye before rushing over, and Arthur extended a gloved hand down to help you onto the horse. “Hurry your ass up,” he muttered. His gaze was sharp and impatient, and you climbed up with a sigh, half-irritated and half-resigned.

“Maybe you should try being patient, too,” you shot back, settling in behind him. The horse sprang forward as you waved at your friends over your shoulder, watching their stunned faces disappear into the distance as you and Arthur rode away.

Arthur’s gaze was sharp as he maneuvered the horse down the path, his voice edged with something darker. “Your friends looked like they’d seen death itself when I rode up. Got anything to explain?”

You tried for a casual laugh, but it came out shaky. “Maybe because you showed up looking like you were ready for a showdown, Arthur. You could have been less armed...y'know.?”

He glanced back at you with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Less armed?

“Yeah, you didn’t have to look like you were coming to take me hostage,” you teased, though there was a tinge of nerves in your voice. “You nearly gave poor Mavis a heart attack.”

“Maybe she needs it,” he muttered with a hint of amusement, his hand gripping the reins tighter. “Ain’t my problem if your friends are scared of a bit of leather and metal. And excuse me , for not tryin' to make you wait and rushing here after the job."

You rolled your eyes, but decided to switch gears. “Anyway! Artieee....

Artie = I want something.

"What’s really important is that I’m starving.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t cook nothin’ today,” he said, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone.

Panic struck, and you scrambled for an excuse. “Well, I did cook even with a terrible headache, but Dad was starving, and he, uh… had some friends over, so they polished off everything.” You added a dramatic sigh for good measure, hoping it’d sell the story.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical but too tired to argue. “Him and his damned pals. You couldn’t save a single bite, huh?”

“Believe me, if I could’ve, I would’ve,” you lied, trying to keep a straight face. Truth is, you did cook and there was still food left for dinner but you were craving something else. Your Dad would definitely side with your lie anyway so why not take advantage of the opportunity.

"So…how about we grab some dinner? Just a little something for your favourite sister?”

Arthur groaned, but you could tell he was caving, being starved himself, “Fine."

You grinned, hugging his back as the horse picked up speed, your stomach already dreaming of food. Knew you’d come through, brother.

⋆⋆⋆

──୨Post-camp୧──

"So what's up with you?" Micah’s voice broke through the quiet, his tone drawn out in that infuriatingly lazy way, like he didn’t care about anything in the world. You kept your focus on the book in your hands, not bothering to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

"I mean, I know it’s only my second visit to the camp and all, but at least the other women talk. You, though..." His voice rose just a little, like he was trying to provoke you.

You didn’t flinch. The page turned, your eyes still scanning the words.

Micah, noticing he wasn’t getting any attention, stepped closer, his boots scraping against the dirt. "Hey! What’s up with all the attitude from you girls around here? I swear, the prettier they are, the more attitude they’ve got."

That was it. You set the book down, slowly, deliberately, and looked up at him with a level stare, the faintest flicker of irritation crossing your face.

"You should go, if you want to keep breathing," you said flatly, voice laced with a coldness that might’ve warned him to stop before things escalated.

He smirked letting out a scoff, clearly not taking you seriously. "Oh really? Why, doll? What’s so special about you?"

You didn’t answer. Instead, you let your gaze shift to the side, barely looking at him as you spoke, "My brother won’t be happy."

Micah blinked, caught off guard. "Brother? Who--"

Before he could finish, a heavy, familiar hand fell on his shoulder, spinning him around with ease. "Me." Arthur’s voice was low, smooth, and cold, a tone that instantly made the air around them feel heavier.

Micah’s face drained of color as he took in the sight of Arthur, standing tall and unwavering, his stare unblinking and intense. The recognition hit him hard, and the cocky grin that had been on his face moments ago faltered, turning into an awkward grimace.

"Oh...right, I see the resemblance now," he stammered, his confidence crumbling beneath Arthur’s unblinking gaze. "Didn’t know... didn't know it was you."

Arthur’s eyes darkened as he took a slow step toward Micah, his presence undeniable and terrifying. “You didn’t know, huh?” His voice was low, dangerous. “Let me make something clear, Micah. If you ever think it’s alright to speak to my sister like that again, you won’t have the chance to be this sorry.”

Micah’s smile faltered as he looked from Arthur’s hard face to yours, clearly realizing just how deep his mistake ran. He hesitated, then muttered, “I didn’t mean any harm, just jokin’ around cowboy, y’know?”

Arthur didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. His grip tightened slightly, and Micah’s hands immediately went up in surrender. “Yeah, you should’ve known better,” Arthur growled, his voice dropping even lower. “I don’t appreciate anyone talking down to my sister or any woman in the camp for that matter. Got it?”

Micah’s breath hitched, and his eyes darted between Arthur and you, his legs wobbling a bit under the pressure of the enforcer’s glare. He took a step back, quickly distancing himself, his earlier bravado long gone. “I, I’ll just go... No harm meant, alright?”

Arthur didn’t speak, only watched him with unwavering intensity, his posture stiff and unyielding, until Micah turned on his heel and hastily retreated, all but running.

Once Micah disappeared into the distance, Arthur exhaled slowly, his gaze now shifting back to you with a slight softening in his demeanor. “You good?”

"Hm. Thanks for that by the way." You answered nonchalantly, already reaching for your book again, satisfied with how things had gone. But before you could dive back into it, Arthur snatched it away from you with a swift motion.

"Wha--"

“Go fuckin’ read in your damn tent,” he snapped.

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his mood. “Hey, don’t take your anger out on me too. I didn’t do anything.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at you, still holding the book just out of your reach. “You’re sitting here, reading, like nothing happened.”

"So I just stop existing because... what? Men like him exist?!" You shot back, annoyance flashing in your gaze.

He sighed, clearly over it. "Yeah, yeah, you win the debate, but for now, go. He still has some work left here in the camp. You stay inside. Now stop yapping and go before I-"

You cut him off with a dramatic roll of your eyes, but you didn’t want to test his patience. Grumbling, you stood up and scurried toward your tent, throwing a glare in his direction as you went. Arthur didn’t bother replying, just watching you with an unreadable expression as you ducked inside. You couldn't stop yourself from imagining how he was still standing there, no doubt watching over the camp with that ever-present watchfulness of his.

But deep down, there was a strange comfort in knowing Arthur was there, looking out for you. You couldn’t help but feel grateful for the sense of security his presence brought, even if it came with its moments of irritation.

You were luckier than most women, the ones who had no one to protect them, to guard their well-being when this society felt too harsh. You had never had to face that, not completely.

Your brother could’ve just left you to fend for yourself when both of your parents died. He could’ve given up, and let the weight of responsibility crush him. He could’ve taken the easy route, let you fend for yourself, but he didn’t. He chose to provide, to protect. And that, in itself, was something you could never take for granted.

You smiled softly to yourself as you opened your book again, getting comfy. It wasn’t perfect, your life, and it didn’t come without its complications, but it was yours, and you knew you weren’t alone in it. Arthur’s attempts, and his constant presence, always reminded you that no matter what happened, he would always try. That thought made everything a little easier to bear.

Speaking of....

You were tailing behind Arthur as he checked the items on the list. Just another day buying out supplies when your eyes caught the movement outside the general store’s window. A man was yanking a woman by the arm, his grip forceful, and he struck her hard before pulling her toward a nearby house.

Your heart hammered. “Arthur…”

“Hold on.” He didn’t look up, tossing another can into the basket you held.

“Arthur!” Your voice trembled as you grabbed his arm. “That woman… He’s hitting her. Aren’t you going to do something?”

He finally glanced at you, an irritated look flickering across his face until he saw the worry in your eyes. He followed your gaze out the window, his expression darkening as he took in the scene.

“That bastard’s beating her…” you hissed. “I’ll go to the sheriff if you won’t.” You started to take a step, but Arthur’s hand shot out, gripping your arm like iron.

“Hey, hey! You ain’t runnin’ off to the station,” he growled, his tone as unyielding as his grip. “Calm down.”

“Calm down?” You tried to pull away, anger mixing with shock. “How can you say that when she needs help?!”

The shopkeeper, who had been eavesdropping, chimed in with a lazy shrug. “That’s Carter for you. Mean drunk, that one. Nothing new around here.”

"Arthur," you insisted, voice edged with urgency, "we can’t just stand here and ignore this! You’ve got to do something!”

He looked back at you, his eyes narrowing with frustration mixed with something softer, a concern he rarely showed outright. “And what, exactly, would you have me do? Burst in there? People like him, they’ve got the whole damn town used to their mess. It ain’t as simple as you think.”

You clenched your fists, your heart pounding. “So we just let it happen!?”

Arthur scoffed, glancing down at the basket you held with a resigned shake of his head. "I’m not sayin’ we do nothing. I’m sayin’ we’re not the ones here to play heroes every time some bastard acts up." He looked away, jaw tight. But then suddenly, your dejected face stung something within him. It always does.

"Fine, but let's get this shopping done first."

You bounced impatiently on your heels as Arthur went through the rest of the list, and after what felt like an eternity, he finally loaded up the last of the supplies. He gestured for you to sit in the wagon while he headed off to “handle things.” Minutes later, you watched as the blonde woman stumbled out of the house, her face streaked with tears. You jumped off the wagon and hurried over, helping her onto the seat beside you.

“Don’t worry, your husband will definitely rot in the jai-”

The words barely left your mouth when the sharp crack of gunshots rang out from the house. A moment later, Arthur sprinted out, leaping onto the wagon and snapping the reins with urgency, the horses lurching into a gallop.

“What--what was that?” you stammered, glancing at him in shock. Even the woman had stopped sobbing, her eyes wide as she clung to the edge of the wagon.

Arthur shot you a level look, his tone matter-of-fact. “I did what you asked.”

“I said jail, not… not blowing his brains out!”

“If you think they take in men jus' for that, you still have a lot to learn, and aren't you happy...? That son of a bitch had it comin',” he replied calmly, not sparing you a glance as he kept his gaze on the road ahead.

You fell silent, a part of you taken aback but another part feeling a grudging agreement with his logic. The jail thing was indeed a dumb idea. You do feel happy. "You know what? You’re absolutely right, probably the best thing you ever did,” you murmured, giving a subtle, reassuring smile to the woman sitting beside you. She was still in shock, her hands trembling as she took it all in. You deliberately missed Arthur giving you a dirty look on your comment.

“Um, don’t worry,” you said softly. “You’re safe now. He deserved it.”

The woman’s gaze flickered, her fear giving way to hesitant relief as she managed a weak nod. “Damn right he did,” she added, her voice firm. "I kinda...I always wanted to do that."

You giggled, glancing back at her with a grin. “Today's your lucky day then. What’s your name? Mine’s (Y/N) Morgan and this is my brother, Arthur.”

She took a shuddering breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “K-Karen.”

“Do you have anywhere to go, Miss Karen?” Arthur interjected, his tone gruff but not unkind.

“N-not really,” she mumbled, looking down, her hands twisting in her lap.

Arthur shot you a look that clearly said, You started this. Now what the hell are we supposed to do?

You cleared your throat, searching for the right words. “Um, the thing is, Karen… we, uh, well, we live in a camp where people are… let’s just say, not exactly law-abidin-”

“We’re outlaws,” Arthur cut in, his tone blunt as always.

“O-outlaws?” Karen’s eyes widened, her grip tightening on her skirt.

“Yeah, unfortunately…” you mumbled, casting a sideways glare at Arthur. “And not 'we', I’m not! I’m…just you know....there and normal.”

Karen blinked, her initial shock giving way to an expression of deep thought. Then, to your surprise, a hint of excitement crept into her face, as though she’d stumbled upon something she’d been waiting for her whole life.

“You know… I may not look it, but I’ve got skills,” she said with a newfound confidence, sitting up straighter. “Real skills that could be useful. My old man never liked it, but I’ve learned a thing or two about… pickin’ locks, sneakin’ around, that sort of thing.” She looked between the two of you, her smile growing. “Maybe I could… you know, join you?”

Arthur’s eyebrow arched, clearly taken aback by her enthusiasm. He turned to you, looking somewhere between amused and exasperated. You stifled a grin, giving him a shrug. “Looks like she’s got some outlaw spirit after all, better than whatever life you were living, am I right?” you said, reaching out to pat Karen on the back who nodded wiping her tears.

Arthur rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, “This camp’s turning into a damn circus," earning him a smack from you on the arm.

You couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as you watched Arthur stand by, his silhouette dark against the fading light of the camp. You’d done something good today, something right. You helped someone, and he had backed you, without hesitation.

As you made your way back to the campfire, the weight of the day's events still hung heavy on you. You could still hear the echoes of the man’s voice, the rage in his eyes. But it didn’t matter now. The woman was safe, and you’d made a difference. More than that, Arthur had made sure of it.

You glanced back over at him, standing tall, looking unfazed by the confrontation. He had that look, stone-faced, like nothing ever rattled him. Yet you knew the truth. Arthur did what needed to be done, for you, for anyone who mattered to him. He’d always had a way of making sure things were taken care of, no matter the cost.

"You did good today," you said quietly, your voice carrying the weight of the unspoken things that lingered between you.

Arthur gave a half-grunt, not really one for praise. His lips curled up in the slightest of smiles, but there was no boastful pride in it. That wasn’t Arthur’s way. "Just doin’ what’s right."

You huffed a soft laugh. "I know. You always do more than what's right. You do what needs to be done." He always does tenfold what you ask of him.

He didn’t argue, didn’t try to deny it. Instead, his gaze flickered to you for a brief moment before he looked away. "You’re the one who had the guts to step in. I just made sure it ended the way it should."

You shook your head, though a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Don’t try to downplay it. You know damn well that if it had been anyone else, they would have just ignored it."

He snorted, his eyes scanning the horizon, ever vigilant, as if nothing could touch him. But you knew better. You knew the weight Arthur carried. You’d seen it, felt it. He wasn’t the same as the others. He was a brother, a friend, a bodyguard, and a killer all in one. Your own personal killer that too free of charge. You chuckled inwardly at the thought. This is something you never imagined even thinking of him in childhood. What a turn life has taken for both of you.

As you sat beside him, watching the fire crackle, the camp settled into a quiet rhythm. You felt proud, not just of yourself, but of Arthur too. He may not have cared for the praise, but you knew the truth, Arthur was the kind of man who would go to hell and back for the people he cared about. Especially you. And for you, that meant everything.

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anistarrose · 1 month ago

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thoughts on taako and/or magnus babysitting merle's kids and the ensuing chaos that may result (passes you the mic)

oh, what a delight... for starters, I think that Mavis thinks the coolest person from the Story is Lucretia, and Mookie thinks the coolest person from the Story is Merle, obviously, but like, really closely followed by Lup. the second this becomes apparent to Taako and/or Magnus, they immediately dive into Win the Hero Worship of These Small Children mode. they're on that Cool Uncle Grind.

Taako tries to instill a love of cooking in these children, because Jeffandrew knows their father won't (Merle is actually a good enough cook to like, meet the most basic of dietary needs, but Taako's standards are orders of magnitude higher than that), but the furthest Taako gets with the kids is getting Mookie to watch hot dogs blowing up in the fantasy microwave.

Magnus takes them on a field trip to dog school. Taako takes them on a field trip to Taako's Amazing School of Magic, 'cause you've gotta start making an impression early or else they'll go to the competition, like Angus. Taako and Magnus both have big dreams of their respective field trips being interrupted by dastardly evildoers and powerful enemies, allowing them opportunities to save the day and prove to the children how badass they are — but were this a fic, there would be a running gag about Lup having brought Merle along for a Reaper mission where they keep almost crossing paths with their family, and thwarting necromancer's schemes just slightly out of view of Magnus and Taako before a real threat can present itself.

but don't worry, Merle is also constantly bemoaning that he can never succeed at anything cool or even uncharacteristically competent when any of his kids (whether big kids or little kids) are around to see him. they still love him though (even if the way Mavis finally opens up to Magnus and Taako is by discovering a shared love of roasting their father)

#tysm for the ask!! very fun to think about #taz #taz balance #taz balance spoilers #taako taaco #magnus burnsides #mookie highchurch #mavis roughridge #merle highchurch #rosalia answers

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uzumaki-rebellion · 1 month ago

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"Ice Cold Jax" Geechee!Erik Killmonger

Pairing: Geechee!Erik Killmonger x Black Female OC

Warning(s): 18+, Smut, Supernatural Horror, Period Piece, Erik Stevens AU, Black American Folktale.

Summary: Erik "Killmonger" Stevens is a Geechee wanderer and lover of big-legged women and good moonshine. On a trip to visit his favorite juke joint in 1940s Mississippi, he entertains a lover of sorts, Lulabelle, the juke joint owner and Madame of the nearby whorehouse. Erik battles two mythical creatures from Black American folklore, the Plat Eye and the Crossroads Man in order to save Lulabelle and her establishment. The tale is told from the perspective of a ghost who was once Lulabelle's best friend.

Word count: 5.5K

youtube

"The winter time is coming

And it's going to be slow

You can't make the weather baby

it's dry long so

You betta come on in my kitchen

because it's going to be Raining outdoors..."

Cassandra Wilson – "Come on in my Kitchen" (Written by Robert Johnson)

There were two things Lulabelle Humphreys knew how to sell in Itta Bena Mississippi and that was moonshine and other people's pussy.

She did that very well until one night of the Harvest moon when cotton would soon be harvested by the local sharecroppers and itinerant Mexican men who traveled through the delta region looking for work like every other Negro or poor white trash far and wide. On that night under a sweltering heat full of drunk patrons and her smooth-talking whores inside her juke joint with the "special ladies" house attached by a rickety bridge that crossed over a tiny creek full of frogs and singing crickets, Lulabelle witnessed the showdown of all showdowns between the Plat Eye and the Crossroads Man, shonuff, right inside her little rambling hot music-havin' and ice-cold beer havin' establishment.

And if it hadn't been for that slow walking city-to-city wandering Geechee man with the gold teeth, slick smile, and flashy suit standing by her with the smarts of his low country kin back in South Carolina, why Lulabelle might've lost everything that night like she lost me so many years ago when that Plat Eye stole me away when we was teenaged girls in these backwoods. But thank the Lord up above for Erik Stevens ramblin' through with that shiny switchblade, and his Gullah ways, cuz shonuff, that was a night to remember and I'm gonna tell it exactly how it happened from top to bottom and all the sides in between. I ain't been dead long enough or forgotten long enough to not tell it all...

"Mavis, how much lavender water is left in there?"

Lulabelle shouted into the open door that led to one of the "loving" rooms inside her special house.

"There's one bottle left," Ruth called out.

The young woman was nothing but string bean arms and toothpick legs, however, she was a favorite among the darker-skinned Black sharecroppers who admired her fair skin and limp shiny black hair. Even the high yella gals envied what Ruth could pull in because the men were willing to part with more money to fuck what was as close to a white woman as they would get.

Lulabelle knew clearly what a fetish was, so she used Ruth for the high income, but she also had Mavis, a crystal Black pearl with a dark hue so deep that negro soldiers from the military base lined up for hours waiting to part her dusky thighs to taste the sticky sweets within. There was someone for everybody at the house. Big women. Little scrawny women. Big Bodacious titties and itty-bitty mosquito bites. For the richly endowed there was Starla with a pussy so fat and deep that blues ballads were written for her. For the poorly imbued, there was Tweety Pie, a tiny woman with a small tight snatch that rivaled Starla in particular-sized fans.

For the men who didn't fawn over the womenfolk, there was Honey Boy, a twenty-something pretty little thing with bow lips, high cheekbones, and a fat ass that posed as a houseboy who brought fresh after-sex towels, water for the whore baths, and rubbers for the men who forgot to prepare for penetration. Honey Boy could dress like a pretty woman and serve clients fat wood if that was to a patron's liking. Lulabelle was surprised at how popular he was becoming on the low low, especially from the men in the military. Men with men had always been a reality, but Honey Boy was multidimensional. He could turn into a Butch boy from a chain gang, to a bullying Army sergeant to dominate and spread male ass cheeks that needed fat balls against balls. Or he could be a dainty femme movie star in a bra and heels with his hard dick swinging. Lulabelle kept a ready supply of costumes for him, more than the women. All the ladies needed were pretty underwear, strong garter belts, and lipstick. She kept quiet that she paid Honey Boy more than anyone else.

The second world war was putting money in her pockets. 1942 was a profitable war year for Lulabelle. Her pocketbook was fat with cash, and she could now afford real jewelry instead of the cheap costume fare she sported the last three years. She could even maintain a steady hot comb appointment at Mamie's Wash and Curl uptown. Her latest favorite style was imitating Joan Crawford's immaculate curls that she saw in the talkies at the Bijou theater. When she really wanted to look glamorous, she would have Mamie swoop up her thick hair on top of her head with a pinned curl on the front and an under curl in the back. The rich white women she saw in the new color catalogues wore their hair like that.

She wore her hair like that for that evening. It was a special night. The Harvest Moon was going up, and the men would be arriving in droves to drink, dance, and fuck.

He was coming too.

The Gullah man. That sly Geechie with the gold teeth.

Erik Stevens.

His arrival always coincided with some new moon every few months. She'd dress up extra special when she thought he was coming through. Her pussy was already twitching thinking about him.

"I'll have Honey Boy get you a fresh bottle," Lulabelle said patting the back of her hair.

It was hot already, and she worried that her hair wouldn't maintain until Erik saw it. Ruth stepped out of the room. The yellow silk camisole Lulabelle bought for her came to her thighs and had enough lace in the front to cover the baby bulge that was threatening to peek out. The girl got knocked up and none of the home remedies the cook Eva concocted worked in knocking the unwanted pregnancy out. Ruth could probably hide the truth for another month or so, but eventually she would have to go on convalescence and Lulabelle would have to rely on the other women to please the Ruth fans until the woman returned or left for a new life in the North. Until then, Ruth was about making her money and camouflaging the bump.

"Can you tell?" she asked.

Lulabelle squinted.

"These men will be too drunk to notice. Keep the garment on and don't worry about it."

Lulabelle checked in on the other ladies and all was well. Seven rooms, seven whores, seven sources of revenue on top of the juke joint next door. She peeked in on one of the mirrors inside a room and felt satisfied. Her beige dress hugged the curves of her big wide hips and large backside. Her heels made her short body have a little height. She needed a little more powder for her round nose, and the grease pencil she used for her eyes held the dark wings she gave herself.

"Eat your heart out, Joan," she muttered to herself.

She crossed the little wooden bridge that led to the juke joint making sure her crème bow top summer pumps didn't get dirty. Her name was painted in fading blue letters above the entrance. By Christmas she hoped to get a fancy electric sign that sparkled "Lula's". Honey Boy swept the porch entry and she could smell the grease being heated on the kitchen stove inside by Eva. There'd be fried chicken, black-eyed peas, collards with ham hocks, and plenty of buttermilk cornbread to sell with the ice cold Jax beer and corn liquor.

Her eyes scanned the lowering sun over the canopy of Tupelo trees. A loud shriek startled her and made Honey Boy stop sweeping.

"What was that?" Honey Boy asked.

His pressed hair was slicked back, and his copper brown skin was moist with sweat from the oppressive heat.

Lulabelle clutched at her chest. The sound came from deep in the woods. The darkness there shrouded any mysteries that lived within it.

"Sounded like something caught," she said.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose.

A memory.

Being a young teen girl with...

No. Don't think of her. That was the past.

Lulabelle pushed down on the terror in her throat and hid her shaking fingers in front of her dress.

"Probably some unlucky racoon ran across Old Man Rickers trap," she said.

"Yeah, you prolly right, Lulabelle. The man been hunting out there this week."

She heard the doubt in his tremulous voice. The lie hung in the air like dark sap on a dying tree between them.

"That sounded like death is on his way," Eva said.

The older plump woman opened the screen door of the juke joint while wiping down a plate.

"Don't say that, Eva. It's just an old coon, or a slow wild pig—"

The shriek pierced the air again.

"Lord have mercy," Eva said.

The older woman cradled the cheap gold-plated crucifix around her neck.

Rifle shots sounded in the distance and Lulabelle jumped, then smiled.

"See? Just some hunters putting some fresh meat down. Let's get ready for tonight, y'all."

Not one of them moved from the porch until Archie started tinkling on the piano keys inside the juke.

Pussy poppin' in the whorehouse, music jumping, bodies swaying, lips sucking down moonshine and dark beer, Lula's juke shook on its foundations. Dollar bills came in hand over fist as Lulabelle strolled around the property checking in with customers and hustling Eva to fry up more chicken plates. She rounded the corner of the makeshift stage shaking her hips to the hot sounds when her eyes slid to the entrance and saw Geechie Erik swagger in. Double-breasted gray suit with shiny silver buttons and matching cufflinks. Steel-blue silk tie, and black and gray woven Oxford shoes had the Geechie man draped. Lulabelle already knew he smelled like a million bucks even though she was standing nowhere near him. Erik took off his black fedora hat. He had kicked up the waves on his close-cropped hair, and his lightly bearded cheeks gave him a pronounced sophistication compared to all the clean-shaven military men taking up most of the space in the joint.

His eyes scanned the wide room and when they fell on her, her heart sang a minuet in his honor just to see those dimples in his cheeks. He strode toward her with long confident strides and when he circled his arm around her waist, she shivered at his touch.

"Lulabelle, Lulabelle. You get prettier every time I see you."

He gave her a wet sloppy kiss on her cheek, and she swooned. His scent was expensive leather, imported cologne, and Murray's hair pomade.

"Lemme get you a drink, Daddy," she purred.

"No, let me get you a drink. Stay right here."

He sauntered over to the big counter and within minutes he brought her back a small glass of whiskey to match his own. They toasted, tossed the liquor back, and he led her to an open table in the low-lit corner as bodies pressed together dancing around them. His thick lips were on her neck before she could gaze into his eyes, and his thicker fingers were already under her dress creeping over a seamed stocking, her garter belt, and the bottom of her girdlette. He inched closer to her core.

"Goodness gracious, you already hot down here," he whispered in her ear.

His finger swiped across Lulabelle's panties bringing her clit to life.

"Oh... there it is... my jewel," he crooned before he slid the garment aside and fingered her slit.

Erik had her sopping wet by the time the band switched tunes. Two of his warm fingers pumped in and out of her pussy, making her pant and writhe on her seat next to him.

"You gon' sweat my hair out already!" she yelped reaching for the back of her neck.

Erik flipped his digits over palm-side up and finger fucked her until a puddle of creamy juices flowed out onto her chair. Once her legs shook and she squirmed uncontrollably, he bolted up from his seat and grabbed her hand. His dick jutted out from his pants and he dragged through the side door that led to the wooden bridge and the loving house.

"Get the fuck out," he told a patron having his dick sucked in the first room they came to.

Tweety Pie was on her knees, her bright red lips puckered around a small light brown penis. Her eyes grew wide when she saw Erik and the rigid length straining against his zipper.

Erik whipped out his switchblade and flicked it open.

"Out!" he barked.

Tweety Pie scrambled from her knees and pulled her customer by his hand with his trousers dragging around his ankles to another room. Erik slammed the door shut on the gawking eyes of the other whores and pushed Lulabelle against a mahogany cabinet that held lingerie.

"Turn around."

The snarl in his voice made her spin and toot her big ass out toward him. He dragged the cool blade up against the bottom of her stockings until it dipped just under the hem of her dress. He yanked her dress up around her chest and the sharp blade skimmed across her black satin-covered ass cheek. With just a little more pressure he could break the skin on her fat rump through the material and make her bleed. Erik jerked the blade and sliced her panties off. She gasped and clutched at the smooth wood of the cabinet for balance. She heard his zipper peel down slowly and felt his hands fumble for a rubber.

"You miss Daddy?"

"Yes!"

He parted her folds before she could catch her breath. The fullness stretching her out made her shout his name and grit her teeth. Pumping into her slowly at first, he teased the hell out of her by pushing in deep, then pulling all the way out so that her pussy lips throbbed needing his dick back inside of her.

"I missed this pussy... so much... taking me so deep!"

His switchblade rested on the middle of her naked spine and tickled her skin purposely.

"Take this dress off!"

He helped her wiggle her arms out of it before unfastening her bra with his hands. Cradling her heavy breasts, he made her cheeks clap as his weapon clattered to the floor. His full concentration was on pleasing her body. Rough wide palms spread her ass cheeks wide as he grunted and pushed down on his thighs to hunch over her.

"Lula, shit... Lula..."

Erik gripped her hips and slammed into her before pulling out and lifting her up. He tossed Lula on the soft lumpy bed, undressed, and plunged back into her. The gold in his mouth glinted above her as he thrust harder and faster knocking the breath out of her body.

Her garter belts bunched up then stretched with her girdlette when he pushed her thighs back.

"Big legged girl... mmmm," he groaned.

He shoved his head down to her folds and sucked on her lower lips before spitting on them and sinking his girth back inside her walls.

"Daddy hittin' that bottom yet?"

"You in there... real deep, Daddy."

"Lemme get deeper..."

Her ankles met her earlobes and the heavy pressure from his dick made her cock-eyed a spilling gibberish from her mouth.

"Oh, Jesus!" she yelped when his fists rested on her sides and he bucked into her, slapping his balls against her ass.

Before he could press his mouth into her swollen pussy again to glisten his face, she clenched up around his dick and squeezed it with rhythmic pulses she had no control over.

"That's a good girl... let that pussy talk to Daddy's dick, Lula."

His eyes watched her contractions yank on his length, and when he finished talking her through her release with high praises and slow wet kisses, he pulled off the rubber and stroked himself against her clit. The silky curls of her pubic hairs were wet with her creamy orgasm and became even wetter when Erik splashed hot cum all over her vulva. His shouts of pleasure filled her with quiet confidence.

"That's it Daddy, cum all over your fat pussy."

He hissed when she said that, and his heated glare encouraged more of his release. A thick rope of semen painted her stomach, and he collapsed on top of her with hard ragged gasps.

"God, I wish I could be in this pussy every day, Lula."

"You could," she said stroking the waves on his hair.

He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling with her.

"Not with the work I do. I try my best to get here when I can. But shit, baby. If I didn't get this pussy for free, I would pay a fortune for it."

She rolled on her side to look at him, happy that he thought of her like that. His eyes were still on the ceiling, but there was a frown on his face.

"She's in the room, y'know. Up there hiding in the corner."

"Don't say that, Erik. You know it scares me."

"If you did what I told you to do, she'd go away."

"As long as she don't start no foolishness around here, I can live with a ghost."

"Can you? Then how come you're scared?"

"She was my friend. I know she blames me for getting away and not her."

"A good coating of haint blue all around the doors would keep her out..."

"I can't. I can't do that to her. If she's just lingering as a ghost, it makes me feel like she can live a little."

"If you say so."

"Let's not talk about her."

His eyes were still focused on the ceiling, looking at Elizabeth, her childhood friend from so long ago. She couldn't see the dead teenager at all.

"She mad?" Lulabelle asked.

"She loves you. It's why she stays around... floating from room to room... following you."

Lulabelle pulled his chin toward her.

"Don't look. Please."

Erik slipped his tongue in her mouth. A knock at the door interrupted them.

"Lulabelle, sorry to disturb you and your Mister, but I need this room," Tweety Pie squeaked out.

"Give me a minute."

Lulabelle peeled the rubber from Erik's dick and tossed it inside some tissue and chucked it out of the window into a well-placed bucket outside.

"You ruined my panties," she scolded as she jumped up to rinse her privates and stomach in lavender water at a large basin sitting on a maple console table.

She dried her folds and fixed her bra back around her breasts.

"Don't need 'em, I'll be back inside of you soon enough," he said.

Pulling her dress back on, Lulabelle tried to fix her hair and make-up in a mirror.

"You look fine," he said zipping his pants.

Erik picked up his switchblade and opened the door.

Tweety Pie had a new man with her, a handsome young soldier with lust in his eyes.

"Pardon us," Erik said as he guided Lulabelle back to the juke joint.

Lulabelle sat on Erik's lap as he joked with some patrons and slammed back shots of moonshine. She fed him cornbread and pieces of chicken bites with her fingers, and occasionally she would bounce on his hardness that rested against her backside. He tortured her clit with occasional strokes under her dress, but he wouldn't let her cum. That would happen later when he was ready to plunder her pussy once more. Tradition held that he would fuck her at least four more times before he disappeared until the next new moon in the future. She sat on that hard meat all hot and bothered knowing he was going to be cruel by plucking at her bud and sticking his tongue in her ear all night. She watched him dance with a few women and flirt while she checked on her women out back and collected her money, stuffing it in her bra.

Erik was a little too handsy with a couple of fancy ladies and she had to check him. He'd become contentious then, argued with her until she argued him down threatening to cut his balls off if he cheated on her. If she pushed him, just a little too hard, his neck would move in a hostile way that put her in her place and made her drip down her thighs. He liked her mouthy and jealous, but not too jealous if he caught her rubbing her ass against some other patron to provoke him. He'd spank her hard and tell her about herself until she stopped being bratty and soothed his ego. That was his way every time he came to the juke. Arrogant. Loud. Threatening other men who got too close to her, then all seductive when he needed her loving once more.

When no one was looking, Erik unzipped his pants, pulled out his dick and slid her on top of it raw at their private table. Her dress covered the action, and he lifted her up and down.

"You bet not cum," he ordered with harsh breath.

"I won't, I promise," she insisted with clenched teeth.

She was snug on his dick, and the friction was too much to bear. She clutched onto his knees and leaned forward, dropping her weight on his thighs. The rhythm was perfect until a slender man as tall as a Tupelo crept over to their table and sat down. He didn't seem concerned that he was witnessing a woman getting fucked within an inch of her life in the midst of her own rowdy and lascivious establishment.

The man's face was long, and he had long teeth... and long fingers... and long legs... and a long tongue that lolled around in his mouth. He had skin the color of a soft sunset and one big eye in the center of his face. The music and dancing slowed all around her, and all she could see and hear was the long man with his long deep breaths.

"Lulabelle... Lulabelle..." the slender man said, and the voice that spoke her namesake was not pleasant and inviting like Erik's. It was sinister. Conniving. Filthy to her ears.

Erik thrust up into her walls, and she gasped. The slender man smiled with his long teeth, and his one big black eye blinked and Lulabelle fell forward and down into a vortex of hideous darkness until she landed on soft grass in front of the crossroads that led into the dark woods near her juke joint.

"Lulabelle, hurry up! If we don't go now, we'll chicken out!"

Elizabeth ran ahead of her. Dear sweet Elizabeth, eighteen and glowing with a gorgeous figure and good hair, and the good sense to know that Itta Bena was to be left behind. They were going to New York to become showgirls in Harlem, leaving all that country backwoods shit living behind. No sharecropping or cleaning after white folks for them. They were young. Beautiful. Full of life and ready to see the world. That meant crossing through the woods at the old dusty crossroad just as the sun was setting. The last train outta town was due in an hour. Going through the woods was the fastest route to a new life.

But then the slender man came. The Plat Eye. The Haint that haunted the trees and lingered in the darkness deep inside the woods.

Lulabelle, full of eighteen-year-old spunk, dropped her heavy suitcase and pulled Elizabeth back with a hard tug on her arm.

"Dontcha see him, girl?" Lulabelle shouted.

"Oh, he's just another traveler headed outta here too, pick up your suitcase-"

"It's the Plat Eye. You don't see its face. The one eye? The long teeth?"

"You so silly girl! Look at him... just a man tryna run like us."

"No!"

Elizabeth dropped her suitcase and stood with arms all akimbo.

"If you don't wanna go, then say that, Lulabelle."

"You don't see that monster right there?!" she shrieked, and it startled Elizabeth.

The Plat Eye smirked.

"Fine, stay here then you big baby. Hey, Mister, wait up!"

"Elizabeth!"

An arm grabbed Lulabelle's elbow stopping her from running after her friend.

"Don't move, gal."

The voice didn't have Mississippi in it. It was low country and slower than cold molasses. South Carolina lived in it.

"She done made her choice and if you move one inch, I can't protect you."

Lulabelle didn't turn to look at the stranger. His words were wise, and she did as she was told.

"Elizabeth! Come back!"

"It's too late, Lulabelle."

"How you know my name?"

"I've seen you 'round here before with your friend."

She tried to turn around, but firm hands held her shoulders in place.

"Don't hurt me, Mister."

"Nah, I wouldn't do nothin' like that."

The Plat Eye grew taller almost reaching the height of the nearest tree.

"She can't see what it is?"

"She see what she wanna see."

The thing that was as tall as a Tupelo bent down and opened its tall mouth and Elizabeth stepped into the dark maw...

Lulabelle gasped and her thighs sensed the strong muscles of Erik's legs holding her up once more. He fucked her still, hitting her walls harder. His hands gripped her breasts as he grunted and rolled her nipples with agile fingers. The slender man of her past smiled, his greasy lips splitting wide as he was long. That single eye a tainted monstrosity to behold on its face.

The juke joint partied on, and men filed out through the side door to pay their money for an extra good time with her girls. The Plat Eye reached out for Lulabelle's arm and Erik slammed his switchblade down on the table.

"Nah, haint. This one here belongs to me."

The Plat Eye blinked that Cyclops eye in shock and its mouth fell open.

"Should've known you'd be around here," The Plat Eye grumbled sitting back in his chair.

A clammy wetness dampened Lulabelle's neck. Memory boomeranged back into her chest. The low country voice. The strong hands that held her waist so that he could rut into her pussy.

Lulabelle turned her head and the glint from Erik's gold teeth became a glowing source of ethereal light. The full lips and bright white teeth still looked human but the reverb of hidden power sat under the guttural rasp of his voice.

The man from the Crossroads.

The one who stopped her from entering the throat of the Plat Eye and turning into a floating haint that lived in the ceiling like Elizabeth.

The Geechee Man.

"Ya don't play fair," The Plat Eye grumbled again.

"And?" Erik said.

Erik's firm hands skated up her sides and rested on her shoulders. Lulabelle's pussy squelched on his dick all rude and loud. Plat Eye licked his fleshy lips.

"This here the one I wanted. Not that other one—"

Lulabelle snatched up Erik's switchblade and jumped up from his lap. Her pussy throbbed from being removed from his erection. She held the open switchblade against his throat. Why couldn't anyone else in her juke joint see or hear what was happening?

She knew the stories. All kinds of frightening things could be met at a crossroads. And if the Crossroads Man himself showed up—

"Put that down, Lula. It's not a toy to be played with," Erik said zipping up his pants.

The Plat Eye leaned forward and shot his arm out to grab her, but Erik was quicker. He snatched the switchblade back faster from her grip than she could blink, and he slashed the creature's arm. Black festering ooze seeped from the wound and sizzled as it splashed on the table burning holes through the wood.

"Give her to me," the Plat Eye demanded.

Erik stood up and straightened his tie.

"Nigga you ain't getting shit but an ass kicking if you keep playing with me. I told you already. This one is mine. Get on about yourself before I send you on your way to a very bad place."

"There are rules!"

The Plat Eye leapt to his feet and towered over Erik. Not by much though.

"I make the rules," Erik said.

An arrogant chuckle tumbled out of the Plat Eye's mouth. He gripped the lapels of his suit and blinked that one beastly eye. His open wound continued to drip ruining her good table.

"My man," The Plat Eye said and held up his long fingers to placate Erik.

The creature slid out from the juke joint with no one the wiser. Erik turned to face her and Lulabelle jumped away from him.

"Stay back!"

"Lula... c'mon, baby. I've been coming to you ever since you opened this place. Have I ever harmed you once?"

"No."

"I just give you good lovin' when I can."

"That's why you can't be with me all the time?"

He nodded.

"I guard the way, and I open it up. Everywhere."

Lulabelle ran to the bar and made Eva pour her the biggest glass of moonshine possible. She gulped it down. Erik sauntered over to her.

"Don't be scared of me, Lula."

"What are you... really?"

"Your man."

"You ain't no man."

"I'm no demon if that's what you're worried about."

"God forbid if I'd been fucking the devil."

"I'm no devil, girl. Far from it."

He stroked her face.

"Let's go to the back. I need you... right now."

His voice made her insides tingle. This was their time. But how could she go back and make love to... to a what? Spirit? Guardian angel? Supernatural being?

He never did hurt her. And never once did she suspect that he wasn't anything other than a switchblade carrying Geechie that made her backbone slip.

"Are there others?" she asked, "Others like you around here?"

"Always. But you don't have to worry about nothin'. You got me. No one fucks with me.'

"How come you didn't save Elizabeth?"

"She didn't want to be saved."

"But I loved her. She was my best friend. Why would she leave me?"

"She's still here. She'll never leave until you chase her on."

"Is she happy?"

"Like I told you, she loves you. If you're happy, she's happy."

"God won't punish me for being with you, will he?"

"She won't. I promise."

"What about me selling pussy and a little dick?"

"Not even on her mind."

Lulabelle smiled.

Erik slinked over to her and rubbed his big body against hers and nudged his bearded face against her soft cheek.

"How many women have you seduced over the years?"

"You my favorite."

"That didn't answer my question.," she said putting a hand on her hip.

"You wanna argue or get some more dick, gal?"

Lulabelle checked the room. Her patrons were happy and not having a care in the world. Eva cooked more food, Honey Boy kept the girls refreshed in their loving rooms, and the Harvest moon spilled in through the window behind the juke band.

Moonlight bathed Erik's face and he slid his hand under her dress again.

"Daddy needs to take care of you... oh see now, my sweet jewel is all plump again."

He removed his hand and licked his fingers sticky with her essence. She rubbed on his crotch and he gifted her with a hard bulge. His eyes drifted up to the ceiling.

"Elizabeth wants you to get all this," he said grinding against her.

"Can you tell her that I miss her? That I love her?"

"She already knows."

Erik lifted her up and carried her across the rickety bridge and back to the soft lumpy bed.

That's their story, and I ain't tellin' it twice. Lula and her Geechee Man played nice for a long, long time. I keep watch and makes sure that stays true. Until we meet again on the next new moon...

Part 2 "There's Some Whores in This House" HERE.

A.N:

This was a birthday story I wrote for @soufcakmistress back in 2021.

#Ice Cold Jax #killmonger fanfiction #Killmonger AU Fanfiction #Killmonger Smut #Black Panther AU #Erik Stevens AU #Black Supernatural #Uzumaki Rebellion #Black American Folktale

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gingacat · 29 days ago

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twisted from: Myth of the Victoria Water Lily

name: Lily V. Maven

birthday: February 12 (Aquarius)

age: 16

height: 155 cm

homeland: Starway River, a river that starts in the Oniric Rainforest and crosses the Golden Cordilleras. (my fan made locations)

grade: Freshman

class: D

club: Film Research club

best subject: Astrology

worst subject: History of magic

dorm: Astromunay (my Yzma fan dorm)

hobbies: Stargazing

pet peeves: Heartless people

favorite food: Avocado with sugar

least favorite food: Meat

talent: Acrobatic diving

nicknames: Mavis (Cater), Seaweed (Floyd), Mademoiselle Clown (Rook), Leaf bug (Miyuu)

quotes:

“What am I doing? Well, I'm counting clouds. It sounds boring but it's lots of fun, I totally recommen— Hey?! Why are you walking away?!”

Personality

At first glance, Lily seems to be innocent and naive, but she is still a fae from the Oniric Rainforest, a place known for its mystical and mischievous creatures. She is a playful person who loves playing tricks on people and talking in ambiguous ways that leave others confused. She also finds it fun to pretend to be dumb, when in fact she's secretly really smart.

It's easy to get along with her, but you have to be careful not to believe 100% in what she says. She likes riddles and puzzles and expresses herself or her thoughts through either weird metaphors or by using sarcasm that sounds genuine. It is hard to know when she is joking and when she's not.

But Lily is not that complex, it's just her nature to act in a more playful way, she just wants to have fun and thinks her way of acting will also bring fun to other people. She likes teasing others, but if she sees that she has hurt someone, she'll immediately stop and apologize.

When she is upset, Lily becomes quiet and distant, seeming to be in an entirely different place inside of her head.

She is obsessed with astronomy and when someone awakens her love for it, she gets extremely excited, rambling about stars, planets, galaxies, the universe, etc. Lily gets really happy when people actually listen or are invested in what she says, loving to share an interest of hers to others.

Background

Her father, Levi, is a water fae and her mother, Rosario, is a wood fae. Lily is their only child.

Her parents were always fighting, always stressed by their own personal lives, and the overall mood of the household was dark, sorrowful. Levi was fond of Space though, and he enjoyed taking Lily to go stargazing. Ever since she was very young, she was enamored with the stars.

Lily's first memory with stargazing was unforgettable. She remembers she was very upset that day and couldn't stop crying because she was the reason her parents had fought. Not wanting his daughter to be sad, Levi took her to see how beautiful the sky looked that night. For the first time in her life, Lily had seen something that wasn't gloomy nor dark, but shining so bright that it had touched her heart. Just as she was looking at the stars, the stars were looking back at her, embracing her with all their warm and beautiful luster.

Lily imagined how it would be like to be there, shining right next to the Moon. She wanted to be like the stars, who make people happier, who brighten people's moods even when everything seems to be horrible, even when the entire world seems to be so dark and so lonely.

Although, because of her mischievous nature, she eventually found a more playful way to shine and bring joy: by making others laugh.

Trivia

Her age is counted in human years because her mother is half-human and half-fae so Lily is not 100% fae. (i had to humanize Lily bc fae years are just so complicated 😭)

Lily mispronounces Diasomnia for Dysnomia, the name of a moon. Sebek keeps correcting her, but she never gets it right. (she's doing it on purpose)

She can breathe underwater.

Lily is very interested in scientific theories and loves debating about them. (ex: wormhole theory, panspermia theory, things like that)

She is the class clown. She keeps asking the most outrageously stupid questions to the teachers and manages to make the entire class laugh. (except for Sebek, lmao)

Lily never met Malleus but she would probably call him her broski.

If anyone is curious, the Victoria Water Lily myth tells the story of a woman who drowned after leaning towards a river to touch the reflection of the Moon, since she was in love with the Moon. The Moon (or Goddess of the Moon) was known for choosing women and turning them into stars, but to honor that woman who drowned, the Moon turned her into a Victoria Regia (water lily), which is known as the "Star of the waters".

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #disney twst #oc art #twst art #artists on tumblr #oc #disney twisted wonderland #lily maven

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crimsonred-hi · 11 months ago

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Da, it’s Da

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Reader

Warnings: children. Children are scary.

Summary: in Ireland and the northern parts of England (where I’m from), a child would never call their father ‘daddy’, for the mere thought of ‘Daddy is for gals with issues and gay men with bigger issues’ (which is true). So, I believe Andrew would want to be called ‘Da’ like most other fathers… so yeah, Andrew arguing with his and Reader’s child about what the child should call him.

She walks into the house, after being for the weekly food shopping, and he can here Andrew and Mavis (yes, because you can’t say no to Andrew, and he wanted to name her after Mavis Staples) arguing loudly.

“No, Mavis! I won’t answer to ‘daddy’, I refuse! Just call me ‘Da’ like everyone else!”

He sounds so pained when saying ‘daddy’, he, like most Irish fathers, hate that word, and it’s only made worse from how much the word is used in on the internet.

“No! I want to call you what I want!”

She hear the sound of her baby’s voice, with an Irish accent she gained from her father, yelling back at him.

Y/n slowly walks into the front room their in,

“What are you two arguing about?”

And now they’re both yelling at you, yelling about who’s in the right, so you move to Andrew, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“What’s happening, Andy?”

“The lass is refusin to Call me Da! She wants to call me…. ya know the word…”

Mavis gasps, shocked at her mother moving towards her father, taking her dad’s side.

“Mammy! Why are you siding with him?”

She looks down at her daughter, smiling down at her, Andrew kisses the side of his wife’s head.

“I’m with ya Da on everything, we’re a team.”

She says pulling her tongue at her daughter, y/n and Andrew laugh warmly with each other, Andrew presses a little kiss to the side of her head as he holds her, looking down at their daughter.

“Why do I have to call him Da?”

“Because that’s what he wants you to call him, you’re gonna have to respect that, honey.”

She says softly, moving forward and kissing her daughter’s head, and their daughter crosses her arms storming off to her room. She looks back at Andrew,

“You tried… she’ll get it one day, Andy.”

She says, pushing him back, until there’s sitting on the couch together, cuddled up, waiting for their daughter to come back on her own.

___

“Do you think we’re good at this parenting thing?”

His question makes her look up at him,

“Yeah, I recon we’re doing ok…. Why?”

“Just… I’m worried… I mean, I’ve just had an argument with our child about what she should call me… it feels silly…”

She sighs, took his hair behind his ear, and moving her hand down to his beard, giving him scratches on his beard.

“We’re doing the best we can… she’ll appreciate it when she’s older.”

“Are ya sure…?”

“Yeah, Andy… I’m sure.”

He sighs, leaning back into the couch.

___

After a while, Mavis comes back out of her room, coming downstairs and looking up at her father,

“I’m sorry, da, I was being rude…”

Andrew looks at his wife, shocked at their child admitting that, and doing what she was asked to. He picks her up, bringing her to sit on the couch with them, he kisses her cheeks,

“It’s alright, angle… it’s alright…”

Y/n smiles at the pair, with their curly, auburn hair and their smiles. Mavis has Andrew’s crooked smile from before he fixed it, she’s adorable. They’re an adorable pair, father and daughter.

Their perfect.

#andrew hozier byrne #hozier #hozier x reader #dad hozier #hozier my beloved #hozier fluff #the hoziest #hozier imagine #hozier oneshot

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kingofpopmj · 6 months ago

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I'm The Light Of The World, I'll Feel Grand

June 24, 2009

Summary: Michael brings his wife and kids to work. He’s preparing for This Is It, his final tour, and his family can’t wait to watch in on rehearsals.

Pairings: Michael Jackson x Reader

Warnings: Family time, lots of fluff in the first half. The second half is a bit sad, but I wrote this based on what I feel Michael deserved from the world. This story is in a format that works if you only want to read the first half. (Stop reading at The Aftermath, if the sad part isn’t for you.)

*Y/N’s POV*

I smiled as I watched my husband struggling to untangle our daughter, Mavis’ leotard. There was so much tulle, his hands kept disappearing as he fought with the small clamps.

“Babe, do you need me to do it?”

“No, I got it.”

“Are you sure?” I teased.

“I am.” He winked at me, making me feel a rush of giddiness.

*flashback*

“Y/N? You haven’t said anything.”

“I’m not sure what to say. I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Neither was I, but here we are.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are you not?” He shot back.

“I am.”

*end of flashback*

“Mom!” Carver, our son’s voice carried through the house, I rushed down the hallway to his room. “He won’t give it back!” He pointed angrily at his younger brother.

“Idris, sweetie, give your brother his shoe.” I bit back a laugh, crossing my arms and leaning against the doorframe.

“He started it! Mom, he hid my pants!”

“Boys, we need to leave soon. Daddy has to be at work. Please finish getting ready. No more stealing each other’s clothing.”

“Fine.” Carver stretched, feeling around the top shelf of his bookcase, revealing blue jeans. “Trade?” The two boys quickly snatched their belongings and backed away from one another.

“Thank you.” I spun around, I had to finish getting ready myself and make breakfast, walking down the hallway I run into our daughter Sade, wearing my high heels. “What do we have here?”

“Hi mommy.” She giggled, she had her daddy’s smile. The perfect smile.

“How about we make a deal. You wear your own shoes and I’ll let you pick out anything of mommy’s to wear today.”

“Yes!” She kicked off my heels, sprinting over to my closet. “This one!”

“Yeah?” I saw the sparkly white clutch she selected. “This was a gift from your daddy, when he took me to the Grammy Awards with him.”

“Really?” Her eyes went wide, she loved hearing our stories.

“Yes.”

“When?” She asked excitedly, tugging at my arm, she pulled me over to the loveseat, waiting for more details.

“It was in 1984.”

“What’s this?” She pulled out a necklace. “Did daddy give this to you too?”

“Yes—”

“Tell me everything!” She interrupted me, kicking her feet happily.

*flashback*

“I got you something” Michael smiled, I love his smile.

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“Open it.” He was growing impatient. I knew he wanted to see my reaction to his gift.

“Oh— wow.” The box held inside of it the most beautiful clutch purse. It was white and had intricate beading all along the surface. It matched my dress perfectly. “Michael.” I was speechless. “It’s beautiful. Thank you so much.” I threw my arms around him. There was nothing I loved more than being in his arms.

“Y/N.” He pulled away, his hand reached up to my chin to look into my eyes. “Y/N.”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

I stared at him blankly. I couldn’t explain how those words made me feel. Especially, coming from him. He was my everything and he didn’t even know it.

“You—”

“Yes. I love you.” He interrupted me, knowing exactly what I was thinking. He hated when I doubted myself.

“I love you.”

“Yeah?” He asked me with a nervous smile spreading across his face. I nodded quickly, leaning into his chest. “Look.” He pulled a locket out of his pocket, the shiny gold finish was stunning, but when I realized it was much more than that my heart began pounding faster.

“It’s our names.” My thumb glided over the engraving.

“Yes. I have a matching one.” He pointed to his chest, where it dangled, clipped to his blue bedazzled jacket. “And if you look on the other side, I left an open space.”

“For?”

“For our children’s names.”

“You really thought of everything.” I stated simply, trying to conceal the deep blush heating up my face. His words had such an effect on me. They always did.

“For you, I think of everything. I have a plan now.”

“Can I know the plan?”

“You’re going to be my wife one day. God willing we will have a big beautiful family. I’ll wake up next to you every morning for the rest of my life.”

“That sounds like a wonderful plan.”

*end of flashback*

“Ta-da!” Michael cheered, entering the room with our daughter by his side.

“I want to be a ballerina too!” Sade pouted, seeing her twin sister dressed up and holding daddy’s hand was just too much.

“Come on. Let’s get you in your leotard and tiara your highness.” Michael held his hand out, which she gladly took.

“Mommy!” She turned around, pointing her little finger at me. “I want to hear the rest of the story later.” I nodded as she tiptoed out the room.

I took the opportunity to check on our eldest daughters, Naila and Kya. After checking their rooms, which turned out to be empty, I knew exactly where they were. I made my way downstairs, the smell of eggs hit me immediately.

“Well, if it isn’t my two favorite chefs.” I smiled, kissing them both on the top of their heads. “What are you preparing for us today?”

“I’m making pancakes, eggs and bacon. Ky is on smoothie duty.”

“It smells delicious. Do you need any help?”

“Can we pack lunches? So we can have a picnic in the arena like we used to when we were little?” Kya spoke, smiling nervously, tying her hair up.

“I love that idea. I’m not sure we have time to pack lunches. We can pick up—”

“Pizza?!”

“Yes.” My girls gave each other a high five before breaking out in a celebratory dance.

“Check this out!” Our youngest son, Johan ran into the kitchen with sock covered feet, spinning quickly then dropping to his knees.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself. Again.” Naila teased.

“Dad does it. He doesn’t get hurt.” He stood up, rubbing his knees discreetly.

“He’s a professional.” She shot back.

“Yeah, well— you’re a butt.”

“Okay, okay, apologize to your sister then go get some shoes on.” I hugged him, tickling his under arms.

“Sorry Naaillaaaaa.” He said through his laughter.

“Food is ready mom.”

“You should do the honors honey.” I moved to set the table as I saw a big smile spread across Naila’s face.

*Michael’s POV*

“Attention Jackson household, breakfast is ready you fools! Get downstairs now if you want to eat.” Naila announced from downstairs.

“Fools?” Mavis and Sade repeated confused, I bit my lip, shaking my head.

“She’s just teasing.”

“Daddy, can we dance with you today?”

“Yes, babygirl you can always dance with me.”

“I want to sing with you.”

“I’d love that.” I beamed at the idea of having them on stage with me. They made me so happy. “Now, let’s go eat! I’ll race you!” I took off down the hall.

“That’s not fair we got little legs!”

They were laughing, chasing me closely, I stopped at the stairs, holding their hands as we descended the steps.

“Hey babe.” I moved to kiss my wife. “Is everyone else down here?”

“Yes, you’re late.” Her hands rested on my chest, looking up at me with those beautiful eyes.

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to punish me later.” I whispered in her ear.

“Can you guys not?” Carver complained, covering his eyes.

“Look away kid.” I shot back, kissing Y/N’s cheek repeatedly, her giggles filling the kitchen.

Breakfast went smoothly. The kids were really excited for the day. We were all buckled up in the limousine we had for the day, when Johan spoke up.

“Daddy, are those guys gonna follow us again?” He was referring to the paparazzi. They get pretty intense sometimes.

“Yes, I’m sorry, it’ll only be for a little while.”

“Can I wear my wolf mask?”

“Of course.” Ever since I showed him the Thriller short film he’s been convinced he’s part werewolf. And, I just don’t have the heart to tell him otherwise.

Our driver turned the car on, moving down our long driveway, I watched as the tall gates opened slowly, the sun was shining brightly in a clear blue sky. It was a perfect day.

“Are all the backup singers and dancers going to be there?” Carver asked.

“Yes. The entire crew, so we will all be on our best behavior, correct?” I was met with eight smiles, nodding in agreement.

“I still say you should’ve let me sit in on the dancers auditions.”

“Why is that?”

“They’re really pretty.”

“The auditions were held to help find the best dancers for the job, not to find you a date.”

“Dad, two birds, one stone.”

“You sound like you’re Uncle Randy.” He lifted his chin, smiling brightly. “Yeah, that’s not a compliment.”

“Burn!” Naila clapped obnoxiously, she loves when I tease anyone but her.

My wife was seated next to me, holding my hand as we watched our kids joke around with each other. I never thought I’d have this. I’m a husband and a father. My most precious of dreams came true and I still struggle to believe it’s real.

“I love you.” I said to Y/N, bringing her hand to my lips.

“I love you.” She looked back at me, her stare still made me feel flustered. After all these years the effect she has on me has only grown stronger with each passing day. I don’t understand how it’s possible, but I’ve come to understand that with her, anything is possible.

Thankfully, when we arrived at the Staples Center the local police department had already enforced a barricade, so all we had to do was run inside. It felt like deja-vu, all of the musicians that I’ve worked with throughout my career, a few new faces, but, nonetheless, a bittersweet feeling.

“The kids are beautiful.” Siedah complimented, hugging Y/N and I. “They are so sweet. I’ve missed them.”

“Thank you.” Y/N replied, glancing at them as they danced around the stage.

“They were excited to see their Aunt Sid.”

“Good. It’s going to be so fun, all of us in London together.”

“They can’t wait. This is the first time for our youngest to see their dad perform, so I’m a little nervous.”

“Nothing to be nervous about.” Kenny Ortega cut in, clapping his hand on my shoulder. “The stage is set. Everything is perfect. There is one problem though.”

“What is it?”

“We don’t have anyone to test out the cherry picker.”

“Cherry picker!” One of the kids yelled as they all rushed over.

“Oh no.” Y/N looked at me nervously.

“Can we please come with you dad?” Johan begged, tugging at my shirt. “Please!”

I made eye contact with my wife, panicking over the fact that we completely forgot to talk this over. She shrugged, knowing they weren’t going to no for an answer.

“Okay, but one at a time.” She said sternly. “You have to be careful.”

“Awesome!” Our youngest twins celebrated.

“I want to go first!” Khari raised his hand.

“Hold on, I don’t want any fighting, you guys have to draw straws or something, make it fair.”

“Yes!” They scurried off and my wife laughed, shaking her head.

“I’m surprised you said yes.” I put my arm around her.

“Well, they were excited. Plus, I can’t exactly tell them they can’t do something I’ve done plenty of times.”

“Good point.”

“They’ll be with you, so they’ll be safe.”

“Exactly.”

“We used to ride it all the time, remember?”

“Yes dear, I remember that wasn’t all you rode.” I whispered flirtatiously against her cheek.

“Michael!” The whisper shouted, pinching my butt. “You’re so bad.”

“That was a good one. You’ve got to admit it.”

“Mhmm.” She smirked, leaning into my embrace.

Before I knew it, the kids were running back to us, screaming frantically that they were ready for the cherry picker.

Our eleven year old, Khari was first to accompany me. The biggest smile on his face the whole time. We waved down at Y/N, his siblings and the crew. Out of all the times I’ve ridden a cherry picker, which is many, nothing will ever top experiencing it with my kids. These are my favorite cherry picker moments.

“Will they have pizza in London?” Sade asked curiously, tomato sauce all over her face.

“Yes.”

“Cool.”

“I want to dance on stage with you and Uncles.” Mavis stated, that’s how she did things, she said what she wanted and didn’t asked questions.

“Maybe we can arrange that.” I smiled wide, pinching her cheek. Y/N looked at me surprised, but we always knew that the kids would be in the spotlight. We could only hold it off for so long.

“I’d get tickets to see that.” My wife clapped.

“My number one fan.” I leaned forward to kiss her, earning a few groans from our children.

“Dad, it was awesome! I can’t wait to see rehearsals again tomorrow.” Naila complimented.

“You really want to come again?”

“Yes.”

“Totally, there’s zombies here!” Khari yelled.

“Plus, Auntie Siedah gives us marshmallows when we do vocal warm ups with her.” Kya did her little happy dance, taking another bite of her cheesy bread.

“That would mean the world to me.” They mean the world to me. They are my world. They are the reason I wake up every morning with a smile on my face.

“Dad, you’re the coolest! I can’t wait until I can dance like you.” Mavis gave me a thumbs up.

“Thank you honey. And, you already do dance like me. All of you do. It’s in your DNA.”

“I’m getting better at my moonwalk, but you’re still the best.” Carver commented.

“You know, your mom is a pretty good dancer too.” I laughed loudly as my wife hid behind me while our kids screamed in surprise.

“Dad, you’ve never told us. What was it like before we were born? Touring?” Naila questioned, a nervous smile on her face.

“It was fun. Honestly, I’ve never loved touring, but a few things made it worth while.”

“Like what?”

“Luckily, I had your mom. She brought a lot of joy, she was always there for me and it was an added bonus to be able to travel the world with my favorite person.”

“Do you think— what if we— what if it’s not as fun with us there?”

“Are you crazy? It’ll be even better! The eight of you make everything better.” Y/N nodded along as I explained.

Today, was hands down the best rehearsals I’ve ever experienced. My family is definitely my good luck charm.

“You’re going to have some stunt doubles for tomorrow.” Y/N giggled, clearing her throat before finishing her announcement. “Please, put your hands together for Carver, Naila, Kya, Idris, Khari, Mavis, Sade and Johan, The Jacksons!”

She stepped aside, giving the kids space to run into the room, dressed in different clothing items inspired by my career. It left me absolutely speechless.

“Wow.”

“The costume department helped us out.” My wife said, walking over to sit beside me on the couch.

“Do I look cool dad?” Johan asked.

“Yes, you look better than me!” He was wearing a little white suit like the one I wore for Smooth Criminal. “Wow. You really surprised me”

“Good. It was tough to keep a secret.” Y/N said, leaning her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sleeping in this.” Sade said, she was wearing the black and white Thriller jacket.

“Sure.” I chuckled. “I’m not sure it’ll be that comfortable.”

“It looks cool. That’s what matters.” She snapped her fingers, grinning at her mother and I.

I sat back in awe, thanking god for the blessings in front of me. I couldn’t imagine my life without my babies. We spent another hour together, laughing and playing games until it was time for bed. I had to explain how important it was to get a full nights rest, especially on rehearsal days. I tucked in my kids, kissing them all on the forehead and reading short stories to our youngest before climbing into bed with my beautiful wife.

I couldn’t contain the happiness in my heart. The excitement of another day surrounded by love kept me awake. I prayed everyday could be like this. I love my wife. I love my kids.

I couldn’t wait for morning to come and wake up to the light from the sun rising.

Tomorrow was just a few hours away.

The Aftermath...

June 26th, 2009

*Y/N’s POV*

I sat in the living room, watching as Katherine, LaToya and Janet played outside with our younger children. They didn’t understand what was going on, I knew they’d start asking questions very soon. I was determined to be strong enough to explain it to them, but for now I had to fight to keep it together in front of them. I had to be strong.

“Mom, look dad is on the cover.” Our eldest twins, Naila and Carver, sat on either side of me, placing a newspaper in my lap. Kya and Idris followed behind, sitting at my feet. They were surrounding me with love and protection. Whether they knew it or not, they were my strength.

“You guys, you shouldn’t read—”

“It’s actually beautiful.” Naila cut me off softly. “They said a lot about dad. I didn’t even know half of it— I think you should read it too.” She sniffled, leaning her head on my shoulder. I quickly wrapped my arm around her.

“I haven’t read it— haven’t been able to get through it on my own. Can I read it out loud for us?” Carver squeezed my hand, passing his sister tissues.

“Yeah, I want to hear it.” Kya spoke, Idris nodding in agreement.

“Go ahead.” I whispered.

“That’s so cool. Dad really did all of that?” Carver questioned, leaning back into the couch.

“Yes, he did.”

“He always told us stories, but I thought he was joking, like when he said him and Auntie Janet filmed the Scream video in space.” Idris laughed sadly, playing with his shoelaces.

“He always told you guys the truth, however he did enjoy sprinkling in some jokes.” I smiled, looking down at the photo of the front page.

“Wait.” Kya spoke up, staring at us suspiciously. “Who’s the inside source?”

“Honey, that’s just something they say, it was probably dad’s people. Sometimes they have to speak to the media.”

“Oh.” She threw her hands in the air. “I thought I was breaking bread with a snitch.”

“There’s no snitches here. Relax. People are going to be very curious about you. All of you. This little piece of our lives might hold them off for a bit.”

“What do you mean?” Idris asked, judging from the confused looks I was getting, it was easy to assume they all needed clarification.

“Dad, he means so much to his fans. They are going to want to know you guys better. It’ll be overwhelming at times, but they mean well. Think of it this way, their love for dad is so pure, so powerful, there’s enough to go around. The way they care, support and protect him is being extended to you.”

“What about you?” Carver’s voice softened.

“I’m included.”

“Do we have to speak in front of everyone?” Naila questioned, her voice was a bit shaky.

“Yeah, are we all speaking at the— at dad’s— the event.” Kya finished, struggling to say memorial service. I understood.

“You don’t have to speak, I know it’s a lot to process right now, but if you want to, I’ll support that.”

July 7th, 2009

“Y/N?” I felt a hand on my shoulder, I blinked rapidly, trying to understand what was going on. Chris Tucker was standing in front of me, a sad smile on his face. “I’ll walk you up there.”

I took a moment to glance around, so many faces, some I knew some I didn’t. A sea of black wardrobe confirmed my nightmare. My eyes landed on Katherine, my mother-in-law. She stood up, her hand gently taking mine, pulling me into her.

“He’ll always be with you. He’ll always be able to hear you. This is for you— tell the world what he meant to you. He was more— he was special.” I thought to myself was that doesn’t feel right. It’s not right. “Tell them how much you loved my boy. How much he loved you and his babies. Do it for them.” I swallowed hard loved isn’t right. This is all wrong. She looked over at our children, her grandchildren. They each had a different expression on their face, each one unreadable.

This can’t be happening.

I took Chris’ arm, he’s godfather to our youngest and has been a dear friend of ours for many years. The short walk up the steps felt unbearable. The shine from the gold casket off to the side, calling for my attention, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t look.

“Can you stay?” I asked like a scared child.

“Of course.” He nodded, standing beside me.

My hand moving to touch the microphone briefly, the cold plastic sent a shock through my fingers— it’s real. This is real.

“Hello, thank you all for being here this morning.” I paused, turning my head slightly to see a giant screen displaying a picture of my husband. He’s smiling. I love his smile. I took that picture, in 1993. “My Michael— Michael.” I stopped again, taking a deep breath, before starting again. “My husband, Michael, the incredible man that gave me eight beautiful children and a lifetime of memories. My best friend.” My throat started closing up, so I took another deep breath. “Michael and I met when we were six years old. After weeks of shyly smiling and waving at one another. Finally, one of us built up the courage on a random Saturday afternoon, unfortunately, it wasn’t me.” I chuckled softly at the memory. “An incessant tapping came from my bedroom window. When I pushed back the curtains, I came face to face with the boy who lived across the street, he had a big grin on his face and he pointed to the latch. So, I quickly pushed the window open with his help, he titled his head as if to size me up, then asked, ‘You like water balloons?’ to which I crossed my arms and responded ‘You like water guns?’ he laughed, hard and his laugh, his sweet laugh, it was contagious.” I glanced down at our kids, trying like hell to keep it together. “We were inseparable from that point on.” I noticed our youngest Johan, hold his hand up as he kept his eyes locked on the screen behind me. I turned around to see a picture of Michael and I as teenagers. “That was our prom night. It took him ages to find the perfect tie to match my dress. Michael took me to my prom because he insisted I’d only have fun if I was with him. He was right. Many experiences in my life wouldn’t have been as memorable without Michael. He makes everything better.” I could feel him with me. I could feel him urging me to continue. “I knew I was in love with him, my heart knew before I did. We made a conscious decision, we chose one another long before understanding what that truly meant. He is my everything.” I closed my eyes, the pain in my heart brought my mind to an instant halt. My head hung low as I tried to find the strength to continue. A gentle applause filled my ears, leading me to believe I was daydreaming, until I felt a presence by my side, then someone took my hand. Nervously, I opened my eyes, seeing my children standing around me.

“We’re with you.” Carver spoke, hugging me tightly. “Can I speak after you? For dad.”

“Of course.”

“Me too.” Kya spoke.

“I want to tell daddy I love him.” Mavis stated.

“I want to talk to daddy too.” Johan reached up, silently asking for me to pick him up, so I did.

“Go ahead Carv.” He nodded, taking a deep breath while fixing his tie.

“Hello, my name is Carver, I’d like to thank every person in attendance today and those watching at home. The support from all over the world these past few days has meant a great deal to my family and I.” He fixed his tie once more, smiling down at the red band on his arm, just like his dad. “My dad, he’s many things to the world, but to me, he’s my hero. I was five years old when I first saw him perform. He was awesome. It was always unreal seeing him on stage, but I’ll never forget the first time. I think back to that day often and I could feel the emotions I felt as a five year old watching his hero. Although he’s an incredible talent, his dancing, singing, his everything. It’s just so incredible, so indescribable, but somehow, there is one thing he’s even better at. I don’t know how it’s possible to be this gifted in so many areas, but he is. He is an even better father than an entertainer. And I mean that in the best way possible. He’s untouchable in both fields. He’s the best dad. I love you dad and I miss you so much already.” Carver completed his speech, moving to stand next to me as Naila stepped forward.

“Hi, I’m Naila, thank for being here today to honor my father.” She was choking back tears, looking back at me for comfort, then continuing. “I wanted to say a few words about my dad. He was— is— he is so full of life. I just can’t talk about him in past tense. I just can’t. I refuse to. My dad, he’s always there for me, for all of us. My entire life, I’ve never gone a day without him. One of my favorite things about him is how much he taught us, he instilled the belief in us that knowledge is power and we should always be eager to learn. When I was six I started playing the piano, my dad was super excited about it, he used to joke about forming our own band with him and my siblings, although deep down I think he actually wanted it. I used to laugh along with him, telling him that would be embarrassing, but deep down I wanted nothing more than to play music with my dad— to hang out with him all the time. Even if it meant having to wear matching outfits like his Jackson 5 days. I’d do it. I’d do anything for him. Dad, thank you for everything— thank you for teaching me so much, loving me, being mom’s best friend, giving me seven siblings that are really annoying, but that I am very grateful for. I love you so much dad. I can’t wait to create music with you again someday. I love you.” She went to stand beside Chris, holding his hand and leaning into him.

I moved forward, Jo still in my arms, he was excited to speak.

“I’m Johan!” Our youngest yelled into the microphone, causing the crowd to laugh. “My dad is super cool, he makes the best scrambled eggs. He helped me paint my room blue and we built a tree house, so that’s cool too.” He smiled at me, looking more like his daddy by the second. “He taught me how to spin like him, play monopoly and floss.” He loved speaking into the microphone, so I let him keep going. “He tells the best stories. For my birthday this year, he told me I was half-werewolf, but it only happens when there’s a full moon. He showed me how to build the best forts out of pillows and sheets. It was super fun, we’d have slumber parties in the living room with all of us. It’s so fun, you should try it sometime. My dad said that he liked them, but slumber parties with mommy were even better.” I was shocked, the audience began laughing loudly, if only I realized before today that our youngest son was a natural comedian. “I love my daddy. I love him and I miss his hugs.” He turned to me, hugging my head. “Bye. I love you daddy. Mommy, I’m done. Do you think daddy heard me?” The microphone picked up his question. I assured him that he did a great job and daddy definitely heard.

“I’m Kya. I never understood who my dad was to the world, until a few months ago, when we watched him announce his This Is It Tour. He was really nervous, thinking the world forgot and moved on without him. I’m so glad this was one instance where he was completely wrong. Thousands of you showed up to see him, millions of you tuned into the broadcast and it put the biggest smile on his face. Dad had taken us to work with him, the day before—before he left us. That day, it’ll be my favorite day for the rest of my life.” She took a deep breath, turning to glance at us quickly, then staring at the bedazzled glove on her hand. “It was an entire day spent with the people I love most, my family. I’ll never laugh as much as I did that day. I’ll never sing and dance around the way I did that day. I’ll never be the same again because I’ll never understand why this happened. Why he was taken from us. Dad, I love you so much.” She spoke through the tears falling down her face. “I love you so much. You’re the best dad I could’ve asked for. I wish you were here.” She wiped her face. “There are so many memories with you that I’ll cherish forever. Especially, the ones of us dancing around the kitchen, waiting for our homemade cookies to be taken out of the oven. Dad, I promise I’ll try to make you proud. I’ll never forget you and I’ll never stop loving you. I love you.”

“I love you dad.” Idris said into the microphone with his eyes closed. “I promise to be the best I can be, like how you taught me. I’ll give mom extra hugs everyday for you.” His eyes still shut as he took a moment for himself. “I’m Idris by the way, my dad, he’s just the best. I hope that I’m at least half of who he was when I get older. The other half like my mom, because she’s the best too. She’s been really strong for us. I’m thankful that my dad met my mom a really long time ago when they were young. I’m happy that they made me. I’m happy that they’re my parents. Thank you. I love you dad. A lot.” I smiled timidly at his thoughtfulness, even though he called me old, it was a beautiful speech.

“Hi, I’m Khari.” He was staring intently at the banners hanging from the ceiling of the arena, pictures of his dad from different stages of his life. “I love my dad.” He spoke softly, tapping his fingers on the podium. “I don’t want to live in a world without him. I’ve never had to, but I already know it’s not the same. The world is better with him here.” He seemed to be playing a song in his head to help him get through his speech. “I don’t know what else to say. Dad, I love you. Thank you for being my dad.” Khari stepped down, grabbing the microphone to hold for his sister’s.

“I love you daddy.” Mavis smiled softly.

“I love you!” Sade added. “This much daddy.” She opened her arms wide, stretching them out as much as possible.

I hugged my kids tight, telling them how proud I was of each of them. How proud their daddy would be and how much their words meant to him. I knew I had more to say, but I accepted that I’ll never have enough time to say all I need to. I had to say more, even if it wasn’t everything, it was enough. For now, it was enough.

“Michael, I adore you. I always have, I always will. Thank you for coming into my life and making it better than I could have ever imagined. I thank you for giving me eight beautiful, amazing, perfect pieces of you. I wouldn’t be able to get through this without them. My best friend, my heart, my Michael, I love you.”

I stepped down from the podium, guiding my babies back to our seats. When I sat down, I felt relieved. Relieved that I spoke and that part was over, but that feeling didn’t last long. The pain of being without the love of my life and the fear of having to live life without him began to set in again.

“That was beautiful sunshine.” Katherine voice was usually soothing, but today it was broken.

“Mama Kay.” I smiled weakly, tears falling down my face. “Thank you, I love you.”

The rest of the service was a blur. I don’t remember the car ride home, but here we are.

“Mommy, can I sleep in your room tonight?” Johan asked sadly.

“Of course.”

“I want to sleep with you too.” Kya ran into me, wrapping her arms around my torso.

“I’d love that.”

“What if we—” Carver covered his face with his hand, his shoulders moving up and down. He slowly walked over to me, burying his face in my shoulder.

“It’s okay.” I said, holding back tears of my own.

“Can we build forts in the living room? So we can all spend the night together.” He added.

“Like a slumber party?” Mavis questioned.

“Kinda.” Carver replied. We all agreed to get ready for bed and meet again downstairs for bedtime.

Our bedroom was dark. I walked over to the bathroom, removing my jewelry until the only thing left was my engagement and wedding ring.

With small steps, I went to sit on our bed, never looking away from my rings.

*flashback*

“I’ve carried this ring around with me since I was eighteen.” He whispered. “It was the first big purchase I made, because for years I dreamt about it. I dreamt about you, about us.”

“In this moment, it doesn’t matter how long it took me not to be afraid. How long it took me to tell you I loved you. How long it took me to ask you to be my girl. I’ll kick myself for the rest of my life because of it, but I’ve learned so much from my stupidity as well— I don’t want to waste time. I refuse to waste another second.”

“Michael—”

“You need to know I never doubted my love for you. I was never unsure when it came to you. In fact, you’re the only thing I’ve ever been sure of. I only doubted myself— I was only unsure of myself because I never thought I’d be enough for you. I never thought I deserved you, I still don’t. If I wasn’t enough for you, nothing and no one else mattered— no one compares. I rather be alone. But, I’ve learned that it’s not about any of that. It’s about choosing one another, choosing to be enough and choosing to grow together.”

“You are enough, you’re more than enough.” I choked out.

“Because I’ve finally chosen to be enough.” He answered simply— confidently. “After years and years of pulling you in just to push you away, I’m choosing from now until my last moment on this earth— I choose you. My heart, my soul, my mind choose you. I’ve always been yours. This ring is just a formality at this point.” He quietly laughed. “Y/N, I love you, I love you so much. Will you marry me?”

Slowly, I knelt down in front of him, trying to compose myself enough to get any words out. Our eyes glassy, the sound of our breathing being taken over by sniffling as we reached out for each other with trembling hands.

“I adore you.” I cupped his face, leaning in to kiss him. The tears were falling down my face uncontrollably, causing the words to get stuck in my throat. “I love you. Michael, you’re everything. My everything. I love you so much. I’m yours. I always have been.”

“Is that a yes?” He spoke loudly, holding my face, his eyes frantically studying my expression.

“Y-yes!” My voice failing me as I answered him. Michael pulled me into him tightly, leaving kisses all over my face with intense speed.

"I was not expecting a proposal."

"I'm glad I could surprise you." He smiled, wiping my tears away with his thumb. "I should probably put this on you now. What do you think?" I nodded eagerly, holding out my shaky hand.

He brought my hand to his lips, leaving a kiss before sliding the ring on my finger. No words felt sufficient in describing how I was feeling. I felt his arms tighten around my waist lifting me off the floor, quickly I wrapped my legs around him, we took in the moment- this moment.

The thumping of his heartbeat, the scent of his aftershave, the smoothness of his skin, the curve of his lips. My focus moved from his lips to his eyes. He's looking back at me, adoringly, with that gaze that's reserved for only me. I'll never understand what I did to deserve him, but I know I'll never take him for granted.

*end of flashback*

I held my left hand to my chest, over my heart, it took me longer than expected to control my breathing again. I propped myself up on my elbow, looking at the other side of our bed, the empty side, his side.

I squeezed my eyes shut, imagining he was here with me.

“I love you.” My throat ached, but I pushed through the best I could. “My heart will always be yours. I promise to take care of the kids. I promise to raise them the right way and teach them all the values we planned to teach them together. I promise I’ll do my best everyday no matter how painful each day will be without you. I promise to never take these rings off. I promise—” I leaned my head on his pillow. “I promise I’ll always love you. I promise to keep going like you’d want me to until the day we reunite. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Then, for the first time since he left,

I heard Michael’s voice…

“Lovely, in all the ways I’ve pictured my life, you are always in it. You and I are inevitable. We are predestined. It’s in the stars. Everything in me chooses you. You are it. You’re the dream of all dreams. You’re my dream come true. I love you. I love you infinitely.”

How Michael & Y/N’s children’s names came to be.

#michael jackson #michael joseph jackson #king of pop #michael jackson imagine #michael jackson x reader #michael jackson fanfic

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beargyufairy · 11 months ago

Text

In my defense, I have none

For never leaving well enough alone

But it would've been fun

If you would've been the one

#zervis #zeref dragneel #zeref x mavis #mavis vermillion #fairy tail #star crossed lovers #the 1 taylor swift #i wish it were different #nalu #artists on tumblr #writers on tumblr #tumblrmart

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ladykailitha · 1 year ago

Text

Grief (A Friend Indeed) Part 8

And we're back with this one! I think I will update this every Thursday until it's done. We actually don't have too much farther to go. But we'll get there.

Steve really goes through it this chapter. He's been burying his feelings for so long that they were an explosion waiting to happen. It happens here.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7

****

Steve liked Lauren but he was questioning her taste in friends. Though the first one had been a cousin on Danny’s side.

This was his fourth proposition for sex since he’d arrived. Apparently word had spread around that he was related to the Lexington Kincades and they all wanted a taste of that particular brand of honey.

Never mind he was here for a funeral. But Beth had so far been the most flagrant pursuer.

She was currently leaning on her elbows on the counter, showing off her ample breasts. Not that Steve had ever even been a breast guy. Sure they were great to look at but when it came to sex it was more about the person he was in bed with and less what they looked like. Though apparently dark curls played a bigger part than he would admit out loud.

“Come on,” Beth said. “It’s not as though I’m asking you out. I know you’re going to be gone by the end of the week. All I’m saying is to have a little fun.”

Steve sighed. “Look, I’m not interested in ‘fun’ right now. I’ve had more than enough ‘fun’. I’m looking for something deeper. Someone deeper.”

“You got anyone in mind?” she asked, batting her eyelashes and curling a lock of hair around her finger.

“Yeah, actually I do,” he said straightening up. “They are sweet and kind and makes me laugh. They are always there for me even when I didn’t even know I needed someone to talk to.”

Beth scoffed. “Sounds like your crushing on your best friend or something, Raven, Wren, Mavis or whatever her name was.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Robin.” He crossed his arms and glared at her.

“Yeah, her,” Beth said. “I knew it was some bird name. Lauren was telling me all about her. It’s sounds like you’ve got bad for this girl, but she’s not interested in you. So why not take the edge off and get your dick wet.”

“One, it’s not Robin. Two, I’m here for a funeral. And three, I think we’re really close to something and I don’t want to ruin that with some fling.”

She batted her eyelashes. “She’d never know.”

“I would and that’s what matters.”

He stormed out of the kitchen, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Eddie was waiting for him on sofa after he had gone to the bathroom to scrub his face.

“Hey,” he greeted. “Is there any chance we could go somewhere? Just me and you.”

Eddie nodded. “Sure, Stevie. Why don’t we head to Lexington and see your grandma’s grave?”

Steve’s shoulders sagged in relief. “That’s great idea, Eds.”

Eddie hopped to his feet. “Just let me tell Uncle Wayne and Aunt Penny that we’ll be gone all day.”

Steve nodded. “I’ll meet you out at the car.”

“Right-oh!” he replied with a jaunty salute.

Steve shook his head fondly and walked out to the car. He leaned against the hood and watched through the window for Eddie.

He watched with his arms folded as Lauren and Beth seemed to exchange...well it was clear whatever it was, it was very heated.

Beth marched out of the house first without so much as backward glance at the house or Steve. Which was fine by him, if he was being honest.

Eddie came out shortly afterwards. “What’s her damage?” he asked jutting his chin at where Beth had stormed off to.

Steve shrugged. “To be honest, I don’t even fucking know, man. I really, really don’t.”

“You ready to go, then?” he asked.

Steve nodded and they slipped into the car. Steve would drive up and Eddie would drive back.

They were silent on the drive up, but it was a comfortable silence. Eddie could see that Steve had been wound up by something, but wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.

Steve drove slowly through cemetery looking for the Kincade family plot where Eileen and Montserrat Kincade’ mausoleum would be.

Soon it loomed in the distance and Steve stopped the car.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Eddie asked.

Steve nodded.

Eddie got out of the car and walked up with Steve to mausoleum and his eyes wandered over the names on the tombstones. There were a lot of Kincades but there were also a smattering of other names. Husbands of female Kincades allowed to be buried in the family plot.

Eddie saw one and burst out laughing. “Hey, Stevie, look! Another Munson!”

Steve stopped his slow trek to the grave and turned to see where Eddie was pointing. And sure enough there it was.

Nathaniel Munson

1921-1944

Abigail Kincade Munson

1922-1973

“Huh,” he said thoughtfully. “I think that was Montserrat’s, my grandpa’s, younger sister. Her husband died in the War.”

Eddie nodded. He wondered if his Munsons were related to Steve’s. That would be interesting to say the least.

“She never remarried?” he asked as they started walking again.

Steve shook his head. “And as I understand no one tried to marry her off again either. She never had kids. My mom always called her a vodka aunt. She would whisk them off on vacations to far off lands during their holiday breaks and just lived her life to the fullest.”

“Is that why you wanted an uncle to do the same for you?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Mom doesn’t have any sisters, so I thought why not a vodka uncle, you know? Someone to take me places I’ve never seen. Always there for me when things got to difficult at home. But it never happened. Uncles Percy and Jasper never even called as far as I know.”

Eddie bumped their shoulders together. “Uncle Wayne can’t take you places you’ve never been, but I think he’d more than happy to take you into the Munson fold.”

Steve smiled at that. “Thanks, Eds. That means a lot.”

They finally reached the fucking tomb. Eddie wondered briefly if she had been mummified.

They had picked up flowers in town so they wouldn’t wilt. White lilies. No red roses for Steve. Not anymore.

Steve walked up to the sepulcher and laid the flowers down in front of it. He sank to his knees and just started to sob. It just all came out in a rush of emotion building up for the last twelve years. All the people he lost.

The lost of his friends even though they were objectively horrible people, they were his people once upon a time. The lost of his innocence to literal fucking monsters. The lost of his parents through neglect and disinterest. The lost of his relationships with Nancy and every other girl he’d been with since. The lost of his ability to sleep.

Eddie knelt down next to him and put his arms around him, just holding him as he cried.

Steve wasn’t sure how long he had knelt there sobbing into the grass with Eddie’s arms around him, but suddenly there was the sound of a car slowing to a stop behind them.

Eddie looked at his watch and then at the sepulcher behind him.

Shit.

They had by some coincidence come on the twelfth anniversary of Eileen’s death. Eddie instantly knew who was pulling up and if they didn’t get out of there soon, Steve was going to have a much worse day.

But he couldn’t just pull Steve away, not when he clearly needed this. He stood up and turned to face the man that had gotten out of the very fancy car.

To say he was shocked would be an understatement. Steve clearly took after his mother’s side. The man had the same hazel eyes and honeyed hair that Steve did. He had a neatly trimmed beard and a tailored suit.

“Hey!” the man called out. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

Steve’s head snapped up. He scrambled to his feet, brushing the grass off his knees. When he straightened up the other man gasped.

“Steven?”

“Uncle Percy?” Steve asked, jaw dropping, eyes wide.

“Shit, Steven,” Percy huffed. “Your Uncle Jasper is literally behind me. He’s going to have a bitch fit if he sees you here.” He pulled out a business card and a pen. “Meet me here at four and we’ll talk then.”

Steve nodded taking the business card. He didn’t want to be yelled at by his other uncle either.

Steve and Eddie started walking to their car when another, even fancier car pulled up to the curb. Another man got out. He looked like Max, but was thinner, more ratlike in his appearance. He hurried over to the other side of the car, helping out a very pregnant blonde woman as a ten year old girl hopped out of the back seat.

As they got to the car they could hear the exchange.

“Who was that, Perce?” Uncle Jasper whined.

“Just a couple of college students doing some family history and got turned around,” Percy explained. “I got them sorted and on their way.”

Eddie leaned in close to Steve. “You hear that, we’re a couple of college students.”

Steve snickered. “The only two of the party who aren’t going to go to college.”

They giggled together as they got in the car and drove off.

****

Pt 9|Pt 10|Pt 11|Pt 12

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @emly03 @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @vecnuthy @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @gutterflower77 @genderless-spoon @hel-spawn @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @mamafaithful @yikes-a-bee @dragonmama76 @flaming-reauxster

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #dealing with grief #minor character death

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