#put the bottle down for the love of a daughter // aubrey.

[grimsmuses]

// omori tag dump lol ignore

[erodasfishtacos]

~ MLB Curious Gazes ~

prompt: four different situations where people have run into or hung out with MLB!H - told from their perspective.

word: 6k +

warnings: language, mentions of sexual content

If you enjoyed this please - reblog, like, recommend, comment, and inbox me to chat about it!

please consider donating to my kofi - my work is FREE and it is a great way to show support!

enjoy!

-=-=-=-=-=-

The Doctor’s Office

Aubrey couldn’t believe her eyes as she sat in her uncomfortable, too small chair in the empty waiting room at the OBGYN office in the early hours of the morning. 

She was sitting alone with her baby boy sitting in his carrier on the floor - it was his nine month checkup and it was taking forever to be seen.

The woman was sitting, scrolling on her phone when out of her peripheral she saw an extremely - like extremely handsome man step into the area with a carrier.

Aubrey was a married woman but holy shit this guy was hot- without even trying is the thing. 

He had on a New York Yankees Nike hoodie and a pair of Nike athletic shorts with some calf length Blake Nike socks and trainers.

In the carrier was a fresh little baby, couldn’t be older than three months who was bundled up with a sunflower headband on.

The man was multitasking with a curly haired toddler on his other hip as he finds a seat a little bit down from Aubrey on the opposite side.

His wife was standing up at the check-in and of course it made sense that she was absolutely beautiful as well even though Aubrey could relate to how tired she looked.

The woman still had a small bit of her pregnancy bump left signifying that the baby was indeed very very new to the world.

She keeps glancing over at the man, he looks so familiar but she would remember if she had even met someone that handsome.

Then the context clues hit her, his hoodie, his toddler son was also in a little Yankees hoodie that matched his fathers and Aubrey googled quickly.

Her eyes flitted throughout the recent articles.

Styles’ Alleged $65 Million Dollar Bonus

Hot Head Harry Styles - how he managed to start three bench clearing brawls in one game!

Breaking Records and Bats - Styles manages to break his own record in the same season followed by breaking a bat in celebration

Holy shit.

She could help but watch them - this was much more interesting than reading a magazine.

Aubrey didn’t follow baseball but Harry had turned celebrity status and was this well known cocky dickhead to the media - women and men loved and drooled over him for his looks and his skills.

Right now, he sat down with his two babies - the boy looked exactly like Harry, it was quite unbelievable from the curly locks to mossy green eyes that was copy and paste.

Harry was currently tucking an applesauce pouch between his lips and guiding the boy's small hands to hold it for himself.

“Good job,  ,” He murmurs in the dead quiet waiting room as he tucks him further into the crook of his arm.

Harry looks up to his wife who joins them, she is a bit in awe when Aubrey sees him palm a bit at her bloated belly and whisper, “Y’look gorgeous today, mama.”

Aubrey couldn’t help but frown, she wished her husband did that.

YN sits down, leaning her head on his shoulder - Aubrey didn’t know her but she seems tired - of course she was a new mother.

The silence is broken when a nurse comes out and with an apologetic face says, “I’m sorry, we are running really behind today. It might be another thirty minutes,” before shutting the door again.

Harry kisses his wife’s forehead before wrapping his unoccupied arm around her shoulder, a flashing gold band on his ring finger.

Aubrey zones off for a little when her son wakes up, rocking the carrier a few times before he settles again.

She’s brought back to the couple when she hears a sniffle comes from Harry’s wife and his face turned towards hers, hand rubbing her shoulder reassuringly.

“Mama, she’s so healthy. There’s nothin’ to worry about, did a perfect job growing her in y’belly. I know these check-ups make you anxious but nothin’ is gonna be wrong,” He soothes, a near whisper because of how quiet the room is and he didn’t want to disrupt.

“I just don’t know if she’s been getting enough milk, it’s so hard to tell,” YN replies sadly, like she’s disappointed in herself.

“Y’kidding me? She’s our chunkiest baby - look at those little rolls. She’s on y’tits more than any of the boys including me,” He jokes softly, obviously trying to make her feel better.

It seems to work a little bit because she lets out a light giggle with a roll of her eyes, “No one is on them more than you.”

Harry shrugs unashamed before replying seriously, “Everything will be okay. She’s perfect and healthy.”

The curly haired little boy gets a bit squirmy with the wait after he finished his pouch, asking to be set down which his father does.

Harry is watching him carefully, his nervous but still adventurous little two and a half year old, as he toddles around the waiting room.

When he spots Aubrey and her carrier, he wanders over looking up her with wide curious eyes, he points at her son and squeaks, “Baby?”

Ever the diligent father, Harry is up and next to his son, Aubrey is a bit starstruck if she’s honest when he talks to her.

“M’sorry, he’s a curious little one,” Harry smiles at her, going to pick Ezra back up to guide him away from bothering her.

Aubrey waves her hand though, lifting the visor to show the sleeping baby, “Yeah, he’s a baby. That’s Dominic.”

The boy gazes at the baby before lisping, “Bry!”

Aubrey isn’t sure what he means but his father clarifies, “You’re right, Dominic is a baby just like your little sister Briar.”

“Okay,” Ezra shrugs and goes back to his mom to inform him of what he just discovered before crawling up and cuddling into her chest.

Harry nods, “Thanks for indulging him.”

“No pro-problem,” She stutters like an idiot and Harry smiles a bit like he knows but doesn’t say anything else before going back to his family.

A few minutes later when a high-pitched cry resounds through the room, Harry is carefully cradling his daughter who Aubrey notes looks nothing like him but like her mother even though her features were still so little.

“Shush, darlin’,” Harry coos with a soft drawl, leaning in to kiss at the newborn’s button nose.

Briar roots at her father’s chest, smacking her plump lips, and squeaking in frustration when she doesn’t find a nipple. It makes Harry chuckle before he glances at his wife and his smile falters a bit, “Sweetheart, did y’bring a bottle?”

Aubrey watches his wife shake her head, she is facing away from her so she can’t see her expression but gauging Harry’s it seems that she may be upset, “No, I completely forgot. I didn’t bring my nursing blanket either - I’m going to have to go the bathroom. M’being such a bad mom.”

The observer feels a pang in her chest, she can definitely relate to not always feeling like she is a good mother because of little mistakes she makes like forgetting diapers, buying the wrong formula, forgetting to bring a pacifier.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice is firm, “Y’not going to talk like that when s’the farthest thing from the truth. S’okay, we have four babies, we’re both goin’ t’forget things sometimes, okay? Here, let me help you.”

Aubrey wishes she had a husband who was as empowering, supportive of his wife.

He hands the whimpering baby over to his wife, he’s then tugging off his hoodie. Aubrey tries but fails to divert her eyes when his shirt rides up revealing  a glimpse of his taut abdomen and a light dusting of hair leading into his shorts, obscene tattoos covering his hipbones .

Harry maneuvers the hoodie over his wife’s shoulder, helping her tug down her loose shirt and nursing bra, and guiding his newborn to his wife’s breast until she latches and starts suckling hungrily.

“There y’go mama,” He whispers encouragingly before tugging Ezra back onto his lap to rock him a bit as he’s getting whiny - ready for a nap soon and not liking being in an unfamiliar place for too long.

-

Aubrey is buckling Dominic into his carseat when she spots the other family exiting the office. 

Harry’s wife looks much more relaxed, a smile on her face, and her arm tucked around her husband’s narrow hip, they’re parked close to each other, and Aubrey climbs into her small sedan - blasting the aircon.

She watches the parents strapp their kids into a massive, tinted and brand new cadillac escalade that was no doubt over a hundred thousand dollar car but who could expect them to be driving around a mid-level minivan?

After the kids are secured and they close the doors, Harry presses his wife up against it with his arm resting over her shoulder against the window. He is whispering to her, their mouths close before he ducks down to connect their lips.

His hand comes back to her deflating baby bump like he did in the doctor’s office, hand massaging the skin with adoration that was visible even to Aubrey as she sat in her car watching them.

Later on in the week, as she sits on her couch, a video pops up on her timeline. It’s a sports report she was about to skip until the name caught her attention. 

The sports reporter stated, “Harry Styles was fined an alleged sixty thousand dollars at last night’s game after getting into a verbal altercation when the second base man purposely tripped him.”

It flashes to the man she just saw in the doctor’s office in a form-fitting Yankee’s blue and white striped uniform with a helmet on as he ran at an impressive speed from first to second, stumbling when the baseman put out his foot.

Harry recovers quickly enough to touch the base to be considered safe. 

After that though, he’s pushing himself up and brushing off the dirt, then he’s charging towards the man who fucked up the play. 

He has no fear as he gets in the man’s face, veins on his neck standing out as he shouts. They don’t play the audio but you could tell Harry was cussing this man up and down.

It flashed back to the reporter speaking to another, “Nearly every team in the league reports that Styles is an absolute nightmare to play against from his skill to his downright arrogant and cocky attitude. He’s not someone I’d find myself wanting to hang around.”

“I agree with you there, Tucker. He has a right to be proud with all of his broken records and achievements but being a bit humble would do this man so good. I feel sorry for his wife and kids. He probably just spends all day bragging about himself.”

Aubrey clicks off the video, if only everyone in the world just saw the Harry Styles she saw just a few days ago - well they’d all change their minds on what kind of person he is. Especially what kind of husband and father.

--

The Charity Event

It was a charity event at Madison Square Garden in Time Square. 

It was for all Major League Baseball teams who had qualified for the playoffs and of course, The New York Yankees were there.

There were tables filling the whole stadium, extravagant in white linen tablecloths, multiple bars, and it was black tie dress code. 

It was a private event and it was not open to the public but after the dinner there would be awards given out and that would be broadcasted.

Nicole was there with her husband, Trent, the left outfielder with an average batting score. He wasn’t the most popular on the team by far - well everyone got outshined by Styles. 

She couldn’t help but be a little bitter that Harry had gotten a $60 million dollar bonus (the biggest bonus ever gifted but also the Yankees were not taking any chances at losing their star and their ultimate money-maker). Trent got a measly bonus of $100,000 which was nothing in baseball terms. 

The wives and girlfriends of the Yankees players did not like YN one bit. It really wasn’t fair because she was always lovely, kind, and friendly. It didn’t matter because they were all spurred on by jealousy of what she had.

Nicole couldn’t help by gaze at Harry as they sat at the same circle table towards the podium where the awards would be presented after dinner. He was in a sharp all black suit with a small team logo pin of the lapel.

She couldn’t deny how stunning YN looked in an absolutely stunning dress. It was a one-shoulder with sparkling black stripes against a tan background, it fit like a glove and accentuated her stunning legs with a high slit. ***

It blew Nicole’s basic black Gucci dress out of the water which made her even more infuriated at the woman. She knew she was being irrational and if she hated her so much, why couldn’t see stop staring at the couple?

Nicole could get away with it by looking past them at other tables but to be quite honest, the two were much too wrapped up in each other to be aware of any of their surroundings or people watching them.

Trent was off bullshitting with all the other players while the Styles’ sat at the table and Harry waited for people to approach him - like the cocky asshole that he was. He would give them a minute of his time before becoming visibly bored and returning his attention back to his wife.

As the appetizers arrived, Trent finally sat down with a grunt, giving his wife literally no attention as he dug into the salad like a slob. 

Across the table, Harry looked down at his plate, picked out all the tomatoes and stabbed them with his fork. He then brought his hand over to his wife who giggled and let him feed her the three little tomatoes for his salad.

“Don’t like tomatoes, Styles?” Henry, third-baseman, jokes as he watches him feed his wife without any shame.

“I love ‘em, m’missus just really like the little grape ones,” Harry shrugs casually - like that didn’t just sound like the most whipped thing that he could say.

Trent probably couldn’t even guess Nicole’s favorite color - let alone know something so minuscule like YN like the little tomatoes that come on house salads. 

Throughout the whole dinner, it was quite disgusting how infatuated these two were with each other - Harry had at least one hand on her body at one time - her thigh, shoulder, even cupping her neck in a way that was almost too intimate for the setting.

At one point, Harry notices that YN is a bit quiet - sipping on her glass of water and he pulls back from the conversation, murmuring, “Y’alright, mama?”

Nicole bites her lip hard at the cute pet name, feeling even more dislike towards YN - why couldn’t she have had someone like Harry?

“D’you think the babies are okay? Ezra’s been so anxious lately,” YN replies quietly, there were no phones allowed at the event and had to be left at home or at the door.

Harry kisses her temple, “Y’know Ezzie is good with m’mum, doesn’t get as anxious as he used to at sleepovers. Y’know East and Cash are probably on a sugar high.”

YN nods, agreeing and Harry jumps right back into the conversation but she notices that he keeps looking over at his wife to check on her.

Trent accidentally knocks her elbow hard and just grunts out a bland, “Sorry.”

The topic changed to traveling for games. Ellie, another wife of a player who was nice to YN were chatting about how stressful it is.

“I know, loading all three boys up is rough when we do decide to travel to games with H,” YN says to Ellie, a small smile on her face.

“Ugh, I know. Lily and Parker are the worst flyers! They usually end up throwing up or not being able to nap at all,” Ellie groans about her two little ones she has back at home.

YN let’s out a laugh that just irked Nicole to not end.

“It's going to be even harder when we have more kids,” YN laments like she’s bothered.

“Oh? More kids?” Ellie squeaks with excitement, clapping her hands together.

Nicole reaches a breaking point, jumping into the chat,“Really? More kids? Don’t you think you should focus on the ones you have? Or do you think because your husband makes an unfair amount of money, you can just have as many as you want? Hire nannies and act like you take care of them?”

Before YN frowns, about to respond when Harry interjects with a booming, displeased voice, “First off, why don’t y’mind your own fuckin’ business. My wife and I can ‘ave any many kids as we want, last time I checked.”

He continues with tense posture, all of his previous calmness disappears, “Second off, don’t take it out on my wife tha’ your husband got a shit bonus, we all know tha’ why y’pissy. And don’t act like y’dont have a nanny for your one kid while we don’t nor ever will have one.”

Nicole sneers, “You’re a cocky bastard.”

Harry smiles in faux charm, “Of course I am, dear. I’ve got a fucking beautiful wife, three healthy babies, the most records broken in history, and the fattest bank account in this room.”

“Alright, alright,” Trent interrupts and it doesn’t go unnoticed that he doesn’t defend his wife. Instead he shoots Harry an apologetic look for his wife’s behaviors.

Harry just scoffs at the couple, rudely rolling his eyes, and tugging his wife in for a kiss that’s a bit too intense but he can’t help himself, smiles against her lips when his wife pinches his thigh playfully.

He says (not quietly at all), “All these women are jealous of you, hm? S’cause you’re so beautiful and such a fuckin’ catch.”

Nicole feel a sharp pang in her chest at the indirect comment - fucking asshole.

Deep down, Nicole is unfavorably realizing that somehow YN has it all - a loving husband, who is seemingly head over heels four her, three well-behaved children, and everything she could ever want - sitting on Harry’s $600 million dollar net worth, on top of being gorgeous.

She didn’t have that. Trent and her were on the rocks constantly, has definitely cheated on her, their kid is a literal nightmare, and they’re both so reckless with money they have no savings.

It made her jealous to see Harry whispering in YN ear to make her giggle- lips brushing her ear, his hand splayed across her bumcheek while they waited for drinks at the bar, she even hears them murmur ‘I love yous’ at least twice.

Then the lights dim, spotlight on a podium in the front of the room, an older man in a crisp navy suit taking the stage.

“It is an honor for me to announce ‘Player of the Year.’ The decision by the board of Major League Baseball wasn’t a hard one. The statistics and records broke continuously by the man has led us to only one option.”

Everyone watches all the other players in room deflate a bit because they realize the award is going to Harry yet again.

 “He is again breaking a record tonight, he is the first player to earn this achievement four years in a row. The duality of this man when it comes to pitching a curveball or hitting a homer is truly remarkable.”

It makes all the players even more irritated than they already are when they look over at Harry who’s sitting back, manspreading, hand on the back of his wife’s neck gently, and a cocky, unbothered grin.

Like this award wasn’t the biggest accomplishment he could earn.

One of the players from an opposing team at a different table mutters to one of his teammates, “Fucking arrogant asshole. The only thing this award does is feed his gigantic ego.” 

“Such a douchebag,” The other agrees, jealousy tinges his voice.

“I’ve most likely made it obvious who the the recipient is this year. The New York Yankees pitcher with the most strikeouts to date and top-scoring hitter - Mr. Harry Styles!”

The crowd erupts in applause, whistles, and a standing ovation because despite his unsavory demeanor - no one could deny he was a legend.

Before he gets up, Nicole watches as he cups his wife’s cheek - locking her lips in a kiss before she has to give him a playful shove when he tries to slip some tongue.

When Harry gets up to the stage, he shakes the hand of the announcer and takes the award from him, setting it on the podium.

“Fourth year in a row has a nice ring to it,” Harry gives the crowd a dazzling white smile that have his dimples digging into his cheek.

The crowd whistles and coos.

Nicole notices YN getting teary-eyed as she watches her husband accept the award.

“I want t’thank a few people tonight. I want t’thank m’wife and the mama of my babies - YN. She’s supported me from when I was in college with no other career path but baseball, unsure of if I’d fail or not, she stuck through it.”

She can sense everyone’s eyes dart over to YN who is still staring up at her husband - who is giving her a gleaming smile right back.

“We’ve been through some really hard obstacles in our first years as a couple but she’s the reason for all this - the fact that she always believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”

The audience is respectful, quiet as he publicly tells a story of his deep love for his wife.

“I want t’thank m’three babies. Easton, Cash, and Ezra. They inspire me to be a better better man and a good role model - even though I think y’all agree they won’t be if they watch too much how I play when I’m out in the field.”

The crowd erupts in laughter at Harry poking fun at his own antics that he’s most famous for. He goes on to thank the team, coaches, Nike, everyone on the professional side of career.

When he’s done, everyone stands back up to congratulate him, patting him on the back as he returns to his seat.

Nicole watches as Harry sits back down, chuckling as he swipes a tear off his wife’s cheek, “Why y’crying, mama?”  

“I’m just so proud of you. Everything you do for me and our babies. The best husband, best daddy. My heart is just full,” She murmurs, clearly not meant for others to hear but Nicole was eavesdropping.

Harry’s eyes darken with something Nicole can’t identify but does notice his hand creeping a bit further up her thigh.

He leans into whisper something into her ear before she sees his lightly nip at her lobe before pulling back to join into the conversation.

-

After the lights come back up, Trent abandons her to go shoot the shit with other guys.

When she trails off to the bathroom, down a long hallway from the main area - she hears a rustling from behind a door labeled with a plaque that says ‘executive meeting room’.

Nicole pauses confused, all these offices and other rooms were strictly off limits during events obviously. She was confused to hear someone in a room that was not supposed to be in use.

Then she realizes it’s not just someone - it’s two people.

“S’good, sweetheart. Give it t’me so good.”

And she knows right then and there all she needs to know about who’s in that conference room and what they were doing.

“Be quiet, you’re being too loud,” YN scolds back, the walls were clearly thin because she could hear the exchange.

“Make y’cunt not feel like heaven then,” He remarks back, his voice slower and more soft than it would be in front of people.

God, Trent and her haven’t slept together in ages - let alone has spontaneous hookups or dirty talk like that ever.

When they all end up back at the table before the closing speech for the night, Nicole spots a nicely sized mark under Harry’s jaw that he’s wearing with pride.

YN had her lipstick wiped off and was much more clingy as the night rolled on which Harry seemed to thrive on.

As she and Trent are on their way home, Nicole speaks into their silence, “I don’t think our relationship is working.”

Not after she saw love and happiness at that event table tonight - she wanted that kind of love not settling for some cheating asshole.

-

The Little League Game

It was a cool autumn evening, it was an important game - if you could call it that for the little league team that Kayla had her son on.

The goal was to determine which team would move onto the playoffs, even though most of this was all in good fun because it was for eight-year-olds and it wasn’t serious.

Kayla couldn’t lie and say that she didn’t spend some of the time curiously gazing at the New York Yankees player who would come to watch his son play.

He wasn’t at every game due to his schedule but it seemed like he came to whatever ones he could with his wife and other three kids.

They had taken the bench on the bleachers right below her so she had an up close and personal view of the family when they’ve never sat this close before.

As the kids warmed up, Harry had his youngest son who looked to be about four sit next to him, squished between his dad and mom happily.

Their middle son was next to his mom on the other side, looking to be about six, and he was wriggling impatiently in his seat - eager to join the other kids in the jungle gym.

The baby girl who looked about a year and a half old didn’t look anything like her brothers - it was obvious that she was a spitting image of her mother (who was stunning).

She was curled up in her mom’s lap, asleep with her face squished against her mother’s chest - a pacifier suckling fiercely between her puffy lips.

“Mama, please,” The curly haired boy begs with greedy puppy dog eyes as he keeps glancing back to look at the other kids.

“You stay right where daddy and I can see you, yes?” YN murmurs, brushing back his unruly curls that where getting long, “And what are our rules?”

“Stay where you can see, don’t talk to strangers, and be nice to others,” He recites perfectly, Kayla was a bit blown away by his manners.

She watches baseball. It was hard to believe their children were so mild mannered when their father was the exact opposite - at least on the field.

Harry was rustling in the diaper bag for something as his son looked at him with wide, concerned eyes, “My baby, daddy.”

“I know, Ezzie. M’lookin’ f’your baby,” His father replies softly, the polar extreme of his normal brash, crude language that had a nasty tone like he couldn’t bother giving people the time of day.

“Daddy, please,” The youngest whines, his little hand grasping at his father’s tattooed wrist as he gets to his knees to help his dad look.

“Left inner pocket,” YN murmurs offhandedly as she makes sure Cash gets to the playground safely with his friends.

“Say ‘thanks mama’,” Harry coos to his son as he manages to tug out the baby doll and hand it to the awaiting little boy.

“Thanks mama,” He replies instantly with a gapped smile as he nuzzles right back into his father’s side as if he can’t get close enough.

“How are you feeling, Ezra?” His mother leans over to ask, keeping the baby close to her chest.

“M’happy, mama,” Ezra replies simply before starting to babble to himself as he plays with the babydoll.

Kayla watches Harry and YN swap a fond look at their son but she couldn’t help but wonder why they asked him that? He seemed fine so why did they feel the need to do that?

The game is going okay, Harry stands up to cheer and whistle when Easton hits a two-base hit but YN smacks his thigh and motions to their sleeping baby.

He looks at her sheepishly before sitting back down, kissing her cheek in apology, and peeking down into the fleece blanket to watch his daughter sleep for a moment.

Then it seems like Easton starts to lose momentum after he pitches two home-runs, his face pinched in disappointment as the other team scores but Harry is attempting to keep him motivated with encouraging shouts.

Easton struggles from then on, he strikes out for his final three turns, doesn’t catch two pop-ups, and his pitches start to get a little shaky. It’s obvious in his facial expression he’s getting upset because he’s breathing heavier like he’s trying not to cry.

Kayla feels a sense of dread for the little boy, his father who’s the best baseball player in modern day history is watching his son not do well during an important game.

 Because of what she knows of him from his temper and attitude on the field - she worries that he’s one of those father’s who will hound their kid for doing poorly.

“Oh, c’mon East,” Harry murmurs softly when his son stumbles over a ground ball before another kid picks it up and throws it in - their son smacking his glove down against the ground in frustration.

“He’s getting himself worked up,” YN notes as she watches her oldest kick his cleats in the dirt with a quivering bottom lip.

“I know,” Harry replies to his wife, “Wish he wouldn’t, he’s gettin’ upset out there, I can tell.”

“Sad?” Ezra squeaks, clambering onto his father’s lap and stating, “Hold me, daddy.”

Harry obliges easily, gathering up his small son before his attention is directed back onto the game - it was down to the last few minutes and unfortunately Easton pitched a ball that resulted in a home run for the other team.

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, running a hand through his messy locks before he’s setting Ezra back down on the bleachers, “I’m going to go talk to him. Do you want to meet back home?”

YN nods, leaning down to tuck the baby into the double stroller before buckling Ezra in as well, “I’m going to go get Cash and head out. Why don’t you take him out for some ice cream? I love you.”

“I love you too, mama,” He replies, kissing her softly before kissing both of his kids foreheads and stepping down the bleachers - ignoring all the adults who are staring at him with a starstruck expression as he heads to the dugout.

It cleared out fast, nobody sticking around after the loss that ended with them not continuing on to the championship, and Easton was sat on the bench - he was stoic and there was a hard, angry expression on his face that reminded Kayla of what she saw Harry look like when he played.

As she gathers up her son and makes sure he’s got all of his equipment, Kayla stands and chats to a few of the moms before she’s heading to her car - which happened to be parked next to a sleek Masserati crossover, who would let their muddy kid go in there? Rich people, she guesses.***

Kayla pops the trunk to her van with her key as they get closer, she notices that Harry also has his up and Easton is sitting on the tailgate with his eyes looking down at the pavement. She tries not to appear as nosey or eavesdropping as she tucks her items into the back.

“Sweetheart, s’okay. Y’did so so good tonight,” Harry assures his pouty son, he squats down to start to untie his son’s nike cleats but continues to make eye contact with him. 

“No, I didn’t, Daddy!” Easton whines, tears finally starting to bubble over the surface as he begins to sob with a shuddering chest, “I gave up home runs and then I missed ground balls!”

“Whoa, bubby,” Harry simpers after he tugs off the shoes and throws them carelessly into the back before standing up, “Y’did amazing, are you kiddin’? You did three innings of strikeouts, hit two of y’own homeruns. Y’played like a professional, way better than daddy.”

Kayla’s heart aches a bit when she sees Harry sit down next to him before hugging him harshly into his side, thumbing at the tears that are running down his son’s sweaty cheeks with soft reassurances.

“Daddy, are you mad I didn’t win?” Easton asks shakily, keeping his head buried into his father’s side and his small hand clutching into the fabric of his hoodie.

Harry chuckles lowly, “Daddy would never be mad at you f’anythin’, definitely not a baseball game. Remember what mama and I said? If at any point y’want to stop playin’, just let us know and we can find something else, yeah? Just like how Ezzie does art classes.”

Easton seems to calm down after a few moments of Harry rocking him and reassuring him of what an amazing son he is.

As Kayla drove away that night, her perspective on the all-star baseball player definitely changed. It was refreshing to see someone to not hold their child to an unreasonable expectation just like she thought Harry would.

--

The Campfire

Austin was the shortstop on the baseball team, he’d brought along his girlfriend, Chelsea, to the frat party to celebrate another win.

Everyone was in whispers that Harry was bringing his new girlfriend but nobody knew who she actually was because it was just a rumor.

It was surprising because Harry wasn’t a relationship kind-of man. He wasn’t into hookups much - always said he needed to focus on baseball.

Many of his teammates were envious of how many girls were constantly coming up to Harry at parties to flirt and try to get a dance in but he had always rejected them.

Harry had never showed interest in any of these girls at the parties, never seen him disappear upstairs with one or really entertain a conversation over a beer like they’d expect.

Chelsea pokes his shoulder and nods towards the entrance when Harry walks in with his arm around YN’s shoulder.

Most were in a little shock because they seemed like such an unlikely couple - YN had written some scathing articles about him and it was no secret he hadn’t been a fan of her.

“Holy shit, Harry’s dating YN?” Chelsea whispers to Austin as the group of party-goers cheer and whistle at the allstars appearance.

“Guess so,” Austin replies with a shrug, tugging Chelsea into the kitchen for a drink.

Later on that night, there’s a bonfire on one side of the backyard and a volleyball net on the other where a group was gathering to play.

Austin and Chelsea are on the opposing team of Harry and YN - she can’t help but watch them with curiosity because of what a surprise it is that they’re dating.

Even Austin has been watching because Harry’s acting in a way that he’s never seen throughout his time on the team with him.

Harry is just all over YN which was confusing how he went from not being remotely interested in the college girls to being a lovestruck puppy.

When she throws the ball up to serve, Harry reaches over and pinches her bum which makes her squeak and accidentally drop the ball which has him cackling as she glares at him.

As they change positions, he crowds up behind her, and massages her hips, leaning down to murmuring something in her ear.

She blushes wildly before smacking him off which has him laughing hard and kissing the back of her head before taking his position.

After Harry jumps and spikes the ball hard, earning them the winning point, YN turns around and wraps her arms around him to hug him tightly.

Harry wraps his arms around her shoulders, returning the hug before pulling back to kiss her lips in a soft peck.

Chelsea elbows Austin, “Who’s that and what did they do with Harry?”

Austin shakes his head, “I really don’t fucking know.”

The group migrates over to the fire as they might become cooler and the stars are high up in the sky, the fire flickering orange and yellow crackles of sparks.

Harry plops into a chair, pulling YN right onto his lap, and she wriggles until she’s comfortable. Chelsea notices him tap her thigh as if telling her to cut it out, too much motion right on his crotch.

Jake, one of his teammates, says in a teasing tone, “YN, I’m surprised to see you around these parts . I clearly remember a strongly worded article about how stupid frat parties are.”

YN takes it in stride, smiling as she replies, “And this party just proves my point.”

The group laughs easily, they enjoy YN’s sharp wit and comebacks as they get to know her. Austin can’t help but to notice how quiet Harry is.

Normally, he’s the life of the party, loud and making his presence known to everyone but not tonight. He has his chin propped on her shoulder and she’s cuddled back into his chest.

Austin can’t make out what Harry is saying but he’s constantly whispering in her ear and accentuating each time with a squeeze to her thighs.

“Are you guys official?” One of the teammates asked bluntly, a few beers deep by this point in the night.

Harry replies instantly, a possessive squeeze, “She’s mine and off the market, s’don’t even think about it.”

“Well I don’t think it matters because she’s turned down the whole baseball team by this point. I think everyone tried to ask her out at least once,” Steve jokes as the others agree.

“Tha’s m’girl,” Harry murmurs to her before teasing his friends,“Who’d want to go out with any you? You’re all dickheads.”

Everyone continues to joke around, it’s nearing midnight and that’s right about when Harry gets in his prime - like the party just started.

But not tonight.

YN’s eyes start to flutter shut as everyone banters and drinks around the fire, obviously not used to these late night parties.

“I better get this one t’bed,” Harry states after a few minutes, thumbing at YN’s cheekbone as she tries to stay awake.

“I’m okay,” She mumbles weakly, head still heavy against his shoulder.

“You’re coming back though, right?” Kyle asks expectantly, brows furrowed.

Harry shakes his head, “Nah, m’in for the night when she is.”

All the players look at him with a bit of a dumbfounded look, Steve shooting out, “Who knew you’d be so pussy whipped, Styles?”

Chelsea’s eyebrows raise at the crude comment, waiting with bated breath as Harry’s jaw clenches as it seems like he’s biting his tongue.

“Goodnight,” Harry says in a tone Austin has never heard before - agitated and almost…offended.

When Austin and Chelsea are sneaking up to his room for a late night hook-up, she overhears Harry and YN in his bedroom.

At first, she thinks they’re in an actual argument but as she listens to them - it’s not the kind of arguement she thought it was.

“You’re always the little spoon,” YN groans from behind the closed door.

Harry squawks, affronted before huffing back at her, “S’my favorite, please spoon me, darling?”

“You’re so fucking spoiled,” YN giggles as Chelsea assumes they move into a position where Harry’s the little spoon.

“Mm, I like feelin’ y’tits against my back, s’nice,” Harry hums with a boyish tone.

Chelsea doesn’t even realize she’s smiling until Austin drags her from her stupor. 

All she knew was that Harry Styles really really fancied that school reporter.

-=-=-=-=-=-

If you enjoyed this please - reblog, like, recommend, comment, and inbox me to chat about it!

if you’ve ask to be on my taglist and you’re not here - please check your settings because i’ve tried to add you and it didn’t work.

taglist babies (thank you): @dioc4ne @hazgoldenstyles @harrysdimple05 @wonwooen @ficnarry @leeroysdancer @harrysloveheart @harryscherrysugar @pradastardust @rish-haz @wildcstdrexms @evanstylestan @wisetoadbonkbiscuit @meredithhuntt @tpwkvictoria @lovely-him @haymix @eiffelmezarry @pilgrim-harry @soullessbabee @afterglowstyles @tulsasjesus @elenagilbert01 @meh–mood @pretty-pop-princess-hs @msolbesg @localfalsegodstan @evanjh @i-just-like-fanfics @harrys-hs-gf @lightsupdoyouknowwhoyouare @afterglcwswift @harrystyles-tpwk @amyvandijk @godilovetheenglishx @harrys-cherrry @theprofessionalfanby @your–sweetest–downfall @la-cey @bdbtchdir @killerqueencapstan @elizabeth23567 @camflowervol6 @its-a-finee-line @rish-haz @solonelytobe @nav1234 @harrynamjoon @hopefullimaginer123 @westallenhes @awesomebooklover17 @will-be-a-fineline @vasilikir5 @your–sweetest–downfall @pretty-pop-princess-hs @harrynamjoon @harrypinks @ivyirenehoax @harryspink @sunsetcurve-h @goldenstylesh @mouthfulloftoothpastehs @hello-34583 @prettylovley @nicolecarsley @lamariettes @imavirginhoe @unknown7549 @mellamolayla @kiwitsayedsugar @hopefullimaginer123 @harrysmatcha @weaslettesstuff @saintsmotels @hi-yekaterina @aubreyfineline @harrysgoldenbum @ebstylesx @goldeng1rl8 @tnqueen @percysaidnever @bebecalpal @virtuallybaby @rbforsmileycal @televisionboy @evanjh @lolzskye @haroldpotterson @pandxthings @leeroysdancer @summersylesxplr @cherriesrae 

[sunnysviolin]

Weird thought but how do you think the group was like as babies and silly baby/toddler shenanigans they got into.

Haha this is cute as heck nonnie! I’d love to give you some of these, but I’ve put a good bunch of these types of headcanons spaced out around all my other stuff, so I hope this doesn’t sound too repetitive from what I’ve already done before for you!

Kel was the escape artist baby. He drove his parents insane because the second he was put down on his own, he was moving and trying to get away. He really couldn’t be left to his own devices whatsoever, because his mom would put him down in the playpen, walk away to get a bottle or anything, and she would come back to an empty crib. 

Hero was a lifesaver for her. He was in daycare for half the day, but when he was home she used to assign him to baby-watching. Usually she was with the boys, but when she had to make dinner or needed a moment alone she knew she could trust Hero to come and tell her if Kel was trying to get out again.

This is shamelessly stolen from my longer fics, but I can’t not have it said again. Hero referred to Kel solely as ‘the baby’ or just ‘baby’ for at least the first four years of Kel’s life. When he turned five Kel rebelled and was adamant that he was no longer a baby, so Hero stopped, but he still pulls it out for specific situations (Not me staring at New Normal)

Mari and Hero used to read to baby Sunny and baby Kel. When the two little ones were one or so, Hero and Mari used to come home together from kindergarten and set everything up. 

They would have the two babies be put in the living room and pull out a big stack of picture books. They would each take turns reading one of the books while showing the pictures to the two tiny ones like their teacher showed them. 

Mari never really got out of the habit of reading to Sunny, and even when they were older she would sometimes pull him into the living room to sit on the couch together and listen to her read whatever she was working on for school. 

There are certain books Sunny can’t look at now without significant pain in his chest, and one of those books is Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. That was Mari’s favorite book to read to him when they were little. He has forgotten a lot of tiny details about his sister, but when he sees the cover of that book he can hear her doing the voices in his head, and it hurts, but sometimes it’s nice to remember her voice. 

Sunny was the toddler that would repeat everything he heard. Any bad words, any secrets, the only time he would talk would be to unintentionally cause chaos. 

Mari and Hero were both that perfect first baby that lulled their collective parents into a false sense of security. Neither set of parents were prepared for the challenges that baby sunny and baby kel came with. 

Aubrey was a very colicky baby. She cried and wailed and generally was pretty miserable. Her mother was stressed out to the max and her parents agreed only three months in this would be their only child. 

Aubrey mellowed out around 6 months old, but just in time for her to start teething...... her parents loved to joke that it was good Aubrey was a lovely child, because she was a little hellraiser as a baby. 

Basil was a quiet baby, but it wasn’t quiet in the happy way that Mari and Hero were fairly quiet. 

Basil was alone too much as a baby and it affected him deeply (I have this whole meta thing about why Basil is so clingy and that actually has a lot to do with infant/toddler psyche and being left alone too much. We have literal studies about why babies cannot be left on their own, but Basil’s parents hadn’t wanted this baby so they didn’t do enough to prepare for their newborn)

When his grandmother visited she saw the signs and immediately began plans to move in. She was the one who took care of Basil, and as disappointed as she was in her daughter and her husband, she was just happy to have such a sweet little boy to love. Basil spent most of his time as a toddler glued to her hip. 

[persephonyed]

hi there ! i’m looking to expand my muse list, so i’m adding a few new characters who you can find under the cut, along with a ( very ) brief, informal lil descrip of them. i’d love to get some starters going with them and get a feel for my newbies, so give this post a like if you’re interested in a starter from any of them ! i’ll come to you for muse specificity and to maybe work out a little plot.

avery odelia cohen ! 30, bisexual, daughter of a billionaire tech mogul and murderer. ( riley keough. ) she has seen her family murder and get away with it, she has seen them steal and get away with it, so she was raised to believe she could get away with anything. like when she accidentally killed her first boyfriend in a freak drowning accident when she was sixteen? avery had no consequences. she’s terrifyingly privileged and protected by her father’s power, combined with her insanely high iq that no one suspects she has, she’s able to manipulate any situation to turn out in her favor. and more than one ‘accident’ has occurred in her life. she might even like it at this point.

callista “callie” lucia ortiz ! 36, lesbian, university professor. ( aubrey plaza. ) teaching folklore and greek mythology was definitely a choice that callie’s parents didn’t understand, but she knew it was her passion and pursued it despite their disapproval. now she’s one of the leading specialists in the field and a sought out professor at a prestigious school. but she isn’t one of the stuffy and stuck up types that typically teach at her school. and most of the time, with success comes scandal, and there are definitely rumors circulating about her around school. and she hardly does anything to dispel them; she actually tends to revel in the attention and whispers that follow her through the halls.

daphne josette byrne ! 29, bisexual, ghostwriter ( lily james. ) predominantly known on social media, it seems as if she’s an influencer in the making, but no one really knows just who daphne is. sure, the instagram ad payouts are nice, but she makes her real money ghostwriting for some of today’s most well known authors. she’s signed strict nda’s and binding contracts that will never allow her to spill the truth about the new york time’s bestseller she just write but knowing the success of her literature is rewarding enough. it allows her to live a life expressing herself as a successful writer and maintain normalcy in some twisted, modern way. but sometimes the secrecy does get old.

elisa ianthe oliveira ! 28, bisexual, university student. ( camila mendes. ) double majoring in history and musical theatre, typical indecisive elisa, she also works part-time at the local museum and writes it off for extra credit. her parents are both mega history nerds and she was raised with dates and folklore being shoved down her throat constantly. she’s blunt, dry, and hard to tell if she’s having a good time, but tends to be fun to hang out with. soothingly genuine and keeps her private life private. but once you crack her intriguing interior, you truly do unlock another level to elisa, and she has no problem being her true self around you. it just might take awhile to get there.

flynn arlo kapoor ! 35, bisexual, museum director. ( rahul kohli. ) he’s a first generation immigrant to parents who own a restaurant and work their ass off to make flynn’s life incredible and provide all the opportunities they can for him. and he hasn’t fucked up those opportunities. he finished grad school summa cum laude and was offered a position running a museum right out of school, which was his dream, so he quickly took it. he’s a big family guy and momma’s boy, and he made sure the new job was close by so he could always support his parents whenever they let him. family means everything to him, and he easily puts anyone he befriends genuinely into that catagory as well.

ingrid dorothea langley !  26, pansexual, noblewoman. ( alicia vikander. ) much like emily dickenson, ingrid knew she was meant for more. meant for greatness. she lives every moment to it’s fullest and embraces every wild and weighty emotion she experiences. she’s full on all the time, and tends to be an open book. her sexuality is hushed in the times they live in, but she won’t ever not follow her heart where it leads. she’s optimistic and looks for the best in people and situations, and journals just about every moment in her life. she’s determined to never live a dull moment.

peyton celeste kimura ! 22, queer, ballet student. ( kaylee bryant. ) focused is the best word to describe peyton. she’s always lived in her sisters shadow, from attending the same school to now living up to her quite infamous career, peyton does everything she can to be better. ballet is her life and she doesn’t let anything or anyone get in the way of her success. she’s insanely naturally gifted in the arts, but with the way she trains, you know that she has always doubted just how good she is. very hard on herself, never gives herself a break, and lets few people in. but cares deeply when she does.

malia beckett dixon ! 34, bisexual, director. ( tessa thompson. ) malia truly knows what it’s like to find fame in a small town, having gotten ‘discovered’ her senior year of high school by a wealthy talent scout. she was swept away and appropriately funded to make her first indie film on a professional level, and hasn’t stopped producing award-winning films since then. she’s humble and emotional and uniquely in tune with who she is as a person and an artist. fame hasn’t gotten to her head but she does tend to get buried in her work and lose track of her personal life and relationships because of it.

marguerite “marty” alejandra gallardo ! 30, lesbian, social worker. ( eiza gonzales. ) having loving parents who died at a young age, marty was left to fend for herself and her younger sister while they grew up in the system. living through it, she decided to take on a career that could help out and change children’s lives for the better, while also fostering a healthier life for her and her sister. she is an internally emotional person, and finds it hard to bottle up her feelings as much as she would like. she’s intelligent and her sister is her world, she would never let anything happen to her.

sabina ines caldeira ! 21, pansexual, university student and heiress. ( alba baptista. ) raised in europe to wealthy parents who made their fortune off the vineyard she grew up on, sabine is the epitome of aesthetic spanish summers spent wine drunk and lusting for freedom. she’s pursuing life outside of that fantasy while going to school before having to learn the family business. luckily she loves the empire she will one day be taking over. free spirited and naive, she seems like you could walk all over her, but you might want to think twice about that.

siena anne norwood ! 28, pansexual, vampire. ( florence pugh. ) she was turned in the height of the tudor era, a place where she sat on the king’s lap and thrived in court, but she wronged someone in power who targetted her as their next victim. the feeding didn’t go as planned and siena ended up becoming a vampire, and honestly prefers this life to her former one. she’s old and strong and much smarter and conniving than she lets on. she loves to fuck around and mess with people and has only met few who actually impact her life. truly little remorse for her actions.

sebastian anthony hernandez ! ( nathan wallace — repo the genetic opera ) 28, heterosexual, repo man. ( sean teale. ) he works for a mysterious employer who sebastian only met when they made a mysterious donation for his heart surgery. the anonymous donor saved his life and pays well, so he doesn’t complain. he has a two year old daughter who isn’t in his custody to provide for and does whatever her can to make sure she’s always taken care of no matter how shitty the job. he doesn’t let anyone close to him for fear they will get hurt and he’s upset he can’t let anyone know his full self.

[pagingevilspawn]

stick it

What even is this fic? Idk, but i was missing gymnastics, so this is what y’all get. Its super bad, super weird, and not a whole lotta jolex, but whatever. 

Also, nobody cares, but the way I'm giving the scores is (most likely) different than what is averaged for Washington. I’ve never competed in Washington so i don’t know how hard their scoring is, but I did compete in one of the hardest regions in the US for gymnasts, so scoring was always a LOT more harsh than it was in other states and areas of states. Even though nobody is gonna pay attention to that I just thought I'd say something lol. 

And fun fact- our girl is a (much) better gymnast than i ever was, so… tea 🍵🍵  

~*~

Jo watched her husband do their daughter’s hair from the doorway, some kind of a braided bun she didn’t know the name of. She smiled at the sight. It never failed to bring a smile to her face, even though it had become pretty common these past few years. She cradled the bottom of her six month baby bump in the palm of her left hand, her right holding her piping hot tea in a thermos. Once Alex was done putting in all of the excess pins, she watches as he puts a hand over their daughter’s eyes, pulling out the can of hairspray and spraying it into her hair. 

The almost nine year old girl lets out a giggle, commenting on how the hairspray smelt funny. Alex pulls out an Amped Up brush, combing back any flyaway hairs that might have escaped the spray. She snaps out of her trance when she hears her phone alarm go off, alerting the other two in the room of her presence. 

“Mommy!” her daughter exclaims, running over to her to give her a quick hug, much to the dismay of Alex. He was just thankful that he was already done with her hair. Even after three years of doing hair it still took a long ass time to do buns, especially when his daughter was the perfectionist she was. 

“Hey Dyl,” Jo reaches down, returning her daughter’s hug, giving her a tight squeeze before she watches Dylan retreat back to her dad, sitting in front of the mirror once again. 

Jo looks at Alex, who’s attention was focused on adding the shiny black scrunchie into the little girl’s hair. “I’m gonna get Aub up.” she whispers to him, watching him nod before she turns and makes her way down the hall, where their three year old daughter was sleeping. It was only five-thirty, so she knew what a hassle it would be. Aubryella was exactly like her parents in that way, a complete night owl. It was always a hassle to get the girl down at night, but even tougher to wake her up in the morning. She flicks on the small night on the girl’s bedside table, the lamp shade casting a soft pink glow around the all pink room. 

Much like her name, Aubryella was the definition of a girly-girl. She was all about pink, barbies, fashion, makeup… anything that would be described as girly, the three year old liked. Alex always gave props to Jo for that, since while she was pregnant with their youngest daughter she claimed that the tiny life growing inside of her was going to be an ‘all that and a bag of chips little diva’, so she thought it was only appropriate to give her a name to suit that title. (Good thing her mommy instincts were correct. She knew that if she gave Dylan that name and not Aubryella she would hate it more than life itself.) 

She shakes the girl lightly, hoping that it was enough to wake her up, which it ultimately wasn’t. She begins to run a hand through her hair, which ends up failing too. Jo lets out a sigh. 

“Aub. Aubrey. Elle. Ella. Ree. Aubryella. Get up sweetie.” she shakes the girl harder, finally stopping when the tiny blonde lets out a loud groan of protest. Yep, definitely a Karev.

“No mommy,” the girl says, her word muffled since her face was buried in her soft pink pillow case, using one hand to sleepily push her moms face away. It was too close to her ear, and she just wanted to sleep.

Jo chuckles, rolling her eyes at her daughter's antics. “It’s state’s day.” she whispers, knowing that that would get Aub’s attention.

As expected, the little girl gets up immediately, rubbing her tired as, not looking as asleep as she probably should, the talk of the upcoming meet more than enough to get her blood rushing. Though Aubryella wasn't a gymnast herself (she had started dance class a year ago and had found her calling then), watching gymnastics was something she loved to do, especially when it was her own sister competing. Not to mention, it was the topic of nearly every dinner for the past month and a half.  

The mom watches as the girl hassles out of the bed quickly, picking up her blanket and rushing to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Jo stays behind, making the bed. Normally, Aub would need to do it herself, but since they were on a time limit, she decided it would be best if she did it instead. When the girl gets back in the room Jo picks out her clothes, a dusty rose sweater and black jeans, both wasting no time in putting them on. She runs a comb through her daughter’s long dirty blonde hair, a trait she inherited from her Aunt Amber and Grandma. Aub actually looked more like the two than her own parents to most people, with her dirty blonde hair and blue-green eyes. But anyone who actually looked at the girl could see that she had Jo's nose and Alex’s chin. Not to mention, that crooked grin was all Alex Karev.

Jo picks up her daughter from her spot on the bed, grabbing a jacket that was hung on a hook before heading out of the door and down the hall, stopping when she went down the stairs and entered the living room. She sets the girl down by a chair in the kitchen, going to the cabinets and pulling out the doughnuts and cereal. “Which one?” she asks, holding up each dessert in a different hand. 

The girl grins mischievously, making the mom let out a small chuckle before pulling a powdered sugar doughnut out of the box. She didn’t know why she expected anything else. 

Aubryella accepts the doughnut gratefully, giving out an absent minded thank you before shoveling the treat in her mouth, getting the white sugar all over her face. Jo doesn’t need to wait long before she hears two sets of footsteps come down the stairs, Dylan dressed with her white and light blue leotard on, black warm ups on over it, Alex in a simple pair of jeans, back t-shirt, and the damn black jacket that he never got rid of, no matter how many protests he got from his wife. 

“Ready?” Jo asks, all three of them nodding in response. “Okay, you got your bag, shoes, extra hair ties, water bottle, lucky bear, extra bobby pins, thera band, notebook, phone, mascara, lip gloss, hair brush, wallet, tiger paws, ankle brace, knee brace, and wrist brace?” she questions again, going over the list she had memorized from years of training. 

Dylan rolls her eyes impatiently. She didn’t want to be late. She couldn’t be late. It was States for god’s sake! Everyone in the state of Washington (who qualified) would be there. The judges would be scoring harder, and some of the competition was going to be new. She was going to go up against girl’s she hadn’t before. Her goal was to win everything. Maybe it was extreme, but it was true. This season she had done well, really well actually. Her first season as a level seven had started off in the best way. She swept the first competition clean, getting first on vault, floor, and all around, second on bars, and third on beam. As the season went on she just got better, scores getting higher and snatching more golds with each meet. She knew she wasn’t going to be in the Olympics one day, but getting a college scholarship was looking more promising with every first place medal she had stacked around her neck. 

“Yeah, now let’s gooooo,” Dylan drags out, grabbing her dad’s hand and pulling him to the door, not even waiting for her mom and sister to follow. The four Karev’s shuffle into the car and drive an hour and fifteen minutes to the convention center where the meet was being held. They pile out of the car and check in, Alex taking a few minutes to add an extra layer of hairspray to Dylan’s hair while Jo puts a light coat of mascara on the girl’s eyelashes and dabs the lip rosy gloss on her lips. 

Before the eight year old can run off her coach, her parents kneel down in front of her, her eyes letting them know how scared she was behind her calm facade. “Hey,” Jo grabs a hold of her little girl’s shoulders, making her hazel eyes that were identical to her own stare deeply into hers. “You got this. Go out there and have fun, alright? You know your routines, you won’t mess up. Okay?” she reassures her. Jo pulls her daughter into a hug, “I love you baby.” she whispers into her ear, passing her off to Alex. 

Instead of staying on the ground, he picks her up and puts her on his side, much like you would do a small child. Dylan had always been on the smaller side, since neither one of her parents were very tall, but gymnastics had definitely stunted her growth a fair amount. For most people it would be a curse, but as all gymnasts know, it was a blessing. 

“We’re right here if you need us. Go kick some ass Dyl, and win that state title. You want that banner right?” he teases. Dylan did want a banner though. At her gym, whoever won a state, regionals, sectionals, or nationals title got a banner hung up from the ceiling. She had one from last year, when she won floor, vault, and the all around as a level six, and even more from the years before that in levels three, four, and five. 

But a banner as a level seven? Now that would be a dream come true. Why break the streak now? And not to mention, her group would be the last level seven group to go for the weekend, so if she got a high enough all around score, it could be factored in for the team’s total, which could mean another banner (this one provided by the competition) and trophy, if their total score was in the top three. And believe me, she was determined to win that banner, not for her, but for her team. 

Another thing she inherited from her parent’s, their competitiveness. 

Dylan gives her parents and sister one last hug and ‘I love you’ before ducking under the chain and meeting her coach and teammates on the floor.  

...             

“Camera, camera, camera.” Alex mumbles, fishing through Jo’s bag until he pulls out the phone. Dylan was about to go up on bars, and he was designated photographer, since his wife couldn’t film for the life of her. The one time she tried, she ended up shooting the ceiling instead of Dylan’s floor routine. Their daughter was not very happy about that. 

He presses the start button just as the girl salutes, flashing the judges a smile before she begins. She rolls her neck and then adjusts her grips, stepping onto the mounting block and taking a deep breath before swinging her arms and launching into a kip, drowning out all of the excess noise in the background. 

“Legs, legs, legs.” Jo mumbles to herself. It was Dylan’s biggest deduction, having her legs separated. 

Straight legs, pointed feet. Kip cast handstand, hit the 180 degree mark, hold it, clear hip, hit 180 again, hollow body, her feet don't hit the ground, cast up to a squat on, she catches sight of the high bar before jumping to it, keeping her legs together as she goes into another kip, casting up into handstand, holding it at 180 for a second without an arch before hollowing back and beginning her giants, hollow body, tap, feet up, over, and again, see the toes in front, release, layout flyaway. Stick. 

Dylan beams as she salutes the judge again, going over to her coach and giving her a large hug, finally hearing the cheering coming from her family. A series of whoops and whistles come from her mom and dad, while her little sister claps her hands and gives her a wide smile. 

She waits a minute and a half for her score to flash up on the screen, a 9.725. The cheering from her section gets louder, and her teammates engulf her in hugs. It was a hell of a way to start off the meet. 

…

Alex pulls out the camera again when Dylan salutes the beam judge, trying to mask her nervousness behind a smile. Alex and Jo both knew how she felt about the beam. She hated it with every fiber of her being, no matter how good she was at it. She glances over at her family, who all give her encouraging smiles. It was just enough to give her the confidence she needed. 

He watches as she places her hands on the beam, going from a support to a press handstand for her mount. She stands, doing a few different moves and poses before swinging her arms up by her ears. 

“C’mon Dyl.” he whispers to himself. His daughter didn't mind cheering on any other events, but beam was a different story. She was always worried whenever she was on the apparatus, so whenever a sudden noise came through, she struggled. It was something she was working on, but it was going to take time. 

She lifts up her left leg, beginning her connection, a back walkover to a back handspring step-out. The girl circles her arms behind her immediately to prevent any balance checks. Jo and Alex both let out audible sighs of relief, knowing that if there was one thing that could go wrong in the routine, it would be that. From the looks of it, Dylan seemed relieved too. Her movements were less tense, she completed her jumps with perfect form, a split jump to a sissone. Her leap hit 180, and her full turn was controlled. All that was left now was her dismount. All three Karev’s sat on the edge of their seats, the baby in Jo’s belly kicking non stop, letting her know that it was in on the action as well. 

Dylan kicks her leg into the air, toes pointed, knees locked. Cartwheel step-in, back tuck. Stick. She lets out a breath, turning to the judges and saluting, flashing them a smile, giving her coaches a hug before darting to her family, who had moved closer for the event.  

“You did so good.” Jo says, pulling her into a hug over the plastics chains that separated them, Alex doing the same after. 

“What score do you think I got Bree?” Dylan asks her little sister, who lets out an adorable giggle before holding out her hands. 

“Ten!” she says, making her family laugh. One could dream. 

The score flashed up on the screen then, 9.775. 

Well, this was going to be a damn good meet. 

…

The camera was locked on Dylan as she made her way to her spot on the floor, striking her beginning pose before her music blared through the speakers. She dances around the floor, gliding with an ease neither of her parents had ever experienced themselves. It was a wonder really, how both of their daughter’s were good dancers while they couldn't move for shit. 

Her first pass was her hardest, a roundoff back handspring back layout. The family holds their breath as the girl sets high, finishing the rotation with ease, dancing around more before her leap pass, a switch leap to a straddle jump. She dances more, making eye contact with the judges as she moves. Floor was where she had the most confidence, being able to express herself through her music and choreography, that’s why it was always her favorite. 

“C’mon Dyl!” 

“You got this Dylan,” 

“Yay Tissy!” 

The family cheered before her second pass, a front handspring front pike, which she had a small step on, but nothing that would make a large difference in her score. She did some floor work, showing off her flexibility in her back with a series of rolls, standing up and doing a full turn. She makes her way to the corner, Jo and Alex watching the scene intently, Alex having Aubryella perched on his knee. This last pass sealed the deal. She runs, hurdles into a front pike, and connects to a front tuck. Stick. 

A smile breaks out on the little girl’s face. She moves her limbs in unison to her ending pose, hitting it just as the beat dropped. A series of cheers come from everyone around her. Her family, teammates, coaches. She doesn’t need to wait long for her score to flash up on the screen. A 9.675. 

…

Dylan’s last event was vault, her personal best. She had already done her warmups, and now she was just waiting for the judge to hold up the green flag. She adjusts her tiger paws after she salutes, just as Alex starts the recording. She sprints down the runway, hurdling into a roundoff, and pushing back into a back handspring. Her vault was a yurchenko drill. She keeps her form, legs together, knees locked, toes pointed. She finishes, salutes, then goes again. The three in the stands cheer. It was the last event. Her all around score depended on these vaults. 

When she does her finishing salute a second time, she knows that it was even better than the last. She looks over to her family and gives them a smile, wanting nothing more than to run over to them, but she knows she can’t, they were too far away. 

Her score takes a while to come up on the screen, which could either be a bad or good thing. The Karev’s hold their breath in anticipation, Jo stroking her baby bump with one hand, while holding Alex’s with the other. Even Aubryella was on the edge of her seat, well, more like the edge of her dad’s lap. Her hair was no longer down, but in a braided bun similar to her sisters, since she insisted that she wanted to look just like her. Alex was thankful Jo had packed extra hair ties in not just Dylan’s bag, but also her purse.

A series of loud cheers come from this section as they see their daughter’s score. A 9.800, a personal best. 

…

“And now, your vault state champion in the eight to nine year old category with a score of 9.800 is… Dylan Karev!” The announcer cheers as the little brunette makes her way up to the first place podium, an abundance of applause coming from the crowd. A gold medal is placed around her neck by an assistant, who she thanks with a megawatt smile. 

“These are your 2029 vault state champions, gymnasts salute.” the announcer says, causing all the girls to raise their arms to the position, all the families in the crowd taking photos of their daughters. Jo, Alex, and Aubryella cheer the loudest, more than proud of Dylan. 

As awards went on, more categories were called. 

“Your bar's state champion in the eight to nine year old category with a score of 9.725 is... Dylan Karev!” 

“Your beam state champion in the eight to nine year old category with a score of 9.775 is… Dylan Karev!” 

“On the floor, in second place with a score of 9.675 is… Dylan Karev!” 

“And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Your 2029, eight to nine year old all around state champion, with a combined score of 38.975 is… Dylan Karev!” The audience erupted into applause, her parents, her teammates, coaches, and even her teammates parent’s cheering for her. She accepts her fifth medal with a wide smile, hopping down from the podium and back into the crowd. She had just won her ultimate goal, an all around title. 

After a few of the older groups were called, it was time for the team awards.  

“In first place, with a combined total of 115.575 is… Seattle Gymnastics Academy!” Another first place team award. The team accepts the banner and trophy and poses for photos alongside the second and third place team, proudly showing off their trophy by raising it above their heads.  

When she gets down and the awards finish, she runs to her parents, crashing into Alex with a gigantic hug. When she finally lets go, she hugs her mom and sister. 

“I’m so proud of you Dyl.” her mom says, touching her cheek affectionately. Gymnastics was her daughter's passion, something she lived and breathed for. Seeing that light in her eyes and that grin was something she would never get tired of. 

Aubryella hugs her big sister’s legs, “good job Tissy.” The name came from when the tiny blonde was younger and couldn’t say ‘Sissy’, and had stuck to it ever since. 

The family of four makes their way out of the convention center, the drive back to their house was peaceful, the limited hours of sleep they got the night before catching up to them. They all crash onto their respective beds, the girls in their rooms and Jo and Alex in their’s. 

Alex runs a hand through his wife’s hair, his other tracing circles on her baby bump, feeling the little life inside of her kick like a crazy person. 

They stay like that for a while, savoring the quiet. With two kids in the house, it was a major rarity these days. Jo hums, nuzzling into his embrace. “I love you.” she murmurs into his shirt, on the verge of sleep. He reaches down and places a small kiss on the top of her head. 

“I love you too.”

[tiny-maus-boots]

Queen of Hearts pt 10

10. Stacked Deck

“You’re really alright?”

Stacie smiled and dipped her head in a slight nod. The last few hours of her life had been a rollercoaster of unexpected emotions and events but by far the most unexpected was this. Helene gave her daughter’s arm a gentle squeeze before hesitatingly pulling her into an awkward but heartfelt embrace. It was the first in a long time that actually felt…unscripted.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Really.” It wasn’t the ideal introduction to her life that she’d wanted for her mother but it was what it was. Stacie shook her head a little and pulled back so she could look her mother in the eye. “We’re going to be fine.”

“I wasn’t asking about Aubrey.” There was a decidedly crisp tone there, shattering the tender hope that maybe things might be okay and Stacie felt the muscles in her back tighten in anticipation of what was coming. Her arms dropped away in from the short-lived hug. “Aubrey is not my child. You are.”

“No but she’s a part of my life and she’s going to be my wife, mom.” Stacie sighed and shook her head realizing that to continue would only bring a fight she didn’t have the energy for. Especially when all she wanted to do was go home with Aubrey and find out what happened. “You know what…never mind. Thank you for your concern but you don’t need to worry about it.”

She started to turn back to get in the car when Helene pulled her back with a desperate grasp. “Wait…”

“For what? I know how you feel already.”

“No, you do not. That has always been your problem Anastacia, you are so brilliant and observant that you think you know everything! Admittedly, you’re correct an irritating amount of the time but you do not know everything. Don’t presume to know what even I do not.”

Helene took a breath and settled her posture in a camera-ready pose. It was a habit so deeply ingrained that she doubted her mother was aware of it. She gave a nod of apology and Helene let the rigidity of her spine relax.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re worried about me but…”

“I don’t have to be. Yes. You’ve said.” The older woman took a step forward and sighed softly. “I came looking for insight into your life. That old adage of be careful what you wish for suddenly rings truer than ever before.”

Stacie chuckled and nodded her head. “Yeah. Today was a lot. Thank you for coming with me to the station. It meant a lot to me that you were there. Maybe I don’t know how you feel about things but I know what all this looks like.”

Silence swallowed them up as her mom considered her next words. “It looks to me that you care about Aubrey very much.”

“I do.”

“It also looks like she cares very deeply for your happiness.” Her head came up quickly in question but Helene gave no further explanation as she went on. “Politically speaking this could ruin your father’s career and standing within the party.”

“Spoken like the wife of a Senator.”

A small smile graced Helene’s face making her eyes soften. “Speaking as a mother…I worry that this life will put you in physical danger.” Stacie’s brows came up and she opened her mouth to speak but Helene raised a hand to stop her from saying what they both already knew. “I know. Perhaps too little, too late. What I am saying is that…I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me. I failed you in many ways Anastacia, I don’t want to fail you again.”

Oh. It was hard to hear that, perhaps because she’d always wanted to hear some kind of acknowledgment that her mother ever cared about her at all. She’d been holding on to a resentment knowing this moment would never come, so sure that her mother had given up all real maternal feelings for her the moment the umbilical cord had been cut. And now she didn’t know what to do with the feelings she never thought she’d have to let go. It was going to take her some time to unpack all of that and process it.

“Can you be happy for me?”

It was the only question that actually mattered at the moment. What she needed from her mom wasn’t a protector. Not anymore anyway. What she needed was support. Some kind of affirmation that no matter what her mom would be a part of her life even if some aspects of it caused her to worry.

“Will it undo our tentative truce if I say I’m trying?”

Stacie smiled and wrapped her arms around her mom in a tight hug. It wasn’t a rousing yes, and she didn’t expect it to be. But it was honest and real and that was enough for her. Helene stiffened for a second then retuned the hug with a gentle squeeze. It wasn’t totally okay and they both knew that. Life wasn’t a sitcom where differences were resolved with a heartwarming hug and a cued laugh track. But there was a new understanding between them. Maybe now they could start rebuilding the bridge they burnt down so many years before.

 An hour and a half later she was still replaying the conversation in her head. Aubrey unlocked the door and pushed it open before glancing inside and stepping in. Stacie was right on her heels, lost in thought and unprepared for the arm that shot out across her chest to keep her from walking in further. Keen green eyes searched the interior of the entry as she reached to the small of her back and pulled her gun from its holster.

“Stay close.”

Stacie nodded and placed a hand on Aubrey’s back, following her in past the stairs and into the living room. The blonde stopped abruptly with a growl and put her gun away before stepping into the entrance of the large room. Stacie edged behind her fiancée and poked her head around the other woman’s shoulder only to see Detective Mitchell in all her smirky glory lounging on Aubrey’s white leather couch with her motorcycle boots propped up on the glass topped coffee table.

“Hey, Daddy. How was the pokey?”

“I swear to Christ, Mitchell…one of these days I’m going to shoot you. Get your damn feet off my table.”

Detective Mitchell grinned widely and lowered her feet to the ground. “Sorry. You’ll be happy to know that your lawyer filed a restraining order against our department but I don’t know if that will stop the Feds.” Aubrey nodded and moved to the mini bar to pour them all a drink. “Water for me, thanks.”

Stacie and Aubrey looked at each other in surprise then glanced at the small brunette. Aubrey shrugged and grabbed three bottles of water from the mini fridge. Had it been anyone else neither of them would have batted an eye at the request but it was Beca. She never turned down a drink.

“How did Agent Esposito take the news that LAPD is backing off?”

Beca took the water bottle and shrugged. “Well I’m pretty sure she’s possessed cause her head almost started spinning.” She took a sip of her water still smiling at the memory. “But I don’t know, Posen, we’re missing a beat somewhere. I talked to my guy at the Bureau and he seemed to think you’re just some low-level capo. I don’t think they were looking at you seriously.”

While she appreciated the visual, Stacie didn’t think Alice’s tantrum meant anything but more trouble despite Beca’s assessment of the FBI’s interest. Aubrey seemed to think so too because she nodded and settled herself on the couch next to the detective. “She’s like a dog with a bone. She’s not going to let this go if the Feds can really pull together a case.”

Stacie frowned at that as she settled into a chair. “How can they have a case, no one knows anything and Weston is dead.”

Aubrey sighed deeply and leaned forward so her elbows rested on her knees. “They have images of me boarding Whitman’s boat. It’s not enough but it gives them wiggle room to try and find something else.”

She knew there had to be something; they wouldn’t have pulled Aubrey in if there wasn’t. But Stacie hadn’t been prepared for actual hard evidence. It left her struggling to figure out how that fit in with their life and future plans. Detective Mitchell gave a low whistle and shook her head.

“It’s bad yeah, but not the worst. Circumstantial at best and I’ve seen street thugs get out with more on them than that.” There was a bitter edge to Mitchell’s voice as she stood and headed for the door. “I’ll see if I can find out exactly what they have on you. Not that I can do anything about it but at least it gives you a place to start cleaning up.”

“Something bigger is going on, it feels like a stacked deck. Watch your ass, Bec.”

“See, Daddy? I knew you liked me.”

“Gun is still loaded, Mitchell. Call me Daddy one more time and see what happens.”

Stacie watched the detective smirk and make her way to the door in the kitchen to sneak off the property. The second the door shut she turned her gaze on Aubrey. The other woman had a faraway look as she pondered everything she had learned that day. The brunette moved from the chair to straddle her fiancée’s lap.

“You weren’t kidding about what our life could be like.”

Aubrey searched her face for a long time and Stacie suspected she was looking for any sign that this was going to break them. Stacie smiled gently and smoothed the wrinkle of worry in the blonde’s brow. This was new and a little bit scary but it wasn’t even close to changing how she felt about the other woman or any of her plans to get married.

“Ready to run away yet?”

“Only if we’re running away together.”

The thread of tension that had been just under the surface released and Stacie slid her hands under Aubrey’s jacket and over her shoulders to slip it off. Running anywhere wasn’t on her list of things to do, and especially not running away from the only person that she truly felt safe with. There were a lot of unknowns in their life right now but what she did know what an immutable truth. She loved Aubrey Posen with every bit of her being and nothing was ever going to come between them. Not their exes or families, or even the FBI.

“You know you’re quite the woman, Ms. Conrad. Thanks for coming to my rescue today. How’d you know?”

“A tiny birdy with a big mouth.” The corners of Aubrey’s lips quirked in a grin and Stacie couldn’t help but kiss each corner. “You should give her a bonus.”

“Oh yeah? Got any other business ideas?”

“Tons.” Stacie smiled into the kiss Aubrey pulled her into. Warm hands trailed down her back in a promising caress. “We should have the wedding catered by Flo. The food is amazing and the price will be right. It’ll strengthen our business relationship by giving her a foothold to a new client base. And what makes her money, makes you money. Besides my mother loved her food.”

“You know I love it when you have ideas.” Aubrey nipped at her lip playfully, hands gripping her hips to pull Stacie in closer. “Speaking of your mom…that was surprising. How much does she hate me over this?”

“She dropped by the shelter and was there when Beca called. She’s not thrilled, Bree. But. I dunno. I need space from it for a bit. It was a lot.”

Her shoulder came up in a shrug and she leaned forward into Aubrey’s body. There was no pressure to talk about anything, just reassuring acceptance and it meant the world to Stacie. She wasn’t ready yet to sift through her feelings on Helene’s visit. The arms around her tightened comfortingly and she smiled against the soft skin of Aubrey’s neck.

“I think we both need a little space from this whole scene. Maybe we should take a trip back east.”

Stacie sat up and raised a brow in question. Aubrey never did anything without a good reason. “Why back east?”

Aubrey gave a half shrug, trying not to look as nervous as Stacie knew she suddenly was. “I was thinking it was time you met The Family.”

“Wow. Did not see that one coming.”

“I figured I got to meet yours…”

“Is this business family or…”

“A little of both. You’re not just gonna be one of the wives in the family, you’re my partner. I think it’s better they know from the start how it’s going to be from now on. And I have a feeling we’ll find the answers to some of our questions there.”

The confidence was exhilarating, and Stacie found herself inhaling deeply against the rise of arousal. Aubrey wasn’t asking anyone’s permission to include her in the business side of things. Either old school mafiosos had gotten a lot more progressive in their thinking or Aubrey didn’t expect to be challenged in any serious way. Stacie’s eyes narrowed slightly. Everyone had a boss they answered to and she didn’t think for one second that she would be accepted just because Aubrey said so. Unless.

“You’re not just ‘some low-level capo’ like Detective Mitchell’s Bureau buddy thinks, are you?”

Amused pale green eyes rose to meet hers as Aubrey gave her a sinfully cocky smirk. Whatever flimsy control she had over her arousal was battered away by the tidal wave of raw lust that slammed through her. Stacie slid her hand down over the blonde’s chest and pulled the silk tie free from the vest. She stood on legs already shaky with anticipation and tugged lightly to urge Aubrey up.

“I think you should take me to bed now, don’t you?”

Aubrey gave a soft grunt of agreement as she let herself be led by the tie. “Like I said, I love it when you have ideas.”

Later they could figure out everything from wedding plans to avoiding prison, right now however Stacie had more pressing needs.

[missperfectlyfine13]

A Bandaid For Your Bullet Hole - (Chp. 2/?)

Read Below or on AO3/FF

TW: Mentions of overdose

August 2009

“Mom, I’ve got all my stuff in the ca….” Chloe’s sentence is swallowed back up into the atmosphere when she walks back into the living room, “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Chloe’s mom is sitting in the middle of the sofa, her arms wrapped tightly around a scruffy looking man in a mechanics uniform. There’s a few half empty bottles of booze on the coffee table and a lit joint between her mother’s fingers. She laughs airily at some dumb remark the stranger practically underneath her makes. She’s as high as a kite and probably drunk to boot.

“Chloe!” her mom’s eyes light up at the sight of her only daughter, “come have a drink baby.”

The only good thing about her mom getting high instead of drunk is that she is much happier. Her mom is an angry drunk, she turns into someone that Chloe scarcely recognizes. At least when she’s high she somewhat resembles someone Chloe used to know.

“What happened to taking me to college today?” she snaps, completely ignoring her mother’s request.

“That was today?” she asks dumbly, bringing her glass tumbler to her lips, taking a long sip of dark amber liquid.

Chloe groans frustratedly, “We’ve been talking about it for weeks.”

“Calm down princess, we can still do it,” she’s got to be kidding, she’s not going to let her mom drive anywhere like this.

Chloe shakes her head vigorously, “No. It’s fine, I’ll just stuff everything into my car and do it myself. You clearly have more important things to do.”

Her words must permeated through her mom’s hazy brain because she’s jumping up from the sofa, some of her drink sloshing out of her glass and onto the cream colored carpet, “No, Chloe let me do this. I want to do this.”

“I’m not taking you anywhere like this,” Chloe motions up and down her mother’s body, “you would just be an embarrassment.”

Her expression almost looks hurt before it turns bitter, “If that’s how you feel about me, then fine do it all on your own. See if I care.”

Chloe turns around without another word. She mindlessly shoves all her belongings into her little chevy impala, barely getting in everything she needs. She doesn’t even bother to go inside to say goodbye before driving down the road. It’s time for a new beginning, a new life, one she doesn’t have to hate. She has a good feeling about Barden, hopefully her gut is right.

************

December 2012

The winter air is crisp, sending a shiver down Chloe’s spine as her and Beca walk towards her dorm. They just left Bellas rehearsal and the air almost feels good after all the exercise.

“So, what are you doing for winter break?” Beca breaks the comfortable silence, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her coat.

Chloe shrugs, “I’ll probably stay on campus, I might go visit my brother, if he’s going to be around.”

Beca looks at her dumbly for a moment before composing herself again, “You aren’t going home for Christmas?”

Her and Beca have gotten really close this semester, Chloe might even dare to say she’s her best friend…if she didn’t have a heart stopping crush on the younger girl that is. Even so, she’s not sure if she wants to unpack her reasoning for never going home yet.

“Nope,” she answers the question simply, hoping Beca will just take the answer and let the topic drop.

She knew she wasn’t going to be that lucky, because Beca doesn’t care about anyone…anyone but her it seems. Chloe is the only person Beca goes the extra mile for, at least from Chloe’s point of view, that’s how it seems.

“Why?” the question barely surprises her as it come out of Beca’s mouth, her breath leaving a puff of white in the air.

“It’s a long story,” Chloe tries her best to deflect, but she knows Beca won’t give it up.

Maybe opening up to someone else would feel good. Maybe to weight of her problems would feel a little lighter.

“I’ve got time, we can go get coffee?” Beca looks at her hopefully, “My treat?”

“I thought you were having a movie night with Jesse,” Beca had been talking about it all week, the excitement of a new relationship and all.

That’s another thing that has been making Chloe feel even worse than she does at this time of the year. She had a bad feeling Beca would end up with him…she had a bad feeling she was straight. Chloe loves their friendship, but it just makes everything that much more painful.

“You were literally coming to my dorm to hang anyways, that’s not until later,” Beca laughs.

Chloe’s cheeks burn red, “Oh yea, sorry, blonde moment I guess?”

“You’re not even blonde, you don’t get to use that one.”

Chloe gives Beca a playful shove, “Shut up.”

After another five minutes of walking, they finally end up at the coffee shop. Before Chloe knows it, there’s a steaming hot cup in her hands and Beca looking across the table at her expectantly.

“So now, why don’t you go home for Christmas?” Beca parrots the question from earlier, making Chloe squirm uncomfortably in her seat.

“So, I guess it all really started when my dad died,” Chloe twirls the paper cup in her hands, attempting to channel her nerves into something else.

Beca nods, encouraging her on.

“My mom kind of self-imploded after his death…it started with drinking. It just spiraled from there, drugs, lots of sex with random men. It made all four years of high school miserable for me,” Chloe can feel tears threating to spill, she never talks about this, “after my first Christmas back home in college I vowed to never go back until she got her shit together.”

A hand reaches across the table to settle over her own. Chloe looks up into Beca’s eyes, which are sad and empathetic. It makes her feel comfortable, grounded, Beca’s hand against her own. Her fingers twitch underneath the touch, she never wants to break the contact.

“I’m so sorry Chloe,” Beca says softly, “that must be really hard…so I take it she’s still pretty bad?”

Chloe nods slowly, “Uh yea, I’ve tried to get her to go to rehab but she won’t listen, I’m worried she never will.”

“I know this is nothing compared to what you dealt with,” Beca looks vulnerable as she speaks, “but high school was really rough for me too. My parents got a divorce and my dad married my now step monster. I felt so betrayed, I felt like nothing would ever be right again. I felt like my dad was giving up on me.”

“I’m glad you shared that,” Chloe turns her hand so it’s holding Beca’s instead of lying limply below hers, “I’m glad I’m not the only one with a shitty story.”

“I mean you definitely win if we’re comparing, but yea, it was nothing to write home about,” Beca smirks.

Beca finally pulls her hand away and Chloe instantly misses her touch. She quickly moves her hand back to her cup, lifting it to her mouth, not wanting Beca to know how much the little contact affected her.

“Do you want to come home with me for Christmas?” Beca asks after a few moments of silence.

The question practically makes Chloe choke on her latte, “I couldn’t do that Bec. Your family doesn’t even know me.”

“They know of you,” Beca replies nonchalantly, “plus they would love you.”

“So, you’ve talked about me to your family?” Chloe quirks an eyebrow.

It’s Beca’s turn for her cheeks to fade into a light shade of red, “They were asking if I made any friends…so I told them about you.”

“Don’t be embarrassed Beca, I love that you’ve told them about me. If I talked to my mom, she would know about you, because you’re one of the best things about this semester,” Chloe says honestly, hoping the blunt truth doesn’t weird the other girl out.

A smile the size of Texas spreads across Beca’s face. She doesn’t seem sure how to respond, but Chloe knows she probably feels similarly if her expression is to judge.

“Shouldn’t you be asking Jesse to go home with you for Christmas instead of me?” Chloe suddenly remembers Beca’s boyfriend.

Beca shakes her head no, “He has his own family to go home to, plus I’ve only been dating him for a month. I’d much rather have you come with me…especially because I want to save you from having to be here for three weeks.”

“I’ll think about it,” Chloe finally answers Beca’s offer.

She’s going to have to think hard about it, the last time she went home with someone for Christmas…well let’s just say it’s not a fond memory. It was an almost eerily similar situation. She had known Aubrey for one semester and after the blonde found out about her mom, she had invited her home for Christmas. She also needs to remind herself that it was a very different situation all together.

************

December 2009

There’s no hiding the fact that Chloe is scared to go home for Christmas. She’s scared about what she’s going to find. It’s the first time her mom has been alone for that long. Chloe watched out for her more than a teenage daughter should.

She also left on bad terms in the fall.

She could walk into anything really, which is terrifying. Which is why the whole drive back to South Carolina, Chloe is practically shaking with nerves. She probably shouldn’t have loaded up on coffee like she did, the caffeine isn’t helping. Aubrey has called her on and off, offering her support…and the reminder that she can go to Aubrey’s house if it’s too bad. Chloe was determined to make this work though; she didn’t want to run away on her mom completely. Chloe is not a quitter.

About an hour later she finally pulls into the driveway of her mom’s house, the windows are dark even thought the sun set hours ago. That’s already not a good sign. Chloe puts the car into park and takes a deep shaky breath. She gets out of the car after a few moments of composing herself.

She slings her bag over her shoulder and walks up the path to the front door, her hand shakes as she lifts the key to the lock. Chloe pushes the door open slowly, she can hear the TV blaring some infomercial for air tight containers. It’s the only light illuminating the living room. As Choe steps further in the door, she can see her mom’s identical mop of red hair flowing over the arm of the sofa, her hand hanging limply down onto the floor. She can’t make out much else with how dark the room is, the blue-ish light of the TV making everything look a little eerie.

An ice-cold feeling courses through her, her heart rate picking up. Something isn’t right, she can just feel it. Chloe throws her bag down onto the floor and rushes over to the sofa. It barely looks like her chest is moving up and down, her lips look a little blue. Out of the corner of her eye she sees a baggy of pills on the coffee table. Shit. This can’t be happening.

“Mom,” Chloe says firmly, “Mom!”

Nothing.

Chloe kneels down next to her and shakes her vigorously, “MOM.”

Her hands shake as she pulls her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. Her fingers can barely hold still as she dials 911.

The operator is calm and comforting. She walks Chloe through checking to see if her mom’s heart is still beating. She feels like she’s floating through some nightmare as she rips her mom’s shirt open and starts chest compressions. She has no clue how long she hammers into her mom’s chest before the door busts open and the paramedics are pushing her out of the way. Her vision blurs as she finally lets herself cry.

She’s not quite sure how she gets to the hospital. The world finally comes back into focus when a nurse carefully approaches her and asks if there’s anyone that she can call for her.

“Um, my best friend, Aubrey,” her voice sounds foreign to her.

************

When Chloe’s mom finally is stable and back at home, Chloe leaves to go back home with Aubrey. Before she leaves, it isn’t pretty, her and her mom scream and fight, but there is no way she’s ever going to come back home to that again. Chloe gives her a final ultimatum: Go and get some help or I’m done here.

Christmas is miserable, even though Aubrey’s family is warm, inviting and sympathetic. They make her feel like she’s family. Even so, Chloe has never felt more alone. She feels like she has nowhere to go. She has no one to bake her cookies to take back to her dorm or give her a hug that feels like home when she needs it or give her boy (or girl?) advice. She’s all alone and it’s something she’s going to have to get used to.

************

December 2012

“I’ll go home with you,” Chloe offhandedly mentions to Beca as they sit on the bed in Chloe’s room at the Bella house.

Beca’s eyes light up and the chips she was munching on practically fall out of her mouth, “Really?”

Chloe nods, after thinking about it, the idea of having people to spend Christmas with would be really nice. It’s something she hasn’t experienced since Christmas her freshman year.

“I would love to,” Chloe smiles happily at the younger girl next to her.

“That’s awesome!” Beca exclaims, “Oh shit, I’ve got to book the flight like now then.”

“You haven’t done that already?” Chloe looks at her quizzically.

Beca shrugs, “I was waiting to see if you would want to come first.”

“You could have missed out on getting tickets Bec, you shouldn’t have.”

“I know, it’s ok though, I wanted to,” Beca looks down at her phone, which has flight listings to Seattle already displayed, “get your snow boots ready Beale, it’s been chilly out there this year.”

“You know, I’ve only seen snow a couple times in my whole life,” Chloe already feels excited thinking about seeing the fluffy, white precipitation.

Beca’s eyes bug out, “Dude, we are so going sledding.”

For the first time in years, Chloe is starting to feel excited about this time of year. This might be the best Christmas she’s had in a long time…

[calypsoff]

Eighty Two. Part 5

Rubbing Rylee’ back and she let out most of the milk, she wasn’t keeping it down. I can’t breastfeed, I am just not into it and it’s not working so I gave her the bottle, and she doesn’t like it, but drank it. She bought most of it up anyways “I am going to miss her so much Robyn, she is so beautiful. A diamond to me, I love her” I cooed out, it’s cute to see how much they dote on my daughter, you can see the love they have and I don’t think Chris has actually attempted to hold her since we came back, the thing is that this could have all been avoided if he just shut his mouth, this just shows that he actually talks about me to his peers, I didn’t think he does but now I officially do know he does, imagine saying to a male peer that my wife snores, if it was TJ then fine because he’s been around for years but Drake, he doesn’t know him like that at all. I just feel so deflated about everything, but I am not going to have him ruin my daughter’ first Christmas at all, he can fuck off with that attitude “mommy playing with your toes? You not like it?” She keeps moving her feet away every time I touch them “being fussy now aren’t you” I am going to do it for her, I will go back to Cali and just get on with it for my daughter, placing her over my shoulder. I have missed her a lot “are you going soon?” Joyce asked “she’s been fed, she’s the important one. I just want to go” Joyce just stared at me in sadness, I mean what can she do “he’s always been very temperamental, I’m sure you know that” nodding my head laughing “oh I do, I married that, he’s hard-headed. I don’t know if I can say he has changed because I always kind knew what mouth he had, I knew that he can be mean and when he’s in that moment he can actually just destroy a whole day just being that, and he doesn’t like to hear it either. I think I’ve been lucky he’s let me have a say in things to begin with but now he thinks I belittle him because I have money, but it’s not your issue Joyce. I will deal with him” I can’t expect his mother to be at him “since he came out of jail he was always very temperamental with us, jail did change my son but he is a good guy” she says that but I remained quiet “he needs you more then he assumes Robyn, I know that for sure” it’s wrong to say those to me, that I am tied to Chris like that because I can’t deal with his shit sometimes “let me use your phone” Chris came out of nowhere and asked “mine is bust” you know what, I know for a fact I have Rakim number in there and messages, nothing serious but why should I “how about you hold your daughter? Ask that, be a father?” He said it to me “how would you know what a father is supposed to be like?” Those words knocked me for ten, I wasn’t expecting it “I’m sorry” he apologised quicker than ever, he knows it. I can literally feel my heart beating “Christopher” Joyce said, I was going to cry but I sure did stop myself “I didn’t mean it I just wanted your phone, let me have Rylee. I’ll use Austin phone, be back” licking my top lip, I want to cry but I am trying so hard not too, I felt him go.

I breathed out, the longest breath I held. Rylee on the other hand is becoming irritated but shes probably getting the vibe from me “thank you Joyce, I’m going to get my things. I need to go” getting up from the couch, Rylee randomly started crying, shushing her as I walked around the couch to go upstairs “aww what’s wrong with her?” Clinton asked “emotional” I smiled; I am just in shock right now. Like what the fuck, I know he’s been trying to get at me because of what I said about Drake, but he’s pushed me, I am hurt by him again, what the fuck “hey baby, why are you crying. It’s ok” rubbing her back, walking around with a crying baby is no fun either but she is so emotional. Closing the bedroom door, forget me being emotional because Rylee is doing it for me now. Sitting on the edge of the bed, carefully holding Rylee out to me “hey, Rylee Fenty, little momma. Hey, it’s ok, what’s wrong” her cries started to quieten down, her little meltdown seems to be coming to an end “you’re not hungry, no? You just want a little cry?” Staring into her eyes, she is looking into mine “on behalf of mommy yeah” my voice broke, now I am getting teary eyed “I’m glad you’re calm, need to wrap you up. Time to go home for us both” leaning to her and pressing a kiss to her forehead, as I moved back Rylee smiled “oh my heart” she is pulling at my heart right now.

Mel is FaceTiming me as I make sure I have all the things with me, but I am pretty much done “I do miss her face, oh guess who I saw?” Picking up the duffel bag from the floor of the bedroom “who is that?” Looking at my phone screen “Ronald, I was walking towards the store, and he just come out of it, I said hi what you are doing there. He goes oh my girlfriend wants clothes, I goes girlfriend? Since when but I just didn’t say anything and continued on. But did you know?” Shaking my head “I didn’t but then again I haven’t really spoken to my dad since, so that is why. Maybe she is good for him because I mean he is quiet now, he isn’t selling stories about me and stuff, maybe she is good” I shrugged “he always goes for ugly women” I gasped “besides Monica, stop it!!” She better be joking “I really want to come Barbados Mel, I am literally missing it, just the peace of my actual home” I just want to escape, Mel sighed out “you know you have a lot to deal with and coming here will be a mess” she is right “yeah, Chris and I spoke. Not in the way you think, I know you’re smiling like I mean that way. He said can I use your phone, I would give it but I am annoyed he shouted at me about being a good mother so I said how about you be a father and he just spewed this out, he literally said how would you know what a father is like?” Mel’ face dropped “exactly, and he knows that is my issue, but he wants to say that. He’s so fucking unbearable” I huffed out, I don’t want to cry “come to Barbados fuck him” I knew she would say that “I can’t, I’m staying. I don’t want to be hiding away from my troubles, also he might even up at the OVO compound if I go, he’s so lost in that man’s life now” I am going to be strong about this, I got to be “actually can you do me a three way with Drake, I just have something to say to him. Please” Mel has his number of course.

I let out a deep sigh before answering the call “Aubrey, Rihanna, Rihanna, Aubrey” she is so dumb sometimes “look I didn’t want to speak to you on a real because I have enough shit to deal with, but I want to know what your intentions are with Chris? I don’t feel they are pure and it’s really fucking me up, and I know you. I know so well, you purposely said that on the live because you knew Chris and I went Bora Bora together, so we were going back together. You aren’t being real Drake and I don’t like it” I just know I’m going to hear lies from him “I have no intention; Chris is great guy. We get on, and I went to see him win. We speak on clothing lines, I want him to have a career, I want him to rap, he can rap. He has it all, I joke a lot, but I mean it. The tour thing was my chance to push him on it, I offered him to be in my music video, but you seem to be blocking his way, no fault of my own. That’s on you” my eyes bulged out “I am blocking his way? Nah, listen here. You’re in my marriage, you’re practically manipulating my husband. He thinks you’re a good guy, you’re not. I left Rakim for him, I would never go to you. Is this what it is, your motive is to get at my husband because I don’t want to be with you” I feel like that it is “not really, like I said. I like your husband; he is a good guy. He wants you and also wants a life Rihanna, you can’t just put boundaries on him like that, you got to trust him. He talks to me, and he feels it with you, that you do not trust him, you think he is cheating when he isn’t, a marriage isn’t going to work if you are going to act the way you do” he is so manipulative “and this is why I don’t ever want to date you and I never will, see how you turn this on me. You know what, I can’t make him get rid of you but your true colours will come through soon, you want to give him the world and he will then come crumbling down, I see right through you” I really can, this is why I didn’t go for him like that “you are so stuck up Rihanna, you really are. Not everything is about you, I mean ok like you rejected half of the industry for fucking ASAP Rocky, a nobody really. You think you are above, you go for nobodies for that reason” he is getting annoyed “so you think you want to help my husband make a name for himself, you know what Drake. I am onto you, and you are right. He won’t be going on tour with you” he really won’t be “if that makes you happy and not him, so be it” disconnecting the call, I am bored of hearing him talking shit, he doesn’t know me at all.

I am about ready to go now but I have nobody to help with bags because Chris isn’t around for me, I mean of course he isn’t. While Rylee is asleep I can quickly go downstairs with some of the stuff, looking over at Rylee and she is knocked out asleep after that little crying fit she had earlier. Pulling open the door so it will make it easier for me to just go and take these down, Chris has been hiding away from me, as he would. Grabbing the baby bag and my suitcase, pulling it along making my way out “hey” a light knock, looking up seeing Clinton “hi” I smiled “put that down, no. Don’t do that, let me do it for you, come on” he waved me over, reaching for the bag and suitcase “thank you, we can do it together and go downstairs “no, you take Rylee and go down, don’t be doing this at all” he is so kind “thank you” I am thankful for Clinton that he has helped me to go down “can you make sure you look around before you leave, when you get the last of the bags please” picking Rylee off of the bed, I got her changed into her warm clothes, her coat is on. The grandparents bought her a coat, I didn’t bring it when I came so they bought her one, it’s adorable on her. Bringing her close to me, placing the pacifier in her mouth, she did scrunch her face up looking to cry but not on my watch, she can go back to sleep until we leave and then she can wake up and cry. Following behind Clinton “come on then, you should have asked me. I would help you, don’t do that again” he is so sweet, I wasn’t going to ask him.

I have no idea where Chris is or if he is coming but I know I am going back home “get the door” Clinton said to Austin, he is just stood the gawking at me, like can he get anymore annoying with that face of his, I think that is the driver anyways “oh Robyn, remember if you need us to take care of her we are here. We are going to miss her so much, we really are” I know they are both going to miss her “the door is always open in California for when you want to visit us, I will try and send pictures, it’s just a lot of people. I need to make a group chat for Rylee pictures. I get it from my family too, they are always saying. Send me pictures every day” I chuckled “it’s for you Rih” looking behind Clinton, the driver is here “tell him to take my cases please for me” I pointed out, the driver smiled “Miss Fenty there is paparazzi outside also” I let out a deep breath “really? How many?” that is crazy “I would say like four, I came rushing inside you see” of course there is paparazzi outside “oh dear, who told them” I know who told them, I am looking at Austin, but I will just not say anything, this family can be full of drama.

Clinton is ever so concerned, he wants to help me to go to the car, but I can handle it “ready when you are” the driver said, he can walk me. Seeing Chris came up from behind his parents, he has been hiding away from me like a bitch he is “you couldn’t wait?” he said, turning on my heels “let’s go” he can go and fuck himself; I am so pissed that paparazzi is outside my in-laws’ home, there is no privacy here at all, not when we have his family snitching on everything we do. Holding Rylee close to me “Rihanna, you looking beautiful. How is your daughter?” I just want to get into the SUV, so I won’t be bothering putting her in the car seat “Chris! What do you have to say about the pictures that got leaked” the driver opened my door for me “feels good to be me man, you know how it is” getting into the SUV, I will just have Rylee in my arms because I can’t be bothered to be dealing with the car seat. I will also deal with Chris once we get back to California, I don’t actually want to hear him right now, I just want to go home first and then we can have the slanging match, that is what it will be with the both of us.

[ms-rampage]

Eden’s Gate: The Mother Chapter 1 - Hope County

Warnings: Some swearing

Word count: 1.8k

Where it all began. 

Summary: Mandy Winchester, a single mother who lost custody of her 2 teenage daughters 4 months earlier passes through Hope County, Montana that has been liberated by a doomsday Cult. Upon arrival in Hope County she catches the attention of a certain Leader.

Guest OCs: None

Guest Characters: Archangel Raphael (Supernatural), Chuck/God [mentioned]

Note: This takes place in 2012. Supernatural & Far Cry 5 crossover. 

*********

*Ace of Spades by Motorhead plays over the radio*

If you like to gamble, I tell you I’m you man

You win some, you lose some, all the same to me

41 year old Mandy Winchester drives down the road entering Hope County, Montana.

Passing through to get some gas, food, maybe some beer and rest.

Drumming her fingers along with the song on the wheel, singing along with the song.

The pleasure is to play, makes no difference what you say

I don’t share your greed, the only card I need is the Ace of Spades

The Ace of Spades .

Playing for the high one, dancing with the devil.

Going with the flow, it’s all a game to me.

Driving down the countryside road.

Seven or eleven, snake eyes watching you

Double up, or quit, double stake, or split- 

Not even halfway through the song, the radio cuts out with static. Changing it to some depressing Christian music.

“What the hell?!?” she says, trying to fix the radio.

When none of that helps, she shuts it off. Driving in silence. 

She was told she had to go to Hope County by Archangel Raphael. He didn’t say much on why she had to go. 

All that she had to protect a certain man.

Because “God was gonna speak with him, or that God spoke with him about the end”. Something like that. 

She doesn’t even know this man’s name, or what he looks like. But he did say that she’ll know when she sees him. Her gut will tell her, that still didn’t help. She thought she was wasting her time, she could’ve been looking for her husband’s killer, but Raphael said that this will “help her with what she needed” whatever that meant.

She drives down the road in the Henbane River. 

Nothing unusual, seems like a normal country town. She pulls into the Misty River Gas station. Getting out, putting gas into her truck. 

A quiet town. She knows her daughters would’ve loved it here. As gas is being pumped into her truck, she looks around.

“Passing through?!” a man’s voice asks from behind her.

She turns around to face him, “Yeah, I’m here on business”.

He nods, “Well be careful. There’s a lot of crazies here”.

She chuckles, “Don’t worry”, she pulls out her .45 pistol, “I got that covered”.

He nods his head, smiling, “Well that’s a good start”.

She takes the pump of her truck putting back in the gauge.

“Where can I find a place to eat?!” she asks him. 

“Well you can go to the Spread Eagle bar that's over in Holland Valley, 8 Bit Pizza, Aubrey’s Diner or Whistling Beaver Brewery they’re here in Henbane, or you can go to the Grill Steak that’s over in the Whitetail Mountains”.

Mandy nods her head, “Which one do you prefer?!?”.

He takes a moment, “I would say Spread Eagle”.

She nods her head again, “Alright I’ll check it out. Thanks”.

“No problem. Have a nice day ma’am” he says, going back inside the gas station. 

Mandy takes off down the road. Crossing over a bridge leading to Holland Valley.

“Okay where is this place?!” she asks herself.

Driving through Falls End, she spots the bar. Parking her truck outside. She walks in to it with the smell of chicken wings, and whiskey. Looking around the bar, its not too busy, not too slow, she takes a seat at the bar.

A blonde young woman behind the bar approaches her.

“What can I get you hon?”

Mandy looks down at the menu attached to the bar counter.

“Uhh, I’ll have Guinness, and some chicken wings. Buffalo sauce on the side please. Thank you”.

She gives her order to the cook, and gives her a bottle of Guinness.

“You’re not from around here are you?!” she asks.

Shaking her head, “No, I’m just here on business” she answers.

“What kind of business? If you don’t mind me asking” she asks.

“FBI” she replies. 

She raises her eyebrows, “Really?”.

 She laughs, “No, I’m joking. I’m just passing through”.

“I see you got a sense of humor. We need that around here” she says, cleaning glasses. 

“What’s it like around here?!’ Mandy asks, before taking a sip of her beer.

“It’s quiet. But beware there’s a Cult growing here” she says.

“A Cult?!” she questions.

“Yep, they’ve been growing, kidnapping people to join, stealing property.”

“What about the police?! What are they doing about it?!?” she asks.

Mary May scoffs, “They ain’t doing fucking shit. We have to fend for ourselves”.

“I’m Mary May by the way"

“Mandy” she says. 

“Nice to meet you Mandy” she greets.

She gives Mandy her food, and she eats them, while chatting with Mary.

“So what’s this Cult?!” she asks.

“They’re called the Project at Eden’s Gate”

“A religious cult. They’re the worst” she jokes.

“This Cult ain’t no joke. They’ve kidnapped people, forcing them out of their homes, taking over businesses, killing innocent people if they refuse to join them” Mary tells her, while cleaning the counter, “They’ve tried taking my bar. My father’s bar. I did everything I could to protect this place”.

They talk for another hour, and a few beers later, Mandy leaves for a motel in the Henbane River that Mary May had recommended, King’s Hot Springs Hotel, to get some shut eye. 

She planned on leaving the next day, but unfortunately due to the Cult, she’s trapped in Hope County. Now she has a reason to “protect” this man who is living in Hope County. Doesn’t know his name, what he looks like, none of that shit.

While driving back to the Henbane, on her way to the hotel, she slams on the brakes to her truck. When three bald people run in front of her truck. Looking like they escaped a mental asylum.

“Oh shit!!!” she yells, slamming on the brake pedal. That scared the living shit out of her.

“What the fuck?!?” she says under her breath.

She continues her drive to the hotel. Arriving at the hotel, she walks in, goes up to the front desk

She’s able to get a room, despite all the Cultists running around and stealing properties.

Mandy’s showers, and goes to sleep.

Figuring out who this person Raphael told her about in the morning. In the middle of the night around 1:30am, a loud crash sound of glass breaking from downstairs in the lobby wakes her up. 

Gun shots, and the sound of bodies dropping. Making her room windows vibrate. Heavy footsteps, moving up the stairs. She reaches over to her nightstand, and grabs her pistol.

Waiting for whoever that broke in, to break into her room. 

After a few minutes, her bedroom door bursts open, and before they could even take a step in, and see her.

She fires two bullets at them, one in each of their skulls. Killing them both.

“What the fuck?!?” she mutters.

She checks them both, and one of them as an usual symbol on their forehead. 

“What the fuck is that?!?” she asks herself, examining the symbol. She has never seen anything like it before.

She moves the bodies out of her room, and into the hallway away from her door.

She tries to go back to sleep, but fails to do so. Staying up, listening to every little sound. The sun finally comes up, Mandy gets dressed, and goes downstairs.

The clerk that checked her in is dead, the bellhop is dead.

A few people that were staying there are dead.

She quickly leaves the hotel, and drives towards Aubrey’s Diner for something to eat. On the drive there she sees that same exact symbol on a billboard.

“What the hell is that damn symbol?!?” she asks out loud to herself.

She pulls up to the diner, and it’s been taken over by Cultists.

“Are you fucking serious?!?” she says.

She drives away, and pulls over to the side of the road, near a huge field with cattle.  She sighs, closes her eyes and prays to Archangel Raphael.

“Hey Raphael, it's me Mandy Winchester. You told me to come to Hope County, Montana to protect some man. You didn’t even tell me his name, or tell me what he looks like. So get your feather ass down here, and give me that information!!”.

After a few minutes of silence, she’s about to start her truck and drive away when the fluttering of feathers, and the Archangel appears in her passenger seat.

“Well it’s about time!” she says.

“You prayed for me?!” he asks.

She nods, “Yeah, you told me to come here to protect some man. I don’t know from who, or from what. But you told me I needed to protect him because of Chuck”.

Raphael sighs, “His name is Joseph Seed. You can’t miss him, he wears yellow sunglasses, and is often shirtless. A very distinguished character”.

Mandy shrugs, “Okay where would I find Joseph Seed?!”.

“His compound. The middle island between the Whitetails, and Henbane. The one that's all fenced up” he says.

“Okay, so what do I do?!” she asks.

“You’ll have to wait” he says.

“For what?!”.

“For him to approach, or ask for you. God has mentioned you to him” he tells her.

“Why would Chuck say that to him?!” she asks, concerned. 

“He didn’t say. All he said to Joseph was that “A woman will make herself clear to you, and will be your guide”. That’s all he said to me, but I’m sure he said more to Joseph”.

Mandy sighs in frustration, “Great, so what do I do?!. Just sit around, and wait for him to notice me?!”.

“God will tell him of your arrival” he tells her.

“So when I do meet him, what do I say to him?!?. “I’m here to protect you?!”, or “God sent me?!”, what do I tell him?!”.

“Whatever Joseph says to you. Go with it. It is important that you protect him. From death, being arrested, anything that’ll cause him to be gone, or in danger”.

***********************************************

Joseph’s compound

The Church of Eden’s Gate just finished having their sermon, spoken by The Father Joseph Seed.

God has been speaking to him, about the arrival of a particular woman that will guide the Project to the gates of Eden.  After the sermon, Joseph gets lost in a trance, lost in his visions, he closes his eyes, the voice speaking to him.

Telling him, “She has arrived, she is here. She will show herself. The Mother will guide you, and your flock to the New World”.

Mandy’s face shows in Joseph’s mind. Her smile, driving in her truck, filling it up, eating at the Spread Eagle, checking into the King’s Hot Springs Hotel, and killing one of his followers. 

“Father?, Father Joseph? Are you okay?” one of his followers asks.

He opens his eyes. “Yes my child. It was just a vision" he responds.

“A vision?” they ask.

“Yes, she has arrived. The Mother has arrived” he answers, turning to face them.

[unholyhelbig]

Red | #HW204

Prompt: Possession 

Summary:  Aubrey and Beca take their youngest daughter to a child Psychologist when weird things start happening around their new house.

Read on Ao3 Here!

Aubrey Posen had expected a lot more from the tiny office that rested on the third floor of a business park. The door had a frosted glass pane with fancy gold writing and dark stained wood, but the little waiting room that rested right behind it was cold and dark. It made her skin itch. This place was meant for children- wasn’t it?

The only indication that anyone younger than fifty-four attended sessions here was a small box sandwiched between two leather upholstered chairs. It was a forest green and contained a couple of picture books and markers that had long ago run out of ink. Aubrey instinctively pulled her daughter flush against her and passed her a phone to keep her occupied while Beca checked them in.

Her wife was just as nervous as she was, though, she hid it better. Beca had always been the positive one in the relationship. Though they both saw the world through the same colored glass, Beca admired while Aubrey shattered. She had a way with her words and made the unpleasant receptionist crack a charming smile.

Beca said a few more things that she couldn’t hear over the low hum of the game that Marley had stumbled upon. It was something with bright colors to captivate her, other than the slate grey walls and dying plant in the corner. It needed to be watered. 

Beca finally flopped down into the chair next to them. She smiled nervously at their daughter, who had the same stormy blue eyes. She smelled of melted snow and vanilla lip balm. She had grabbed one of the informational pamphlets from the counter; Your child and their emotions.

What it really boiled down to was ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions that ruled out if Marley was a sociopath. Aubrey didn’t want to look at it and Beca shoved it into the pocket of her coat, blanching because she had realized her mistake. Their daughter had switched to another app on Aubrey’s phone.

“What are you coloring, Monkey?” Beca asked, trying to keep things light.

“A tree,”

“That’s neat. Can I see it?”

Marley nodded with a wide grin and passed the phone over to her mother. Beca zoomed out on the picture; it was a nice scene that reminded them fondly of the home they had moved into a few months ago. While it was still summer, Beca had put up a tire swing much to Aubrey’s safety objections.

The photo had a white picket fence and a large oak like the one in their front yard. It didn’t have a tire swing, but two long sections of rope connecting a plank of wood to one of the limbs of the tree. Beca let out a silent sigh of relief. It looked fairly normal. She praised Marley and handed the phone back.

Aubrey shrugged apprehensively at her and gave a weak smile. Maybe things would be alright. Though, both of them were thinking, as they breathed in stale office air, that they weren’t going to be. They had been to a couple of specialists that lead them here. Doctor Beale was one of the top-rated child Psychologists in the area.

“The Posen’s?” They had all glanced up at once, Marley quickly going back to her coloring while both parents stood from the seats. The leather made too much noise and Beca glanced back at it nervously before her cheeks blanched.

A woman with a mane of copper hair stood in the vacant hallway. She was dressed casually in a navy blue sweater and a pair of black slacks. She had a kind face and striking ocean eyes. Aubrey instantly relaxed in her presence and forgot about the state of the office in an instant.

“I’m Beca,” her wife extended a hand first “This is my wife Aubrey, but you probably already knew that.”

Chloe chuckled sweetly “Yes, I did. And this must be Marley?”

Their daughter was shy. She had abandoned the task on her phone and clung to Beca’s pant leg instead. She blinked up at the pretty stranger and tucked her face into the fabric. Doctor Beale didn’t’ seem deterred by this at all.

“If you guys would like to follow me, we can get started.” Chloe didn’t’ wait for an answer. Instead, she turned and they began to walk down a hallway that was much like the main lobby- devoid of color. Beca had scooped Marley up, she pressed her cold nose against the nave of her neck. “I’m assuming you haven’t done this before?”

“No, never,” Aubrey answered.

They passed a few doors that were the same solid oak as the one upfront. They had been to a lot of pediatricians, and neurologists. Neither of them could find anything wrong physically. They had had a long conversation about mental health before they were pushed in this direction.

All four of them stopped in front of another similar door. This one, Doctor Beale, had keys to. She turned the lock and pushed it open. The lack of color in the waiting room had been culminated and thrown in here; it was a large room with every type of toy and art supply imaginable.

The walls were a friendly yellow and little foam puzzle pieces made the flooring under their feet malleable. Beca’s mouth was propped open almost as wide as Marley’s and Aubrey couldn’t help but smile easily at that. There was a large mirror propped up on the side of the wall and posters of animals and mountains around the space that hadn’t been taken up.

“She can play for a while if she wants, we still have a few things to discuss before we start.”

Marley still looked apprehensive, so Beca worked her usual magic. She had a soft, yet commanding voice. “Marls, do you want to play for a couple of minutes?” Their daughter whimpered and dug her nose further into her neck “Oh, come on now, look at all those cars. Don’t you want to check them out?”

It took a couple more seconds, but she eventually let Beca set her down before moving over to the large rug in the corner that had a grid of maps stitched into its fabric. She quickly grasped at a white matchbox car and started driving it around the sharp corners. Chloe leads them closer to the door without exiting into the hallway.

“Which one of you is Marley more comfortable with?” Chloe asked in a hushed tone.

Beca made her stance rigid while Aubrey lifted her chin towards her wife. “She’s the fun mom.”

“Right,” Chloe smiled despite herself “Beca, would you be alright with staying here with Marley while Aubrey and I watch from the other room?”

“Sure?” She shrugged apprehensively “You just want us to play?”

“That’s exactly what I want you to do. The biggest thing we can do here is observe her behavior. From what I’ve seen so far she’s a normal, highly functioning five-year-old. From what your file describes, that tends to change drastically in certain situations. Am I correct?”

Aubrey had suddenly gotten cold in the small little room. Yes, Chloe Beale was right more than she would like to admit. Their daughter was a sweet and loving girl. She was outgoing and confident, but every aspect of that could flip on a dime.

“We thought it was because of the move,” Beca sounded out, looking over at Marley. She had grabbed another car from the shelf and slammed them both together, making a crashing sound “But she’s gotten violent.”

“She hears voices,” Aubrey said.

“Voices?”

“We chalked it up to an overactive imagination at first. Both of us were so tired from fixing the place up that we didn’t’ see the warning signs, I guess. She didn’t like her room. She said that was a tall man with a funny hat that would bother her at night.”

Chloe nodded and shoved her hands into her pockets as she had suddenly gotten cold as well. “Has this stopped?”

“Eventually she didn’t talk about it anymore.” Beca explained “We thought we were doing the right thing by making her stay in there instead of sleeping in bed with us. But that’s when the weird behavior started.”

“What kind of weird behavior is she exhibiting?”

Aubrey looked over at the young girl as she played with a few more cars. She had created a traffic jam and spoke silently under her breath. They couldn’t hear what words she had been forming and Aubrey figured that that was a good thing.

“She gets this vacant look in her eyes sometimes… that’s all it was at first, and we thought she was just getting distracted. She started standing at the foot of our bed and just staring, for hours.”

Chloe quirked a brow “You set up camera’s?”

“We had no choice. Things were vanishing around the house, expensive things like power tools and then little things like keys. We had just moved in so we figured we might have an intruder or something. But it was Marley every single time. That’s why we decided to get her checked.”

The psychologist thought for what seemed like a while, they listened to the squeaking of the car wheels and Beca started to trace her eyes along the posters. She felt like she was in trouble. Instead, she was seeking help.

“Right. Aubrey, if you would come with me.” The woman nodded and glanced at her daughter for a sparing moment “Beca you just have to keep Marley playing. If you can, direct her to the little table in the corner.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” She said nervously.

“Good. Is there any way you can get her to talk about her room?”

This would be a little more difficult, but she nodded nevertheless. Beca knelt down next to Marley and pointed to the nearest car with question in her eyes. Aubrey watched for a few more moments before Chloe touched her shoulder gently and navigated her back into the depressing hallway.

They walked a couple more feet to the next door. This one, Chloe didn’t’ need a key to; it was smaller and darker than the lobby and the colder than the room they had just exited. There were two chairs facing a glass window and a little table that attempted to be spruced up with bottled water and a plant that was in even worse condition than the one she had seen before.

Aubrey wandered up to the window and stared through the glass. It was in the same position as the mirror had been. She could see her wife and daughter talking quietly by the rug that they had left them at. The psychologist took a seat in one of the chairs and waited for Aubrey to do the same.

“This doesn’t feel a bit… invasive to you?” Aubrey sat down, the wood was frigid.

“I’m a psychologist, Mrs. Posen, it’s my job to be invasive. We need to figure out what’s spurring your daughter's recent behavior.”

Aubrey supposed that’s why they had paid for the hour. She was hypocritical, worrying about sitting behind two way glass when they hid a camera between the stuffed animals on Marley’s dresser. She crossed her arms over her chest and watched carefully. Beca had somehow coaxed their daughter to the small table closest to the wall.

She went to the wall and grabbed a handful of markers and paper before struggling to sit in one of the little chairs. Her knees were nearly up to her ears, and in any other situation, Aubrey would have laughed.

Beca uncapped a brown marker first. She started to sketch the outline of a tree, stretching it to the top of the paper. It was nearly identical to the photo that Marley had been coloring earlier. She began to use that classic charm of hers.

“This looks kind of like the tree out front, huh?”

Marley was focused on dragging a navy marker against the page “Mm-hm,”

“Do you like the new house, Marls?”

Their daughter stopped the tip of the marker, and a large circle of ink started to spill from the hard-pressed gesture. She frowned and drew in a shallow breath. Beca had stopped coloring too. She watched with apprehension like they were sitting at the kitchen table once more- a steak knife within reach for them both.

“Was that fear?” Aubrey asked, sinking further into her seat. Her mouth was dry and it would have been easy to reach to her left for one of those water bottles, but she didn’t.

“No, it was anger. Does she get that look often?”

“Everyday.”

Beca slowly brought her eyes back down to the paper and started to color in the sun at the corner of the page. She was pressing too hard, hard enough to almost rip the paper. It was like she could taste the charged energy in the room.

“The house is nice. I like my room. I didn’t, but I do now.”

Marley never took her eyes away from the woman. She was speaking through a clenched jaw. Aubrey didn’t even know that a child could do that, that they had enough stress to show it like this. She understood nightmares and normal phobia’s, but this felt too… adult.

Chloe was writing something down on her notepad, but she leaned forward in her seat as if they were watching a movie. Aubrey could read the sudden fear that rolled in waves off of Beca. This wasn’t her normal energy, and Marley smiled wickedly at this.

“Yeah? Do you… still see that man?”

Beca had pushed it as far as she could. She had abandoned her picture altogether and focused her entire attention on their daughter. These past few months had been filled with exhaustion and odd fear, and prying sharp objects from little fingers.

One of them had slept in the rocking chair by the door each night. It was uncomfortable and made them stiff, but they had a keen eye on the door to their bedroom. That same steak knife that was nearly grasped from the table earlier had been close to Aubrey’s throat one night. She woke to the feeling of cold metal and then a thin line of warm blood.

They hadn’t told Chloe that. It wouldn’t be in the file that she had gotten of them. Everything else had been disclosed but that one night, the night that scared them the most would remain right where it was forever.

Marley nodded slowly, “He’s my friend. I like his hat.”

“What does the hat look like?” Marley squints her eyes, and Beca tried again “Can you show me?”

Marley looked down at the art supplies in front of her. It was a random pile of markers and a few colored pencils. She grabbed a clean sheet of paper and searched over her options with new vigor. She had been given a task and Beca was watching her with keen eyes.

“No, I can’t do it.” She whispered with frustration.

“Why not, sweetie?”

Marley slammed her little hand down on the table and the markers and pencils and little cup that held them jumped with the extra force. Beca tensed up her shoulders but figured quickly that this was better than something being thrown across the room.

“There’s no red.” She growled out, gripping the cheap plastic table “I can’t draw my friend if there’s no red. It’s his favorite color, he’s always wearing it.”

“I can get you a red, Marley,”

“No. It’s too late.” Their daughter glanced up from the white paper, her eyes filled with that same primal anger as the night with the knife. Marley turned her eyes towards the mirror and Aubrey felt herself freeze. Chloe gripped the note pad until little dents marked the lines neatly.

Marley moved her small little finger against the length of her neck, somehow staring directly at Aubrey with a vacant expression and a truly vile expression. “He has red here. He has red everywhere.”

[drizzyoneshots]

Drake Short: Undercover Part Eleven

Drake

It had been almost a week since Marshall and Miracle found out my secret and honestly it had been one of the toughest weeks I’d had in a long time. Marshall, even though he was giving me a second chance, still was keeping me at arm’s length. He still had me watch over his daughter but we weren’t allowed to leave for the time being, he didn't trust me to take her anywhere alone. I couldn’t blame him for that. Miracle had barely spoken a word to me the entire time. She woke up in the mornings with puffy eyes, telling me she had been crying herself to sleep most nights though I could tell by the bags under her eyes that she wasn’t getting much sleep at all. I watched her from across the room as we sat on the couch, there was a movie playing but she seemed to be barely paying attention to it. I could see how exhausted she was. But she refused to let herself fall asleep. Every time her eyes started to close, she would force them open. I didn't understand why she was torturing herself.

“You should get some sleep,” I said, breaking the tense silence in the room. We had been sitting her for hours but that was only the second thing I had said to her all day. I always told her good morning but she always ignored it so I just took that as my cue to shut my mouth and let her be. She shook her head.

“No,” She mumbled sleepily.

“Miracle come on. I can tell you’ve barely been sleeping. Don't do this to yourself,” I pleaded with her. I wanted her to take care of herself and I hated being the reason she wasn't.

“I can't sleep, okay? Just leave it alone,” She snapped at me. I sighed deeply before I stood up. I scooted closer to her, not too close though.

“Please just tell me what’s going on. Let me help,” I said quietly. She looked up at me and I could tell she was about to cry.

“I just don’t want to sleep. I’ve been having this nightmare and I just don't want to have it anymore,” She said, her voice cracking.

“What’s the nightmare about,” I asked. She shook her head.

“I don't want to talk about it,” She said, sniffling.

“Listen I know you don’t trust me right now, I understand why. I’ve given you a lot of reasons not to. But I still would never let anyone hurt you. No one’s going to touch you. I will still protect you just like I always have,” I assured her, hoping she would see that I was serious. She just looked at me and shook her head.

“Who said it’s someone else hurting me in the dream,” She said before she stood up at left the room. I had never been one to let other people’s words hurt me, but that felt like an ice pick to the heart.

...

I had a hard time sleeping later that night. Miracle’s words rang out in my head in the silence and I hated it. I hated that she was having a nightmare and I was the one who was hurting her. I wanted to tell her that I would never hurt her, that I would protect her at all costs. But clearly I couldn’t say that, because I had ruined everything for us. I had lied, regardless of my reasons, I had lied to her about some really important shit. I knew I deserved for her to be upset with me but that didn’t make it any easier on me. I pulled myself out of bed around one in the morning, deciding to go get some water since I wasn't sleeping anyway. I got close to the kitchen and I could see that there was a light on. I raised an eyebrow, knowing Marshall was always in bed relatively early and I had never seen him awake this late. I rounded the corner and there Miracle was, sitting at the counter with her head in her hands. There was an open bottle of vodka in front of her that she had obviously gotten from her father’s liquor cabinet. It was about half empty and knowing Miracle didn’t drink that often, I knew she had to have been feeling pretty wavy by that point.

“Hey,” I said quietly. She looked up at me, her eyes puffy and red. Her cheeks were stained with tears.

“Drake,” She slurred, confirming she was drunk. It was the first time she had said my name all week and I realized how much I had missed it. I just wanted her to talk to me.

“Sweetheart what are you doing,” I asked as I stepped over to her. I put the cap back on the bottle and twisted it shut.

“I can’t sleep. I just needed something to make me feel better,” She said as she swayed in her seat. I moved closer to her so I could catch her in case she lost her balance.

“This isn't going to make you feel better baby girl. I promise you that,” I assured her. I had looked for answers at the bottom of a bottle plenty of times in my life and I never found them. She studied my face for a second.

“How could you let this happen? You let me talk about marrying you, about having your kids and the whole time you were lying to me,” She asked as she sniffled quietly. I felt my body tighten as I got defensive.

“I was never lying about the way I felt, or about the future I want to have with you. Every single thing I’ve ever said in regards to my feelings for you has been one hundred percent true. It was never easy for me to lie, I hated myself every single second of it. I hated knowing I wasn't able to tell you the whole truth,” I explained, trying not to let the stress of the situation get to me. I knew she had every right to question me, I just wished she would understand how much I truly loved her and that I had meant all of that. She ran her hand across her face harshly and shoved it into her hair. I hated seeing her hurt like this.

“This fucking sucks,” She said with half a sigh. I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek because it was something to do to avoid thinking about the fact that I was entirely responsible for my own shitty karma.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated. How many times could I say that before I started sounding like a robot? She probably didn't even think I meant it even though I had said it multiple times a day, every single day. I watched her as she stared down at the counter in front of her, zoned out looking at nothing in particular. I felt the all too familiar tug in my chest when I saw her eyes fill with tears again.

“Tell me what to do. Tell me how I can fix this,” I begged her. She shook her head.

“I don't know Drake. I don't even know what’s going to make this feeling go away. Maybe I just need some space,” She said as she looked up at me. Those words definitely hurt. I was worried that giving her space was going to be the first step of her moving on from me. That idea terrified me. But I just gave her a nod.

“Okay, sure. Have your space,” I choked out, ignoring the growing lump in my throat. I was going to give her what she wanted, even if that wasn't me. I knew I had put us in this position so I really had no say in how she chose to cope with it. I looked at her for a few long seconds and I could tell she wanted me to go, so I did. I slowly made my way out of the room and back towards my room. When I rounded the corner into the living room, I saw Marshall standing at the bottom of the staircase. His eyes were tired and I could tell the sound of voices downstairs had probably woken him up. He didn't speak, and neither did I but I could tell he had heard most of our conversation based on the look in his eyes. He looked like he felt almost sorry for me, which I found surprising. I didn't expect him to have any sympathy for me at all. But after a moment I realized it most likely wasn't me he felt sorry for, it was probably his daughter. I knew it had to hurt him to see her taking this so hard, just as much as it hurt me. He loved her more than anything on Earth and to see her having a hard time had to be the worst feeling.

“Sorry sir,” I said as I stepped past him and continued towards my room. I wasn't even sure what in particular I was apologizing for. Either for waking him, breaking his daughter’s heart or betraying his trust, could've been any of that by that point. I heard him walking in the opposite direction, most likely going to check on Miracle. I stopped in the hallway, listening closely to see if I could hear anything. I heard her crying and him shushing her, most likely holding her in his arms the way I’m sure he did when she was a child. I felt my own eyes start to tear up. I was never a big crier, even when I was a kid. But something about Miracle being upset made me emotional. I just shook my head again and continued towards my room. I had a feeling there was a long road ahead of us.

...

The next morning was the first one where I woke up fully realizing that there was a significant chance that Miracle and I might not get past this. Though the whole situation I had been furiously optimistic about the idea that she had to forgive me eventually. But she didn't have to. Why should she honestly? I had done plenty of good things but this was a massive thing to ask her to overlook. I sat outside in Marshall’s backyard, staring out towards the sunrise. I normally found this time of day peaceful but not today. My thoughts were too loud to ignore and my body was exhausted. I had slept for maybe half an hour the night before, similar to the nights before that. I had tossed and turned, wishing I could have some sign of what I needed to do. I rubbed my fingers through the beard that was growing out across my jawline. I probably needed to shave but this whole disheveled look really suited my feelings in that moment I guess. I heard the patio door slid open and closed again but I didn’t even bother to turn around. I knew it wasn't Miracle, she could barely fucking look at me so she definitely wouldn't be here. I was always a cautious person, always paranoid. I watched my own back like a hawk. But lately my mind was so fogged and honestly I found it hard to care about myself. I watched Marshall step into my peripheral vision.

“You look like shit Aubrey.” His deep voice broke the silence of the morning. My heart started racing at the sound of my government name. No one here had ever called me that. No one even knew that was my real name.

“Why did you call me that,” I asked, wondering how he even found out my name. But then again, Marshall’s a connected man.

“Is that not your name,” He asked. I shrugged my shoulders.

“It is. But I barely use it,” I said. My mother was the only who called me Aubrey regularly, and I hadn't spoken to her in months. She knew I was working and that if anything happened to me they would let her know but of course she always worried. I wondered if they had contacted and told her I went on my own. Did she know how deep things had gotten? What would she be thinking right now?

“You think I didn’t do every bit of research on you I could when I found out who you were? I know things about you that you probably don't even know about yourself,” He said. I should have expected that, he was thorough if nothing else. He probably knew my blood type and my grandmother’s middle name by then. I just nodded, not sure what to say to him at this point. I didn’t know what to say to anyone these days.

“You should have told me the truth,” He said somberly. I nodded again, still not looking at him.

“I know that. But you have to see why that was hard to do. I figured I would never see Miracle again,” I said with a sigh. He sat down in a chair near me.

“It would’ve been a tough pill to swallow but at least it would’ve came from you. You have to see why it hurts Miracle and myself, to know that you came here to ruin both of our lives,” He said. I understood why he felt betrayed, I really did. But he had to see things from my point of view.

“I get that, I do. I can’t imagine trying to trust someone who you came here with the intentions that I did. But once I realized that things weren't as simple as they seemed, that you weren't what everyone had always made you out to be, I was already in too deep. I didn’t know if you would even believe that I was done with that part of my life and committed to being here, why would you? I tore myself up every single day trying to figure out what to do. I opened my mouth a hundred times to tell Miracle because I wanted to. I can't tell you how much I didn’t want this secret. But what the hell was I supposed to say,” I asked, throwing my hands up in the air. I found myself getting frustrated at this whole situation. I wanted to fix it but I had no idea how.

“Maybe she would have taken it better if you had been the one to come out with it,” Marshall reminded me.

“Yeah. And maybe it would have turned out just like this. With the woman I love more than anything on this planet wanting nothing to do with me. Maybe I should just leave. I don't want to keep making this harder on her,” I said, leaning forward in my chair and putting my head in my hands. I wondered if there was any real right answer to this situation. What would have been the right thing to do that ended with no one getting hurt?

“If you’re willing to throw in the towel this easily, then maybe you should Drake. You’re right, my daughter might never be able to forgive you. But maybe she will. If you’re okay not knowing the answer, then you’re right. You should just go,” He said. I felt like his words came down on top of me like a mountain.

“Marshall you know as well as I do that I don't want to go. I love her, I’d do anything for her. But I don't want to keep putting her through this if we're never going to see the other side,” I explained. He just looked at me for a long second before he spoke.

“And what if she’s feeling conflicted right now? What if she wants to trust you again but she's not sure she can? If you leave, that’s it Drake. She’s never going to forgive you,” He said. I knew he was right, deep down I knew. I knew I didn't want to leave and that even if I did, I would only hurt Miracle more. But I was still  so confused about what the right answer was.

“Do you think I can fix this? Honestly, do you,” I asked. I just wanted him to tell me this wasn't all for nothing. I wanted someone to tell me that I hadn't lost everything that mattered to me. He shrugged his shoulders, looking at me with what I almost thought could be pity in his eyes but I wasn't sure.

“I’m not sure. She's having a hard time right now. It could pass, but you have to realize that there’s a chance that it won’t,” He reminded me. I just nodded once before I stood up from my seat and walked back to the sliding glass door. I didn't know what to do anymore.

...

I felt myself drawing further and further away from Miracle in the days after Marshall and I had that conversation outside. I loved her, I wanted to be with her. She knew that. But I wasn't going to force myself on her. I couldn’t keep begging her because it was getting me nowhere. I was speaking to her less. Spending almost no time with her. I kept an eye on her when she was in the house but from a distance that was more comfortable for both of us. I knew she was hurting and I was doing my best to respect that but I wasn't having an easy time either. I knew I had put myself in the situation I was in but I really had been just trying to do the best I could do at the time. I sat in the kitchen, slightly out of view of Miracle who had been sitting on the couch and reading one of her textbooks. I wanted to make sure she was safe without invading her space too much. I heard footsteps coming down the hallway towards the kitchen. I quickly recognized them as Marshall’s. He rounded the corner and I immediately stiffened when I saw the concerned look in his eye.

“What’s wrong,” I asked, standing up from my seat.

“I’ve been having one of my guys keep an eye on Chris since I kicked him out. Not all the time because I didn't want him to get suspicious and I know he would know what to look for when it comes to being tracked. But I needed to see what he was up to, who he was speaking to. I haven't written him off as a threat to my daughter,” He explained. I felt my fists involuntarily clench at the mention of Chris’s name. That son of a bitch is the one who started this whole fire I was walking through in the first place. Marshall was one hundred percent right for not writing him off as a threat just because he was out of the house. The last week or so Chris was at the mansion, he really rubbed me the wrong way. He was definitely up to something.

“Why didn't you tell me about that,” I asked. The whole reason Marshall had convinced me to stay here was to help him figure out who was trying to hurt his family but how was I supposed to do that if I didn't know everything?

“At the time I was still very upset with you. I wasn't sure I could still trust you. I figured I would let you know things on a need to know basis. But now you need to know,” He said. That was fair, I can admit that. Marshall seemed more tense in that moment then I could remember him being in a long time. That made me incredibly nervous.

“What the hell did you find out,” I asked, almost afraid of the answer. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one else was around. Part of this whole situation with Chris and me had made Marshall really unsure about who he could really trust. He seemed to second guess everyone lately. Yet another thing I felt guilty about.

“He’s been meeting with someone every couple days. Different places every time, coffee shops, restaurants, parks. But always in different parts of town, like they’re purposely trying to make sure no one takes any notice of them. Drake, after everything came out about you I did my research. I looked up every single detail I could about your life and your career.  During my research, I stumbled upon a profile for one of your superiors. A man named Tucker,” He said. I felt my heart drop when he mentioned Tucker’s name. I had known him for years, he was the most upstanding, by the book person I knew. What was Marshall trying to say?

“What about Tucker,” I asked cautiously, even though I was pretty sure I knew the answer.

“Chris has been meeting with him. I don't know how they would even be connected or why Chris would be talking to someone from the FBI with the past he has. But its shady,” Marshall explained. I felt like someone had knocked the wind out of me. Why the fuck would Tucker be meeting with some nobody who used to run drugs for Marshall? He had nothing good enough to send Marshall away for good for, no proof of anything anyway. He could try to say Marshall killed the guy who broke in but he had no way of proving that. I knew Tucker was out for blood, to take Marshall away for life. Chris didn't have enough info to do that.

“Why,” I asked through my tight jaw. He shook his head.

“I don't know. But I had a friend who owed me a favor tap into Chris’s phone line. They’re meeting tonight,” He said.

“We’re going to be there,” I said, half asking him if that’s what he wanted and half telling him that’s what we needed to do.

“We’re going to hopefully have this figured out once and for all. I know it might be dangerous but....,” I cut him off mid sentence.

“I don't care. I’m in,” I assured him. I wanted to see for myself what the hell Tucker had to say for himself, how he was doing to justify this.

“Have you lost your damn minds,” Miracle’s voice boomed from behind Marshall. He turned around and she came into my view.

“Miracle this doesn't concern you,” He said.

“How the hell doesn't this concern me? You guys are about to run into a situation that might get you killed,” She yelled.

“I’ll go in by myself, your dad and everyone else can hang back unless things get too dicey. It’ll be fine,” I said. She rolled her eyes.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Knowing you’ll be the one putting yourself in danger,” She asked. I shrugged.

“I’m going to do what I have to Miracle. I’ll do what it takes to finally not have to be constantly looking over our shoulders,” I explained.

“He’s right Miracle. The sooner this is over, the sooner life can go back to normal. Drake, we’ll discuss more about this later on this afternoon,” He said before he stepped out of the kitchen, leaving me with his irate daughter. Did he think she would listen to me at this point? She was already not listening to me before this whole conversation.

“So what? You’re just going to run into that meeting ready for a fight with less than a day to make a plan,” She asked, putting her hands on her hips. I could practically feel the attitude in her voice.

“It’s not a perfect situation but I’ll make the best of it,” I said with a sigh. That’s all I could do. We had to work with what we had.

“Why are you doing this? Are you just trying to go out there and possibly get shot again or worse so that way I’ll worry about you and you can get back at me for being upset with you,” She asked. I felt every single muscle in my body tense when she said that. She had a lot of fucking nerve.

“If you really think I would do that, if you really at the bottom of your heart think I would ever purposely try to worry you or that seeing you hurting hasn’t been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through, then maybe it really is over between us,” I said as I pushed past her and walked out of the room.

[morningsound15]

Stacie/Beca + 11

Stacie x Beca + “things you said when you were drunk”

a little platonic stacie/beca for you all :)

give me a ship and a number and i’ll do a prompt

“Beca,” Stacie says slowly, the letters slurring together. She looks unsteady where she stands, and she wobbles a little more as she takes a few stumbling steps forward. She waves her beer bottle in Beca’s direction and almost clocks her across the nose.

Beca laughs as she dodges the uncoordinated swing. “Woah there, slow down, Champ.” Beca pulls the beer bottle gently from her hands. Everyone else has long since gone home, with plenty of kisses exchanged and tight hugs goodnight and promises to get together for brunch as soon as possible. Beca’s stuck with Stacie, though, because she’d been far too intoxicated to find her own way home.

“I’ll check with Bella’s sitter,” Aubrey had said quietly to Beca in the kitchen. “Maybe she can take the couch?”

And of course Beca’s gonna let her crash on her couch. Never leave a sister hanging, right? Especially not one of your Bella sisters.

“You had enough there?” she asks, hands on Stacie’s shoulders as she tries to check her eyes to see just how far-gone she really is.

Stacie nods, throws her arms around Beca’s shoulders, and hugs her tight. “Tonight was so fun.”

In terms of height, Beca only really comes up to about Stacie’s sternum, so she feels a bit smothered in this embrace. Still, she pats Stacie lightly on the back until she finally lets go.

Beca shoots her an easy smile. “I’m glad you had a good time. Now, let’s get you some water and a horizontal surface that isn’t my bathroom floor. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” Stacie says, already flopping face-first onto Beca’s couch.

Beca chuckles as she grabs a glass from the kitchen. She fills it under the tap, and snags a bottle of painkillers from the drawer to the right of the fridge before she picks her way back into the living room.

Stacie seems to have made herself comfortable. Her face is buried in one of Beca’s pillows, her hair splayed across couch cushions and her own face. Her legs are so long that her feet brush the armrest on the other side of the couch, and she has one leg bent up at the knee, her foot dangling absurdly in the air. Her arms are akimbo, one stuck under her torso and the other folded across her back.

It can’t be a comfortable position, but Stacie seems entirely unbothered. “C’mon, Drunky,” Beca says, putting a hand on Stacie’s shoulder. “You gotta sit up and drink this.”

“No,” Stacie grumbles, pushing half-heartedly at Beca’s arm.

“You’re gonna regret it tomorrow,” Beca warns. But Stacie still grumbles. So Beca compromises. “Last thing, Stace; I promise. Then bed.”

“Then bed,” Stacie repeats, and she sounds a little doubtful, but it gets her to sit up slightly nonetheless. She spills most of the water she tries to drink down her own shirt, but she manages to get a few good swallows down. Beca will re-fill her glass when she finally passes out. Hopefully this eleventh-hour moderate hydration will be enough to stave off at least some of the hangover she’s sure to have tomorrow.

Once Stacie finally empties her glass (only somewhat by drinking it), she pushes it back towards Beca’s chest and flops back down onto the couch, this time on her back.

She hums a little, her eyes squinting up at the ceiling fan. “The room’s all spinny.”

“It tends to do that when you’re smashed, yeah.”

“Will it stop?”

Beca nods as she puts the cup down next to Stacie’s head, along with the bottle of Advil. “Any minute now.” She should probably get the spare trashcan from the bathroom, too. Just in case. You never know, in these cases, how the night’s going to go, and Beca would rather not have to scrub vomit off of her floor tomorrow morning.

“Rub my feet?”

Beca shoots her a look. “Stacie…”

“Pleasssseee, Beca? Pretty please?” Stacie wiggles her socked toes for good measure.

Beca rolls her eyes and sighs, but she clambers onto the couch anyway. Stacie manages to lift her legs just long enough for Beca to slip under them, before they fall down onto Beca’s lap.

“Oof,” Beca grunts with a grimace when one of Stacie’s heels clips into her stomach, but she shakes off the pain and sets to work.

A few quiet minutes pass where all Beca does is rub lightly at the soles of Stacie’s feet. She figures she only needs to do this for max five minutes — Stacie’s so sloshed she’ll probably pass out any second now. And the likelihood of her even remembering this interaction is so slight, Beca really doesn’t need to try that hard at all. Just resting her hands on Stacie’s ankles seems to be enough to convince her that Beca’s doing as she asked.

And Beca thinks that’ll be the end of it. It’s been five minutes since Stacie last spoke, and her breathing has already evened out. Beca thinks it’s probably safe for her to sneak her way back to her own bedroom. She just has to figure out how she’s going to get out from under Stacie’s legs, first.

But then, unexpectedly: “I’m afraid I’m gonna be a bad mom,” Stacie says quietly.

Beca blinks, and sits up straighter. Stacie’s legs are still thrown over her lap, so she can’t do much more than that. But still, she lays her hands on Stacie’s bare shins. “What?”

Stacie just shrugs. She has a happy little drunk smile on her face. Her eyes are closed, her head tipped back. It sways from side-to-side on the couch. Her arm rises above her head, conducting an invisible orchestra only she can hear. “My mom sucked. I’m bad at responsibility. ‘m—‘m sittin’ here drunk with you while my two-year-old’s at home with a sitter.”

Beca blinks. She doesn’t really know what to say to that. “You’re allowed to enjoy yourself, Stace. Just because you’re a mom now, it doesn’t mean—”

“I think ‘m gonna mess her up,” Stacie cuts her off. It’s like she can’t fixate on the proper emotion. She oscillates between amused and somber on the turn of a dime, and Beca’s left feeling like she’s got whiplash. “I’m worried I’m gonna mess her up. I mess everything up.”

“Stacie,” Beca says quietly. She starts to move, and huffs with exertion. It takes her more effort than it really should to wrangle her way out from underneath the other woman’s body. She does eventually, wiggling her way to the floor where she falls with a heavy thump. Stacie giggles at her, her eyes still shut tight. Beca rolls her eyes and slides along the floor until she has her face near Stacie’s. She brushes her fingers across Stacie’s cheekbones, pushing her hair out of her face. Stacie’s eyes don’t open, but they flutter a little, and she turns toward Beca’s touch.

“I don’t think you’re gonna mess your daughter up,” Bella says truthfully, her voice as soft as it’s ever been. “I think you’re gonna be a great mom. You’ll be, like… the cool, hot mom that all the other moms are jealous of at PTA meetings.”

That draws a laugh from her. “Yeah?” Stacie says, her eyes fluttering open. Her pupils are large, her eyes glassy. “Y’think so?”

“Oh, I know so.”

Stacie hums, and nuzzles a little deeper into the couch. “You’re a good person, Becs.”

“Thanks.” Beca grins. “You’re pretty okay yourself.”

Stacie hums. Her eyes blink slowly, unfocused. She shifts forward on the couch a little, her neck stretching out.

The kiss she presses to Beca’s lips is soft; unexpectedly so. Not that Beca’s spent much time thinking about kissing Stacie — the thought had never previously occurred to her — but if she had thought about it, she probably would have expected it to be harder. More passionate. Maybe a little wetter.

Beca doesn’t move. She doesn’t know what to do, how to react… Should she kiss her back? Push her away? Say, Sorry, Stace, I’m just not into you like that?

But Stacie doesn’t give her enough time to ponder a proper response. She pulls away a second later, and immediately bursts into peals of laughter at the expression on Beca’s face. “What?” she asks through a chuckle. “You’ve ne—never kissed a girl before?”

“No I… I have, it’s just—” Stacie laughs even harder, so hard her shoulders shake and she has to fall back onto the couch. This situation is apparently hilarious to her. Beca huffs. “Stop that.”

“You—you should see your face!”

“I don’t like people laughing after they kiss me! It’s rude!” But Stacie is too far gone. Beca slaps at her shoulder. “Stacie, stop!”

Stacie laughs all the harder, curled in on herself, her hands grasping at her spasming stomach.

Beca has to admit, begrudgingly, that it’s kind of infectious. She’s cracking a smile before she’s really aware of it, and a few seconds later she’s laughing, too, just as hard as Stacie.

They’re an incorrigible duo. Every time one of them tapers off their giggling fit, the other one laughs harder, and then the whole cycle starts again. Beca is breathless by the end of it, tears streaming down her face, her cheeks cramping and her sides splitting.

She’s not sure who stops first. It’s more of a slow, unnoticed de-progression than anything truly discernible. But by the end of it, they’re sitting side-by-side on Beca’s hardwood floors, backs pressed to the couch and legs folded in front of them. Their shoulders brush, and Beca takes a moment to knock Stacie’s good-naturedly.

Stacie leans her head against the top of Beca’s. “You really think I’ll be a good mom?” She asks into the empty room. She sounds significantly more sober, now. Beca’s not sure if she’s actually sobered up, or if maybe she was never really that drunk in the first place.

Beca tucks her arm through Stacie’s elbow. “I think your kid is gonna have a kick-ass mom, and a kick-ass extended family of weird aunts and big sisters. And Lilly. Lilly’ll be there, too.”

Stacie chuckles. “I always loved my aunts.”

“Aunts are the best,” Beca says back. She smiles, though they aren’t looking at each other. “You’re gonna be just fine, Stacie,” she promises, a little quieter. “You know we’re here, if you ever need anything.”

“I know. It’s just… it’s hard. I feel like I have to do it all myself or else I’ve failed. And I know that’s dumb, it’s just…” She sighs, a soft, quiet thing. “It’s hard doing it all by myself.”

“You aren’t by yourself, though. Not really.”

“Yeah.” Stacie presses a kiss to the crown of Beca’s head, right on top of her hair. “You’re right. ‘m not alone.”

[waywardrose13]

The Hunter Diaries- Chapter Eight

Catch up here- The Hunter Diaries Masterlist Rose’s Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x Plus Size!Reader Warnings- Language, alcohol consumption, slight angst, fluff, makeout session, implications of sex

Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester had been your best friends for as long as you could remember. Being Bobby Singer’s adoptive daughter, it was sort of inevitable to know the brothers. You knew you’ve had a crush on the elder brother for a long time, but you always thought nothing would happen between the two of you. You’re not the picture perfect model and you aren’t the image every girl strives to be. But maybe, just maybe, you were wrong, and he would like you too. But could your happy ending be cut short?

SERIES TAGS, CHARACTER TAGS, FOREVER TAGS, FLUFF BINGO/ANGST BINGO TAGS ARE OPEN. SEND ME AN ASK!

*PLEASE EXCUSE ANY AND ALL GRAMMAR MISTAKES*

A/N- Previously “Flawless” but now “The Hunter Diaries.” I had some serious writer’s block with this series, causing it to go on a short-ish hiatus, but now it’s back and I should be writing/posting more. Hope y’all enjoy:)

The four of you stared at the trap speechless.

“How did he do that?” You asked. Sam looked at you with wide eyes, giving you a shrug.

“I have no idea,” He said. “It may be his hybrid side.”

“Yeah but still,” You said. “He’s part demon. Shouldn’t he be stuck?”

“Theoretically,” Dean grumbled.

“Why didn’t he just walk across the line? Kill her now?” Sam pondered.

“I dunno,” Dean shrugged.

“Well, that’s great,” You said bitterly. You crossed your arms over your chest and let out a sigh.

“Now what are we going to do?” Bobby asked. “The bastard doesn’t get trapped inside devil’s traps, the blade doesn’t work on him, we have no idea what the hell else he is. We’re just a bunch of idjits with our thumbs up our asses.”

“We’ll figure this out,” Dean said. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. The whole situation was completely fucked up. You had no idea what Aamon was or how to kill him and quite frankly, your life span wasn’t looking too good.

Dean seemed to have hope, something you lacked. Aamon was old and strong. He was able to break through wardings that could keep the strongest demon away. And somehow, after twenty-one years, he broke through, and there was nothing stopping him from ripping your heart from your chest.

One thing that sat you with sourly was when he said he’d kill your father and the brothers. He never had shown interest in them in the past, he would have come after them sooner, right? But why now is he showing interest?

He knows you’d do anything to protect the people you love. He doesn’t truly care about them, they’re just leverage to him. There’s no reason to kill them or keep them alive, not in his eyes at least. Your biological parents were in the way, your siblings were in the way, Carter was in the way. They were all in the way of you.

But if the boys weren’t in the way, they’d be fine. Aamon wouldn’t have the need to kill them. He knew you’d protect them, not letting him kill the people you love. He knew you’d give yourself to him before that ever happened. That’s why he threatened them.

A switch clicked in your brain, the reason he didn’t walk across the edge of the trap, the reason he didn’t just kill you right there, dawned on you. He wanted you to give up, to surrender. He wanted you to know he’s in power and to give in to him. He wanted to show you he was in control and how easy it was to make you break. To make you his.

You let out a breath and walked over to Bobby’s desk, reaching underneath it and grabbing the bottle that sat under the faded wood. You sat down and put your feet up on the desk, unscrewing the cap and taking a long drink, feeling the amber liquid burn your throat deliciously.

The three men gave you a disappointed look and you just stared back, taking another drink. You didn’t give two fucks about what they thought of you. You needed something to take the edge off.

“Y/N, we’ll figure this out,” Dean said again. You shrugged and took another drink.

“Yeah, sure.” You said bitterly. You sighed and looked out the window, the cloudy sky matching your mood.

“We aren’t going to let him get to you, Birdy,” Bobby said. “We’ll find out how to kill him.”

“I’m not going to let him get to you,” You said standing up. “You heard what he said. If any of you get in the way of me, you’re dead. And I’m sure as hell not going to let that happen.”

“So, what, you’re just going to roll over and give up?” Dean asked.

“Hell no. But if it comes down to it, I’m not letting you die for me,” You stressed. “You guys are too important to me-” Your eyes locked with Dean’s. They were pained and unnerved, matching yours- “I wouldn’t be able to handle another person I love dying. I mean, when Dean died, that practically killed me.”

“But how do you think we’ll be if you die? You think I can live without you, Y/N?” Dean whispered. He walked closer to you, taking the bottle from your hands and replacing it with his own. You grasped them tightly, and looked between his emerald orbs.

“You have Sam and Bobby,” You murmured. “Besides, I’ll be easily replaced.”

“Bullshit,” He said. You laid your head on his chest, allowing him to wrap his arms around you.

“You’re not dying. That’s not happening,” Bobby grumbled. “We’ll kill the bastard. But for now, I think we need to take precautions.”

“Like what?” You asked. You glanced up at Dean, who shrugged.

***

“Seriously?” You sighed. You glanced around the panic room and slumped your shoulders.

“Seriously,” Bobby said. “This’ll keep anything out. You’re safe in here.”

“So what, I’m a prisoner now?” You hissed. “This is crap. I should be helping you guys.”

“Not a prisoner.” Sam shook his head. “This is the only way to make sure he doesn’t find you. You’re completely safe in here.”

“I’m going to be alone in a freaking dungeon,” You grumbled. “I’m a prisoner.”

“You won’t be alone,” Dean said. Bobby and Sam began walking out of the room, Dean staying where he was, his eyes trained on you.

“What?”

“I’ll be here with you,” He said. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You stared up at him, your hands fisting themselves in his flannel.

“Why would you do that? You’re locked in here now,” You said.

“I love you,” He whispered. He bent down and pressed his lips against your forehead. “That’s why,” He murmured against your skin. “Besides, we’re alone. I bet no one can hear us down here.” He wiggled his brows, making you giggled.

He bent down lower, latching his lips onto your pulse point, his hands gripping your waist tighter.

“Dean…” You whined. He smiled against your skin and moved his hands to the round of your rear, a squeak sounding from your lips when he squeezed.

He chuckled and moved backwards, his lips finding yours once again as he fell back on the twin bed, bringing you down on top of him.

“Wait, no Dean,” You said rolling off of him. He furrowed his brows, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What is it?” He asked. His eyes widened a bit when a thought struck him. “Are you a virgin?”

“What? No, I…” You sighed, running a hand down your face. “I can’t be on top of you. I’m too heavy.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He asked, his thumb running across your cheekbone.

“I’m too heavy to be on top of you, Dean.”

He sighed and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer and snuggling his face into the crook of your neck. He let out a long breath and shook his head.

“That’s not true, Y/N,” He muttered.

“Yes, it is,” You said.

“No, it’s not,” He said harshly. He lifted his head up, his face a mere two inches from yours. “How many times do I need to tell you?” He pressed his lips softly to your collarbone, moving up to the base of your throat. “You’re beautiful-” He moved his hand down from your waist to your thigh- “Absolutely beautiful.”

His hand moved inwards on your thigh, coming dangerously close to the ache between your legs. You ran your hands up his sides to cup his face, bringing his lips back to your own. Bringing his arm around your back, he rolled over on to his own, bringing you on top of him, your legs straddling his thighs.

You broke apart from him, his lips latching on to your jaw. “Dean-”

“No,” He murmured against your skin. His hands landed on your legs, squeezing them affectionately. “Let me show you how beautiful you are-” He pulled back to look you straight in the eye, his hand coming up to cup your cheek- “Let me show you how much I love you.”

***

THD series tag list:

@volleyballer519

@francezka10

@anime-music-is-life

@super–dale

@diariesofthebeautyobsessed

@weirdoblogger69

@hardworkingmidgetartist

@superdeadlucilenatural

@wingedcatninja

@waywardnerd67

@donnanoblerocks

@thewaywardvalkyrie

@docharleythegeekqueen

@fralackles

@blonde-ambitions

@lovelyrocker

@gracefullcowgirl

@arses21434

@deangirl7695

@raining-murder

@rubynationwins

@sammedeansandwhich

@lunasage96

@jotink78

@ashleydivine

@amanda-marie-1997

@brewsthespirit-blog

@dammit-brii

@imagine-inc

@jendee05

@moonstar86

@toomuchtv95

@jo-l-ab

@katsanders

@ms-sith

@mystriee

@mirandaaustin93

@nessadominquez

@woodworthti666

@aimee-ginge

@xristina-gkika

@carryonmaywaywardstar

@allykat2108

@just-a-fiction-lover

@gh0stgurl

@jules12345678910

@angelsandwinchesters

@shamelesslydean

Forever tag list:

@jennalyncarrigan1230

@mogaruke

@kittyk26

@lurelarry

@luciferslucille

@cookiecakeslive

@wheres-my-cheese

@supernatural-strangerthings-1980

@sunnysaysbookreviews

@nyxveracity

@raining-murder

@just-a-supernatural-sister

SPN tag lists:

@impatient-witch

@sandlee44

@blackcherrywhiskey

@ain-t-bovvered

Dean/Jensen tags:

@aubreystilinski

@whimsicalrobots

Forever tag list:

@jennalyncarrigan1230

@mogaruke

@kittyk26

@lurelarry

@luciferslucille

@cookiecakeslive

@wheres-my-cheese

@supernatural-strangerthings-1980

@sunnysaysbookreviews

@nyxveracity

@raining-murder

@just-a-supernatural-sister

SPN tag lists:

@impatient-witch

@sandlee44

@blackcherrywhiskey

@ain-t-bovvered

Dean/Jensen tags:

@aubreystilinski

@whimsicalrobots

Tagging a few lovelies:

@waywardnerd67

@waywardbaby

[valxortega]

character name: Valeria Mariposa Ortega

age & birthday: 43. October 20th, 1970

gender & pronouns: She/ her

place of birth & time in Bridgeport: Three years. [ Born in Ohio]

district: Downtown bridgeport. 

occupation: Full time free spirit. Part time Cashier for Gas and Go

Faceclaim: Aubrey Plaza

triggers in headcanons: Drugs, sex, murder, pregnancy

Her father was very abusive towards her mother and their house growing up was a constant crossfire. When she was twelve her father’s abuse ended in her mothers death. She was a witness to it and would never forget hiding in the closet with her siblings. Afterwards she went to live with her grandmother. She was a strict woman who never really understood Val and her way of thinking. Valeria was always a free spirit, she wanted to grab life by the balls instead of letting it rule her. To live for her mother. 

Her father was very abusive towards her mother and their house growing up was a constant crossfire. When she was twelve her father’s abuse ended in her mothers death. She was a witness to it and would never forget hiding in the closet with her siblings. Afterwards she went to live with her grandmother. She was a strict woman who never really understood Val and her way of thinking. Valeria was always a free spirit, she wanted to grab life by the balls instead of letting it rule her. To live for her mother. 

When she was sixteen she ran off with her best friend from school and never looked back. They lived out of their car and traveled around, becoming groupies for various artists. She spent those years trying drugs, having lots of sex and exploring.

It was at one of the rager groupie parties that she hooked up with a professional racer and would  discover weeks later  she was pregnant. She vaguely remembered his face but couldn't recall his name. She decided to keep the baby and traveled with her best friend to Hawaii to stay with her friend's family. It was there and gave birth to her beloved baby girl , Elikapeka. For the first time since losing her mother, Val knew true love. She wasn’t sure how to parent in the least, but she loved her kid and did her best. It became her and Eli against the world, until she later met Cairo. She wasn’t interested at first, but he grew on her, and seeing how good he was with Eli warmed her heart. They lived in Hawaii for a few years until Valeria’s spirit grew restless and Cairo went back overseas. They kept up with calls and letters for a while, but long distance and miscommunication got to them in the end and they broke up. Valeria continued to travel around the states with Eli, raising her on the road meant lots of schools and some homeschooling. But also lots of adventures and priceless memories. Val took several odd jobs as they town hopped. For a while she thought Eli liked it too, but as she grew older she could see her daughter longed for roots and stability.

Valeria has always struggled with planting roots and committing to relationships.

She feels safer being on the go due feeling trapped in her troubled childhood

She loves her daughter to pieces and would drop everything for her at any moment.

Her daughter Eli is her best friend.She has always treated her as an equal and struggled to enforce any real rules. She chose to let her daughter run free and learn from life by adventure and experiences 

In some waysEli is more mature than her, she admires her daughters level headedness and wisdom

Likes eatery coffee

Expert at peeing in a bottle on the side of the road

Uses cynical humor to cope with past traumas

Likes living every day to the fullest 

Spontaneous adventures are her favorite thing. She hates planning.

Has a half sleeve of tattoos on her right arm and wants more

Likes to read romance novels

Collects broken things

Present

 Eli’s persuasion won her over in the end, and Val agreed to put down roots in Bridgeport, MA. For the first time in years she owns a house that isn’t on wheels. Which is odd for her. She’s also has a steady job, also strange. She’s trying her best to make Eli proud and be more adult and parent rather than a friend, but it’s a daily struggle.  She wants to buy an old school bus and convert it into a home on wheels. She has also reconnected with Cairo, they are giving it another try. She loves him, but isn’t sure how to express it well sometimes. She heard from a cousin recently that her father may be getting released from prison on parole which has her a little anxious. She doesn’t want him showing up for any kind of reunion with her and Eli.