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idiotuvu-blog · 7 months ago

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plucked petals

Hiii!!!

This is my first time posting a fan fic on here, it's not a self-insert and follows my OC, Ivy!

I really hope ya'll like it and if there's anything I should change or tweak please let me know- I'm open to criticism and pointers about where this should head. :) I do wanna open this up to some smut and romance but I'm not 100% sure.

TW: ANGST ASF!! death of a parent (mom), Chris being a shitty dad, smoking, mild cussing, self-hatred (in a way), and cancer.

Word count: 2,575

ENJOY!!!

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I never really knew my dad. I know his name, I know that he looks a little bit like me, and I know my mom was crazy over him but other than that? Nothing. I remember his faint outline from before he left us when I was 4, but who remembers stuff that far back the correct way? My mom kept a picture of him around but it was only a couple. One was them, clearly drunk, at a party back in 2001, celebrating the new year.

My mom’s pale face had red from the liquor dancing with her blush, it went hand in hand with her wild red hair, curls poking out from different directions. Her smile was always the prettiest thing, I’m glad I inherited her joy. On the other side of the picture was an equally, if not more, drunk man. His tan skin and dark brown hair stood out next to my mom, he was tall and very lean. My mom would say “Oh, Ivy. He was a Greek statue come to life” Her high-pitched voice always soothed me “He carried me into my room one time, I was blushin' up a storm!” she would finish with a laugh.

Once I turned 16 her laugh quit being full of life, it would end with a cough or her catching her breath. One day when she was at work, she worked at the post office in town, she passed out as she was helping someone mail something off. I got a call from one of my mom’s friends and I immediately skipped 7th period to go to the hospital, my mom and I were connected in a way that I couldn’t explain.

I always thought it was that she saw my dad in me, we didn’t look exactly like twins but I leaned a little bit to how he looked. We shared the same blue eyes, dark brown hair, and wide shoulders. I always hated my shoulders, just another thing on the list. They made me look even wider than I was, my plush body wasn’t as big as my mom’s but it was still something that made me stand out.

When I got into the room my mom looked terrible, her smile was dulled and her wild hair was spread over the pillow she was leaning on. I rushed over and picked her hand, my thumb creasing her hand and all she did was look up at me, a little smile on her face. The doctors came in and explained that she had cervical cancer and it was spreading at an alarming rate, there was nothing they could do other than just offer her meds for the pain.

We cried, of course, we cried more than we’ve ever cried. A couple of hours passed after some shared tears and prayers, I wasn’t very religious but at that moment I knew I had to beg whoever was up there for something, anything. My phone started buzzing in my pocket, I grabbed it and read the name carefully ‘Dad’. The last time I heard from him was when I was 12, he was some military guy that moved around a lot.

He lived in Oregon, which was very far from Wisconsin, and didn’t talk about his work a lot. He always missed holidays and birthdays, he never called, only a short ‘Happy birthday, sport’ or ‘Merry Christmas, kiddo’ text and some little gift he would send me. Usually some shitty art box or makeup box, he never knew what I liked or what my interests are and I always blamed myself for that. I thought I messed everything up just by existing, by just being born and breathing, or maybe it was the fact I wasn’t a boy.

Maybe he wanted to be a boy dad? To play baseball with someone or teach them how to work on a car, not princess parties or Barbies. I thought about this as I watched his name disappear from my phone. Maybe he was coming home? Had some change of heart or finally wanted to talk to me. I looked over at my mom and I gave her a fake smile “It’s Tiffany, I’m gonna step out and call her back, okay? I’ll be right outside.” I would tell her- not wanting to say ‘Hi, remember the man who left you and moved across the country? Well, he finally wants to hopefully play dad so I’m gonna call him back!’. She just nodded her head, the medicine made her tired so as I stood up I kissed her forehead and left the room, holding my phone with a tight grip.

I stepped out into the hall and stared at the message on my phone that popped up after I missed the call from him.

"DAD: Hey kiddo, call me back. "

I just stared at the message, ‘kiddo’ was always my name to him. Never Ivy, my real name, or hell even our shared last name Redfield. I let go of a breath I didn’t even know I was holding and I hit the redial button next to his name. The line rang for about 2 rings before a gruff voice that I didn’t remember spoke up “Hello?” it said, as if I was bothering him. I stuttered for a moment “Hi, it's uh… It’s Ivy. What’s up?” I tried to sound unbothered but I’m guessing I failed since there was a pause on his end. “I heard what happened, with your mom and I guess I’m just checking in on you”.

My thoughts raced with questions, ‘How did he know? It’s only been 3 hours since the doctors talked to us and neither of us has been on our phones…’. “Oh really?” I wanted to ask how but honestly I didn’t care- I was mad. Mad that my mother dying, the mother of his only child dying. My blood boiled a little as I forced a nice reply. “I’m rolling with the punches I guess, mom is sleeping and I’m uh…” I take a deep breath to try to calm myself down before tears rush down my face, not wanting to face his harsh reality. “I feel like I’m drowning.” I choke out, tears making their way down my face. It was uncontrollable now, I was letting my walls down for a man who I hadn’t seen in 12 years.

I was guilty of being an open book, I mean I could open up to someone just minding their business. I guess I caught him off guard as he looked around for a minute to respond to me as if I was making this hard for him. As if I’m just something he can just talk to for 5 minutes and it’ll make up for years of missing that key father figure in my life. “I figured,” he said, his voice still strong and unwavering. I opened my mouth, I was an off-put, how dare he call me to just make me feel worse? My mother is dying slowly, painfully, and with her 16-year-old daughter as a crutch to ease the pain, along with her meds. “I wanted to offer you to move in with me,” He said, someone talking in the background on his side, sounded like he was at some mall or somewhere busy. At this point I’m mad, he wants me to leave my mom? Alone?

I wipe my tears and try to straighten myself up, ‘no’ I wanted to say ‘why the hell would you even offer me to leave mom?’ I wanted to bark. Instead, I just said “Why?”, a feeble and weak notion of how I’m feeling- defeated and done. “I know this is hard for you. I wanted to offer to enroll you in school here in California. I could get you into a good academy and after you can come to work with me.” He said in a very matter-of-fact tone. I roll my eyes, ‘guess he moved again’ I think to myself.

That was it. I was mad, pissed, and manic even. This was just a recruitment to whatever the hell he does for a job, he didn’t care. He didn’t care that my mom was dying, he didn’t care that I was in one of the toughest situations in my life, he wanted a perfect little daughter. Someone feeble, who would go ‘Yes Dad! I would love to make up for the 12 years you missed! Please! Pick me!’ and little did he know I split.

I wanted to be his perfect daughter, I wanted to go out on daddy-daughter dates or go to the zoo with him or hell- work with him at whatever shit hole military place he was at but I shook that thought out of my head, keeping my priorities straight. I took a deep breath and opened my mouth “I-” I was ready to give him a piece of my mind, to tell him off for everything, making me feel like I wasn’t enough, making me question myself but I was cut off by the other end of my phone “Redfield, we’re ready to roll out” some woman’s voice cut through. I heard him mumble a ‘one second’ before turning his, apparently important, attention to me. “Just think it over, kiddo. I’ll talk to you later” and a second later the phone line cut out.

I stood there for a moment, shocked. 4 minutes and 12 seconds is how long I was worth to him before ending our conversation without hesitation. I made my way back into the room and sat next to my sleeping mom, the medicine must have knocked her out. I was glad since I had silent tears running down my face.

Jump to the present with me, It’s 9 am and I’m dressed in a black dress with my makeup and hair down as rain smeared my perfect facade and pelted down on me. I just got done burying my mom. I’m 22 now and 10 times more fragile than I was at 16, I stand alone as the crowd of people disperse. My eyes are glued onto my mom’s closed casket, there are roses with a heart on the top, I put my hand on the lower part of the casket and I lower my head. Tears started mixing with the rain, and the thunder drowned out my loud wailing as I started to rest my forehead on the casket.

I was finally able to let out all of my emotions and I was alone- no mom by my side to move the hair out of my face, no mom to kiss my head and say ‘It’s okay Ivy, even diamonds are made under a lot of pressure’. There was no more light anymore and just like the weather, I was not holding back, letting my weak side show after 4 years of being the strong one, watching her hair fall out because of the medicine or watching her lose a bunch of weight to where she was skin and bone. She stopped walking after her 3rd year of medicine and we went everywhere together when she would sleep I would do online classwork for my college classes, I wanted to make her proud.

“God bless her.” a gruff voice said beside me, I watched the tan hand place a rose onto the heart of roses on her casket. I stood up straight and noticed the colossal man next to me was my father. He smelled like wood and a faint cologne that I couldn’t pinpoint, his blue eyes matched mine. He was in a black suit and in his other hand he held an obituary for my mother ‘Annabeth Marshal’, her name stood out to me before my matching blue eyes flicked back to his. “How…” I weakly start to speak but he cuts me off before I can finish “I wanted to support you, you’re my daughter and I love you.” he said as if that would fix the now 16 years apart from him. I run my hands through my hair as I try to compose myself “Support me? Now?” I ask him, my voice laced with venom.

“It’s been 16 years since you left and you expect me to what, let you back in my life? You called once, sent an occasional text and now you want me to believe that you love me?” I start crying harder, my words coming out choked. My hands shook with anger but all he did was look at me with surprise, his eyes wide. I noticed someone else I don’t know standing on a hill about 20 feet away smoking a cigarette, he looked like he was with my dad and was watching us. My eyes snap back to my dad “You couldn’t even come alone?” I ask him. My dad shook his head “It isn’t like that, Ivy” he said back, his tone becoming slightly more stern, “Oh!” I laugh “You know my name now?” I shake my head at him, I’m angry and the random man watching us while smoking is making everything else worse. “Of course, I know your name, you’re my daughter, and I, as your father-” He starts but I cut him off.

“You’re my father now? I haven’t seen you in years!” I cry a little bit harder and he sighs “I’m sorry about that, I needed to protect you and your mother. Listen, I want to be a better man for you. I’m sorry, but please… Listen to me.” he says as he moves his hand onto my shoulder. Once I feel the warmth from his hand on my shoulder, I start to lose control. I crumble because I realize I still love my dad and I want his acceptance. I’m confused as my head naturally finds its way to his chest and I start to sob, it’s like I’m a baby again and he’s holding me for the first time. He starts talking again, softer and a little bit nicer but still stern “I want you to move in with me. Make your mom even more proud of you than she already was. Start over fresh.” He says as he starts to softly rub my back as I cry harder. I catch my breath for a minute as his words linger in the air and I think about it for a minute. I huff a little as I mumble against his chest “Okay… I will.” I feel so small and weak as his chest rumbles with a laugh and he ruffles my hair.

“Great, Let’s get you a bag and I’ll send someone to get the rest of your stuff,” he says and I eat it up. I’m putty in his hands and it feels great, I’m finally with my dad. He started to lead me to a black car with tinted windows where the man who was smoking was leaning against. Watching is even more and I get to see him fully. He looks around my dad’s age dirty blonde hair with some grey, he has some stubble on his chin and he’s weirdly handsome. The black suit he’s wearing is just as drenched as my dress and my dad’s suit. look back at my mother’s casket for the last time and I take a deep breath, knowing she would have wanted this for me.

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THANK YOU FOR READING!!!

Please let me know if theres anything I should add or if I should write a part 2! :)

#chris redfield angst #chris redfield #plus size reader #oc #residentevil oc #angst #chris being a shitty dad #chris redfield dad #Spotify

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