Fan Fiction Story

Authors note: This is my very first fan fiction, so I am very sorry if this sounds like an 11 year has written it I have dyslexia, which makes it hard to write what is in my head into written word.



The title is from the song by Bon Iver Re: Stacks



I’ve been wanting to post this for ages, have been too scared to because I keep thinking that is isn’t as good as those you have all written, which inspired me to write my own. I also want to dedicate this to several writers which have inspired me as well. All your stories are brilliant furthermore absolutely amazingly written, and I wish I were as good as you were.



So here, we go, this idea came to me from a good friend of mine, and from my little cousins are the inspirations of their children. This is an AU version of Red Eye whereby Jackson and Lisa are married with children, it has lots of twists and turns and people may not seem to be who they claim they are it is quite upsetting at times and does have some dark themes and some sexual and mature themes in later chapters.



I hope you enjoy my story, as all comments are always very much appreciated. I know I am not the greatest writer in the world, many complexities, and my story is far too detailed, and the chapters are far too long. I find writing is good therapy for me, as it is allowing me to let out many deep-rooted feelings I have, and cannot express publicly myself.




Before I forget, I do not own anything, apart from my OC’s.



Red Eye: Everything that happens is from now on




Chapter 1: This is pouring rain, and this is paralyzed



In the back sitting in worn leather seat of a dimly lit taxi, in the company of shadows dancing across his features obscuring most of him. Be situated a long dark haired man, still when the cab finally passes a lighted area you notice it’s neatly combed, Jackson Rippner a man that likes to look his best. With piercing blue eyes, that in the darkness seem to shine brightly like a 3 million candle torch, around his jaw the makings of 2 day stubble, he is dressed smartly and immaculately in a dark blue tailored well-cut suit, Crisp sea green button-up shirt with the top button undone so you can see a white undershirt accompanies it. Which he looks very comfortable in, almost as if it’s similar to a second skin to him, however it does give him an additional casual elegance and really enhance to his exquisitely handsomeness, he looks to be in his early thirties. You get the impression from him, that his some kind of businessperson or CEO, that by his intense presence in everything he does, it makes him own any room or situation he enters.



With him, also masked somewhat by the dim lighting is Lisa a beautiful, stunning petite woman in such a way that the man, she is laying against could not help but admire with an elegance about her that requires respect. She has shoulder length thick auburn hair; her facial features are delicate and quite feminine, and clear skin, dotted by the occasional beauty mark, and a full mouth with laughter lines gracefully creasing around her soft cheeks. Wearing a just barely visible exquisitely graceful light pink silk top, with a blue flowing skirt that stops above her knees to show long slender lean legs, and matching dark blue jacket covering it, the style is impeccably simple, yet classy. She is thin, but not rail thin as is the trend of the day, appearing to be quite fit and athletic, she is naturally beautiful and she does not need to cake on a thousand pounds of Revlon to be attractive. They are holding hands with their fingers intertwined, moreover both of them are looking exhausted and drained.



Lisa’s head is lying comfortably, against the man’s sea green shirted chest her eyes closed while her breathing is nice and easy, she nuzzles her head into his chest, pressing her forehead to the side of his chest cling onto him with her arm around his waist and the curves of his body. Through their nearness she is able to feel his warmth and smell the aroma of the expensive and elusive aftershave he’s wearing and his natural raw organic smell mingle like an effortless aura he possesses that is merely for her. His personification that she would like to savor and encapsulate the emotions and feelings, it gives her, of him as if she’d yearns for it so much, in spite of that at the same time, in some strange way, she is also afraid of this too. However, thinking is undyingly a forbidden occurrence this early in the morning, and she is more than contented at the moment with herself, in the midst of the warmth, her head resting comfortably and cushioned against his chest, while his arm draped heavily over her side listening to the air filling in his lungs as he breathes.



Her light breath tickles the skin of his chest, even through the shirt, which coincidently feels as though it is too thin now, excessively too thin, and she can feel herself making those happy little noises, even as she feels as though she could stay there forever, being hugged by this man beside her. At the same time, her left breast is softly pressing aligned with his ribs, whilst her left thigh is touching his right thigh, along with their hips causing abrasion in contrast to the material both of them are wearing like the gentlest of electrical currents passing between her body and his. At this moment, they give the impression of being contented with this level of physical contact that is a completely acceptable act, which does not have to comprise of any sexual suggestion to it at all, they are merely just seeking comfort, warmth, and security from their closeness to each other.



When some loose strands of her hair have fallen ungracefully across her right cheek when she moves her head slightly, concealing her closed eyes, and she sighs somewhat in contentment, drifting into a peaceful light doze, not even bothering with the loose hairs tickling her cheek. Furthermore, her right hand unconsciously slides up to his chest, and with her small nimble fingers, she strokes him, absentmindedly drawing small circles there as they follow the wrinkles of his shirt, and she can sense how hot his skin is, how lean, defined, and fine-toned the muscles are in the side of his torso. While her fingers, with an affectionate, expressive, finely tuned delicacy, and the dexterously of someone who is on familiar terms with the body competently, examining the composition of his muscles.



Watching his wife with drowsy eyes, Jackson places a small but gentle kiss on her forehead, longing that he could fall asleep with her; while letting the fine coarse coppery hairs of the stubble on his chin, scrape against her delicate scalp. At the same time, her thick, tangle of curls pleasantly are, lightly tickling his nose as he breathes in the flowery fragrance of her shampoo that is also causing his nose to itch in the midst of her hair. He wants to forget everything, trying so desperately to stop his mind from drifting as she touches each of his sensitive spots, causing the familiar, but destabilizing and delicious affects of physical and emotional memories and thoughts of her, which produces both pleasure and pain.



He mutters into her hair in a soft, reassuring, and comforting way while letting his soft lips brush against the strands as they dance elegantly across her hair, whispering in a soothing tone as though he is effortlessly, consoling a small sleeping child in the midst of a dream. Instead, he is whispering sweet nothings, while he attentively reaches out, and with his free pale and lean, but at the same time strong hand without thinking and together with a slight intake of breath. Once again, glancing at his expensive platinum Rolex wristwatch, that is real and definitely not a fake or a knockoff purchased on a street corner. Illuminating dazzlingly in the dark, where it is now exposed a little from its hiding place under the cuff of his blue suit jacket, counting down every precious minutes they have like this. The smooth metal of his silver wedding band shining brightly in the synthetic amber glow of darkness from the streetlights, dotted along the street a small but significant symbol of their unity. Faintly, delicately, and tenderly, in the company of a small but perfectly placed affectionate smile as well as a tender lover’s touch, he brushes the loose soft golden-brown strands away from her face to tuck the auburn strand of her hair behind her ear gently letting him see her face once more. At that moment, he moves his head to the side slightly, it causes his dark brown fringe to fall into his eyes, hiding his intense eyes, and causing a small tickle upon his cheeks, however he ignores it and carries on enjoying the ambiance his caress generates in him touching her within the indistinguishable manner in return.



He suddenly shifts his crystalline eyes and steals a glance at the cabs window just beside them, watching their dim reflection in the glass, even as rain is hammering hard against it. To anyone looking inside in, they look like an ordinary young couple, holding hands, cuddling each other, just on their way back to home from a weekend break, much like the couples you see in movies, and that can be said in some ways. From the look in his eyes, you can notice how there is definitely chemistry, undying affection between them, but all is not perfect, and also there seems to be some tension and a certain amount of underlying sadness too between the two of them. However, they are far from ordinary, neither one of them know how tonight is going to change their lives forever.



When the fingers of his other hand, that were resting on her upper arm lightly trails down the curve of her face, sliding with care down her arm, stroking her arm soothingly. She tenses a little and recoils her breathing hitching a bit as well as her face looks troubled, before shrugging him away as if in fright trying to pull her other hand out of his grip. His hand hovers in the air for a moment, before he drops it softly to his side carefully making sure it is not near her enough to scare her. Afterwards though, when the moment of freezing panic passes, she appears to start subtly relax against him again enjoying the warmth of his chest, he feels as though his heart aches so much, it feels as though it is going to split in two any minute in the overwhelming desire and sorrow, that seeing her like this does to him. He then reaches up again; he manages to continue where he left off. Even while he is watching her with sorrowful, despondent, and haunting eyes, taking in her now returned easy breathing, and he yawns quietly as he is exhausted himself. At that moment she simultaneously does too, and shifts closer to him like a child’s comforting Teddy bear, or a blanky, demonstrating just how obviously weary and emotionally drained they are both from the day’s events.



The driver a man who was a lively perpetually chatty black guy when they first entered the cab, with a shaved head, medium build, and without doubt has a gun under his seat. Is now unquestionably in necessitate of stress management skills and appears to be 10 second from an absolute WMD chemical meltdown, simply easier to find than the real things that the government obviously knew were hiding. So lock on target, and hold your positions, this could blow any second. He is frustrated, exasperated and keeps yelling at the other drivers who are cutting him up as he speeds up, attempting to get to the airport on time, when the couple only has 10 minutes until check in. The background noise of the windscreen wipers set to maximum is not helping the matter, and they are still laboring to clear the deluge from his vision, sounding more like a squeegee rather than their intended use, making a horrendous squeaking noise, as the rubber of wiper passes across the window.



Jackson is, sitting in the back of the cab and still holding a dozing Lisa in his arms, furrowing his brow, giving the impression he is aggravated along with the small but noticeable tremor in the muscle of his left cheek and he squeezes the woman’s hand to stop himself. Wanting so badly to holler at the driver, for being of no use and quite frankly is getting on his last nerve. So instead, he keeps a stoic professional mask on his face, and glares at him up at the rearview mirror from time to time letting his eyes say it all, as he’s briefly imagining the best way to kill him. Dangling and swinging as if it is a metronome, indicating the tempo and aural of the man’s outburst from the windscreen mirror, hangs a cheap plastic imitation gold cross, decorated with cheap looking beads. This rather seems ironic why he has it there, since his screaming profanities left right and centre. When he is just about to give him another one of his famous death stares, barely at that moment, his cell phone starts to vibrate softly against his hip much to his surprise.



Without looking, and still staring sharp daggers at the drivers head, letting his intense blue eyes do all the work in a state of quiet, seething frustration, his hand unhooks it carefully from the expensive Italian black leather belt it’s attached to. Flipping it open in one effortless practiced flick of his thumb, he checks the flashing I.D, rolling his eyes when he brings the phone up to his face remembering what he told them “I told you not to call me before-”. Before he answers and lets out an exasperated sigh…never mind, he reasons knowing he isn’t expecting any calls at the moment, seeing that he’s too tired and has far more important things to worry about, like the woman next to him to talk to anyone at the moment. As soon as he answers though, it sounds in the same way as he is dispassionate, but it is simply for the reason that he is tired. Almost immediately, he is reminded of the importance of the call in a few concise words from the voice on the other end of the line, and the uninterested, exhausted, exasperated, and his slightly dissatisfied tone instantly vanishes, and is rapidly replaced with his voice softening and then subtly sighing. He commences, on bombarding the person on the other end of the phone, with specifically articulated questions. The man has clearly deals with these kinds of calls on a regular basis; even listening carefully. He moves his right arm a little, brushing her forehead slightly with the material of his jacket, at the same time as he is talking softly, and then being deft, so not to wake the sleeping woman beside him, he begins to smooth her hair soothingly. Delicately playing with the ends, between his long thin fingers, and he lightly twirls a strand of curl around his index finger while watching her out of his peripheral vision.



Lisa leans into him even closer, enjoying the feeling he is giving her, just from that one action. Nuzzling into his chest, and mumbling incoherently, he can hear some of what she is saying something about shoes being in the toaster, making him smile as he tries to stay on the conversation and not drifting his attention to the woman in his arms while his fingers are still tangled in her hair.



Simultaneously out of the blue Lisa’s cell phone rings in her bag, jerking her violently awake with its ferocious vibrating, she stirs opening her big olive limpid eyes, the man next to her being nudged slightly too from the action, and she starts mumbling curses incoherently under her breathe. Her fingers gently brushes his, before running a hand groggily through her disheveled hair slowly, rubbing the sleepiness away, as she thinks of being torn so abruptly from his arms, and suddenly the cab felt cold and uncomfortable again. Even as she’s delving down into the depths of her leather bag, her hand passes through everything you’d expect a mother to have and more, but the kitchen sink. When she reaches her hand onto the cold metal can of pepper spray, she automatically picks up the just as cold, cell phone next to it in her palm and almost drops it because of the coldness, from the bottom. Bringing the screen to her eye line, when she looks down, and checks the blue illumination glow flashing, the large, black bold lettering of the I.D, blinking and vibrating with determination infront of her eyes, she finds out it’s her father.



She on top of that, when she opens up the phone, notices in a tiny box at the bottom, that there are at least 5 missed calls and she smiles wearily. Slightly aware he’s probably ringing updating her like his a rolling news bulletin with things she already knows which are being repeated and each time he does sounding more and more dramatic than the updates really is. On the other hand, she is not expecting an unexpected development, which will interrupt the broadcast and state, whether the terror alert in Florida area, has turned to red or is still ticking along nicely on amber. She then clears that little thought from her mind, and concentrates contemplating on the subject of what she ought to tell him, her mind meaning it a consolation, reminding her that in a little while, they will be getting their normal life back, and decides to go with the almost-truth and after reassuring him, that everything was all right. Even though all she feels, is never-ending grief, however she can tell him everything later, refraining herself from voicing these thoughts, she then unexpectedly feels her thumb pressing the Talk button her heart almost spilling out at the words she wants to say already.



Whilst the man has intuitively moved away slightly, sensing that he needs to give her some space and knowing specifically who is on the other end of the line, but she can even now feel his warmth.



Jackson is still talking on his phone only a little louder now, as the brunette haired woman’s deep big green eyes takes fleeting look over at him. He turns too, suddenly feeling her eyes on him, with green eyes, and blue eyes naturally meeting each other in that instinctively possessive way, which occurs when you have been a couple for a extensive amount of time. They mutually in an natural unison exchange, apologetic smiles afterwards both of them look away, carrying on in the midst of their phone conversations, his whole body is still trembling from both her nearness and the warmth she is producing, and he’s having trouble keeping his mind on the conversation.



Catching a momentary look over again at her dark haired, blue-eyed husband, her loving friend, lover, and soul mate of 8 years, who from the look of him, has a little smile on his face even though she knows he’s pissed with the driver, one of the many smiles she loves from him. While he discusses on the phone, she pretends she is not trying to eavesdrop in on the conversation his having, and only catching one or two words. Presuming that it’s either his manager or an associate of his team, and subsequently shifts her gaze once more out of the window and concentrates instead absent-mindedly at the heavy rain pouring outside. Along with the flickering streetlights, that illuminate the raindrops in an attempt to drop heavily on the windows reflecting the light and looking like teardrops, ones that she would like to shed out her frustrations herself. Being wholeheartedly thankful that the weather held for this morning, and the downpour along with the freakish storm had only started when they got into the cab, she concentrates on the road trying to pay attention to all too familiar voice you catch her name Lisa.



While her father carries on with his uncompromising talking, and she continues to nod along answering automatically with the standard yes and no replies, whilst lightly chuckling back. She thinks about her father Joe Reisert, the ever-perturbing obsessive protective father, and grandfather, even at the age of 34, and married for 8 years, with three children, he is fretful about her trying his hardest, not to sound too frantic everytime he rings her on the phone. Even though they only live 2 doors down, and visits them every day, he likes to makes a lot of calls…checking in at work and with his adult children and young grandchildren, knowing she is the first on his speed dial. Don’t get her wrong, she loves her father, she genuinely does, except he just worries a little too much about them sometimes It’s worse now that he is retired, he has more time to worry about her, and she always fears that one day his going to give himself a heart attack. He always worries so much about her, too much in fact, and she never lets him in, she hates his worrying because it makes her seem weak and she refuses to think of herself as weak, as if she is someone for him to be concerned for.



She has always prided in herself and well known for being an independent, strong, practical, patient, no-nonsense, and straight-to-the-point kind of woman, full-time freelance manager, and a mother of 3 wonderful but energetic children. Who is exceedingly good at her job and being a mother, she throws herself into her work enthusiastically, and does not take any shit from anybody well that is unless; of course, these are the offensive, malicious, hypocritical customers with the most idiosyncratic and astonishing requests and complaints you would never believe. At the Lux Atlantic Hotel, an upscale, high-class hotel, that is located, near the waterfront in Miami and has beautiful views of the ocean. Even then, there are limits, she likes to imagine that she can tell them to stick their comments on the comment card and stick them up their asses, except corporate have a different initiative to hers that is tending to their every need and encourage them more.



“Hey dad, how are you and the girls tonight?” She enquires with an enormous smile on her face, which could brighten up the whole east coast. She has missed them the entire weekend whilst they were away, and she has been looking forward to getting back to Miami, along with going to the beach with them.



Once they are off the forthcoming flight, unpacked, rested for all but 5 minutes, and had some coffee and pancakes made by the girls, who are completely covered in the mixture. As she and Jackson have a rare day off, which she knows half of it will be used to clean the kitchen, and their daughters. Her mind then is questioning what the house looks like already, it could be either 2 options a scene from a disaster movie, or one of those documentaries on TV that shows how some people leave their houses and apartments and are in desperate need to be industrially cleaned. That she guesses in this case it is probably a mixture of both. Even as she smiles and asks the obvious and inevitable question, any mother will ask, even if their children are perfect little angels, which cannot be possible.



“They didn’t cause you too much trouble did they?” Lisa smiles as she asks the slightly, quiet, chipper voice on the other end of the phone. She knows her husband is listening and he can hear what the voice through the phones saying, because he is also wondering the same question in his mind, and is equally, as eager as her to see them again.




In the early quiet and peaceful hours and the warm and humid climes of suburban Miami Florida, Joe Reisert an older man with a craggy face in the company of more frown lines than smile lines, looking as though his in needs of sleep. He stands by a white door in the ivory decorated walls of the upstairs hallway very still and cautiously, so not to wake his grandchildren from their much-needed sleep, while underneath one of his arms holding a cream woven wooden basket in his arms, and the other holding the plastic block of the phone. Appreciatively with fatherly concern, he smiles at the sound of his daughter’s voice as he talks to her, causing the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth to become more prominent. Although you cannot be sure as dark brown and whiskers of white facial hair, obstruct them, while under his glasses with dark brown knowing intelligent eyes shine proudly.



“No Sweetie they’ve been fine.” He says with a sigh and a slight little gruff sounding laugh with his deep intonation, she is continuously asking him that question and every time it makes him smile. Of course, when it comes to Lisa Rippner formally known as and will always be a Reisert is a complicated and unusual daughter, mother, and wife, on the contrary she never falters, especially when answering his phone calls.



When he opens the door quietly, letting in some of the harsh glaring hallway light, flood into the relaxed room, and he peeks at his youngest granddaughter hoping he hasn’t woken her, that smile on his face grows wider, which additionally includes a look of relief in his eyes. The little girl who is thankfully, still sound asleep curled up in an adorable little ball in her soft and comfortable bed, under the sweet pastel butterfly duvet set, her little wrinkled nose and closed eyes barely visible, he knows she is clutching her white bunny, chewing and sucking on her bunny ears. At the same time, he can hear her in the quietness and stillness of the room, her little mumblings to herself, so much like her mother. She looks similar to a small little baby mouse curled up in straw and other materials and seeking warms during the hibernating months of the blistering cold winter curled up next to her doing the same is a tiny little ginger striped kitten called Marmalade her companion in her own little secret world.



As he carefully places a small gentle kiss on her, soft cheek and caresses her long silky, shiny auburn curls smiling, smelling the sweet mixture of the talc and shampoo combined into a wonderful scent that causes him to reflect back to his daughter at that age.



He wonders if she enjoyed her outing to the park with him and her sisters this afternoon, as it was such a beautiful day outside and she looked so contented playing with her friend quietly, her interactions so careful and caring. He knows she has missed them incredibly this weekend, and probably would preferably want her mommy and daddy right now as a substitute of grandpa. Nevertheless, they will be coming home soon, where she will be playing on the beach with her older sisters and with a bit of luck, helping them saturate daddy in the sea.



The room is painted in a light pastel yellow, the wall with the bed painted with butterflies fluttering in a small group in cream and light pink, while beautifully decorated butterflies suspend from the ceiling are spiraling around their wings flutter causing a slight whooshing sound, and a slight cooling breeze from the window being opened a little. Underneath them is her sheeted tent, which is made of all differently multicolored decorated designed layered sheets that has a small mattress inside with sides so that she won’t roll out onto the floor at some point during the night. Even as her night light of twinkling stars are floating across the walls producing a dreamy ambiance, you could describe it as a little girl’s dream bedroom. He huskily whispers quietly into the receiver, trying his hardest not to wake the sleeping child occupying the bed. He can practically see Lisa smiling as she spoke, her large emerald eyes lighting up and her smile curling her lips up. “Their fine honey, their fast asleep at the moment. And I’m fine honey, just pottering around while it’s quiet.”



He takes a cautious seat on the end of the little girl’s bed the duvet providing the soft cushioning his needs for a soft landing, as he is organizing through the laundry and putting the tiny clothing into piles delicately next to him to put away. He is struggling not to pry, not to sound too overly protective and worried, he knows the constant overprotective father thing he has going on has always annoyed her even in high school. Nevertheless, can she actually blame him she is his only daughter after all, and he knows Jackson and her will be the same with their daughters it was only natural. As far as he is concerned, things were never simple; at least not anymore, the family has been through so much, they have been emotionally and physically distressed and he just wants to see them happy, but life does not always deal you a full house and let you walk away with the poker chips.



He is still stunned by the amount that she has accomplished at her age, but another part of him is more stunned at how things have turned out for her. Working sometimes-long hours when she is needed, being married for 8 years and a fantastic mother to 3 little girls, which of course limits socializing, and alone time with her husband to enjoy one another’s company, and now this.



Are you both okay?” He asks trying not to sound worried, turning to take another quick peek at his little granddaughter still in her peaceful slumber, before turning his attention back to his little girl. Sure to say, the ever so worried father Joe Reisert has little control over helping his daughter and son in law, but he always continues to hope that one day, their lives will be simple again, as it was before.



Thanks for reading my first chapter; I hope you enjoyed it so far. Please review, and tell me if it’s crap or the characters are a little OOC or whatever you think, because I am definitely not sure myself. I also hope that it doesn’t sound like anybody else stories, and if it does I am very sorry I don’t mean it to.


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