#and of course same day garage visits are next to impossible

[catzgam3rz]

Somebody out there is twisting fate so I can’t get into work and I would like them very much to STOP PLEASE

[lambourngb]

a skeleton of something more [3/7]

previously here. malex wip based on the trailer for season 3, some spoilers and my own speculation. I’m failing at the daily serial because keeping to 2K is impossible, but hoping to have it finished by next week.

Warnings: NSFW content, not forrest long friendly

*** NOW **** 

Alex shut off the streaming hot water reluctantly, and shifted back on the new shower bench to lean his head against the tile. 

His fingertips were pruned from the long shower, his attempt at using the scalding water to try to wash away the dirt he felt covered in after being away from Roswell for so long. Pointless endeavour, when he knew the filth was more than skin deep at this point. It was in his bones. It was in his blood, the way the Manes name still opened the worst doors. Alex touched the corners of his smile with his hands, looking for the edge of the mask he wore around Deep Sky and finding only the bristle of his beard growing in, a very late five o’clock shadow.

The steam of the shower was slowly fading, bringing back the visual details of his naked body. His stump was slightly swollen, the marks of wearing his prosthesis for too long, but it was hard to feel safe without it on, doing the work he was doing around even more paranoid men than he was. Three years past his injury, the scars were still ugly to his eyes as he cupped his fingers over the end of his right leg, but time had faded the lines from an angry red to a wizened white. 

Alex hoped that time would do the same to his soul. 

He moved his hand from his stump, over to his thighs to stretch the lingering soreness from his legs. He ignored where his cock laid, half-full of blood from the simple pleasure of a hot shower; the desire to let himself feel good was far from his mind. Instead he focused on returning functionality to his body after the long, cramped ride on that bus. That was the physical challenge, the emotional one would be trickier. 

It helped that he knew Michael was still there, in his house, probably fixing something else that had been neglected during Alex’s time away. Finding something that was broken or damaged, and then making it whole just with his touch, that was what Michael did naturally. Alex was no exception to that.

Every muscle was loose finally, thanks to the improved water pressure beating on the knots of tension until they turned into putty. Beyond the simple improvement of the plumbing, Michael had also relocated the shower taps to the wall next to the bench, so he could sit safely and turn on the water without balancing on one foot in the front of the stall. 

New grab bars lined the bathroom walls as well. Alex had worried about the expense until he recognized the chrome and black rails from the boxes he had bought a while ago, before shuttling them off to the garage. Michael had apparently found the abandoned project and had finished it for him. The longer the trips he made away from Roswell were, the more involved the upgrades Michael made in his absence. He would need to prepare a cover story in case Forrest noticed the changes, a renovated bathroom went far beyond changing out bulbs in a light fixture.

He was getting closer to ending the sham relationship with Forrest, but he wasn’t there quite yet. His first night back in Roswell he had managed to steer Forrest away from his house and more importantly, his bed, but that was only a temporary reprieve. Tomorrow it would all begin again, playing the role of a grieving son looking to ‘understand’ his father, docilely following Forrest’s lead in ‘discovering’ the alien threat, letting the other man comfort him, but this time, that would all happen in front of Michael. 

Michael knocked on the half-open bathroom door to get his attention, before stepping inside carrying a bath towel. “Are you still alive in there?”

“I am, but I want to marry this shower,” and you, he finished silently. Michael looked pleased by the comment as he stood outside the glass doors, waiting patiently as Alex pulled himself up from the bench and carefully hopped toward him. As he drew closer, the proud expression changed to one of open hunger as Michael took in his nakedness, cataloging the changes on his body. Downtime while he had been away from Roswell had often been filled with trips to the gym, exercising to work through his frustration at the slow pace of developments regarding Deep Sky. Weight lifting and core training had kept his hands away from his phone when the desire to check in with Michael took hold.

There was only so many times he could pass off a call to Michael about his mail or paying a bill for his house.

Alex held out his hand for the towel, while Michael stared at him, his gaze almost physical as he lingered over the swells of muscle. He snapped his fingers at Michael to break the hypnosis.

At the sound, Michael blinked, but then avoided his hand to wrap the towel around Alex himself. Warmth from the soft linen enveloped Alex, a sign the towel was fresh from the drier. He closed his eyes under Michael’s safe hold, enjoying the blatant pampering as Michael gently patted Alex’s wet skin dry. “I don’t mind sharing you with the shower, especially if it means you’re not wearing clothes,” he murmured in Alex’s ear, nosing the lock of wet hair away.

Shivering under the ghost of Michael’s lips, Alex felt something start to knit and heal inside him, blanketed by more than just the towel. Love. Feeling more like himself, Alex teased Michael back, “You could have joined me.”

“It was tempting, very tempting, but then who would have made dinner if I had taken you up on that offer?” Michael tucked the towel around Alex, and then offered his arm as a support while Alex hopped toward the pile of folded sweats to wear. 

“I have a lot of appetites, Michael, food is barely in the top five. And I can eat later, after you leave,-” Alex held his clothes in his hand, not moving to get dressed just yet. 

“You can, but you won’t eat. As soon as I walk out that door, I know you’re going to park yourself in front of your computer and spend the rest of the night hacking, just like you’ve done nearly every night since this started.” Michael waited with a raised eyebrow for Alex to deny it. 

Caught by both the frustration that Michael was right and by the ticking clock in his head that counted down the end of this precious time together, Alex conceded. He pulled his sweatshirt down over his head grumpily, “I didn’t spend every night hacking.”

“Just the nights when you weren’t with Forrest Long.” Michael said it quietly, turning away to hang up the wet towel. 

Alex tucked his crutches under his arms, before reaching out to catch Michael’s shoulder. “Hey, it doesn’t mean anything, you know that, right? It’s just…friction.” He studied Michael’s face, worried that perhaps his patience with everything was wearing thin. 

Over the last year, as he moved deeper and deeper into the circle of men that made up Deep Sky, Michael had been his lifeline to his real identity. A voice on the line, late at night, warm and beloved, reminding Alex what was important and keeping him grounded. During the day, his resolve had felt less certain. He had forced himself to echo the words of Jesse Manes to curry favor, ducking his reflection in the mirror when the hateful words started to come easier and easier to him. Then there was the feeling he had, when he had to accept Forrest’s offers to visit him in Los Alamos, the way he had felt weirdly relieved to see a familiar face, even if it was someone he couldn’t trust. 

Hearing Michael’s voice led him back to himself, and then little by little, the updates were less mission-related and more personal. It had led them back to each other. By the second month, Michael had stopped dancing around things, admitting to Alex just how much he missed him and by the third month, Alex was slipping away to meet with him at half-way destinations to seal his words with actions.

It was reminiscent of his early days in the Air Force, finding Michael in out-of-the-way places where no one knew them. Back then, Alex had DADT and military physicals to dodge. Michael had to take care in leaving no marks on Alex’s body, while Alex had had no such restriction. Michael would leave those encounters, mauled with love bites and fucked thoroughly, while Alex stayed as pristine as his neatly pressed uniform. Eleven, twelve years on, the need for discretion had changed, from the military to Forrest Long. 

That was the elephant in the room. Alex was still having sex with Forrest, mostly when he couldn’t avoid it with a trip out of town, like when he accompanied Forrest to Deep Sky owned properties. It was just friction, putting his body in motion to do a job, much like he had when he had deployed abroad. He had lost any amount of shame for what he was doing to the other man after the first time, when he had found a detailed write-up about his own visit to the Long Farm that Forrest had filed and sent to the mysterious leader of Deep Sky.

“I know.” Michael replied, his smile weak but real as Alex brought him closer for a slow, thorough kiss. 

Alex inhaled the scent of rain into his nose as Michael melted in his arms and the kiss deepened between them. This was the opposite of friction, as they slid easily together in the doorway of the bathroom, until Alex’s stomach betrayed him thoroughly and growled. Michael broke away with a laugh, and Alex noted with relief that his earlier fragility had completely vanished from his eyes, as he headed toward the kitchen, “Come on, I made you your favorite for dinner, spicy tomato soup.”

“With strips of cheese toast?”

Michael looked offended at the question. “Of course.”

That was proof that Michael had been listening to him closely during their late night conversations, the way the subject migrated from business to the personal, until Alex had flat out whined over how terrible the food was at one of the Deep Sky outfits. “Forget looking for aliens, they should look for a new chef.”  And then they were off and running about comfort food, with Michael sharing his fondness for canned spaghettios, they tasted fine cold. Sharing his own fond memory from childhood of his mother making soup as a rare show of maternal care. Melted cheese dripped over cut up toast, then dipped in the tomato soup.

The clock was still ticking in his head, counting down the end of this brief interlude of happiness. Alex laid back on his couch with a tray of soup on his lap and tried to soak in every minute. The thrill of sharing a meal together, sitting side by side on his couch with the evening news droning on in the background. It was a type of domesticity that he never thought he had wanted until Michael. His thoughts turned away from the wholesome toward the carnal as he watched Michael pucker his lips together to blow on the steaming bowl. 

The food was delicious, but that was a distracting sight for anyone, let alone someone who knew just what Michael’s mouth was capable of doing. 

Michael flashed a wicked smile when he caught Alex staring, picking up his strip of toast to dip in his soup and then licked it indecently clean. The perfect bow of his mouth around his food, his tongue chasing his lips for every drop of spilled soup had Alex shifting on the couch. The production lasted until Michael hit a hot place in his bowl, squeaking in shock, sending Alex into a peal of laughter at the affronted look on his face.

“Fuck, that’s hot!”

“Yes it was.”

“Asshole, I meant the soup!”

Alex laughed long and hard, his head tipped back against the couch, and after a moment, Michael joined him. Tears came to his eyes, the laughter set off each time they looked at each other. There was a point, where Alex realized he couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed like that, at least not in the last year outside of talking to Michael on the phone. 

It was worth it. All of it. Infiltrating Deep Sky, spending half of his time around people who would cheerfully murder an alien, even using sex to get information, the price was not too steep to pay if it meant he could protect this moment, preserve it and repeat it forever. To see laugh lines around Michael’s mouth, instead of the press of fear, he would fuck the Devil himself if it meant Michael was safe.

He slowly sobered on the couch, his laughter gone at the thought of losing this. Michael placed their empty dishes in the kitchen and then drew Alex’s foot into his lap to rub. “I can practically see the gears turning now. Relax, okay? Watching the clock doesn’t help.”

“I know,” Alex agreed quietly, pressing his foot into Michael’s grip. “I’m feeling a little guilty here, with all this pampering.” 

Michael dug his thumbs into Alex’s instep, drawing a loud groan of appreciation as he worked on releasing the knots of stress. Too much time in combat boots, the calluses were thick and tough under Michael’s hands but he kept rubbing regardless. 

“If that guilt motivates you into taking better care of yourself-”

“I know, I am trying. But what about you?” Alex gestured toward Michael’s face with his own look of judgment, “are you sleeping enough? Eating enough?”

“I’m also trying. It will be better once this is over. Once you get to meet the head of Deep Sky, and hack him, we’ll both sleep better.”

“If it’s ever over. I’m starting to think the leader of Deep Sky is like the Dread Pirate Roberts.”

Instead of pulling on the threads of pessimism, Michael tugged on Alex’s ankle as he crawled closer to him on the couch. As a subject change, it was a welcome one to Alex. Why dwell on the future, it was better to enjoy the present. Michael’s hands smoothed over the soft fleece of the sweatpants, sending a thrill of excitement through Alex. He slipped down on the seat to allow Michael room. 

“Is it okay to pamper you a little more?” Michael asked, his eyes dark as his fingers slipped inside the waistband of Alex’s sweats. He teased at the taut muscles, stroking his fingers over the soft rasp of hair trailing downward. 

“What did you have in mind?” 

“When’s the last time someone’s sucked this big dick of yours?”

There was a dark hint of teasing in Michael’s voice, he was daring Alex to say a name. Forrest’s name. It was the type of playful provocation they could use with each other now, safely, the result of their late night phone calls to each other. When time was valued, what was the point of secrets between them? 

Alex licked his lips absently, giving Michael a thorough head to toe look of consideration, before answering honestly, “It was in Santa Fe. At the Silver Saddle Motel. A very hot cowboy sucked me until I was hard, and then rode my dick all night long.” 

Michael blinked, not expecting that answer, but pinked in pleasure. “Oh…well then, you’ve been deprived because that was months ago.” He pulled down on Alex’s sweats, letting the band of elastic tuck neatly under his balls and sat back to admire the view. Alex shifted under his eyes, his cock straining upward as Michael bent his head down. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, he’s a short guy, all of this probably doesn’t fit in his mouth,” Michael commented, wrapping his palm around Alex’s cock firmly.

“Yeah,” Alex gasped, hitching up into Michael’s grip, “small mouth, it’s hard to even kiss, impossible to fuck-” His voice gave out as Michael licked the bead of pre-cum with tip of his tongue before stretching his mouth wide. There was a way that Michael approached cock-sucking that Alex could never get over. The look of hunger and that deep breath he always took, as if he had to hold himself back to keep from gorging himself on Alex’s cock. 

Alex had been deprived. Very deprived.

Slowly Michael slid his lips down on Alex’s cock, taking him deep into his mouth. His tongue, warm and firm, dragged downward. Alex cried out in pleasure, it felt so good, his hips rocking upward imperceptibly as his iron-strong control was rocked by Michael. He kept his eyes trained on Michael’s mouth, the reddening stretch of his lips wrapped tightly around his cock. Michael looked up, catching his eye and then bobbed his mouth downward.

Reaching downward, Alex placed his hand against Michael’s jaw and traced his thumb around the edge of his mouth. “So good, you take me so well, Michael.”

The praise had Michael blinking in pleasure before he redoubled his efforts in sucking. Alex gasped again, sinking deeper into Michael’s throat until his lips were kissing the sparse hair, down to the root. Fuck. He was ready to come already. Worse than the clock sweeping toward the end of the evening, was his body ready to end it now.

��Close, I’m gonna-” Alex warned, his hands going to Michael’s shoulders. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull Michael off of him, or keep Michael in place to feed him his cock in case he backed away as Alex teetered on the edge of orgasm. His grip clutched uselessly on him, but Michael showed no signs of stopping his efforts. 

Kicking at the couch cushion, he lost the fight to hold back, as he felt his cock hit the back of Michael’s throat. There was a tightening around him, throat muscles working hard to swallow, and then Michael wrapped his hand back around the base of Alex’s cock to stroke him in time with his sucking. His free hand gently squeezed Alex, before rubbing a knuckle along the seam of his balls to his perineum. The outside touch against his prostate was enough to have Alex coming hard down Michael’s throat.

God it was so good. Michael knew every place to touch him. He knew to keep his mouth on Alex as he came, swallowing his release sloppily, until come and saliva leaked from his lips. It was over far too fast, but Michael held on until Alex felt the tears of overstimulation burn in his eyes. Slowly Michael softened his lips, letting Alex’s spent cock slip lazily from his messy mouth and then met Alex’s gaze with a knowing glint.

Michael knew exactly how depraved he looked. 

It was too soon to get hard again, but Alex felt the twinge of it as he stared at Michael. His hands were greedy, cupping Michael’s face between them before wiping up the spill from Michael’s lips with his thumb. Two could play at that game, he thought as he brought it to his mouth. 

“Fuck,” Michael swore softly, “Look at you, tasting yourself.”

“I’d rather taste you,” Alex patted the couch he was laying down on and straightened his disheveled sweatpants. “Take off those jeans and wrap those great thighs of yours around my head and let me suck you.”

“Actually, I’d rather take you to bed.”

Alex glanced at the clock behind Michael. It was close to midnight. He knew based on experience that Forrest would be by in the morning with coffee, before Alex was fully awake. It was a transparent way of trying to catch him off guard, to see if Alex would slip up with news about Michael, or any other alien. After every short trip back to Roswell, the other man had made sure to find an excuse to be in Alex’s house. 

“I know I can’t stay, but I don’t want to leave.”

“I never want you to leave either.” Alex chewed on his lower lip, as Michael waited. Sensing his advantage, he tilted his head seductively, spilling his curls over one eye and then made a transparent pleading face at Alex. Laughing, Alex conceded, “Okay, okay, you can stay for a little while. Help me to bed, and set an alarm.”

*** 

[justgillespie]

Missing (4/?)

Summary: Your next door neighbor, Luke Patterson (a.k.a. your longtime crush) has gone missing, and you think you could help finding him.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: None!

Part 5

•

As soon as you both finished eating, she took you to his room.

It felt weird to you to see the rest of the room you couldn’t visualize from your window. You could finally see some furniture and more posters.

“I promise I won’t go off limits, Mrs. Patterson.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry. As I said, this is a pretty special situation. Just call me if you need anything.”

That took you off guard. You didn’t actually think she would leave you by yourself.

“Thank you, again.” You said before she left.

You looked around for a moment, and giggled.

You couldn’t believe you were there. You made it.

You looked at your window room from there, and couldn’t help but think that just a few hours ago, you were there trying to figure out how to get to Luke’s room. Max would not believe this.

You started going through some notebooks found on a desk. Maybe one of those had some information about the band. But you didn’t find anything relevant. If there was something, you couldn’t really tell. He had horrible handwriting. You did notice signatures from the other band members. Mostly Alex and Reggie’s, but nothing else.

You moved on to check the desk drawers. You found a polaroid picture. He was there, with three other boys.

You opened your eyes wide. The band. They had to be the rest of the band. Of course, you didn’t know for sure, but you had a good feeling. You grabbed the picture. You would ask Mrs. Patterson if you could take it with you.

You then stood in front of his closet, thinking whether or not to go through it too. You decided to open it and give it a quick glance. Not touching anything, just looking at it.

And so you did.

You opened it and noticed that it was practically empty. A couple of jackets were hanging inside and a single flannel shirt. But you thought it was impossible for him to take every piece of clothing he owned. If he ran away on his bike, as his mom told yours, than he must’ve taken a simple backpack with him. Something easy to carry.

Just to take away the doubt, you checked the drawers and indeed, there were several shirts and pants in there, perfectly folded. You closed those and finally went up to that one poster you were so familiar with at this point. But there really wasn’t any more information besides the band’s name.

You then checked his night stand and, besides a lamp, the only thing that you found was a guitar pick. It was white, and it had the letters SC written on black. You took it and then, giving the room a last look, you left to meet Mrs. Patterson in the living room. You showed her the polaroid you found and told her that you suspected they could be Luke’s bandmates. You asked if you could take it and she said yes.

“I also found this guitar pick? I think he might’ve forgotten when he... left. I just thought that maybe I could take it with me just so when I find him I can give it back.”

You noticed the conviction in your voice, and by the sweet smile Mrs. Patterson gave you, you could tell she did too.

“Of course. Take it.”

“Thank you.”

Before leaving, you and Emily ate a couple of the cookies she baked while you were up in Luke’s room.

“Take care.” You said to her on the door, when she gave you a hug.

“You too, sweetie.”

“I promise to come visit you more often.”

“I’ll be waiting for you. I repeat, you’re always welcome.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you, too.” You both released from the hug and you were already walking away when she called you again.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You turned to see her.

“You’re a really nice girl. I think you and Luke would get along perfectly.”

•

Tamra got home first, as usual, and she parked her car in the garage. As you thought she would. Which was the reason that made you leave her a note on the fridge. You decided to wait for Max in front of his house, on his steps.

His mom, Mrs. Miers, invited you to come inside but you told her you would just wait for Max there. She tried to convince you otherwise but you insisted, so she asked you to at least accept a glass of lemonade.

You emptied the glass just when Max was arriving.

“Hey! How did it go?” You rapidly got up on your feet and walked to him.

“Well, hello, I’m fine, thanks.” He rolled his eyes.

“Hi. So?!”

He sighed. “I did it. I talked to people... kind of.”

“What do you mean kind of?”

“Well... I asked my friend Ian to do the talking. I went with him, but he was the one doing the questions.”

“But you got information?”

“Yes- Ow!“

You squealed and hugged him, just like you did that morning.

“Hey, calm down, it’s nothing much, really...”

“It doesn’t matter. You got something, I’m so proud of you!”

“Don’t exaggerate.” He rolled his eyes, but smiled.

“I got something too, actually.”

“Let’s go inside.”

Max guided you to his living room, inside his house.

“You go first.” He said and you obeyed, since your information wasn’t much relevant.

“So first of all, I got into Luke’s room.”

“What?! Without asking?!”

“Obviously.” You said sarcastically and rolled your eyes. “Obviously not. I had lunch with Mrs. Patterson at her house today. We were just talking and I asked her if I could go check it out and she said yes... But I didn’t get much. Just this picture... I was wondering if you recognize them.”

He took the polaroid. “Yes! They are the guys. This is Reggie, Alex and Bobby.”

After all these days, you could finally give those names some faces.

“Great! Besides that, there weren’t any other clues. So what about you? What did you find out?”

You decided to not tell him about the guitar pick. It was something you would save for yourself.

“They practice at Bobby’s garage.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“Well... no. Look, we were trying to be subtle since Bobby, Alex and Reggie went to school today. I honestly think they might know where Luke is. But they wouldn’t say anything. Today at school they were called by the principal. We supposed it was to ask them about Luke... My point is, we tried not to ask too personal questions in case they found out what we were doing.”

You wanted to protest but of course, Max had a point. If they were covering Luke, they were going to do anything to keep his location a secret.

“But I thought you guys weren’t classmates. You and the other guys.”

“We aren’t. Ian is. I mean, Ian has french with them.”

You nodded slowly.

“Oh, we also found out Amy’s mom is friends with Alex’s mom? From some pilates class... maybe it was yoga. I don’t know.”

“Amy? Amy our neighbor? That Amy?”

Max chuckled. “Yeah. Amy Campbell. Ian was actually the one who provided me that information. He and Amy’s older brother go to karate together.”

“Tomorrow is Amy’s birthday party! Do you think... Alex might go?”

“I doubt it. As far as Ian told me, Amy and Brandon never actually got to meet Alex... You’re going to Amy’s party?”

“Yeah. I already told her I would. You?”

“I told her I wouldn’t.”

“Max!”

“What? I don’t wanna go. At parties I usually just sit all night, eat and sing if I know the songs.”

“Come on, let’s gooo.” You insisted. “This isn’t a normal party, it’s a pool party!”

“Why do you want me to go? You’ll probably just leave me on my own anyways to talk to the rest.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t play the victim. I’ll drag you with me everywhere okay? Come on, what if Alex shows up after all? We don’t know, this could be good! Even if nothing happens, then it could be fun to distract ourselves for a bit. Please.”

He sighed and stared at you for a second before groaning. “Fine, fine. I’ll go.”

“Yay! I promise it’ll be worth it.”

You then said goodbye and went to your house.

After saying hi to your family, you rapidly went up to your room to get ready for your dance class.

“How was everything today, honey?”

Your mom asked you, later at dinner.

“I called Mrs. Patterson a while ago and she was so happy you went. She told me you two had fun together.”

You smiled. “We did. I’m planning on visiting her more often.”

“That’s a great idea.” She smiled back.

“Do you girls have any plans this weekend?” Your dad asked.

“I actually... Wanted to ask you something.” Tamra asked, and she seemed nervous. Which was rare to see.

“Sure baby, what is it?” Your mom said.

“What do you guys think if I bring Tyler for dinner, on Sunday?”

You heard how your dad dropped his fork and knife on his plate, while your mom clapped and you looked at your sister, surprised.

“Really? Is it that official?” You asked.

“Shut up.”

Tamra never actually brought any of her boyfriends to the house, for some reason. You were the only one that met them since they usually were guys from school. One time, she even dated a guy from your dance studio, who was her age.

This time, though, you never met him. You only knew he existed because she announced it to all of you at dinner once.

“Oh, Tamra! We’re so glad to finally meet him! I am so excited! What should I cook?”

“This counts as a special occasion, so we need dessert. Does he like cheesecake?” You said, excited too.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Dad!”

“David!”

You, Tamra and your mom complained at the same time.

“I’m just saying, honey, aren’t you too young for boyfriends?”

You rolled your eyes. “Dad, she’s eighteen. Leave her alone.”

“Well, she’s still my daughter. I think I have a say on this.”

“We’re discussing this later.” Your mom stopped. She faced you. “What about you, Y/N, do you have any other plans?”

“Actually, yes. Tomorrow is Amy’s birthday party. It’s a pool party. I was wondering if I could go?”

“I don’t see why not.” She looked at your father and he nodded approvingly too.

You clapped. “Perfect! Thank you.”

Later in your room, you took the polaroid and the guitar pick and checked them carefully. You saved them in your night stand before leaving to dance.

Luke was smiling in that picture, just like in any other you had the opportunity to see at his house.

You sighed. You really hoped he was okay.

The idea of Bobby, Alex and Reggie knowing where he is, really made you hopeful.

“Hey” Someone said, entering your room.

You knew it was Tamra way before you looked up to see her. She never knocks, so it was easy to tell when it was her coming to your room.

“Hey” You smiled at her. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I just... I came to tell you what happened.”

After you came up to your room, you knew Tamra stayed longer because your dad wanted to talk to her.

She sat on your bed, next to you.

“What did dad tell you?” You asked.

“Oh, you know. He started with this big speech about growing up, and that I should be careful, and stuff like that. But then he started started being emotional and said that he was afraid of me leaving the house or change my plans for college and other stuff.”

You frowned and then giggled. “He’s so dramatic.”

“I know. I won’t throw away everything I’ve planned for years just for a boy I’ve been dating for two months.”

“Not any boy, I can see.”

She rolled her eyes but blushed. “Anyways, dad also said he was happy for me and that I would always be his baby.” She said like bragging, with a shrug.

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “Childish. Now, tell me, where is this Tyler from, anyways?”

“I met him at The Drop.”

It was a caffe near your dance studio. It had a mini library with books you could read while enjoying any kind of drink or food. You two would go there after class sometimes, or when your classes aren’t too long, she would wait for you there.

“It was a few weeks before we moved. You actually know him. He’s the barista.”

“Wait, that Tyler?! Are you serious?!”

You knew something was going on. He would always give dreamy looks to your sister and would talk different to her. You told her so, every time you noticed but she would just wave it off saying you were just imagining things.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” You said, a little hurt.

“I don’t know. Things were different with him. I was... scared. Of you not liking him, or something.” She admitted. And you knew that was a big deal. Just by the fact that she was showing her vulnerability, (which she barely ever showed to anyone), you knew she felt something strong for this guy.

“Really?” You asked, a little confused and flattered.

“Yeah. I’m actually terrified now. For the dinner. I really want you all to like him.”

“I’m sure we will.” You assured her. “Tamra I’m really, really happy for you.”

She smiled and hugged you. Tamra was almost never affectionate either, but when she was, you really appreciate it.

She stayed a little longer with you and you two chatted for a while until she went to bed and left you alone with the polaroid and the guitar pick again.

You really hoped you could get to something this weekend.

•

Taglist: @ifilwtmfc @sovereignparker @catbcyluke @marvelgirl300 @charlieschickens @kegkingbillyhargrove @differentsoulrascalsalad @imamysticalwitch @viamiasoncrack @sunnyrye

*The ones crossed out are the ones that I wasn’t able to tag! (Sorry!)

[peanutbutterjelly-pie]

Frenzy

Summary: After Sam gets involved in a car accident Dean finds himself in an utter frenzy. Thankfully Cas shows up just at the right time.

Word Count: 1830

Tags: Alternate Universe, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Written for the @writersofdestiel​‘s “The Day They First Met” Prompt Week

It's been five days.

Five days since Dean got the call from the hospital informing him about the car crash his little brother got involved into because some asshole ignored a red light. Five days since he dropped everything and rushed to Sam's side in a hurry, almost ending in an accident on his way there himself 'cause panic and fear nearly blinded him for anything else.

Five days since he got told by doctors that Sam was “in a serious but stable condition”. Five days since he didn't allow himself even a minute of rest.

They left Sam in a coma for the first three days due to his head injuries. Dean sat with him the entire time and actually snarled at people when they tried to bring up things like visitation hours or self care or whatever. He probably would've even forgotten to eat something altogether if the nurses wouldn't have pushed some food and water into his hands from time to time. He just had no time to think about anything else but his baby brother looking so small and vulnerable in that sterile hospital bed.

By the third day they woke him up and even though Sam remained quite loopy for a while he recovered remarkably quickly. At least fast enough to start scolding Dean for not wasting one single thought on himself.

On the fifth day they finally managed to kick him out of the hospital. Dean was, of course, rather reluctant at first, but when the doctors, very rightfully, mentioned that Sam could be out quite soon and would need someone to look out for him in the right environment because someone with a concussion and two broken legs, which would require him to use a wheelchair at least for a little while, needed extra care Dean eventually found himself driving back to his apartment to prepare for that event.

His place might not be all that much, but his complex's got a rather spacious elevator – contrary to Sam's nerdy loft downtown – and his apartment allows enough room at least in the most important spots for Sam to maneuver. Bathroom, guest room, living room. Only the kitchen might be a problem, but since Sam is prone to set an oven on fire just by looking at it Dean isn't really keen on letting him inside that room anyway, no matter the consequences.

So it comes that he's currently changing the sheets in his spare room when the doorbell rings.

Dean is inclined to ignore it at first, so not in the mood to deal with anyone at this point, but the person on the other side of the door is rather persistent and eventually even switches to an impatient knocking, making it absolutely impossible to blend out.

Dean growls and swiftly opens the door, more than determined to let out all the frustration and anger from the last few days on the person in the hallway because he's just classy like that.

But the words die in his throat as he sees himself face to face with Cas.

“Cas?” he croaks, so overwhelmed by the expected sight of his best friend he doesn't even know how to cope.

“You tried to ignore me, didn't you?” Cas narrows his eyes before pushing himself inside, suitcase right behind him. “You're getting way too predictable.”

Dean simply stares after him in a daze, wondering if he's dreaming or not.

“Aren't you supposed to be in Alaska?” he blurts out in the end.

Cas casually parks his suitcase in the hall before walking to the living room. “I was, yes. And now I'm here.”

For a moment Dean gapes at the luggage, frozen on the spot, and eventually follows his friend. “Did you just come right from the airport or do you intend to move in here?”

Cas' lips curl upwards. “Both.”

Dean blinks in confusion. “What?”

Cas sits down on the couch and pats the spot next to him in invitation. Dean considers refusing at first, to keep some distance between them, but in the end he's utterly helpless against the pull drawing him near this man who became everything to him somewhere along the way.

Not that he ever dared to voice that out loud, though.

“I'm sorry it took me so long to come back home,” Cas says as Dean drops onto the sofa cushions beside him. “I actually wanted to set out the second I heard about Sam, but the whole thing turned way more complicated than I anticipated.”

Dean clears his throat, chiding himself not to say anything stupid. “But … what about your book tour?”

Cas had been touring the US and the better part of Canada for several weeks now. And even though Dean had missed him terribly he's been so happy and proud of Cas' accomplishments. Cas had been rather successful with his writing for quite a while now, but his latest publication went through the roof faster than anyone could've imagined and he became high demand more or less over night. The book tour only one of many things on his tight schedule.

“You weren't supposed to be back for another four weeks,” Dean points out because yes, he kept a close eye on these things. “I don't want you to miss out –”

“Do you really think a book tour would be more important to me than Sam and you?” Cas asks incredulously.

Dean presses his lips into a thin line. “No, of course not,” he hurries to clarify. “But as I told you, Sam's gonna be alright –”

“I can easily reschedule the rest of the tour,” Cas cuts in with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Didn't you hear? I'm a world famous writer now, I can do whatever I want.”

A laugh bursts out of Dean's chest.

The first one in five days.

Damn, how he missed having Cas around.

“So … you wanna move in?” he wonders, nodding at the suitcase in the hallway with a question mark on his face.

“Naturally,” Cas agrees. As if that's the most normal thing in the world. “Sam told me you want him to stay with you until he recovers. And considering your apartment would be very accommodating for a wheelchair that's quite the wise choice, I have to say.”

“So you –”

“I want to stay and help out as well,” Cas says with a shrug. “Don't worry, I'll just take the couch.”

Dean feels something warm blossoming inside his chest and for a moment he's barely able to breathe. Because Cas is wonderful and selfless and if Dean wouldn't be such a chickenshit he would've confessed his freaking love a long time ago.

“Cas, man, I really appreciate it,” Dean answers, his voice a bit shaky. “But – like I said, Sam is getting better – I'll be able to manage it myself –”

“I want to be here for Sam,” Cas insists. “But I also want to be here for you!”

Dean raises his brows.

“Because I know you,” Cas goes on before Dean is even able to come up with a follow-up question. “I mean, just look at you. You seem like you hadn't had a minute of rest since all of this happened.”

Dean grimaces. Of course he's totally right about that, but Dean seriously doesn't want to confirm that. Not with Cas assessing him like that.

So he mumbles, in good old Winchester fashion, “I'm fine …”

Cas instantly rolls his eyes at him. “You're not fine,” he claims. “I talked with Sam, you know? You barely ate or slept, you didn't even think about telling your employees what was happening. You just rushed out of the garage and never returned.”

Dean grimaces.

Right.

He knew he forgot something.

“Shit,” he whispers, rubbing his temples and cursing his past self.

“Well, at least you remembered to call me,” Cas states. “And when he didn't hear from you Benny reached out to me to learn what's going on.” As Dean immediately opens his mouth to dig further about that, Cas adds right away, “Don't worry, I explained everything. He's managing the garage in your absence.”

Dean can't help feeling incredibly guilty all of a sudden. He noticed several messages and missed calls on his phone, some of them from Benny, but he ignored all of them because he didn't have the strength to deal with any of that. Dean squeezes his eyes shut and urges himself to call Benny pretty soon.

“I didn't mean for you to feel bad about this,” Cas apologizes immediately as he notices Dean's expression. “I just wanted to point out that you're a selfless person. And an idiot.”

Dean scowls at that. “Hey!”

“You always go out of your way to take care of anyone else,” Cas continues, a gentle smile on his lips. “You're a natural nurturer, Dean, and that's one of the things I love about you.”

Dean chokes on air at the nonchalant use of such a powerful word and can't help a fierce blush.

“But you're horrible in regards to yourself,” Cas accuses. “Be it either to take a step back to get a little rest or see yourself a patient in the first place. Remember the last time you had the flu? I basically had to chain you to the bed.”

Dean's flush only grows as he recalls Cas actually ending up sitting on top of him to keep him warm and cozy underneath the covers. That memory has a very special place in Dean's mind.

“So I'm here to help you,” Cas summarizes. “To help you not to work yourself to the ground.”

There is another protest forming on Dean's tongue, eager to get out there, but it gets stuck in his throat as Cas' hand suddenly cups his cheek. For a minute or two everything else ceases to exist apart from that soft touch and Dean almost whimpers, it feels so good.

And he doesn't even know how it happens, but just a moment later he finds his head nestled in Cas' lap.

Dean's heart runs wildly, making him go dizzy in the process. But at the same time he feels weirdly relaxed, Cas' familiar smell letting his muscles loosen up all on their own. Like a burden has been lifted from his shoulders.

And when eventually fingers card through his hair, Dean sighs in contentment and knows for sure that nothing could ever feel any better than this.

“Just rest,” Cas whispers. “Let go for a while and recharge your batteries.”

Dean looks up, right into Cas' eyes. They're tender and filled with emotions and Dean realizes he's the luckiest guy on the planet. And if he'd have a bit more energy he'd heave himself upwards and kiss those inviting lips.

As it is right now, though, Dean merely smiles lazily and whispers, “I'm glad you're here,” before drifting off to sleep.

And just before unconsciousness takes over he believes he hears a heartfelt, “I'm not going anywhere.”

[amythecinnabunny]

71 and 100 Julie and Luke

71. Twenty-Four Hours to Live  

100. Accidentally Saving the Day   

You really would like to kill the fandom and me wouldn't you???? I tried so hard to make it jukebox specific but the whole band + Willie are so closely entwined with each other its nearly impossible akxbjsbsbs

So I'm thinking canon-verse? But a year later or less. I think more than a year would get a little awkward as Julie would surpass 17 in a year's time.

All our current problems and issues are resolved by this point. Ray, Carlos and Tia Victoria have met the band. Possibly Carrie too. The Bobby/Trevor debacle is dealt with. Caleb is deslth with (he's not dead(er) he's just keeping to the HGC). Julie and Carrie have since mended their friendship. Jukebox and Williex are official now. Possibly Flarrie too, maybe Kaylie. Maybe Nick/Flynn. Maybe Carricklynn. Maybe Nick/Reggie. Who knows, anything is possible. Julie can see but not touch Willie -- but he others can't see him at all.

The band has made it big by now. They're the latest and greatest. Almost everyone is talking about Julie and the Phantoms. By now, articles and posts refer to them as legends.

Julie's looking at colleges now and it's kinda settling in that Julie's growing up. In a year, she'll be done with high school and going off to college, something the boys never even had the change to do. So that angsty conversation's gonna happen.

But then things start to get weird. Sometimes, Julie will pass through the boys but they won't immediately notice. Or they'll be talking to someone other that Julie and they'll sort of flicker. Not physically or anything its just that to the other person, they're flickering.

Oh yeah, for this, I'm gonna go with the more they play with Julie, the more human-like they get and by the end of the year gap, they're visible full-time, just not always tangible to people other than Julie. They can still do their gimmick cause the whole visible thing is on command. So you can bet your ass Luke vanished on the spot when Ray asked about jukebox.

The strange thing is . . . It's happening with Willie too. Sometimes Willie's hand will go right through Alex's. Sometimes he and Reggie are playing video games with Carlos and then both of them see Reggie flickering and Reggie, of course, doesn't notice

One evening, after a late night gig, Julie and the boys gather on one couch to watch the local 24/7 news together and see them hit the highlights on a recap. The newscaster??? newsreader??? wtf do you call em? anyway the presenter brings them up near midnight and calls them Los Angeles' most beloved legends.

Midnight on the dot, the boys get these circles on their wrists. Like tattoos. A stamp. Just a thick black ring. They're all confused about it and they check Julie's wrist for a ring -- maybe it's a magic band thing? -- but Julie's wrists are free of any black circles.

They're so confused, they spend all night thinking about it. Julie doesn't even sleep. She calls Flynn about it. She calls Carrie about it. She even talks to Carlos until he gets tired. Alex brings Willie over to talk about it. They're all so baffled that they don't notice it changing until dawn-ish.

Willie's the one to notice Alex's. A quarter of the ring is missing. Julie grabs Luke's wrist and compares it to Reggie's before scrambling over each other to put their wrists next to Alex's. All still identical, with about a quarter of it missing.

"It looks like a countdown."

"What happens when it counts down to the end?"

Silence

Willie says he'll ask around the HGC. Yes, Caleb is safe to visit. His ass has been kicked and it's mostly embarrassment that keeps him holed up when he's not performing or practicing.

Reggie shrugs it off, saying he and Carlos have a date with Destiny. Destiny 2, to be specific. Alex also shrugs it aside, he has a Dirty Candy rehearsal to crash and he's not about to miss it. (The running lie is that the boys visit Julie after every gig. Maybe Kayla knows the truth too. Idk it's small details, up to the author that would like to decimate me by writing this)

That leaves Luke and Julie alone together. Julie can't get it out of her mind. If it's a countdown, what's it counting down to? What happens at the end?

Luke tries to take her mind off it with some songwriting after she gets breakfast, maybe practicing a little together. They even write a little bit of a duet together. Luke keeps Julie entertained for a full four hours, amid which Alex returned and chose to go and watch Reggie and Carlos completely lose track of time.

Julie takes an hour-long nap, leaving Luke to stare at the ring on his wrist and wonder why it's nearly a half circle now.

Willie pops into the studio in a frenzied panic, Reggie and Alex in tow. Luke is so startled, he nearly drops the acoustic. The clatter wakes Julie. Willie looks almost apologetic when he notices her.

Julie asks him what he found out as Luke sits next to her and helps her move her hair from her face. Willie struggles to explain. He's half hoping that maybe, if he doesn't say it aloud, it won't be true. He says it's a clock. It's twenty four hours.

Reggie is the one who asks what happens at the final hour. Willie doesn't answer for a long while. He just holds Alex's hand tight.

At the same time, Willie's hand drops as if he hadn't been holding on to anything and Luke's arm passes right through Julie. The boys flicker before Julie and Willie and it lasts nearly ten seconds.

It slowly dawns on them. No one wants to say it.

"They cross over," Julie whispers when the silence gets heavier than the revelation. Willie only nods. The silence in the garage weighs on them almost visibly.

They look at their wrists, almost half circles.

"So we have about twelve hours left," Alex says. "Maybe we can figure out a way to stop it."

Willie reaches for Alex's hand again. "I asked. There's no way to stop it. Once your unfinished business is complete, you have twenty four hours before you're gone from here. Gone for good."

Luke is adamant there's a way to stop it. His arm tightens around Julie, like she's the one leaving. He hates the defeated look in Willie's eyes. He hates that even in the back of his own mind, there's a voice telling him to get his affairs in order before he dies for the second time.

By the time Reggie determinedly states that there has to be a way to stop it and that they will figure it out, the marks have become perfect half-circles. There are only twelve hours left.

I don't wanna think too hard about it because I don't need to cry at 10pm, but there will be a lot of sad but sweet jukebox moments in between it all.

By the time there's only a third of the ring left, they've started losing hope. They haven't found a single ghost who has any idea how to help. The internet has been very unhelpful. There was a group of wiccans who tried to help but they suggested a spell that didn't look very authentic and it also involved sacrificing a goat at midnight and well, they didn't have until midnight. Still, the wiccans were very sympathetic and wished them well.

They didn't know how to tell the rest about this and they didn't have any idea how to say goodbye to each other. It felt like they were trying to say goodbye to a piece of themselves, the the most important part of themselves.

At the three-quarter mark, Reggie quietly tells Alex and Luke that they ought to spend some time alone with Willie and Julie. If Reggie/Nick or Reggie/Flynn is a thing for this, then Reggie would spend some time alone with them. If not, probably Ray and Carlos.

Cue the most heartwrenching conversation you have ever read in your life, ending with the worlds most grief-filled kiss. I'd get into it but like I said up there, I cannot afford to start crying now.

It's a thin black strip when they get together in the studio. Reggie's partner would be there too if he has one. If not, it's just the band + Willie.

Willie hasn't let go of Alex for over an hour, but now, when the mark is a nearly invisible line, he nudges Alex forward, towards Julie and Luke.

"Band circle?" Luke tries to joke. It only makes their tears fall faster.

Reminiscent of the hug they shared when Caleb's stamp lifted, the four of them try as hard as they can to hug each other as tightly as possible. Willie thinks to himself that he feels strange not being the last person to hold Alex, but it feels like for his band to be the last people to hold him.

None of them are very co-ordinated outside of music related things and just like the night a year ago, they tumble to the ground when someone stands on someone's foot and someone leans a little too much in one direction.

Willie can't help the laugh. It's just so them to be so undignified even in their last moments. He can't even see any of their marks anymore. The only reason he knows it must still be there is because the boys are this there. They knock the radio down and it starts playing the last inserted CD. Willie joins them on the ground and lays his head on Alex's chest as Now or Never fills the studio. --like we'll live forever, but live it like it's now or never

Julie, from between Luke and Reggie, reaches over to grab Alex's hoodie, just so she can be holding on to all of them when it happens. "I love you guys so much."

Luke kisses her forehead. There is a chorus of, "I love you too, Julie." Willie and Alex quietly share another set of "I love you"s.

Julie has long since gotten used to laying her head on Luke's chest and hearing nothing, but the silence behind the old song is nearly deafening. It just serves as a reminder than this is the last time she will ever see or touch Luke or Alex or Reggie again. She wraps her other arm around Reggie. It's uncomfortable and is probably bruising some part of her body, but she needs to be able to hold them all before they go.

Julie shuts her eyes and holds tightly to her boys, wishing with all her heart that there was some way to save her boys again. Some way to bring them back properly this time, so they could grow up with her. Some way to make sure Alex and Willie could stay together, that one of then won't ever have to say goodbye.

It only registers that something feels a little strange after the song abruptly cuts. The CD scratches, trying to play the rest of it but there's just a steady clicking sound. It clicks on a steady count. Like a steady drum beat. In time to a pulsing beat.

Like startled stoats, Willie and Julie shoot up and lock eyes over Alex and Luke.

The boys are, rightfully, confused.

Julie and Willie spiderman-meme point at each other, sputtering like an old car on a frozen winter morning.

Still confused and expecting to be long gone, they boys sit up and search their wrists for any traces of the mark, even the thinnest of lines.

Finally, Julie gets a coherent word out. "Heartbeat!"

"Heartbeat!" Willie echoes, nodding vigorously.

They're still jabbing their fingers at each other, having a full conversation with their sputtering sounds.

"Heartbeat?" Reggie echoes, baffled.

Julie and Willie yell at Luke and Alex, "Heartbeat!" It seems to be the only word they can get out. Clicking her tongue, Julie grabs Luke's hand and presses it to his own chest.

Reggie screams suddenly. He's standing suddenly and he's got his fingers at his neck. "P-p-p-pulse!"

He looks at Julie and Willie. "Heartbeat," he says slowly, understanding.

Alex screams. Willie only realises Alex had been holding his wrist when he lets go.

"What?"

Alex reaches out for Willie, as if to cue his face, but instead places his fingers just under Willie's jaw. He screams again, startling Willie, who never expected his boyfriend to look him in the eye and shout like he'd seen a demon. So Willie screams. Which startles Alex. Who screams again.

Luke finally registers what's going on. He screams. Right in Julie's ear. She gets startled. She screams. Startling Luke. Who screams again.

Reggie is still screaming with each place he puts his fingers and feels a steady beat.

There is so much screaming going on in the studio that Ray and Carlos make their way down too. Carri and Flynn, who wanted to be there for Julie after, come barreling in after. The four of them stand there, perplexed, as Julie, Alex, Reggie, Willie and Luke, all standing now, point at each other and scream.

Its pandemonium, honestly. A miracle none of the neighbors have come over to check.

And Julie drops her first curse in front of her dad as she stares at Luke, Reggie and Alex. "WHAT THE FUCK, YOU GUYS????"

Willie, who's never had any qualms cursing when no living adult could ever hear him, stares at Juliie like she's grown a second head. "NO! NO NO NO! NOT THEM WHAT THE FUCK! ME WHAT THE FUCK!!! ME!!!!"

Julie squints at Willie. "What??"

Alex holds up Willie's wrist. "PULSE!!"

Julie's eyebrows shoot up. "PULSE???? WHAT DO YOU MEAN PULSE?!"

"I mean pulse! What do you think??"

"What the hell is going on in here?" Carrie finally mutters.

As one, they all turn to the perplexed group in the doorway. Julie grabs Luke and drags him up to Carrie. She almost throws him at Carrie with the amount of force she uses to thrust his arm at her. "Pulse," she says, pointing to Luke's wrist.

Carrie sighs. "You know you're the only one that can--" Carrie screams when Julie slaps her arm with Luke's hand. Carrie screaming startles Flynn, who let's out a short screech.

"NO MORE SCREAMING!" Ray yells. In the silence, the clicking radio seems to get louder. Not trusting any of the screaming teenagers, Ray turns to his son. "Carlos, can you turn that off, please?"

Carlos rights the radio and presses the pause button. He presses it again. Sunset Curve fills the studio for a second -- dreaming like we'll live forever -- before Carlos manages to get it off.

Later, after they've explained everything and are still trying to wrap their heads around it, Julie crawls onto the couch beside Luke and lays her head on his chest. It's incredibly strange to hear a steady beat where there was once nothing but she can't deny that she loves the sound of it.

"That demo has more magic in it than the entire Hollywood Ghost Club," Alex mutters from the armchair he and Willie are squished into.

"I wonder what'll happen if I listen to any of the other tracks on the demo," Julie jokes.

"We'll probably grow wings," Reggie mutters from under Carlos, who had been so thrilled that Reggie wasn't leaving anytime soon, he had fallen asleep hugging Reggie.

Alex and Luke laugh, sharing an inside joke.

"You think you guys would still be here if Reggie didn't knock the radio over?" Willie asks.

"All hail, my mighty inability to watch where I'm going."

This time, Julie and Willie laugh too.

Julie curls up against Luke and sighs contentedly, listening to Luke's heart pound against his ribcage. In that moment, she can't think if anywhere else she'd rather be, anything else she'd rather listen to.

For the first time since they died, when Julie finally falls asleep, they doze off too.

Willie feels strange. When he yawns, he realizes he hasn't been tired since he first woke up as a ghost. It's nightly inconvenient and annoying, but he hasn't felt this alive since Alex first kissed him. As Willie dozes off, he makes a mental reminder to figure out what included him in the whole thing. He'll forget when he wakes up and they spend the day celebrating their mere alive-ness.

Things get even more interesting when Julie and the Phantoms perform again and Jullie accidentally walks through Luke, but that's a whole other story.

[donaidk]

Rhythm of Time - Part III

New year, new part, new banner, same old me with my ramblings... Not gonna make it long, just the usual quick thank you for reading this and all the other parts/stories and hope you guys will enjoy this too :) Part II | You’re here | Part IV Masterlist

„ What do you want? ” I asked immediately not to give him any time to start talking about anything else. He always had a reason to search me out, and it was never about anything usual for a lovely father-daughter chat. It was never that simple.

„ Congrats for the job with Haas. I knew they will realise your talents. ” He said, a smile getting on his face, which made my stomach turn. „ Don’t really know what you think of me. Can’t I congratulate my own daughter? ” He asked back, making me roll my eyes. I was just relieved that Mick already left and this was a private conversation.

„ You mean your personal slave? ” I bit back, crossing my arms in front of my chest while not taking my eyes off his ones. „ You never want to just chat. There’s always something ” I shook my head a little, as not one bit of my body wanted to be in his vicinity.

„ Oh, even you know that was only a misunderstanding. I would never do something like that. ” Dad let out a sigh but he could never make me rethink my decision about any of his business offers. They were all dirty traps, well covered by his connections.

„ Just like you would never hurt anyone else either. Right. ” His words made me roll my eyes again, and it didn’t help that I saw nothing like regret in his eyes after my question. „ Look, I have a real job to do, not like others… I would appreciate it if you could just get out of my way and not try your dirty tricks out on me. I know you too well already. I’m immune. ” I shook my head, rather walking back to the paddock, to get a car with someone else from the team, as I didn’t want to waste one more driver’s time for just one passanger.

„ Mona… Don’t be like this to your own dad. ” He came after me immediately, but as soon as I felt his hand around my wrist anger pumped through my veins and I tore my hand away from him.

„ Don’t you dare play that card. You lost your right to do so years ago. You have nothing to do with me, and I would be the happiest human on this Earth if I could never see you again. I rue ever getting to know you. ” I glared at him, turning back just so I could push him back from myself. I never felt so much hatred towards a family member prior to the day I realised all his wrong doings. Him calling my name again just restarted the fire inside me, once more. „ I don’t have your name for a reason. Do me a favour and forget me finally. You should be fucking grateful that Mum still believes you. ” I poked his chest before turning on my heels so I could finally get to our garage as soon as possible, where I knew he wasn’t allowed in.

I let out a sigh as soon as I was finally inside and sat down next to Pete who was still going through data before they would have to get the garage packed up. The car was already back in it’s place and even though it was covered on most parts you could see the broken suspensions sticking out. I knew they would have to start fixing it for the next race, although they had more time for it as the next one was in only two weeks time. It was probably lucky that it wasn’t during a race that was followed by another immediately. Made everyone’s job easier and gave them time to completely fix it and get it back where it was before. With a sigh I looked back at the screens even though I knew I couldn’t really help them in any way. This wasn’t really my field and I would have probably either messed up everything or I just wouldn’t even be able to comment on any part of the data if they ever asked for my opinion.

In the end I stayed until they all were done and gladly helped packing up as I really didn’t feel like going outside of the pitlane, and giving a chance for my father to try talking to me again. I didn’t know if he had the balls to stay right until he would be kicked out with the last few visitors, or if he gave up after my response to his approach. Maybe I was giving him too much credit with the second option, but I wanted to believe that it was possible. It would mean I was getting closer to finally getting fully out of his grasp. The media coming up with rumours involving him and I twice a year was truly enough for my mental health. I didn’t need him giving them even more to report on, breaking down my reliability day by day, pushing me further away from my goal of working in the sport without being connected to him. changing my name was one step, but I knew quite well it wouldn’t solve everything and people will still know who I am and who brought me up until my realisation that he was no good as a parent and I could finally take my own decisions.

It was already quite late when the car that took Pete, two of the mechanics and myself, back to the hotel arrived at the destination and we could get out. I dragged myself to the elevator, taking it up to my level where I separated from the guys and went to my own room. The little LED on the lock just turned green and I was about to push down the handle when the door two down from mine opened and I turned towards the sound, getting caught off guard by the movement I saw from the corner of my eyes.

„ Hello. ” Mick greeted me as he stepped out of his room, making me nod in his way. „ Are you coming to dinner? ” He asked again, making me stop in my tracks and step back before I would be inside my own room.

„ I already ate, but thank you. ” I lied and shook my head a little, but before I would have stepped inside I forced myself to look up at him. „ Sorry for the car situation. He can time his ’visits’ quite terribly. ” I added with a sigh hoping that bringing it up won’t just make it even more awkward. There was only silence after my apology, making me want to take back everything I said. I was just about to do that when he was quicker and spoke up.

„ Do you want to talk about it? I mean that usually helps… if you talk it out with someone. ” He surprised me, as I anticipated him trying to get out of the situation rather than offering help. „ It doesn’t have to be me though. You probably have your own friends who usually help you with these things. ” He shrugged a little, almost leaving for the diner when I nodded my head.

„ I would appreciate that. ” I added to my gesture so he would know for sure what I meant. „ Only if you have the time to do so. I don’t want to take up your free time. ” I spoke up quickly again, realising I had no right to change up his whole schedule with my own problems. He probably had better things to do than listen to my rambling about my dad being an asshole.

„ I’m completely free. I’m just gonna get dinner and head back here. Take a shower until then. ” He offered, making me nod again and finally enter my room as soon as he was further away from me, already at the end of the hallway to get into the elevator. Before he would turn around and see me still standing there, I stepped inside closing my door.

His idea did plant a seed in my head, and even though I didn’t plan on it, I took a warm shower, putting my hair up in a towel in the end as I got some clothes out of my suitcase, to change out of the robe. I would have probably just got my pajamas on, but knowing I will have someone over I thought it would be better to get normal clothing out. I was just about to brush through my hair when there was a knock on the door, making me confused for a second, before I got to the door and opened it up. Mick with two containers of food wasn’t a sight in front of me that I anticipated. As soon as I stepped aside he came inside, handing me one of the containers.

„ Robert sent it, knowing you didn’t eat at the track and wasn’t going to do so here if you didn’t come down with me. ” He answered my silent question that my risen eyebrow held, making me smile a little. Some of the crew knew me too well, I guess. „ So, a movie or just chatting? ” He asked, making me look up to see him take a seat on the couch like it was his room we were in. Somehow it still didn’t make me feel abashed as it felt strangely normal.

„ We can start something if you want. Won’t promise that my mind will take it in though. ” I let out a sigh, getting the remote from the TV in front of the couch before sitting down on the other side opposite to him. I watched him take it from my hand before switching it onto a channel that was playing the highlights from today, making me chuckle. „ Guess that won’t strain my poor brain. ” I shook my head, opening the top of the container to see one of my favourites inside.

We watched the replays on the screen as we dived into our food, although there wasn’t really anything we haven’t seen before. I felt myself tense up when they showed the only crash of the race, which was of course Mick’s, but I was glad to see that wasn’t one bit affected by it now. They usually got over them easily, if it wasn’t anything serious or life changing. I was about to finish my meal when they changed to some interviews and immediately felt sickness take over me when I saw the name Jason Hackett written out on the screen and just seconds later the camera turned to show my dad with a full on grin, standing in front of a microphone. They were asking him about rumours of him bringing back the Hackett name into F1 and even though he denied to have any plans like that right now he did hint on having talks with one of the teams. My stomach turned in a way I thought was impossible, at the idea of my father getting to work with another team after how the last occasion like this ended a few years ago.

„ Guess we know why he was there today at least. ” Mick sighed next to me, although I couldn’t break my glance away from the TV until he went off screen finally. „ Although it’s quite a bold statement that someone would like to work with him, taking the outcome of his last sponsorship with a team into account. ” He added with a scoff, making me nod in agreement. I really didn’t know what to think about this all together.

„ You know he’s my father, don’t you? ” I asked him when I was finally out of the trance the interview caused me to fall into. „ Stupid question. Probably everyone knows, however hard I’m trying to keep it from them. ” I poked at a piece of a chicken angrily, almost poking myself in the hand through the material of the box.

„ I wouldn’t say everyone knows. Your friends for sure do, but for example the mechanics probably never even thought you have a connection to him. Only way if they really looked into the cases back when they happened. ” He shook his head a little, mostly just looking at his own food, which wasn’t the sign I was looking for. I had to make myself remember that he was still the one to bring this up and come to my room. „ You’re not running around telling everyone, and also joined the team after all the changes, so they didn’t even have your ’real’ name to start off on. ” He added with a shrug looking back up at me, my worries fading away about him feeling trapped in this conversation.

I had to agree with him, as I really didn’t give myself away for everyone. Why would I? My only dream was to finally get out of his shadow so I could be my own person finally and not just a puppet of his. We stayed in silence watching the TV as they changed to some biking footage from the previous day, while I was still in my thoughts mostly. It was probably one of my worst traits, spending at least two quarters of my time inside my thoughts, completely shutting the outside word out. It gave me the chance to work things out inside without getting anyone worried about me, but I mostly stressed about things that weren’t worth it anyways, making me waste my time.

„ Did you know back then? When I still had his name? ” I asked him, still looking straight at him as I really didn’t want to miss his expression so he couldn’t lie to me. He took a deep breath, probably debating how he should put his words.

„ They made sure I knew. They told us who he was as the accusations were quite fresh back then. But I didn’t know that you’re his daughter. ” He shook his head, looking quite truthful and I believed him. He didn’t give me a reason to do otherwise. „ When I woke up, I had texts from the PR managers that there were photos of the two of us talking with a group of people. They asked me to keep clear of you until I had my contract signed, so photos like these won’t bring my future team an unsure feeling about me. ” My hand stopped in the middle of lifting the fork to my mouth, resting the silverware down on the box again. That wasn’t something I thought about.

„ That’s lovely. Although, I understand their fears. Even I know how messy he leaves everything he touches. There aren't many who can steal millions and still stay out of jail. ” I rolled my eyes, closing the top of my box as I lost most of my appetite. „ Lucky that I stood up against him, isn’t it? At least I’m not someone in their eyes who may interfere with things for him. ” I sighed, crossing my arms in front of my chest. It was the only thing I feared, losing all the respect I worked for in the past few years just because they think I’m here thanks to him.

„ How did you end up at Haas actually? You never mentioned that before. ” He questioned me, making me look up from the floor again.

„ Erica was a family friend of ours who stood up against my dad when he was accused of stealing money through sponsorships. Back then she was still in F2, and then she helped me get my voice heard after he messed up again just with an F2 team. ” I started my story that I never actually told anyone before. Not many were curious enough to actually ask. „ Then when I started university but realised it wasn’t what I wanted she took me as a trainee and helped me get my education in PR management in a way that was compatible with our travelling, so I would have the qualifications if I wanted to look for something outside of Haas in the future. ” I finished up with a smile on my face from the memories. I could only thank Erica for me. She was almost more family to me than my own blood. She trusted me, even when they considered me a wild card in the media.

„ Guess everyone needs a mentor in their life? ” He asked with a similar smile on his face and I could only nod in agreement. Having someone guide you wasn’t too bad of a thing, until they only had good intentions. If someone, Mick probably understood my position the best out of the team members we had.

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Camping Too Late

Nick

           Y/N stood by the door, watching with her arms crossed as Lee and I pulled storage tub after storage tub from one of the garages. Our oldest son was eleven now, and he had grown into a kind and intelligent kid. His dark brown hair curled a little around his neck and ears. Lee had easy smiles and an infectious laugh.

           “Mom’s having kittens,” my son said, looking back.

           I grinned. He’d heard me say that to Y/N once, and he’d laughed for ten minutes straight afterwards. “She’ll be okay, bud.” I leaned over and ruffled his hair. God, he’s getting tall. “We’re just going into the back yard.”

           Lee tugged a sleeping bag from one of the tubs and tossed it onto a pile. “Why aren’t they coming with us?”

           “Mattie has a trip with her co-op group. And Nicole and Ty are going to visit with Mamma and Papa,” I replied. I’d found the tub that had the tents in it. “Mama is gonna have some time by herself.”

           He shook his head and grinned, looking so much like Matt that it caught me off guard. “Good. She deserves it.”

           I hooked my arm around him and pulled him close, dropping a kiss on the top of his head. “Yeah, little man, she does.”

Matt

           Nick and Lee were already getting everything out when I pulled in. I’d dropped Mattie off with her homeschool group for their trip to San Diego. She’d wanted to drive herself, but we’d vetoed that quick. She wasn’t happy about it, but Nick and I put our collective foot down. Mattie would have all weekend to get over it.

           Once I’d dropped our eldest off, I’d taken Nicole and Ty to our mom and dad’s. I couldn’t thank our parents enough for everything they’d done for us. Mom supported Y/N when her own mom couldn’t be around. Dad did everything he could to teach us out to be good fathers. But more than anything, the two of them loved our kids more than anything in the world. I guess that’s why it wasn’t weird for my thirteen- and seven-year-old to be incredibly excited to stay with them for a night.

           Y/N was at the door, watching everything with her brows furrowed. RJ, now nine, came pelting out of the house as soon as he saw me. He ran by his mom and nearly tripped over the pile of sleeping bags on the driveway. “Papa! You’re back! Can we go now? Huh? Can we?”

           I laughed and pulled him into my side for a hug. “As soon as Dad and I get everything together, little dude. And say goodbye to Mama.”

           He frowned. “Where’s Mama going?”

           “She’s staying inside.”

           His frown got deeper. “Alone?”

           “Yeah,” I replied. “Mama is going to have a nice, quiet weekend. And she’ll be waiting here for us tomorrow morning. I promise.”

           “If we get scared in the yard… if we want to come home, will she come get us?” RJ’s lower lip quivered. He was still scared of the dark sometimes, and Y/N was the only one who could calm him down enough to go back to sleep.

           “Absolutely,” I promised, kissing the top of his head. “All we have to do is call.”

           Our middle son nodded. After a moment, he went to join Lee and Nick at the pile. Y/N watched as Nick and I shouldered the heavy tents and the firepit. The boys dragged the sleeping bags around the back of the house and into the yard.

           I could feel my wife watching us, and I knew that she’d be peeking through the blinds as we took the boys on a backyard camping trip.

Nick

           It took Matt and I almost an hour to put the tent together. Lee and RJ went through the sandy brush behind the yard to grab twigs and branches for our campfire. Once, Matt had to stop and yell at them for swatting at each other with sticks. Another time, I had to put them both on separate ends of the patio for running around the pool.

           “Were we that bad?” I asked as Matt hammered the last tent pole into the ground. I tried not to think about the holes that were going to be left in my yard.

           My brother laughed and dropped the rubber mallet into the now empty tent bag. “Worse. Remember when Mom used to come out yelling when we were doing our backyard shows? She screamed bloody murder at us half the time.”

           “God help us if they want to go into the business, too.” It was one thing to train with Mattie in the old PWG ring we’d bought. I couldn’t imagine the boys getting into it like we did.

           Matt tossed the sleeping bags into the tent and looked at the pile of sticks that they boys brought. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked sideways at me. “Are we supposed to do all of this the old-fashioned way?”

           “Matches. And keep a bucket of sand and the water hose handy,” I laughed. While Matt handled the fire safety precautions, I looked at the patio where the boys still pouted. I clapped my hands and let out a whistle. “Let’s do it, Jacksons!”

           Lee and RJ looked at each other for a moment and then came trotting across the yard, looking appropriately contrite.

           “So,” I said, crossing my arms and looking at them. “It’s going to be dark in a couple hours. Papa is getting everything ready for the campfire. What do you say the three of us make sure we’ve got everything in the cooler for dinner?”

           Lee nodded and moved off toward the Yeti that sat in the shade by the tent. RJ took a step and then stopped. “Dad, what do we do if we gotta go to the bathroom?”

           “Number one or number two?”

           He bounced on his toes and tugged at the back of his pants. “Number two.”

           A number one was easier. Go behind a bush. But it looked like we’d have to break our house rule early on in this camping experience. I took him by the hand and lead him toward Matt’s place. Y/N was staying in my house tonight, so it’d be easier to sneak in and out next door.

Matt

           I looked up from the fire pit as Nick walked by with RJ in tow. Our middle son was tugging on the back of his shorts, a clear sign that he was about two seconds away from an accident. You’d think he’d have gotten over that now that he was seven, but RJ was different. Y/N had talked us into getting him tested when he was six after something her sister said. Now we knew he was on the spectrum, and we learned something new every day about how unique he was and how we would navigate the world with him.

           “Little man, when you get done with that, want to help me set up the camp chairs?” I grinned at our oldest son. The three of us had joked about it in the past… the fact that Lee looked so much like me that it was impossible to question who his biological father was. He had my hair and my eyes, the same shape of my face. He even smiled the same as me.

           By the time Nick and RJ snuck out the back door of my house, Lee and I had put camp chairs out in a semicircle around the fire pit. I’d gotten the flames going and sustained them with some dry leaves, shredded paper, and some stripped limbs from one of the bushes. Three wire coat hangers had been painfully unwound and straightened out with a good amount of frustration, a few stabs, and a set of needle nose pliers. One of the chairs held a packet of hot dogs, a sleeve of Hershey’s chocolate bars, a box of graham crackers, and a bag of marshmallows. Some hot dog buns and a bottle of ketchup sat on top of the cooler. The sky was darkening, and stars began to twinkle overhead.

           I didn’t need to look to know that our wife was standing at the window, peering out into the darkness through the blinds. I waved in the direction of the house, hoping that she’d understand that we were fine. Nick swept RJ up beneath his arms, blew a raspberry on the back of his neck, and swung him into his Lightning McQueen camp chair.

           “Food first, then s’mores,” I said, ripping into the food. Nick brought the hangers over and speared them into the hot dogs. He put one in Lee’s hand and moved his camp chair until it was close enough to the fire pit to roast the hot dog but not so close that our son would get burned. I took one of the hangers, speared a second hot dog, and slouched into a chair.

           Nick pulled up his chair and plopped RJ in his lap. I was surprised that our son didn’t resist. Sometimes he didn’t like being touched much. He had his moments and his meltdowns. But it seemed like Nick was having a good day with him.

           After hot dogs came the s’mores. Lee set his first marshmallow completely on fire. The second slipped off the wire onto the grass. By the time he got his third one roasted just right, RJ was already on his second nearly perfect s’more. Of course, he was covered from the tip of his nose to the collar of his t-shirt in melted chocolate and gelatin. He was having fun, so I counted it as a win.

***

           I watched from the living room window for a while. The four of them sat around the fire pit for hours as the sky turned dark and the stars came out. I watched as they roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. As Nick and Matt laughed at RJ with chocolate all over his face. As they cleaned him up and plopped him back in his Cars chair. I watched as the fire started to burn down, as my husbands drew squeals of fright from our sons with playful ghost stories, and then as the boys began to yawn.

           Matt disappeared into the tent with RJ and Lee while Nick took care of the fire pit. He smothered it first with a bucket of sand and then soaked it well with the water hose. Smoke and steam curled up into the dark sky as Nick turned the pile over with a garden spade, making sure there weren’t any embers still burning. Everyone in California knew how to stop a fire from getting out of control in the height of summer.

           Nick looked up, catching sight of me in the window. He didn’t need to say it. I could hear his words echoing in my ears. Trust us. And God knew I did. I guess I just wasn’t ready to let go of my little boys being little.

           And for the first night in a long time, RJ didn’t have any nightmares.

Tag List

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[jus-tea]

Going to explain a little about the Miss Rhona lyrics, what inspired different aspects etc, as I’ve seen a lot of people speculating over it, and coming up with their own ideas (which I fully support!) but for those who are curious...

1st Stanza

“Daddy’s at the food store” So, when this was written, myself, my partner, and seemingly everyone was spending so much time going from supermarket to supermarket trying to find the basics, the essentials. Pasta, flour, sugar etc were sold out seemingly everywhere. The weekend just before this was written he’d lined up for half an hour before Costco opened to ensure he acquired some toilet paper- which seemed impossible to get ANYWHERE. I had colleagues who sent their adult children to shops everyday (they couldn’t cause they were at work) to try to find toilet paper somewhere. We ran out at work, and ended up with tissues. People, generally, were spending so much more time trying to find essentials at supermarkets. It’s not nearly as bad now, but just over a month ago when I wrote this it felt like a big issue. Also, “food store”?! NO ONE HAS CALLED ME OUT ON THIS which I find so weird because no one actually says, “food store”?! What a weird expression! So why did I use it? Well! Initially I thought “cost-co” but didn’t use it because I wanted the rhyme to appeal more universally. And we only got a Costco in my city a few years ago and I know plenty of places in the world don’t have one so... I thought maybe supermarket? But thought maybe they didn’t call them that in other countries- market? Market sounded so strange as it’s really only fresh fruit and veggies we get in our local markets here (in my part of the world) and didnt fit with the image I was trying to create and besides all our markets were cancelled as they were too crowded.. so “food store” was initially just a place-hold. I still can’t believe literally no one has said “hey wtf is up with “food store? No one says that” but there you go. It’s in literally every version ive seen as that so... that’s what it is now. So, that line about the food store and collated with the next line, “mummy’s our of town- she’s working at the hospital” was based on news articles I’d read about doctors having to isolate themselves from their families by sleeping either at hospital or in their garage. People who couldn’t see their kids for ages, it was really sad! And then combining these lines, it’s about how these little kids for the first time really are sometimes being left home alone because their parents have stuff they *have* to do; get food or work, and lots of kids these days don’t get left home alone anymore, it was common when I was little but not for a long time! But seemingly suddenly with this pandemic it’s happening again. And I hadn’t seen that talked about but I was seeing glimpses of it and it, felt weird? I guess? So that made for the perfect beginning to a covid19 nursery rhyme- a kid getting left home alone a lot and not being really sure how to respond to that.

So, with the hide away lines, there’s 3 stanzas and in each miss Rhona gets closer. The first one is she’s “come to town”. Now I remember that feeling on that day learning that the first coronavirus case had occurred in my city. Up until then there was a bit of a sense of dread, like you knew it was everywhere else, then in the news it got closer and closer, with cases in small country towns nearby. But when it got to my city it was suddenly so real. And that’s where the story starts because Miss Rhona was HERE. She arrived in the kid’s town. The line, “she’s come to take us down” is another way of saying “she’s going to get you” and also links to the final line which reveals her success “she took us down/she’s brought us down”.

2nd stanza

So, she goes from being in town to being “at the doorstep” which represents getting closer- being in those people the child might interact with everyday- and imagined more literally in the postal worker delivering a package (actually ON the doorstep) or food delivery or anyone who they’d still have close contact with. But “I’ll keep 6 feet away” is a self reassurance that if they just do the right thing and keep their distance everything will be ok. But then the conflict! Grandma needs toilet paper, EVERYONE needs toilet paper and no one can get it anywhere! No doubt the dad is our trying to find some more while he’s at the “food store”. And I was thinking... my children’s grandmother lives in a different state to us but if we were in the same one you can bet your life id be out dropping essentials at her doorstep whenever I could- tp included. (Although, tbh the tp issue didn’t seem as bad in her state from what she told me) so in this bit I guess I imagined myself as the child because that would be something important to me, to make sure my elders had their essentials. Idk I tried to help where I could, got baby wipes when I found it for a friend with a newborn, stuff like that. So the conflict is the child’s sense of responsibility ensuring their grandmother has what she needs, while also knowing that the coronavirus, Miss Rhona, could reside in anyone they meet along the way. Kind of like a little red riding hood situation linking the dangers of strangers. So they open the door due to this sense of responsibility and, oh no, Miss Rhona was at the doorstep, remember? Now the child has it too; “Miss Rhona’s come to stay” IN THE CHILD. This line was to use the imagery of Miss Rhona coming to stay with the child at their house, like an aunt might come to visit for the weekend, but symbolises the virus coming to live within the child, they’ve caught it now, which is why they definitely, “can’t come out to play”.

Stanza 3

“But grandma needs the paper” that’s where the conflict arises again- the child’s sense of responsibility, maybe guilt even? Overshadowing their understanding of just how serious the virus would be should their grandmother catch it. They’re just a kid remember? They don’t understand. So they take her some anyway, everyone needs toilet paper! Also, I know that phrasing it as such misleads the listener to think about a newspaper. Thats how we talk, “I’ll get the paper!” My dad says ... often. But, 2 things, it rolls off the tongue easier than “grandma needs toilet paper” which would’ve messed up the rhythm anyway, and also, for anyone who’s lived it you would automatically know about the “great toilet paper shortage of 2020” 😅 there were so many memes about it and it was funny that everyone was obsessed with it but if you were one of those people who genuinely really couldn’t find any- and there were lots!- then it kind of sucked. And that’s a memory that’ll stick with you 🙈

So. The note. “And here’s a note from Rhona she wanted me to say” imagine the child at the grandmas doorstep, she’s bringing her tp (that’s nice) but the child is infected, and hands grandma a note. I imagined like a little filed up piece of paper in their back pocket they take out and hand over, to pass on the message from their aunt living in their house. As kids would do- what teacher hasn’t given their student a note and said “go tell mr x such and such” and the note is a reminder of what to say. But the note they hand over is also a metaphor. It symbolises contact between the grandmother and grandchild, and as grandma took it, she caught the virus too. And the note reads,

“Hide away, hide away, keep 6 feet away”

Which is that line repeated all the way through the rhyme. In the end, it’s what Miss Rhona was saying all along. Hide away children...

And the final line is a throwback to near the beginning, “she took us down” because earlier remember she came to “take us down” but now it’s happened and we’re in past tense. She did it. She took down the grandma, and possibly the child too, although I left that as ambiguous. To be taken down here is the symbol for death, of course. It’s pretty grim. But that was the point i suppose.

And that’s where it ends. Anything after that, while I’ve seen some adaptations made which sound really cool, doesn’t really make sense with the story, because they died in that moment. And continuing on after that seems a bit overkill, because I gues, perhaps symbolically at least, who would be able to continue singing the rhyme once they had already died?

But having said that, it’s still nice to see people get exited about it and want to contribute more lyrics too. Making up stories, songs, games, art in general, it’s a way we’ve found to cope i think? Like dark and morbid stories are a part of our culture because we respond to them. Lessons, feelings, etc. people far more articulate than I have explained before...

So. That’s Miss Rhona. This explanation was written really roughly and I apologise for that, but you get the gist. I strongly recommend for anyone who hasn’t already to check out the #miss Rhona recordings hashtag on my blog, because some of these melodies people have put to it are really beyond words. Dreamy, haunting. Peaceful. Childlike. Much more than the original chant-like skipping rhyme I originally envisaged.

Thanks for reading this far... please be safe and look after your grandmothers ❤️

[hollerace]

Mrs. Wahlstrom--Feb 5, 2021

How do you get into a fight the first time you see someone? When you’re the ripe old age of six? That’s the way it happened with Lloyd Tichey and me. We had just moved in to Midfield Avenue. I saw a kid across the street, playing between the two garages that took up the block. I crossed the street to inspect and got pelted with a clod of dirt for my trouble. I found a hiding spot and armed myself. After a brief fusillade, I poked my head out; so did Lloyd, who said, “My mom’s got iced tea.” Within first sips, our friendship was cemented. Lloyd was younger than I, not by much. He was a bit taller (who wasn't?) and better at sports and games. The surrounding streets were our arena, with plenty of kids and fewer cars. Were moms really allowed to drive? Not in our neighborhood. It didn’t take us long to confront a common enemy. Mrs. Wahlstrom lived next to me and anointed herself the personal enemy of kids having fun. She appeared regularly in attempts to quelch our enjoyment. Some of the games could attain high volume levels, particularly kickball. The sport was similar to baseball. An inflated ball would be rolled to the “batter.” You can figure out the rest. Four bases, hits, runs, enjoyment. Wacky Wahlstrom, as we called her, used her porch as her pulpit. Fortunately for us, she was a native Swedish (we guessed) speaker. Diatribes, accompanied by boney, croney finger-points, began with, “You keeds,” followed by screechy, unintelligible syllables, accented with various avian screeches, hoots and gabbling. Since she was a grownup, we didn’t sass her back, nor did we listen to her admonitions. Occasionally, a ball would find its way onto her porch. The nearest kid would race up there to retrieve the precious piece before she could confiscate it. Lloyd Tichey (pronounced “Ticky”) feared her least. He would march right up to Mrs. Wahlstrom and face her down until she surrendered whatever she had just nicked from us. One time, during a game break, I opined, “I wonder if there was ever a Mister Wahlstrom?” Several theories ensued. Lloyd’s stance was, “There was a guy, once. He musta killed himself.” We howled. Lloyd had an older brother, Barry, who was in my grade. He was quiet, virtually tacit, forever riding his bike down to Birch Creek to fish. An even older brother (Jimmy, I think) lived elsewhere. He was wild-eyed with bushy uneven hair and given to loud forms of addressing anyone. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING, TIMMY?” he would shriek as he raced from his car to the house. I never knew how to answer him. Mr. Tichey was a dapper, tanned, mustachioed man who travelled for work. His wife always looked furrowed; she seemed to worry a weathered washcloth in her hands as she walked about the neighborhood. She was followed everywhere by Baby Myra, a rotund little girl whose face needed constant swipes by her mom’s accessory. Their house smelled of cabbage. All the kids looked to Lloyd for leadership. He was a skilled organizer of games--a natural arbiter. If there was ever a problem, Lloyd seemed to rule. For a time, Dark Mark Longuiel, who lived down by The Field, started hanging around our street. He readily disagreed with anyone, and always seemed champing for a dispute. He even got mad at Ellen Botsford, who was far and away the prettiest girl who played with us. (Yes, we needed no Title IX; we just naturally went co-ed.). Lloyd Tichey got in his face. Harsh words, no blows, no Mark. As we grew, street play lost its popularity. We rarely saw Mrs. Wahlstrom. Once, when she was inching her ancient DeSoto down the driveway at a glacier’s pace, little Martin Botsford yelled, “Hey, Wacky Wahlstrom!” Lloyd immediately shut him down. “Leave her be,” he said sharply. Little Martin was already growing into quite the pain. But the little old lady seemed to fade into her dun, once-burgundy house. “She must have eighty Wiffle Balls in there,” remarked Lloyd one time. He remained an untitled leader in the ‘hood, but I was his consigliere, so to speak. Lloyd would ask me Big Questions. Many of these were about the aforementioned Ellen Botsford.

We were approaching the age where kickball dimmed in intergender activities. Most summer evenings, we played a game of Chase. This was a sort of an offshoot of the classic pastime, but much more hiding was effected as opposed to any seeking. I was just emerging from one of my favorite lairs, behind Crabby Creiner’s shed. I just happened to spy Lloyd Tichey and Ellen Botsford sneaking out of Muldoon’s lot, which provided excellent leafy cover. They were holding hands.

Wait! What? Suddenly, the rules of every game changed. Such manual interlocking was a brave, new world to a pre-shaving Catholic boy, at once exciting and terrifying. But Lloyd and Ellen? No way! No wonder all the questions.

I guess I liked some girls. There was a brief crush on Lisa Longborg, who was our eighth-grade lunch monitor. A veritable amazon at five-seven, she would camp at Sister’s desk while we ate on days too wet for recess. I would invent reasons to approach the desk while she sat there, imperious over her bologna-on-Wonder (pencil-sharpening was a good one), managing to sneak glances at her ever-burgeoning mammarial development. I wasn’t the only boy to attempt this ruse.

There was also the exotic, raven-tressed Ann Marie Pandolfo, whose glamour faded for me when she ironed a Paul Anka image on the back of her coat. This also garnered the disapproval of The Good Sisters.

I barely had the chance to recover from this tectonic shift in my life-views when another tremor hit. Lloyd announced that his family was moving up to Northfield, a suburb some ten miles north of town.

It seems Mr. Tichey had earned some sort of promotion at work, enabling his brood to improve their lifestyles. I was forlorn at first, then resigned.

The school year was bearable (Lloyd went to the public school), but that first summer loomed dusty, empty and stifling. There was the LAG (Lark Avenue Gang) for fun, just a couple of blocks away. Games of Chase still took place. Again I hid alone, noticing that more and more couples were pairing off.

My father even drove me up to Northford once to visit. The streets had no sidewalks or phone poles, with names like Chipshot Road or Rolling Mews Lane.

The Ticheys had a big, split-level ranch, a bigger yard. As neat as it was to see Lloyd, the entire scenario loomed disjoint, foreign. Even Baby Myra seemed clean, and the  house didn’t smell of cabbage

.I didn’t realize our city was slowly draining. People, stores and services were migrating. And a friendship faded, tattered pages of memories from a book hidden away on a musty shelf.

Not long after, I went off to Campion Prep; Lloyd ended up at Northfield High. I found the drums and Lloyd did the same for basketball. Our teams never played each other, for my school kept  an urban schedule. But the Despatch would cover Lloyd’s games, where his star would shine brighter as we neared graduation.

No sports legend, I even took Ellen Botsford to the movies once. She later ditched me for a Campion U. guy who had a sleek Honda bike. Who could blame her?

When I returned home after my freshman year at Sacre Coeur College, I fielded an odd phone call. It was from Mrs. Tichey. Her voice trembled as she told me how Lloyd had joined the Marines right after graduation. This unnerved me. I had thought for sure that a hoops scholarship awaited him. I asked for a way to get in touch. She gave me an FPO address. I wrote to him in vain.

Two summers later, I was rehearsing nightly with a local band, awaiting our maiden visit to a recording studio. One evening, a long Cadillac convertible pulled up to the house. Inside was Lloyd Tichey, in civilian clothes, but looking every bit the cut-and-pressed Marine.

Surprised, I hopped in, and we drove down to Lady’s, the seawall where Park Terrace met the Sound. It was his father’s ride, but Lloyd produced some cold Schaefers.

“I’m sick of this Honor Guard, shit, Timmy,” he began. An influential state senator from Northfield had arranged for Lloyd to secure this light-duty post at the governor’s mansion in Hartford.

“But, Lloyd,” I said, “this keeps you out of the war. Easy going.”

“Bullshit. Anyone can carry a flag. I’m a Marine; I want to fight.” I saw this was no time to voice my concerns over the Viet mess we had gotten into. His anger blossomed: sharp eyes, tightened features. I felt the tension.

We drank in silence. We both knew an argument was futile. As he dropped me off, we shared a brief hug, something we had never done as kids.

Our lives, like two opposing streams, changed courses, each divining its own path, surging forward in separate worlds.The ne

xt May, I read in the paper about Operation Georgia in Viet Nam. What made me notice was that the 9th Marines were involved. Lloyd’s unit.

I didn’t get a phone call. Reading the article in the Despatch galvanized my spine. I didn’t care about the heroes in Quang Nam province. But the article did include that a Lloyd Tichey of Northford wouldn’t be returning home. His remains, however, would.

I gleaned that there would be full military honors at Quantico, but not until a viewing was scheduled here in the city.My mom had sold the house by then, but on the day of the wake, I drove down Midfield Avenue. Why? An unseen force directed me down our old street. Maybe I wasn’t that surprised to see a cab pulled up next door to my old house.

I parked and walked over to the cabbie. “What’s the fare?”

“Some Mrs. Wallstorm. Goin’ ta Wolke’s funeral parlor. Sposta wait.”

I tipped him and told him to grab a better fare. Soon, she appeared on her porch. Hunched over like a question mark, she made for the stairs. I hustled over to help her. How old could she be? She seemed ancient when we were kids. I cradled her elbow as she descended.

“I gotcha, Mrs. Wahlstrom,” I said. She finally looked up, peering at me through veiled, powdery crinkles. I was afraid her arm, impossibly frail, would collapse under my grip.

“Oh,” she said, “leetle Teemy. We go see Lloyd, no?”

We drove the mile or so in silence. Every other time I had listened to her, she was yelling at me. This, somehow, seemed more appropriate.

My buddy, Juice Staley, worked at Wolke’s, so he procured a wheelchair for my passenger, who seemed grateful. We briefly stood beside the closed casket, bedecked with Old Glory. We were greeted by a forlorn Mrs. Tichey, looking uncomfortable in a dress. No husband in sight. She was propped up by Myra, now a young woman. I could see Mrs. Tichey’s washcloth lingering on a nearby chair. Jimmy, no longer wild-eyed, comforted Barry. The scene was fraught with an uncomfortable confusion.

 No one seemed to recognize Mrs. Whalstrom, and I saw no fruit in explaining who she was. Some folks, obviously from the suburbs, entered to pay respects. This eased my tautness. Mrs. Wahlstrom gave me a look that said, “Enough,” and we made our way out.

We passed a Marine officer, all gussied up in his dress blues. He said, “Folks, you might want to stay. We are having a color guard, and an armed salute…”

Mrs. Wahlstrom, still in her wheelchair, was having none of this. “YOU GO TO HELL, MEESTER! ALL YOU KNOW IS FIGHT! FOR WHAT? TO KEEL YOUNG BOYS LIKE LLOYD!”

The man bristled and said, “You best get her out of here, you damned hippie,” he said. I answered with a mock, left-handed salute.

All Mrs. W. could manage on the drive home was, “I guess I told heem!”

At her house, she said, “You come in for tea, Teemy. You must.” How could I refuse this?I had never dared to venture through the door before this moment. I was a bit frightened as I did so. “You seet, Teemy,” she said, leading me into a living room. I rested, cradled in comfy cushions bedecked with lace antimacassars. I could smell the furniture polish and soak in the patina of age that seemed to settle on everything.

Then, I shot out of my seat, drawn to an opposite wall. It was covered with decorations, almost a shrine. There were dreamed newspaper clippings (“Tichey Scores 38 in Tourney Win”); pictures of Lloyd as an All-Stater. Handshakes, trophies: a celebration of Lloyd’s career. Looking further, I could see clips from my Who’s Who in American Colleges honors. Even that shot from an old Billboard when they handed out those Sesame Street gold records.

I stood there, in awe (was it joy? terror?) as she brought in the tea. She sensed my questions as we sat.“

I had no keeds, Teemy. You and Lloyd--good boys. Noisy but good. So I follow you, like you was my own boys.”

As the murky, late-afternoon sun slithered through the blinds, I could hear the thump of a ball and the shouts of youth. I fought tears mightily.

Somehow, it all made sense.

[elopez7228]

Scenic route 20/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774 

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

The conversation flowed amicably and Rey was quite relaxed by the time the Millenium Falcon reached the parking lot of the tourism office.

Maz left the car with one last affectionate pat for BB8, taking a moment to thank Rey for wishing her safe travels.

Inside the immense air-conditioned mass that was the tourism office, a 4-feet-wide digital clock showed the countdown until the next eruption of the geyser.

With nearly half an hour to spare, Rey took a walk through the gift shop. She briefly admired the keychains and postcards, before pausing in front of an item that left her quite perplexed. Bear spray?  What on earth was that?

The shopkeeper—who was appropriately decked out in green forest ranger attire—informed her that it was used by hikers to ward off bears in the unfortunate event of an encounter. An accessory that would surely save lives, given the population of grizzlies that roamed freely within the park.  

Rey bought one because she knew that only too well. The odds of her being attacked by a bear a second time in so few days were low, but she had learned not to underestimate her natural tendency to conjure bad luck out of nowhere.  

Her phone informed her it was almost show time, so she settled on one of the benches installed in a semi circle at a safe distance from the white crater of the geyser.

***

Syed felt like a punk in a playground. She had ended up in the middle a sea of tourists who were all wearing some hideous combination of sun hats, shorts, Hawaiian shirts, cameras, and—she shuddered—socks with sandals. She stuck out like a sore thumb against the pastel masses with her tall black-clad frame, her numerous piercings, and her menacing brass chains.

She cursed Kylo for sending her to hell, far from her friends, her audience, her guns... and him. She had taken multiple photographs of a very sloppily dressed Rey, who had taken the Millennium Falcon for a joyride. Now she was wondering who to send them to. Kylo? Or Hux? Or maybe Snoke?

Theoretically, she was doing this mission on behalf of Kylo Ren. But he had shown signs of weakness that in his interest, she had the duty to report further up the chain of command...his obsession for this little English brat was beyond comprehension.

He used the hunt for environmental activists as an excuse to justify his meddlesome romantic advances, but Syed was no fool. This girl was just a tourist. She wasn’t a secret agent of the Earth Soldiers. She was frolicking about with sunglasses and a cap glued to her skull, sipping some basic frappuccino, bothering bears, and taking selfies. It was improbable, and even impossible, that she was on a mission for an ecologist association that was making dooms-day preparations. She was too relaxed; obviously a woman on vacation, certainly not an agent on active duty.

Syed meanwhile, was always on the clock. It was a shame really, the amount of time had she wasted stalking that bitch.

She finally sent the photos to Armitage Hux. He was particularly pleased when he received an image of Kylo in the throes of passion with his plaything.  She didn’t know what he would do with it, but she knew from experience that when Kylo needed a guardrail, Armitage Hux was the man of the hour. He would simply do a little sleight of hand and suddenly the unruly punk would fall back in line.  

Everything would be back to normal...like nothing had ever happened.

As for Kylo Ren himself, knowing he needed a bone to chew on, she sent him hourly reports of his little protege, deliberately omitting any mention of the hitchhiker. It was really the only useful information of the day;  and she preferred to keep an ace up her sleeve in case he decided to be difficult.

The hitchhiker was nearing the Millennium Falcon again, and Syed went off to disappear into the crowd.

The little woman circled the car for a while, then sat down on the hood, with spectacular ease. She took off her hiking boots and massaged the soles of her feet. Syed rolled her eyes. For fuck’s sake, this old hag was probably less important an update than she had initially anticipated.

When Rey came back, the woman had come down from her perch and was waiting patiently next to the mirror. Rey frowned. People had to seriously stop their fascination with her car. What was that all about?

All her wonder at the sight of the geyser (the truly magnificent explosion of water and steam as high as a five-storey building), faded to give way to an anxiety that was alas, very familiar.

"You’re still here?” Her reaction was harsher than intended, spurred on by the unexpected intrusion.

"I was waiting for you, I hope you don’t mind," Maz replied innocently.  “I haven’t found another ride, may we continue some of this journey together?”

Rey regretted her initial inclemency. She reacted too intensely, to everything.  She took a breath to force herself to regain her composure. Maz was harmless, but it was easy to see why she was struggling to find a helping hand: the park was teaming with pretentious tourists who were reluctant to change their route or their agenda...and who were suspicious of pickpockets.  She had been one of them, after all.

Rey sighed, her shoulders sagging. “Okay, fine...but I’m warning you, I’m doing a tour of all the geological marvels out here.” She said with a smile.

“Fine with me,” Maz smiled in return. “Thank you very much. I promise you won’t even know I’m here.”

Rey swallowed a remark about Maz’s tiny stature, and gently pushed BB8 over to make space.

“It's funny,” Rey observed. “BB8 doesn’t seem at all disturbed by your presence.  She’s rather aggressive with strangers, usually.”

“What strangers?” Maz laughs, reaching out to stroke the dog.

"Oh, just one stranger in particular," Rey corrected with a wave of her hand. “It was impossible for him to approach, she would try to bite him.”

“Had they met before?”

“No, of course not. He would have told me if...” Rey’s voice caught in her throat.

Did Ben and BB8 have history?  It was unbelievable, and yet...he had immediately shown interest in her, seemingly out of nowhere, when they had joined him in the Jackson Hole Lodge parking. He even outright asked if BB was her dog.

It was a silly question to ask someone walking with a dog on a leash. Why would he need confirmation?

Now that she thought about it, he had asked the same strange question about the Millennium Falcon:

Is this your car?

Obviously, it was hers. It’s not like she was just playing Russian roulette out there, hoping to find a car she could force open in the middle of the parking garage. But it was strange that he tried to make sure.

That said, in his defense, perhaps it was simply because the Millennium Falcon was an infamous bastard of a car. Anyone would have been shocked at seeing a machine like this still in use! Who knows what went on in Ben’s head?

Her face had scrunched up into a worried expression, which did not escape Maz.

"Something bothering you?” She asked in a gentle voice, “maybe I can be of some help?”

"I don’t really know," said Rey, still pensive, as she slowly pulled out of the parking space, "I've experienced some rather unlikely things since I landed in Denver. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

"Start at the beginning," Maz replied encouragingly. “I've got plenty of time.”

That afternoon, Rey and Maz visited some of the most spectacular geological sites around the volcano: boiling springs that gave way to rainbows, geysers by the dozen, bubbling fumaroles ...they even crossed paths with animals that were once threatened in the wild—but were in total safety within the park’s verdant confines. They came upon placid bison, elk, and bald eagles. Thankfully, they saw neither bears nor wolves. These animals, however numerous, tended not to approach busy trails.

They spoke a lot.

Rey found in Maz an attentive third party, to whom she could open up without fear of judgment, and especially without fear of the rampant sexual tension present in her conversations with Ben. She knew he was attracted to her, he did nothing to hide it. But as a result, she continually wondered if the words he said were sincere, rather than a carefully prepared speech designed to charm her to his bed. He had almost managed to get there, in fact.  

In principle, there was no harm to that, she was a consenting adult. And she had to admit that she had savored every kiss, every touch...But her own ardor worried her. Had she flirted with Ben Solo because she wanted him, or because she needed to be reassured, to be held, after what Finn had done to her?

She had to put her heart back in place, heal her wounds, find her inner peace.  Only then would she consider Ben Solo.

"You do not want to make him your consolation prize," Maz hummed sagely.  “That is rather commendable.”

“I don’t think he cares either way. I mean, we are both consenting adults, but I don’t want to be a trophy...be just another notch in his bedpost.”

"You should talk to him...is it possible you’re mistaken about his intentions towards you?”

Rey narrowed her eyes. “Yes, we need to talk ...” about more than you know.

Maz was from Florida. She was bored of her apartment which sat at one end of the land, and thus decided one morning to go on foot to the other end. She had plenty of time, and improvised her itinerary at random. She had a host of tales to tell about backpacking trips to Central Asia or South America, often far from cities and crowds, and Rey began to wonder how old she really was.

It was impossible to say: her face was both smooth and furrowed, her eyes constantly hidden behind huge triple-focus glasses. Her hands were small but her fingers were long and bony. Despite her diminutive appearance, she seemed to burst with energy, and possessed an exceptional amount of savoir faire.  

Yellowstone?  She knew every corner of the place. Alaska?  She knew which roads to use in which season. London?  She had lived there twice in her youth. The Millenium Falcon? She had once owned a car of the same make and model. BB8?  Canine behavior was no mystery to her.

What a strange old woman, Rey pondered, finally glad to have good company.

Black Sand Basin, Geyser Basin, Great Fountain Geyser, Lower Geyser Basin...The park's attractions were like cat nip to tourists, including Rey and Maz.  It was hard to blame people for coming all the way to Yellowstone form the corners of the globe.

Evening was falling. The day had been exhausting, the traffic was atrocious, and the heat was stifling.

Rey went to the Madison Village campground in the park to reserve a place for the night.

Everything was complete.

Finally able to stop panicking, she was content to sleep in her car in the campground parking. Simple as that.

But what about Maz?

Leaving the campsite's bungalow, she returned to her car. The little woman was standing there, her bag hoisted on her shoulders.

"I’m all done for today," Rey explained, “I'm going to sleep in the car, they told me it was okay as long as I paid parking fees. How about you?”

She gestured awkwardly at the  car. “Do you want the back seat?  BB8 can come sleep with me...?”

Maz smiled to assuage her fears. “Don’t worry, young lady. I'm used to sleeping under the stars.”

"Right here?! With the bears and everything—“ Rey was incredulous.

“Don’t fret. I’ll take care of myself, you take care of yourself and BB8.”

Rey looked away as the sound of tinkling bracelets faded into the distance. Better not think about it, the last thing she need was an extra dose of anxiety. And besides, she was hungry.

The vending machine at the campsite procured a packet of chips, a flavorless coffee, and a Snickers bar. Dejectedly, she looked down at her meal. It was the food pyramid of sadness.

She wanted fresh vegetables and a hot plate...she would have to plan better tomorrow. These snacks were barely what she considered food.

What was Finn doing now?  She couldn’t help but wonder.

He was probably still on the respirator; if there had been any improvement in his condition, Poe would have called her.

What was Ben Solo doing?

That was easy, he was about to give a concert. Rey pulled out her phone. Should she call him or send him a message?  She opted for a message.

Good luck with the concert tonight!  Not too nervous I hope?  

An answer arrived immediately. He wasn’t on stage yet.

Thanks for the good vibes! But I wish you were here in the room.

[davieslandon]

Discord Thread || Alison and Landon

Discord thread featuring: Landon & @alison-haynes

Mentions: @aaronhart93 @luca-regio @lorencourtier @theharrykingston @romanbeckett

When: 27th July

Description: Landon visits Alison to catch up and ends up being told some news. 

Trigger Warnings: angst 

Alison.

Alison didn't know what was going on in her life anymore. She had just texted Aaron, and the conversation hadn't gone well. Alison's eyes were red and puffy, and she had two suitcases by the door. Alison wasn't feeling great, it had become her normal state lately. The morning sickness was awful, but part of her felt as though -- it wasn't just morning sickness. It was sickness from all that was happening around her. Alison had every intention on driving back to Rhode Island. Everything was more peaceful there, and she could stay on her house on the beach, watching the ocean waves crash to shore. Right now, she needed to be somewhere where she could think. Think about her and Luca, her and Aaron, but most importantly, where she could protect her baby. Stressing out wasn't great for the baby, and being around either of those guys were not helping it. Alison left her penthouse, and made her way down to the lobby of her secure building, and headed towards the door that led to the garage where she stored her car -- that she barely ever used. But then she spotted, Landon talking to the building monitor. Part of her said to run, the other part of her knew she couldn't. So she went over, and let the building monitor know it was fine for him to come in. "What are you doing here?" She asked him, leaning on her suitcase slightly, and hoping that he didn't bring up how crappy she looked.

LANDON

Elle had been staying with Harry since Saturday and was set to stay with her other dad for a few more days so Landon figured it was the perfect opportunity to pay Alison a visit. They hadn’t really spoken since their conversation at the cafe where Ali had talked about her wish for another child. He wasn’t sure how helpful his advice ended up being and they were due for another catch up session. He was explaining who he was to the building monitor to be let in when he saw Alison making her way towards him with a suitcase in tow. He hadn’t known that the singer was due to leave again for work so soon and he was even more confused when he saw her puffy eyes, almost as if she was just crying. What was going on? “Hey, thought I’d pay a visit and we can spend the evening chatting”, he explained, holding up the container with two coffee cups. “Don’t worry, it’s decaf. I don’t want to make it impossible for us to sleep tonight.”

Alison.

Alison was crazy busy as it was right now, this pregnancy couldn't have come at a worse time. With the album set to release soon, it was like Alison's mind was on overload. She needed peace and quiet, and the only way she would get that would to really not be around anyone. Of course, the blonde would be around her young daughter, and who she needed to be around for work, but other than that, Alison didn't want to see many people. But, Landon -- she hadn't seen him in far too long. Things had been crazy in her life, and she hadn't reached out much, which she felt awful about. And honestly -- it was nice to see someone else other than Aaron & Luca. Alison smiled sadly, "Yeah - uh, I was heading out, but I can stay for another couple hours. I mean -- you brought coffee, so how can I say no?" She grabbed her suit case and dragged it towards the elevator, "How've you been?"28 July 2020

LANDON

“I don’t want to make you late for wherever you’re going though. We can do this another time if you want”, he offered but Alison was already making her way towards the elevator so he quickly followed her. Landon could tell that something wasn’t right but he wasn’t sure how to bring it up without being rude. Alison looked sad and he was getting the impression that she’d been crying but he couldn’t just say that. “I’ve been okay, getting a little break which I feel was well-deserved which I like.” As soon as they got off the elevator and to her penthouse, Landon sat down and handed one of the coffee cups to her. “Are you okay?”

Alison.

“Don’t worry, you won’t make me late. I don’t actually have to be anywhere until tomorrow.” She mused. When they got up to her penthouse, she left her suitcase near the door. Alison took a sip of coffee, but the second he asked if she was okay, tears came to her eyes. She hated how emotional she had been this week. She hadn’t been planning on telling anyone else she was pregnant. Not until she was through her first trimester, but now she felt like she might not have a choice. Alison let out a shaky breath, “No. I’m not okay.” She admitted. “But if I tell you why—you cant say anything. To anyone.”

LANDON

Even though Landon could tell from his friend’s behaviour that something was wrong, he still wasn’t expecting her to start crying. Whatever this is must be worse than he thought if it had Alison reacting like this. “I promise, it’ll stay between us”, and Alison should know by now that he wasn’t one to break his promises. He just hoped it was something he could help with and that it wasn’t actually as bad as it sounded.

Alison.

Alison took a seat on her couch, letting out a huge breath, to try and calm herself down. She hadn’t been planning on telling anyone else for a while, but truthfully she needed to talk to anyone who wasn’t Luca or Aaron. “I’m—Im pregnant Landon.” She said, “And I — I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know—“ she cried

LANDON

Landon wasn’t sure what he was expecting but it definitely wasn’t this. The last time they talked he did suggest she could try for a baby with her new boyfriend but her reaction gave him the impression that it wasn’t something she could really consider. And yet here they were. Landon knew it couldn’t be Aaron’s as his best friend told him he said no so it made sense for him to assume it was her boyfriend’s. “Oh wow, congratulations!” he said once he wrapped his head around it, even though Alison wasn’t looking very happy right now. “Is that...I mean do you not want to be? Because I thought another kid was what you really wanted. You know, a little sibling for Des.” He got up and sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her when he saw her crying. “Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay.”

Alison.

Alison hadn’t been thinking about having a child with Luca. It was still early on in their relationship, and Alison had wanted to focus on the relationship before focusing on a child. Alison wasn’t upset that she was pregnant, she did want another child. “No,” she sniffled, “I am thrilled to be having another baby, a little sibling for Dessy.” Which was true, she wasn’t upset with the child, she already loved that baby just as much as she loved Des, she was upset with the other adults around her. “But, I feel like I’m in the middle of a war zone with Aaron and Luca.” She said, leaning onto Landon as the tears continued to spill over her eyelids.

LANDON

Landon didn’t know much about Alison’s boyfriend, he barely even knew his name. All he knew was that their relationship was quite new and that this was her first serious relationship. He did remember her telling him that she hadn’t even slept with anyone after Aaron. That was all he knew so he was surprised to hear that apparently him and Aaron weren’t getting on so well. “Oh, so I take it they don’t like each other then?” Landon knew first hand how protective Aaron could get of the people he cared about if he didn’t like someone they were around with. So if his best friend didn’t like Alison’s boyfriend, it was bound to cause problems. “What happened?”

Alison.

Alison wasn’t sure where to even start with it. She could right out tell Landon that Luca had gone to prison and that was why Aaron disliked her boyfriend so much, but when she told Aaron Luca had been upset she shared his business. So now, she had to pick her words carefully. Alison took a deep breath, “I’m pretty sure they hate each other. Neither of them have said those words, but I can feel it.” Alison sat back up, turning to look at Landon. “Let’s just say Luca has some stuff in his past that Aaron isn’t a fan of. But —it’s his past. And he’s not looking at his past, he’s looking at his future.” Alison has a few tears slip from her eye, “I told Aaron we need to take a break. Him and I. Was that wrong of me?”

LANDON

Landon could imagine that being in a situation where your boyfriend hates the father of your child was complicated. He didn’t even want to think about what he would do if he was seeing someone and Harry hated them. Throw another baby into the mix and it was a recipe for disaster. He was quiet for a bit, thinking over his words. It was a delicate situation and he couldn’t just blurt the first thing that came to mind. It was important to thread carefully. “I’m not saying it was wrong of you. Obviously I don’t know what Aaron said and I don’t know what Luca did so I can’t comment much about the situation. I just feel like it’s a little hard to take a break from your child’s father, you know what I mean?”

Alison.

Alison took a deep breath, there was nothing easy about this situation. Alison loves Aaron, and anyone who knew the pair knew that they had a different kind of love for each other that could never be broken. Alison also loved Luca, and she was currently carrying his baby. The whole thing was complicated. “I wouldn’t take a break from him when it comes to anything regarding Dessy. More of our friendship.” She sighed, “Luca and I have been fighting a lot. But whenever we fight it is always about Aaron. And between both of them — I’m stressed out and I know it’s not good for the baby.”

LANDON

Landon knew that there was a lot about the situation that he didn’t know and so had to be careful what to say but at the same Aaron was his best friend. They were only now getting out of a rough patch after what happened with Roman but still, he didn’t know Luca at all. So it wasn’t surprising that he’d be taking Aaron’s side while at the same time knowing not to ignore Alison’s concerns. “You guys have been friends for so long...the fights with Luca must have been pretty big for you to decide to take a break”, he said. “What were the arguments concerning Aaron about though? Because I know Aaron pretty well and I don’t think he would hate someone like that for 

Alison.

The blonde hated upsetting anyone. More often than not Alison went along with what others said because she didn’t want to upset anyone. So this situation was really taking a toll on her. She looked to Landon, “Well, Luca didn’t want me to tell Aaron about the pregnancy yet.” She mentioned, “But I felt as though I had to tell Aaron? I mean this baby is going to be Des’ sibling. He deserved to know.” That was one thing she knew she had been right about in this whole situation. “And Luca is mad at me for telling him. And well— Aaron left when I was telling him. I didn’t expect him to be thrilled about the baby, but — I needed him- and he just left me.” She said, rubbing her head at the thoughts that kept running through her head. “And I needed someone to talk too, and well I talked to Luca because until now— him and Aaron were the only person eho knew about the baby. And Luca isn’t making me feel great about my friendship with Aaron. I don’t know— I need to respect both of them. And I’m at the point where I just don’t know what else to do.”

LANDON

It seemed like both guys needed to get their heads out of their asses for long enough to realise that they were upsetting the person they were so adamant they cared about. “You did the right thing telling Aaron about the pregnancy.” That was the one thing he felt he could safely comment on whatever the situation was. “Aaron isn’t just a friend, he’s your daughter’s father. If Harry was going to have a child I would want to be one of the first to know because it’s something that would affect Elle and as her father I deserve to know so I can prepare for that change.” Landon tried to ignore how sad the idea of his ex-husband having children with anyone else made him feel. “And yeah, I can see why you would be upset with Aaron. That’s a pretty shitty move.” He wished his best friend was in front of him right now so he could give him a good shake because what the fuck. “As for Luca...I don’t know him so I feel like I can’t really talk about him much but making you feel bad about your friendship with Aaron is not okay. You’re raising a daughter together and you’re lucky enough to be on good terms even if you’re not together. Destiny is getting the best upbringing because of that so I can’t see how you two being friends can be so bad.” Landon really thought about the situation Alison found herself in and really started to understand her reasoning behind needing a break. “It kind of feels like you need a break from both of them right now.”

Alison.

Right now, all Alison cared about doing was protecting the child that was growing inside of her. She knew being constantly stressed out while pregnant, wasn’t good for the baby and she just wanted to focus on what would be the best for the baby. And right now, she didn’t feel like Aaron or Luca was helping her with that. “I went against what my boyfriend asked of me. Because Aaron was the only person I wanted to tell. Because he’s always been my person, and then he just left me there, in tears. After I asked him to not leave.” She said. That had stung, to watch Aaron wall out the doors of his penthouse. “I love Des. And I love Aaron, and their both my family. I don’t think Luca understands that Aaron is my family. He isn’t just some friend.” Alison said, “I was gonna just get away from New York for a while. Probably go stay in my house in Rhode Island for a bit. I need somewhere to just clear my head and be stress free, even if it’s just for a couple of days.”

LANDON

In a way, Landon could understand why Luca was upset. Alison went against what her boyfriend asked of her but it’s not like she did it to hurt him. Anyone who knew Alison also knew how important Aaron was to her. Those two with Des were a family, even though they were never together romantically. There was still a bond between them and Luca should have known better than to underestimate it. Although both Aaron and Luca were unfair to her for putting the pressure of their dislike for each other on her. Especially since she was pregnant and they should have been helping her avoid stressful situations not cause more. “I think the both of them need some time to cool down and to understand that this isn’t about them. You’re going to have a baby so you need their support not their judgement and pointless arguing.” And Aaron was going to have some groveling to do to get back into Alison’s good books after his behaviour towards her. “That sounds like a nice plan. Although if you ever need a familiar face around, you know the spare bedroom at my house is always available for you”, he offered.

Alison.

Alison wanted to do right by both Luca and Aaron. But I’m this situation, it felt like it was impossible to do just that.  Both men were now part of her family. No matter what happened in the future, Luca & Aaron both would be a father to one of her children. “And Luca basically told me that he wants to move in together before the baby is born. So there is also that.” Alison wasn’t sure why she had said those words, but she felt like she wanted to lay everything out. Talking about it was making her feel better, just a bit. “That’s how I feel. I just want to not stress myself out or the baby. So I need them to stop stressing me out.” Alison felt like her life was spinning and she couldn’t stop it. “Thank you, Landon. I’m just gonna go to Rhode Island. I mean I just want to sit on the beach, and sink my feet in the sand. But when I do come back, I will keep that in mind.”

LANDON

“Do you want to move in together?” Landon was worried about Alison. He couldn’t help but worry that the two were going to be moving too fast because of the upcoming baby and the last thing he wanted was to see a close friend getting hurt. “Because you shouldn’t move in with him until it’s what you really want to do and you’re a 100% sure. Baby or no baby, it should be your decision.” In reality, Landon thought then not stressing her out was easier said then done. Just because she left to Rhode Island for a few days didn’t mean Alison wasn’t still going to be thinking about them and about the situation. He didn’t want to upset her even more though so Landon just nodded. “Sounds like you have it all planned out already. I really hope you’ll get to relax, at least a little.”

Alison.

“Honestly, I don’t know what I want. Everything is changing so quickly. You know Luca hasn’t even met Des yet? I’m going to have a kid with him, and he hasn’t even met my daughter. How am I expected to just move in with him?” Alison loved Luca, and she would love to live with him, but there was still too much to figure out about him before they made that decision. And the fighting, she couldn’t live with him if they were going to keep arguing, especially about Aaron. As Aaron was destiny’s father. “I mean, I still have a lot to do for work. But I just think it’ll be good to be away from the mess that is here. I love them both, but I can’t be around them right now.”

LANDON

Alison was right. Moving in with someone who hadn’t even met her daughter didn’t sound like the greatest idea. And while living separately with a baby wasn’t ideal, it could still be done. It’s what Aaron and Alison had done for all these years after all. Living with someone just for the baby was dangerous and could end in disaster. “That’s understandable. They both did something that hurt you and it’s completely understandable that you would need a break from the both of them. It could help you figure some things out.”

Alison.

Alison didn’t want to just make impulsive decisions. She knew if she made the decision this early on in the pregnancy, it would be impulse. She hoped it would be easier to make that decision later on into the pregnancy. But right now, it was too much on the blonde. Everything was too much at the moment, “That’s what I need to do. I can’t just keep doing this constant fighting with them both.” She said with a sigh, then looked at Landon, “I’m sorry, you didn’t come over here to listen to all my problems.”

LANDON

Landon wouldn’t want to be constantly stuck between two people he cared about fighting either. “Hey, don’t apologise. I came here to catch up and that’s what we’re doing. Besides, what are friends for if not to listen to each other’s problems?” he teased, trying to at least get a smile on her face. Landon picked up his coffee cup again and took a sip.

Alison.

Alison knew Landon was right. That was what friends were for, and honestly it had been nice to talk about it to someone. “Thank you Landon. It means a lot. I haven’t had anyone to talk too about all this.” She said, reaching out for her coffee cup. “Is there anything new in your life?”

LANDON

“I can imagine but now that I know what’s going on you can talk to me about it anytime. Even while you’re away, just text me. I tend to be up at all hours of the night so don’t worry about the time”, he reassured. Landon was about to say that there wasn’t really anything new in his life when he remembered that there was something quite different the last time they got to talk. “Well, you probably know this already but I’m back to being single and ready to mingle.” He tried to put it off jokingly so as to not make it too obvious that he’d been pretty broken up about it.

Alison.

"Thank you, Landon. It means a lot really. It feels nice to get it off my chest," She admitted. Alison was planning on running to Rhode Island, and sitting on the beach, with everything pent up inside, but having told Landon, did make her feel better than she had an hour prior. She had really just needed some reassurance on the situation. Her eyes raised an eyebrow, "What happened with you two?" She questioned, not meaning to push, but she was curious.

LANDON

Landon was glad that he got to help a friend out and lend an ear, especially since Alison looked like she really needed someone to talk to. He wasn’t sure how to explain the situation with Loren, mostly because he didn’t understand it himself. He still wasn’t sure how they went from dating, to being broken up, then deciding to give them another try and...back to being broken up. All in the matter of weeks. And now his ex and Jace apparently even adopted a puppy so it was serious. “I honestly don’t know. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t me trying to get out of talking about it but I’m not sure how we ended up here. We’re through though, that’s for sure.”

Alison.

It was nice to talk to Landon, even if she hadn't been planning on letting him in on her secret yet. It was supposed to be just family, but it was important that she had someone to talk too. But now, it was time to find out about Landon's life. She tilted her head, "Huh. Are you okay?" She questioned. She knew sometimes relationships just ended, but Landon looked as though he was doing well with it.

LANDON

Landon shrugged, unsure of how he should answer. He was still hurt over how things had ended between them but if this was the way things were supposed to be like then he was glad it ended when it did. At least he was spared from being hurt even more. “I am. I guess I still miss him sometimes but at least I’m at a point where I can safely say I’m better off this way.”

Alison.

Alison reached over, setting a hand on his shoulder. "It's better that it happened now instead of later, just have to remember that." Alison wasn't great at giving relationship advice, because well, she hadn't been in all that many relationships, and those she had been in, didn't work out. The one great one she was in, was falling apart currently. But, she would still make sure her friend was okay

LANDON

Landon smiled and nodded, agreeing with his friend. It still sucked that it had to happen but at least it all came to a head before he could introduce Loren to Elle. At least he didn't have to feel guilty about that. He drank the last of his coffee and got up. "I don't want to keep you from your trip to Rhodes Island, I know you must be on edge to get there. Just...text me if you need anything, okay? And don't be a stranger."

Alison.

Alison got up, giving Landon a soft smile. "Thanks, Landon. It was really nice to talk. I needed it." She admitted, as she strolled over to where her suitcases were. "And if you need anything, you can text me as well. Okay?" Alison said, leading him down to the lobby of the building. "I'll see you soon!"

[sgtcalhouns]

Tag

here’s something fluffy i’ve been wanting to write for the mechanic au since i first started it. let’s take a glimpse at the more playful side of felix and tamora’s relationship~

Felix stuck his head in the door, giving the room a thorough once-over before stepping inside. He tiptoed through the garage, hoping to make it to Tamora’s bag without being spotted. So far, so good. Checking over his shoulder to make sure no one had walked in behind him, he held his breath as he gently pulled her bag open and looked inside. Unable to find what he was looking for, he leaned in, carefully digging through the contents of the bag until he finally saw the glint of light reflecting off of metal buried deep inside. Jackpot. 

As he pulled his prize from the bottom of Tamora’s belongings, her keys fell out, making a metallic smack as they hit the floor. Felix froze, slowly looking behind him once more to make sure the sound hadn’t drawn anyone into the garage. When it was evident that the coast was clear, he allowed himself to relax, exhaling a deep breath and letting his shoulders drop. He scooped her keys up off the floor and put them back inside her bag, leaving everything exactly the way he found it as he slipped the item of his search into his shirt pocket. 

“What’cha doin’ there, Felix?” 

The voice startled him, causing him to let out an unflattering yelp as he jumped. He gulped before turning around to see Tamora standing before him. She placed a hand on her hip and gave him a knowing smirk and he knew he was caught. Still, if he had learned anything from her, it was to hold your cards close to the chest until the hand was over. No accusations had been made just yet.

“Oh, nothin’, I just came by to see you,” he said, hoping he sounded casual.

“Is that why you jumped when you heard me behind you?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Well, you snuck up on me there, Tammy,” he replied. 

“Why’d I see you with your hands in my bag, hmm?” she asked.

“W-Well...” he trailed off as he wracked his brain for a cover story. “As I was walking through the garage I saw that your bag was open and your keys had fallen out. All I did was pick them up and put them back where they belong.”

“Is that so?” she asked.

“Mm-hmm,” he said, nodding furiously. “I just wanted to keep your belongings safe. You really ought to make sure your bag is closed or someone might steal something.”

“Well, that is very sweet of you,” she said, taking a few steps closer to him. 

He swallowed as she took him by the shoulders and pulled him close. With such close proximity, she was bound to see right through him if she hadn’t already. 

“You seem nervous,” she said, feigning concern.

“You have that effect on me,” he countered.

“I think I know a way we can help you relax,” she said with a smile.

She leaned in for a kiss and he melted right into it. This was her secret weapon and they both knew it--it was impossible for him to defend himself against her soft lips and the feeling they stirred up inside him. Things heated up quickly as she draped her arms over his shoulders and he held her by the waist. He was letting his guard down and he didn’t even realize it. 

She smiled against his mouth and he deepened the kiss, clueless to the true reason behind her grin. One of her hands found its way into his hair, providing a sufficient distraction as the other began to rub his chest. Her nails scratched at his scalp as she slipped her other hand down his shirt pocket and pulled out her dog tags. He put his hand over his pocket to try and stop her, but it was too late. He had been found out.

“Look what we have here,” she said.

Felix was still breathless from the kiss, and it took him a moment to piece together what had just happened. 

“That was a dirty trick, Tammy Jean,” he said. “I would’ve gotten those out of here if you hadn’t kissed me like that.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t like it,” she said with a knowing smile.

“That’s beside the point,” he said.

“Come on, don’t be a sore loser,” she teased. “Just admit it. I won this one.”

Neither of them could remember exactly how, but this little game of theirs had started early in their relationship, when Felix used her dog tags as an excuse to visit her at work. He began sneaking them away from her, only to show up at the shop the next day with some story about how she must have dropped them in his truck by mistake. She saw right through him, but she found it endearing the lengths he was going to make excuses to see her. That didn’t mean she was going to go easy on him, though; after two or three visits, she started making things interesting by hiding the dog tags. Her hiding places became more and more elaborate as time went on, but he never gave up trying to find them. He adored this playful side of Tamora, even when it added new challenges to his game. 

“If I knew that was the kind of treatment I’d receive for getting caught, I might not have tried so hard,” he said with a chuckle.

“You wouldn’t feel the same way if you knew what I had planned for you if you won,” she replied.

“Better keep those plans fresh in your mind,” he grinned. “I’ll get you next time.”

“Maybe I could come over tonight and give you a little preview,” she replied. “I’ve got to keep you motivated somehow.”

“Believe me, I am plenty motivated,” he said, eyeing her up and down. “But if you want to give me a preview, I’d be a fool to say no.”

Just then, the door opened and Hank stuck his head inside the garage.

“Thought you lovebirds might like to know that you’re standing right next to the air vent and I can hear every word of what you’re saying,” he said. “I don’t know what little game it is you’re playing, but I’d prefer not to know the details.”

The door closed behind him before either of them could respond. Felix’s cheeks burned a brilliant pink, and he even thought he saw a hint of a blush on Tamora’s face. 

“Well, I, uh...” he trailed off in embarrassment. “I don’t suppose you’d like to go get some dinner with me?”

“I’d like that,” she replied. She leaned in close to murmur in his ear, “And then I can give you that preview we talked about.”

A shiver coursed through him as he envisioned the plans Tamora had for him tonight. He escorted her to his truck and helped her up into the passenger seat. As she buckled in, he noticed the chain from her dog tags sticking out of the pocket in her jumpsuit. He kept quiet, attempting to appear nonchalant as he put the key in the ignition. Tamora followed his eyes down to her pocket, chuckling to herself at his terrible attempt at being discreet. Even from her seat, she could see the wheels turning in his mind as he began scheming a way to sneak the tags away from her tonight. He glanced down again and she spoke up with an amused smile.

“Don’t even think about it.”

[demi-drawing]

in case you don’t live forever - ni no kuni

word count - 4846

tumblr sucks and won’t let me put a link so if you want to read this fic on ao3 my ni no kuni ao3 acc is @sweetpeasprite!!! it’s on there

so remember that older oliver design i made? haha yeah! so anyways what if that didn’t happen

DEATH WARNING there’s death in this fic. major characters die. it’s nothing gory and they all live long happy lives and die of old age but they still die so Be Warned

Oliver is thirteen.

When he arrives back in Motorville, the first thing he does is take a shower, and then he goes down to Miss Leila’s shop and talks to Myrtle about nothing in particular, until Miss Leila shoos him out not unkindly for “distracting her best employee”. On the way out, she says something odd.

“You seem different to usual, Oliver, dear.”

Oliver blinks. “Different how, Miss Leila?”

She stands in the doorway of the milk bar and shakes her head fondly. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. More mature, I suppose.”

He laughs it off with a smile and a wave as he goes to see how much progress Phil has made on his car since he last saw him (was it when the Clarion was made? It feels like months ago), but it sticks in his head for the rest of the day.

---

Oliver is fifteen.

He hasn’t grown any taller. Phil and Myrtle were already taller than him to begin with, but now they tower over him; he supposes he must have a growth spurt someday soon. In the back of his mind, he worries over it, mind wandering along to the other world and its magic, but there’s no time for that when Denny’s made it into the track team, and Phil’s made a new car, and Myrtle’s taken up playing the flute (by Oliver’s recommendation).

He doesn’t think about it for a few months until all four of them are over at Phil’s garage, watching him work and chattering amongst themselves, occasionally handing him a tool when he asks for it. Somehow, the conversation takes a turn to two years ago.

“Man, do you remember when I hurt my ankle and just completely stopped running for a while?” Denny asks, leaning against a pile of old tires. Oliver looks up at him, then turns his gaze to the floor to avoid eye contact. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to notice. “That was weird. Honestly, I barely remember what even happened during that.”

“That was a few months before I got weird too, huh?” Phil says, his voice echoing from under the car. “Like, when I stopped working on any of my cars or… anything, really."

Myrtle frowns slightly. “Now that I think about it, Denny’s injury was only a few months after my sickness.” She leans back in the old garden chair Oliver had found buried under a tarp. “It is odd all of that happened in the same year.”

Oliver stays quiet, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to where Phil is halfway under his car, hoping to stay non-suspicious. Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen, as Phil rolls out from the motor and raises an eyebrow at him, streaks of motor oil on his cheeks. “Wasn’t that the year you disappeared for months at a time, Ollie?”

When Oliver doesn’t reply, only glancing away which in retrospect he thinks only makes him look suspicious, Denny hums in thought. “He came back to fix my ankle. And… whatever was stopping me from running, I guess.”

“Same with me,” Phil says, still staring at him, “but with my motivation, or whatever.”

“He cured my illness.” Myrtle pauses, scrunching her eyebrows together. “...And I think my parents’ marriage somehow?”

All three of them stop, glance at each other, and then stare at Oliver. He ducks his head and does a half-hearted shrug. Phil snorts.

“Take it from the guy who’s known him his whole life,” he says, ducking back under his car and making his voice start echoing again. “That’s just how Ollie is. He’s just such a nice person everyone naturally follows in his wake of good-hearted destruction.”

Denny laughs. “I can’t deny that. I swear I’ve seen flowers actually bloom in his presence. He’s, like, magic or something.”

“There’s also the fact he still looks eleven,” Myrtle says. “All us three are teens and Oliver’s still the age I met him.”

“I was thirteen when I met you!” Oliver says indignantly, speaking up for the first time since the conversation began.

“You looked eleven then, and you look eleven now,” Denny teases lightly. “But seriously, are you gonna get any taller or are you gonna be four foot something forever?”

Oliver splutters in offense as the rest of his so-called friends laugh.

---

Oliver is eighteen.

...He thinks. He still looks thirteen. Maybe he’s not been counting right.

Denny has left Motorville to try out for the state championships, and Phil’s now employed at Rusty’s garage; Oliver is proud of both of them. Though, with Myrtle still working for Miss Leila (she's getting paid for it now), Oliver’s the only one without a job. It’s kinda difficult to get one when you look thirteen. And he definitely only looks thirteen - he’s not actually still thirteen. That would be ridiculous, and impossible, and… magical, which is entirely possible. He steers his mind away from the topic whenever it happens to pop up.

With all the time he has now, what with everyone at their jobs, he visits the other world a lot more. Swaine’s co-running Hamelin with Marcassin, and Esther’s continuing to care for familiars. Swaine doesn’t look much different - other than occasionally he shaves now, which is a big shock - but Esther’s growing up at the same pace as Myrtle, which he supposes shouldn’t come as a surprise.

He wakes in a dream one night, and finds his mom standing in a field of flowers for the first time in five years.

“Oliver, sweetie,” she murmurs, and if Oliver is seeing and hearing her right, she seems on the verge of tears. He blinks. That's not right. It's usually the other way around. “I’m so sorry.”

“What…?” he whispers, and for once she comes up to him to sweep him in a hug, kneeling down to match his (unfortunate) height.

“We didn’t know,” she says, and her hug is exactly like how he remembers it. He presses his lips together as she murmurs, “Honey, we didn’t know. We’re both so sorry," into his ear.

Oliver swallows and wraps his arms around her middle. The dream doesn’t end as he remembers the rest of them doing - instead of her drifting away, into white space, his mom simply holds on tight, and the ending is so abrupt he wakes up startled, tears in his eyes.

There was definitely one thing about this dream that was the same as the others.

Great Sages can be so cryptic.

---

Oliver might be nineteen.

That’s what the calendar says. But he gets confused looks from his childhood best friends, and mistaken for another kid by actual thirteen year olds, who give him odd looks when he tells them (and himself) that he's not. At this point, he thinks Myrtle is convinced he’s magical. Which, he doesn’t particularly blame her for - after all, it’s the truth.

He visits Teeheeti one day, on a hunt for a certain lantern-nosed fairy. Of course, he’s so easily recognisable now that when he walks into the Fairyground, all the fairies with nothing better to do start calling for the Lord High Lord of the Fairies.

“Ollie-boy!” Drippy shouts, almost from the other side of the town. Oliver smiles and waves at him, and he comes racing over, lantern jingling furiously. “Haven’t seen you ‘round here in a bit! What’s going on, mun?”

“Not much!” Oliver says, smiling. “Just wanted to visit you, I guess.”

“There’s a change. Haven’t seen you in months, mun!" Drippy rolls his eyes, and Oliver winces apologetically. "Been lonely, I have. There’s been a new restaurant opened up here and everything! Come on, I’ll show you the way.”

Drippy leads him through the town, past the Cat’s Cradle and the giant octopus building that Oliver never really got the chance to learn the name of. As it turns out, the new restaurant is right near the Cavity Club. The seats are, of course, far too tiny for Oliver to sit on, so he just sits on the grass instead. They order and begin to wait.

“So, Ollie-boy,” Drippy starts, sipping a glass of water. “Wanna tell youer old friend what’s really bothering you?”

Oliver starts. “Wh- Mr. Drippy, there’s nothing bothering me! I-”

“Save youer breath, you’re a terrible liar.” Oliver stops talking, taking a drink from his own water quietly. He glances at Drippy, only to jump when he realises he’s leaning into his personal space and squinting at him in an almost threatening manner, if only he wasn’t so small.

“Okay, so maybe there’s something bothering me,” he mutters into his fairy-sized glass, built for fairy-sized hands.

Drippy continues to stare at him for a few moments before he says, “Well? Spit it out, mun, I don’t have all day.”

Oliver takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. “Mr. Drippy, can people without soulmates age?” he says heavily, looking down at the water in his glass and swirling it around as he waits for a response.

They’re both silent for a moment. Drippy looks Oliver up and down, and Oliver glances up to find his expression somber. “...At this point, there’s not much hope, is there?” he says softly, as though what he just said didn’t break Oliver’s heart, in the non-magical way.

Oliver blinks back tears, swallowing hard. Drippy pats his arm lightly, and they sit in silence for a minute before their food arrives, and Drippy starts attempting small talk. Oliver does his best to respond, trying to smile, but the mood has been brought down.

Oliver thanks Drippy, though he’s not sure what for, and the fairy watches as he casts Gateway home. There, he lies on his bed and stares at the ceiling for a while. At some point, tears start to fall. At some point, he starts to sob.

Oliver is thirteen.

---

Oliver is thirteen.

He’s accepted it now. It hasn’t sunk in quite yet, but he’s at least accepted it. That doesn’t mean everything else stops growing. At some point, all his friends turn twenty-five. He’s too busy accepting he will genuinely be four foot something for the rest of his life, if his life ever ends, which it doesn’t seem to be doing any time soon.

Marcassin, now in his early thirties, mentions Cassiopeia during one of Oliver’s trips to Hamelin. She’s apparently doing very well - only blowing up a toaster a month. She had made a public apology, back when Oliver was thirteen and meant to be thirteen, and twelve years later, most have forgiven her. Of course, some haven’t, which is reasonable, considering everything she did. Oliver hasn't seen her since before his whole immortality revelation, too busy with, uh… his immortality revelation. Which seems strange, but he already gets enough pitying looks from his friends - he didn't want to get more.

So, he casts Travel in the direction of the Ivory Tower in search of a certain green-haired queen.

As it so happens, he lands right in the main flight bay of the castle, where he first flew Tengri in to fight the White Witch all those years ago. Cassiopeia clearly hadn't been lying when she said her first step would be flowers - there are flowerpots and planters and vases filled with them on every pedestal Oliver remembers being empty before, and all the deactivated robots have their nooks and crannies filled with pastel pink and blue petals. He brushes his hand along a few of the taller plants. They look incredibly healthy, considering how many there are - he wonders if Cassiopeia has enchanted them, or maybe has someone else take care of them. It's most likely the former - he's not sure having this many of them here would be worth it otherwise.

He wanders through the halls, no longer filled with wild beasts, until he hears a familiar tune hummed by a familiar voice. He makes a right and heads straight for it, trying to remember where the path he's walking leads but ultimately failing. As he gets closer to the voice, he recognises the melody. It’s the Clarion’s song, the one Esther played to clear the Miasma Marshes of the cursed fog. Oliver smiles nostalgically. He hasn’t heard it in twelve years, after all.

He manages to find a circular room with a beautiful segmented glass domed roof, letting him see the bright blue sky. The room seems to have either been built specifically to be a garden, or been entirely repurposed to be one. The floor is made of red brick, and there are flower beds blooming with so many plants they overhang heavily onto the small paths leading through the growth. Oliver can only name a few of these flowers - he can see roses, violets, and a few... carnations? - but he’s stunned by their beauty nonetheless.

In the middle of the garden, barely distinguishable through the flowers, stands Queen Cassiopeia, former Nazcaan royalty. Her white headpiece is barely visible over the giant sunflowers she appears to be watering, and she seems to be so caught up in it that she doesn't notice Oliver come in. He winds his way through the path until he's standing near her, coughs quietly, and her head snaps to attention. She stares at him for a few seconds before smiling.

"Oliver!" she exclaims, putting down her watering can. "You haven't visited in a while! Would you care for some tea? I know you prefer coffee, but I believe Marcassin took my coffeemaker away from me after… some incident or another, I'm sure."

Oliver smiles. "I would love some, Queen Cassiopeia."

She exits the garden, gesturing for him to follow. "How many times must I tell you, please just call me Cassiopeia. Or even Pea! It was my name at one point, you know."

Oliver giggles as he's led down marble hallways and past yet more flowers before they arrive in the kitchen. Cassiopeia immediately fills the kettle and puts it on the stove, while Oliver sits at the table in the middle of the room. She makes small talk as the kettle boils, asking Oliver about his day and whether anything interesting has happened recently, to which he answers to the best of his ability. The kettle whistles, and Cassiopeia pours water into two teacups and places teabags in both, setting one down in front of Oliver and sitting across from him with her own.

"Now, as much as I adore your visits," Cassiopeia says, which makes Oliver smile, "is there any reason you've come to me today? And with so little warning, as well."

Oliver swirls his tea around his cup. "Well, Queen Cassiopeia," he winces apologetically as she gives him a dry look when he says her title, "I haven't, uh… haven't been aging these past few years? And I, uh, thought you might… know something about that, in some way."

She stares at him, and he ducks his head to avoid her gaze. "You haven't been aging?" she says, tapping one of her fingers on the table. "How did that come about, I wonder? I, myself, am immortal only due to my use of the forbidden spell…" Her eyebrows scrunch together as she traces the wooden pattern in the table.

Oliver bites his lip, then hums in an attempt to break the quiet. "Has anyone ever told you my soulmate was Shadar?"

Cassiopeia chokes on air, glancing up with wide eyes. "Shadar? The Dark Djinn?"

"That's the one..." Oliver murmurs, looking away. It's not that he's… embarrassed his soulmate was Lucien, just… the reaction.

"But- you-" She struggles to get the words out, making Oliver wince. "You're… you! And Shadar was… so bitter. I don't remember much from my White Witch days, but he was such a big part, I don't know if I could forget…" Cassiopeia taste-tests her tea, wincing as she burns her tongue, before her eyes go wide as she seems to realise something. "Did you not defeat the Dark Djinn? Is he not… dead? I vaguely remember him dying…"

"He is!" Oliver says, quickly. "But he… severed the link between our souls. When he died, I mean. He turned out to be okay! He just, uh... wanted to protect the world. His… his actual name was Lucien." He taps his fingers on the table anxiously. "With the link gone, I haven't… aged at all."

"Wait… yes, you two being soulmates is coming back to me now." She leans back in her chair, putting one hand to her forehead and exhaling. "I apologise. My memories from my time as the White Witch are… faint." She huffs, shaking her head slightly. "So, you think because you don't have a soulmate to age alongside, you can't age at all?"

"That's… pretty much it, yeah." Oliver sighs, trying to take a sip from his teacup and wincing as he burns his tongue, trying to blow the steam out of his teacup.

They sit in an almost, but not quite, awkward silence for a few moments or so, carefully sipping at their drinks, trying not to burn themselves. "So… how old are you?" Cassiopeia pipes up, startling Oliver.

"Physically? Thirteen. But, if I were aging, I'd be… twenty-five or so now?"

She laughs to herself quietly. "I hardly know the difference between those numbers. In my many… many years sitting in this castle, I appear to have forgotten how humans age."

"Oh, well…" Oliver thinks to himself, trying to find a good comparison. "Have you seen Esther recently?"

Cassiopeia nods. "A year or so ago, I believe."

"I'd be the same age as her."

She blinks, shocked, as she presumably thinks back to her last encounter with Esther. “Wow. You really did stop aging." She smiles slightly, a quietly fond look in her eye. "You're awfully young to be immortal, you know."

He hides his nose in his cup. "Don't rub it in," he grumbles, more to himself than to Cassiopeia. She laughs, and he finds himself smiling along with her, until he's giggling into his cup.

Cassiopeia leans forward, resting her forearms on the table, as Oliver takes a sip from his tea to calm his laughter. "What are you going to do now?" she asks, and she seems genuinely curious.

Oliver blinks. "Hm?"

"Well, you just found out you're immortal - or, at least, can't age." She smiles at him, sitting back again. He doesn't tell her he didn't just figure it out, but then again, maybe twelve years isn't all that much to Cassiopeia, considering. "What are you going to do for the rest of your never-ending life?" she asks.

He thinks for a few moments. What is he going to do? He's literally going to be thirteen forever; there's not much he can do about that, and he's already bored of it after twelve years. He supposes he could go back to Motorville, but people are already suspicious there, and for good reason. No one stays the same age, after all - unless you're Oliver, that is. He did enough travelling for a lifetime when he went on his quest to defeat Shadar, and though he didn't know it for the bulk of the time, the White Witch as well.

He hums into his cup. "I don't really know," he admits, biting his lip as the sentence settles in his mind.

Cassiopeia looks uncharacteristically nervous as she stares down her teacup, before she quietly says, "You could… stay with me."

Oliver looks up, blinking a few times, staring at her as he processes her words. “Stay… here? At the Ivory Tower?”

She nods slowly, as though warming up to the idea. “It gets awfully lonely around here, you know. Though, perhaps I should think of a new name…" She stares to her left at nothing in particular, lips pursed in thought. ""Ivory Tower" sounds a bit sinister, don't you think?"

"I think it's fine," Oliver replies, staring down at his now almost empty cup. Ivory Tower sounds okay to him, but they're getting off track. "But, um, back to the, uh, "staying with you", thing…"

"Ah! Yes." Cassiopeia brings her attention back to Oliver, smiling. "Do you think it's a good idea? I have a spare room you could stay in. Many spare rooms, in fact. This palace is enormous."

"Trust me, I figured that out trying to find the throne room the first time," Oliver laughs into his cup, draining it of the last drops of tea. He sets it down with a small clink.

They sit in silence for a bit as Cassiopeia finishes her drink as well. Oliver traces the lines in the wooden table with his finger as he thinks over her proposition. The more he thinks about it, the more he warms up to the idea. After all, he has nowhere else to go. All his friends in Motorville have drifted apart from him; it's kind of hard to stay friends with a forever-thirteen year old when you're in your mid twenties, not to mention he hardly spends time there anymore. 

And all his friends here… and in Motorville, for that matter… he'll outlive all of them. He'll be thirteen when they're old and grey. When they're gone… where will he go, if he doesn't stay here? He'll be wandering alone forever. Like… Cassiopeia was, but less restricted by a kingdom. That… scares him a little. What would happen if he were to be alone? What would happen if he were alone as long as Cassiopeia was? Would he become something like the White Witch? Or maybe... Shadar? His mind whispers that Shadar was his soulmate, and Oliver frantically chases the thought away, refusing to think about it, in the same way he's been refusing to think about it for the past twelve years.

"Oliver?" Cassiopeia murmurs, and he looks up, startled. "Are you okay?"

He presses his lips together, electing to ignore the question in favour of answering hers. "I… guess I could stay here…" Oliver murmurs, and Cassiopeia visibly perks up. "Th- that is, if it's not too much trouble!" he adds on quickly, not particularly wanting to be a burden.

She blinks slowly. "Oliver, child," she starts, and Oliver wrinkles his nose, seeing as he's technically not a child, "I have been alone for so long, just having someone here who isn't that godforsaken Council is a blessing."

Oliver blinks, staring at her for a moment, before lighting up with a smile as he exclaims, "Thank you, Queen Cassiopeia!"

Cassiopeia sighs, though it's through a grin of her own. "What will it take for you to stop calling me that? Perhaps I shall start calling you Saviour Oliver."

"...Please don't."

"Very well, Saviour Oliver."

---

Swaine dies first.

It maybe shouldn't be a shock to Oliver, who's been living with Cassiopeia for the past fifty years and visiting his friends every week, watching their grey hairs slowly grow in as his stays the same red as always. But somehow, it is a shock, and it's another reminder of how he's still thirteen while his friends are literally dying around him. He attends the funerals: the public one and the private one. Both have a traditional Hamelin send off - that is, cremation. The actual body gets set on fire during the private ceremony.

In both ceremonies, Marcassin makes a speech. In both ceremonies, he cries. As does Esther, and Drippy. Oliver attends with Cassiopeia, and quietly sobs into a handkerchief adorned with Nazcaan symbols, as Cassiopeia lets him lean on her shoulder.

Marcassin is next. His son ascends the throne, thankfully much older than his father was when he did the same. He gets a similar set of ceremonies; being the emperor and all, though, they're bigger than Swaine's funerals were (Oliver's not sure Marcassin would have liked that), and the three kingdoms are swung into sadness for a week before things get back on track. Everything goes back to normal so quickly after even the emperor's death, Oliver thinks, watching the main street of Hamelin bustle from a palace balcony as he cries silent tears for his friend.

The next funeral is thankfully a good few years later - Esther's. Gogo dies with her, what with him being born out of Form Familiar. Her ceremony is much quieter, yet Al Mamoon keeps their heads bowed for her, the daughter of a Great Sage and one of the best familiar keepers around. Oliver realises Esther dying means Myrtle must be dead as well, and quietly mourns two friends instead of one. He swallows as he realises it also means his childhood friends from Motorville must either be already dead or close to it. During Esther's ceremony, Drippy clings to Oliver's shoulder as they both realise they're the only two of the original team left.

Drippy lives for much longer, thankfully - he looks the same as he did seventy years ago, bar maybe a few extra wrinkles surrounding his eyes. Oliver asks him about this, and at first he responds with offense, but then explains that fairies have a much longer lifespan than humans do. He lives for another fifty years before finally kicking the bucket. Oliver is the only human allowed at what would otherwise be a fairy-only ceremony. He watches Drippy's body vanish into a puff of golden magic, and tries not to burst out wailing, because he can hear Drippy calling him a Cry-Baby Bunting at even the first sign of tears. Only a few of the other fairies cry. Many of them who weren't alive a hundred and twenty years ago (has it really been that long? Oliver's heart squeezes as he realises it might have been) give Oliver almost offended looks during the ceremony, not knowing who he is, but the fairies that know him tell him to pay them no mind.

When he returns to the Ivory Tower after Drippy's funeral, he sits in the garden for a while, surrounded by plants and flowers, tugging on his black mourning cape (which Oliver wishes he didn't know was a thing) and gazing up at the steadily darkening sky through the glass. For some reason, it didn't hit him til now that everyone he once knew from when he was actually thirteen, on a dumb quest to save the world that really never should have worked but did, is gone. Everyone, from every town. Drippy was the last part of that time he had. The first tear falls, then the next, and he feels himself breaking down as he starts sobbing, sitting on the red brick below him and letting himself cry for a time that's long since passed. Somewhere between tears comes the realisation that he won't be able to see his mom in the afterlife, if there is one (and considering he's died before, he thinks there is) and he thought he was over her death, there are more recent deaths to be sad about, but all his grief hits him at once, and he wails and howls into his hands like the thirteen year old that he isn't.

Cassiopeia finds him curled up in a ball on the floor next to a bench, tear tracks still wet on his cheeks. The first thing she does is question why he's on the floor when there's a perfectly good bench right next to him, which makes him smile, even though it's fake. Then she scoops him up and carries him through to the living room, where he eventually falls asleep on her shoulder as she reads through a peace treaty from ten thousand years ago that she found in the back of the palace library and highlights the spelling mistakes.

The next day, Oliver returns to the garden and, following in Cassiopeia's footsteps, picks five flowers to fill with his memories. It doesn't mean he loses those memories himself, it just means if he ever forgets his adventures, he can always have a little reminder.

One is blue, like Drippy's fairy suit. One is pink, which was Esther's favourite colour. Another green, as Swaine's coat. The fourth purple, like Marcassin's cape. The last flower's petals are pure white, with a black center. Oliver stores in this flower his memories with his mother, and with Lucien, and how he saved Cassiopeia; it's the centrepiece of the bouquet. He keeps the five flowers in a vase in his room, enchanting them to never die.

---

Oliver is thirteen.

Sitting on a kitchen counter and watching-slash-guiding Cassiopeia on how to use an electric kettle (he's not entirely sure, himself - they've only been invented recently), he smiles.

"Why in the world are you smiling?" Cassiopeia says, trying to figure out where the on button is. "This damned machine still won't turn on!"

"I don't think there's any need to cuss out the kettle, Cassiopeia," Oliver says. "We have all the time in the world, after all." She glares at him, and he giggles.

"Read the instructions to me one more time, I think I got it."

It still hasn't quite sunk in that he'll be thirteen forever, but it will eventually.

He does have eternity, after all.

[juminsmysticmc]

Rfa + Sarean + V. with suicidal MC and they had a bad fight then MC has bad thoughts.

Rfa + Minor Duo have a fight with a suicidal MC who has bad thoughts afterwards and tries to act on them but gets caught before she could do anything (TRIGGER WARNINGS, MENTION OF: Self harm, death, depression, suicide

Hiii! I hope I didn’t misunderstand you and wrote it the way you wanted. Please stay allert, trigger warnings! And please guys don’t give any hate, this is fictional and shows only a scene of the request! Now enjoy! 

Jumin 

You looked down as Jumin slipped angrily at his wine. 

You were honestly sorry for what you did. 

It wasn’t your purpose to embarrass him like that. 

He muffled as he took a slip of his wine once again. 

,,J-Jumin….I‘m sorry, it wasn’t my purpose to soak the best investor for C&R with wine….I simply….didn’t look.“ you tried to explain once again. 

,,It’s humanly to make mistakes.“ he snapped. 

Even through he said that, it seemed that he still couldn’t forgive you. 

Your lips began to tremble….you tried to bite on them to stop the trembling, to not begin to sob in front of him. 

None needs me. What’s the meaning of living if none loves me? 

You questioned yourself as you observed your trembling hands. 

Out of the blue you were interested if someone would cry over you. 

Since Jumin decided to not talk to you, you decided to go away. 

Forever. 

You couldn’t bear it anymore, the man you loved would be better without you.

You opened the faucet as warm water filled the tub. 

While the tub was getting filled you searched a for a blade and striped your clothes. 

Your ugly shape made you remember that you never fitted for Jumin. 

When the tub was full with enough water, you entered the warm paradise and turned it into hell. 

You scratched your wrist as deep as possible as you grinned your teeth, it was more painful than you thought. 

Because of the warm water you quickly lost conscious. 

,,She‘s moving….“ a man‘s voice sobbed as he was holding your hands. 

Somehow you were sure that Jumin was the one besides you. 

And you were right, he was right by your side.  

,,Jumin…what happened?“ you questioned him as you tried to get up a bit just to fail.  

,,You…you tried to kill yourself, Mc….After almost two hours I wanted to use the bathroom and when I opened the door I found your bloody figure in the bath tub. It’s good that you never close yourself in……but why did you do it….?’’ he asked you, stroking your pale face. 

,,I….I hated myself for arguing with you. I just wanted to die, to feel missed….’’ you told him and looked away. 

Jumin however took your chin ans kissed your lips softly. 

,,My love, you realize that we need help, right?’’ he asked you as his tears fell on your cheeks. 

You nodded. 

Zen 

,,I WON’T FORGIVE YOU IF YOU DO IT!’’ you yelled at the white haired man as he signed a contract at your home. 

,,THEN DON’T FORGIVE ME!’’ he yelled back and threw the pen away and glared at you. 

His glare seemed to leave scars behind, your body began to tremble as your tears dripped on the floor. 

,,HOW?! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!’’ you asked him while you looked at the contract. 

Zen just signed a contract for a new manager and a trip to L.A for a year. 

,,BECAUSE I NEED A NEW MANAGER IF I WANT TO GET FAMOUS IN L.A!! I WILL TAKE YOU WITH ME!’’ he yelled. 

He was angry at you. 

He thought that you would support him but it seemed that you were just interested in your own feelings. 

You however felt the same as you saw him with the contract. 

He was selling you out just to get to go to L.A. 

,,I hate you.’’ you snapped in a silent voice, showing your boyfriend that you were disappointed. 

You rushed on his balcony to keep crying at the fresh air. 

Bad thoughts haunted you as you kept crying harder and harder. 

,,I’m not worth it! I’m no good for him, I’m holding him back! Mc you’re such a bitch!’’ you sobbed and began to slapp yourself. 

Your biggest wish right now was just to die. 

You hated yourself more then ever and when you realized that the place was pretty high you got up. 

As if you were in trace you climbed on the grid to stand a bit higher. 

,,Good bye my love….’’ you mumbled to yourself while you tried to lean your body over the grid. 

You were sure that you would die, fall down and crash on the place below you but Zen destroyed your plan. 

With a strong pull you were between his arms on the cold floor. 

His strong arms made it impossible for you to free yourself from his embrace. 

His head was laying on your neck while you felt his warm tears. 

,,Why…..?’’ he asked you and cried harder. 

,,BECAUSE YOU WANTED TO LEAVE ME AND I THOUGHT I WAS HOLDING YOU BACK! I JUST WANTED TO DISAPPEAR!’’ you yelled as your tears soaked your own shirt. 

,,DON’T DARE I LOVE YOU….!’’ Zen responded. 

When the two of you finally calmed down and rushed in to not disturb the neighbors. 

Zen destroyed his contract while he talked to your doctor. 

He first wanted to make sure that you would get better. 

Yoosung 

,,RIKA RIKA RIKA! ARE YOU FUCKING BROKEN DISK?!’’ you yelled at your husband as you glared at him. 

,,YOU’RE THE SAME BY THE WAY! YOU’RE ALWAYS REPEATING THAT I TALK ABOUT MY DEAD COUSIN!’’ he yelled back from a big distance. 

You immediately stepped closer to him. 

,,Don’t dare!’’ you snapped. 

,,Oh please, don’t give me this kind of look! You will probably say that I never did anything for you. Don’t lie, Mc. Because we both know that in this marriage I’m the only one who’s in love!’’ 

,,WHAT?! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO YOURSELF?!’’ you asked him after you heard his idiotic words. 

,,Come on! I even hurt myself for you!’’ he responded. 

This was enough for you. 

You couldn’t bear this anymore. 

You could already imagine why he was thinking like this. You were out a lot these days. 

But it wasn’t because you weren’t in love anymore but because you had regular check ups with your doctor. 

You simply didn’t want to worry him but it seemed that this act of you made him loose his faith for you. 

You decided to stop the play here and escaped the hell. 

You just wanted to show him how much you loved him. 

Behind your back you still heard him yelling to stay here but you ignored him. 

Instead you wrote him a letter and decided to just shallow the whole ten portions of sleeping pills the doctor gave you. 

You really hoped that these sleeping pills would bring the wished effect. 

And your wish became real, or at least it felt so. 

A few seconds later you woke up in a completely withe room with Yoosung by your side who was holding a pink paper in his hands, your letter. 

,,Why are you crying?’’ you asked him. 

His perplexed red eyes scared you a bit. 

,,You know that if your cry a lot your eyes turn out red….’’ you mumbled and in the next moment you felt his warmth. 

,,You slept for almost two days…..I was so worried that you would die on me, Mc….’’ he sobbed harder. 

,,I’m sorry for what I did and said, it’s my fault, please don’t do this again….don’t try to kill yourself…..please!’’ 

Of course you realized that you had your faults too and that’s why you could become better, together with Yoosung and professional help. 

Jaehee 

You smelled the metallic odor as the razor cut your flesh. 

Tears streamed down your face as you remembered the discussion you just had with your girlfriend. 

It all happened because of a customer who was simply unhappy. 

You knew that you still did your best but Jaehee and you kept on with your discussion until the both of you were yelling at each other. 

,,I DON‘T UNDERSTAND HOW JUMIN COULD BE SAD BY LOSING YOU!“ you yelled and immediately regretted your words. 

But not only you caused pain with your sharp words. 

Jaehee made you feel unloved in that very moment and so it came that you decided to hurt yourself just to decide to die a few minutes later. 

Although you couldn’t go on with your plan. 

The young woman stopped you before you could cut your wrist. 

Her tears dropped on your hands and got mixed with your blood while you soaked her hands. 

Her sobbing noises was the only thing which filled the room. 

With her trembling hands she tried to stop the blood. 

,,I‘m sorry.“ she repeated over and over. 

,,Me too…�� you mumbled before your head collapsed on her chest, resting on it for quite a while. 

A few months later your suicidal thoughts almost completely disappeared. 

Jaehee was still afraid leaving you on your own but you did your best to gain her trust back while undergoing treatment. 

Saeyoung 

,,I SWEAR TO GOD SAEYOUNG IT WASN’T ME!’’ you yelled as Saeyoung looked at his scratched car. 

,,Are you kidding me? You’re the only one who’s allowed to drive my favorite car AND IT WASN’T ME SO IT’S YOU!’’ Saeyoung kept accusing you. 

Your face turned red from the anger as your boyfriend kept accusing you. 

,,It…wasn’t….me!’’ you repeated and turned away. 

,,YES, JUST GO!’’ he yelled behind your back. 

You slammed your door behind your back as you sat on your chair and began to cry loudly. 

It really wasn’t you but your boyfriend wouldn’t trust you. 

It made you so sad, none had really faith in you, right? 

,,Why is it always me who get’s the pain and accusations?!’’ you groaned as you tried to stop sobbing. 

You remembered about your past and realized that you were always the source of all problems. 

Everyone kept blaming things on you.  

With your boyfriend now nothing changed and so you came to a hurtful conclusion. 

,,It’s my fault, so I will take the consequences.’’ 

It didn’t take long until you knotted a rope around the lamp. 

While your trembling legs climbed on the chair you tried to knot the rope around your throat to finally stop this crazy circle. 

Your boyfriend instead tried to find out if you were really lying. 

While looking at the hidden videos in his garage he found out that Zen scratched the car while carrying his beer when he visited you guys. 

,,Shit…I need to say sorry….’’ he mumbled and looked at the closed door. 

Saeyoung waited a bit until he heard a thud. 

An odd feeling overcame him as he approached the still closed door. 

He pressed down the handle and looked at your shaking body. 

Your body was hanging on a rope while your eyes flacked a while. 

Saeyoung reacted in seconds, grabbing your legs to pick you up so that you could breath but everything seemed too late. 

Support took incredebily long as Saeyoung cried for your life. 

,,I’m sorry, I love you, I was wrong, forgive me…..please please please wake up and don’t die on me, please….’’ 

Saeran 

Your relationship was wonderful, almost creepy if you look at the perfection. 

The perfect couple, that’s what everyone else called you. 

But you weren’t that perfect. 

You weren’t that happy although with Saeran by your side this feeling got surpressed. 

Just today your depression was hitting you a bit more. 

And out of all days Saeran and you had to argue today. 

By now you already forgot why you were angry at him. 

Everything what you knew was that you were currently approaching the storming sea. 

Your last strength let you go on as your feet touched the cold water. 

Nothing mattered to you anymore, you just wanted to die. 

Die, die alone, just to leave. 

,,Ufff…’’ you gasped as you couldn’t feel the sand anymore. 

Your legs gave up, you just couldn’t swim anymore as your body got heavy. 

Your head slowly dissapeared and your lungs got filled with the salty water. 

So, this is your end, isn’t it? You thought as you closed your eyes. 

,,MC! MC! MMMMMCCCC!’’ someone called you. 

You however were unable to response to this voice. 

,,HAAAAAAAAHUUUUU!’’ you puked as your head was exposed to the cold air. 

Someone dragged you out of the water as you kept throwing up salty water. 

,,MC! OI MC!’’ someone called you over and over as you tried to breath. 

The sand got all over your body as you tried to open your eyes. 

,,Don’t  die here….’’ Saeran cried as he massaged your heart. 

,,I…want to….die….’’ you chocked again before he breaked down on your chest. 

Jihyun 

,,Are you kidding me?’’ you asked him as he calmly looked at you. 

,,No, I’m not.’’ he answered as he looked at the chats. 

,,You were simply wrong that’s why I defended Yoosung instead of you.’’ your husband explained. 

,,Are you sure that you were definding Yoosung and not Rika?!’’ you snapped at him as you tried to read out his expression. 

,,Yes, I’m sure. Why are you always talking about Rika?’’ he answered and asked you at the same time. 

,,Because you still love her after everything she did?!’’ you responded and looked away. 

,,That’s not true-‚‘’ he tried to explain but you stopped him. 

,,Ah, then please explain to me what Yoosung said that he deserves your acknowledge.’’ you laughed. 

Just like you expected he was unable to answer you, making you leave. 

He didn’t even call you. 

You slammed the door and began to curse everything. 

,,DAMN YOU!’’ you yelled. 

You weren’t like this. 

You actually decided to forgive Rika for everything but this time Jihyun just crossed the line. 

He left your heart broken, your eyes looked at the outsied in trance as you thought about your relationship. 

It wasn’t that great like you imagined. 

It wasn’t what you thought it would be like. 

Maybe you should just end everything? 

Everything….. 

You didn’t think that you were actually that brave to just stab yourself with the knife you found. 

Bad thought haunted you as you closed your eyes and tried to kill yourself just to feel a strong hindrance. 

When you opened your eyes Jihyun was holding the blade. 

His scared eyes made you shriek back. 

His blood was dripping on the floor as he let go of the knife. 

,,Mc…..’’ he mumbled, approached you and began to painfully cry with you. 

MASTERLIST 1MASTERLIST 2

12.05.’19// 23:03 (yes stayed up late for you on a Sunday) MEST

Tagged:

@foreversunshine-love @giulia2372 @milkyxstrawberry

@widya345 @remiliadacalde @sailormoonrocks666 @r-f-a-journalists

[thorsstorms]

Abroad Pt 15

(Chris Hemsworth x Reader)

Summary: Being the Hemsworth Kids’ Nanny, you were vowed to keep it strictly professional for their sake, but do the stolen glances go unnoticed between you both?

Word count: 6k

Warnings: none

A/N: if you want to be tagged, PLEASE SEND AS AN ASK.

Masterlist 

How was it possible that days could feel as if they move so impossibly slow, but way too fast? Maybe it’s when you know you have an obligation, but dread doing it. Ty was coming, should be landing in a few hours with Chaz and his girlfriend Emily. Bri wasn’t coming until tomorrow, school always keeping her company instead. And tomorrow morning, he would be here. The early landing time was less than convenient, but it’s what you get for living in the no man’s land. The nature and ocean views, the weather, the kind locals were all well worth the long proximity from the land of the free.

The silent prayer you breathed for a night completely free of children was in the midst, thank the lord for adults. So much was happening. The calendar on the fridge was scribbled with the weight of the next few days so the stressing idea of keeping up with all the information was off your shoulders and on to the paper. It had become a life saving device in the past year and it was used more than you had ever used a calendar before.

You had taken to cleaning the house this week. Each day a new focus. The warming weather was perfect for open doors as the kids spent time on the porch and in the yard while you glanced through the windows. It was hard to get much done, the week not being nearly long enough to try to clean with three children and other plans and basic needs to fit in as well.

With only a few hours till they arrived, you took to the last but not least of the rooms, the living room and kitchen. You banned the children from entering the house. No footprints until it was dried.

India was the best helper with cleaning surfaces while the boys were put on duty to make sure their toys were up in the playroom were they belonged. Cleaning could be made fun, you always enjoyed it a bit too much. It was slightly because it was something that always calms your nerves. Having a clean room, a clean house was something that you were always able to have control over. It makes you feel accomplished at the end of the day, knowing you did something productive when it feels like you are wasting your days away.

You wouldn’t trade the three kids in for the world, but when they are the most interaction you get for so long, it becomes hard to see past the parenting. Viewing the big picture was difficult. The loneliness that was there with open arms was constantly on standby. Though the three kept you more than busy, and there was always more chore like things to do, you felt… bored, suffocated maybe a better term.

It was hard to have them three by yourself. The energy that has to be mustered up to go on a simple grocery trip with the three of them by yourself was more than anyone probably would think about. The paranoia you feel while they start to jump in the pool with the warming weather, or explore the ever changing sea floor as the waves crash just barely to their waist was almost suffocating without being awarded another set of eyes and ears.

It was hard.

That is why the days to follow were to be savored, every minute. You made Ty cancel the VRBO. Maybe it was because you got it from your mother, but you were not going to allow them to not stay at the house with you. Chris agreed, you can always make enough room.

“Does your brother miss you? Is that why he wants to come see you?” India’s curious voice turned the direction of your thoughts that had a tendency to flow freely while cleaning. They were all excited to meet them, at least you figured. They constantly talked about them getting here, but it could definitely have been born out of curiosity.

“I think he does miss me. I miss him. But you know Papa is also coming tomorrow?” You sprayed the counter tops while she wiped them down for you.

“Yes I remember,” you could almost hear the eyeroll, good thing she wasn’t looking at you. Between being antsy and the excitement for him to come home, you were sure you were more excited than she was.

It wasn’t more than two hours later before you hear the security system chime that the front gate had been opened. Sasha and Tristan jumped from the countertops and abandoned their stations where you had them squeezing lemons into a pitcher for fresh lemonade.

“Hey Indy will you grab the curly noodles from the pantry and dump them in that pot? I’m gonna open the garage for them.” She silently listened to you while you practically skipped to the garage door and pressed the buttons. The boys jetted past your legs in the doorway and met the car service in the driveway. Zero shyness from both of them as they jumped on their heels and pulled open the back door to the car. You were not too far behind them, bear hugging your brother as soon as he opened the passenger door. The boys little voices were questioning the other two as they tried to prove their strength, amid the driver pulling bags from the trunk.

“You didn’t have to get us a car service,” Ty’s complaining was open while you followed him to the butt of the car. “We could have Uber-ed or something.”

“The drive is merely two hours, you are not gonna find an uber for that. Plus Chris did this, not me. Well, I’m sure Gen did but whatever. I am just so glad you are here!” You threw you arms over his shoulders again. You were going to smother him while he was here, no getting away now.

The little boys did their best to help the big boys, toting a backpack each up the stairs to the loft instead of the suitcases.

“What time is Bri coming tomorrow?” He was almost fidgeting in place at the thought of being on the same island as her. She had not been back at all, only a cell phone screen to visit through. Though it still was weird to think about it, you felt for him, knowing what it was like to be so far away.

“She’ll be here tomorrow afternoon sometime. So just make yourself at home, really! I’m sure the kids will give a little tour of the place.” They followed you into the main room, finding India manning the kitchen, carefully stirring the noodles on the stove.

Hearing Emily ask her what she was doing, and starting a little conversation with her was sweet. She was excited to have another girl in the house, even if for one night. Indy already planned to get her nails painted and do a face mask, as if you didn’t do these things for her if she asked. The excitement of having new bodies in the house to warm up the atmosphere had affected all the four of you, especially with the awaited arrival of the man himself.

When dinner was finished, the party took to the patio while the small three jumped in the pool. Each with a drink of choice, freshly made lemonade was not to go to waste, or so your excuse explained. It was a sorry one, definitely, but the wit disappeared merely four weeks ago.

This was the first time in a while that joy really made an appearance in your mood. Joy that sprouted from more than precious moments with one of the kids or a long sought after phone call every night. Some would last for 2 or 3 hours, others a mere 15 minutes. But sitting among the few that really tread up on your homesickness, filling the nooks and crannies of your life here was what made it so great. You listened as they told you of things back home. They listened as you talked about what has been going on here, which wasn’t much, but they seemed fascinated by the life you seemed to lead anyway.

It’s true what they say about taking things for granted, such as living by the ocean and claiming that if you did, you’d be at the beach every day. Once or twice a week maybe if the time allows, but regardless, they entertained you with comments of jealousy.

Laughter filled the patio air for almost an hour past the kids bedtime, riding up on your own fatigue. You dismiss yourself from them to put the kids in bed, fairly sure the company could stand their own, enjoying the salty evening air as you once did.

Sweet comments of the sooner they sleep, the sooner they would wake were exchanged, and bedtime went smoother than you could have imagined. By the time you padded down the steps to the living area, all three were coming inside, ready to sleep themselves.

It was a full feeling to see them in the house, to see them in such a close proximity to you. It felt complete be around them, having other adults around.

They retired to bed only a few minutes later, all trudging up the stairs while arguing who gets the bed and who gets the couch, Chaz won that ordeal, only for tonight at least.

Cleaning up the kitchen seemed a breeze. There was the dishwasher loaded and an eye catching to the calendar until you remember you didn’t get a call tonight. Though you knew it wasn’t because he forgot, but he was on his way to you.

Practically skipping to his bedroom, washing your face and brushing teeth before realizing your clothes were in your closet. Across the house. Upstairs. Hemm, shame.

Good thing you had a plethora of tees to choose from in the closet. You pulled a random Emery Surfboards t-shirt from the hanger and slipped it on.

The clock on your phone was almost taunting. 5 hours till he lands, but then of course the travel time to get to the house from the city. You set an alarm for 6 AM, sure that would give you thirty minutes to make yourself feel alive enough to put on pants and meet him when he comes in.

It was so past your normal bed time you knew as soon as your head landed on the plush pillows your brain would be out like a light. And you were right, the cleaning, the excitement of having new guests in the house wiped you out.

The dead of sleep was roused away when you felt the mattress dip a bit. Your eyes remained closed knowing the alarm hadn’t gone off yet. The haze of the blankets shuffling was drawing more consciousness to the surface.

“Sash you promised,” you grumbled into your pillow. They all agreed no more climbing into bed with you, he wanted to be a big boy, show Papa he was a big boy for when Chris comes home.

Sasha was the sweet one, he had grown to like to play with your hair to lull himself to sleep on the rare occasions that you allowed it and stayed with them for a nap, so it didn't seem out of the ordinary for fingers to find your hair. You ignored it until it was deliberately brushed away from your face and a deep voice chuckling brought your senses to a 100 on the dial.

“Promised what?” You pushed up on your elbows so fast, darting your head toward his voice and finding him staring down at you with an amused look. The bright light coming from the windows as well as Chris sitting with one leg on the bed was a clear notice that you didn’t wake to the alarm. Checking the time was on the backburner, not waiting for a second longer to embrace him.

You stood tall on your knees and crushed his shoulders under your arms, feeling as if clean air had entered your lungs for the first time in so long. His hands folding behind you sought for a rush of waterworks to your eyes. Four weeks was too long.

You pulled away from him so he could sit fully on the bed, his back leaning against the headboard before you took it upon yourself to invade his space again and smothered him. You kissed him to your hearts consent. His facial hair was the longest you had seen it. Un trimmed, shaving gone out the window as if he hadn’t touched it in four weeks.

“Does this mean Thor gets rid of that nasty beard?” You pulled your lips from him just barely, enough to gaze over his face. Your fingers smoothed over it while his eyes scanned you, so close to him and admiring it.

His hands ran up your back, picking at his tshirt you had stolen. “I cannot confirm or deny that.” He joked. His lips pressed to yours again, his arms savoring the feeling of you in them. Your response was enough of an answer for him to know you liked it, hands planted on his face. It felt so forgein to touch. Rough, scratchy, arousing.

The time relished together could have gone on for hours, but you both ended laying and scrunching the covers on the bed. You finally pulled them up over you and fixed them.

“Are you tired? Did you sleep on the plane?” You evened out the pillows behind you both and settled for checking the time on your phone. 8AM.

“A little.” How could he sleep now that he is home and lying next to you.

“I’m sure everyone in the house will be sleeping in. The kids went to bed late, and Ty, Emily, and Chaz were up even later after their flight. And I already told Indy’s teacher that she wasn’t coming in today.” You were about to tell him that he can sleep for a few hours and that you will keep the kids out but he was watching you, and by the look you knew he wasn’t listening to a word you were saying. He was watching you talk. Your voice catching a chipper ring when you mentioned Ty. You were the head of the household 100% in his eyes. You knew what was going on 24/7 and never strayed from it. But how could you.

“Are listening to me?” Your eyebrows furrowed.

“I love you, but no I wasn’t listening. I don’t want to sleep, how could I when you are sharing my bed with me,” he knocked your arm from underneath you, pushing you to the mattress, “for the first time in four weeks?” He loomed over you, catching a spark in his eye, a devious one at that. “Especially since you blew me off on my last night home.”

Oh right.

He lowered, pressing kisses to your jaw, your cheeks, your ears until you pushed back on his shoulders. Now or never.

“Wait,” you breathed out to him. His hand settling to cradle your head, wondering what on Earth was worth stopping him right now. “Wait.”

“What, Princess.”

“I have to tell you something.” His eyes looked back and forth between yours, watching your features harden, eyes go wide with worry.

He threw his thoughts to the back of his mind weeks ago. But hearing your tone was enough to draw them back to the surface, feeling his face grow hot. He sat up watching you follow after him, but he never strayed his looks away from you. He couldn’t even if he wanted to.

Though he sat patiently and painfully still, waiting while you eventually directed your eyes away from him, he couldn’t blame you for whatever you were thinking. He wanted to grab your shoulders and lean you back against him but he didn’t know if he should just leave you be for the moment. He almost started to speak before you but left the moment for you to take. As the air shifted between the two of you, it nearly confirmed it for him, but to be wrong was something he did not want to feel the aftermath of.

“Come here,” his hand pat against the sheets. Before you could think you turned and laid into his arm. He shuffled back down and placed your arm around his torso. Comfort for the win.

The silence floated by, the clock ticking in his mind. Screw it.

“Princess.”

“Hmmm.” His hand pressed your chin to look at him, doing so reluctantly.

His thumb ran over your check before he spoke, “Tell me.” It was just enough level of authority you needed to quit mewling.

“Im pregnant.”

And his eyes didn’t skip a beat, “I know.”

“You what?”

“Well I thought, and then I didn’t. And then I was convinced otherwise. But, I knew. I did.” You tried to sit up but he didn’t allow it, you huffed and stilled.

“What? How?” You shook your head to yourself. There was no way Bri told him. For a second, maybe you thought he saw the tests upstairs, but they were in the bathroom trash can. He didn’t go in there that morning, did he?

“Well check one was when you started getting sick. Two, was when you came back from the grocery store acting weird. Three, was when the boys told me on our call two nights in a row that you were crying that day. I didn’t know why. They said your feelings were hurt, but they never said anything else, and you never mentioned it. So I didn’t. I didn’t want to be wrong and risk throwing it out there.” He stopped and gave you a moment to speak but you couldn’t. It was easier to process things silently, which he respected and knew that’s how your head works at this point, but he really needed you to say something.

Your look was lowering from his face, while your eyes were cast to the wall, you were not looking at it. Thoughts were jumbling and you were trying to file them out, which gets spoken first? You spent weeks dwelling on saying the two words to him when he already knew? It was all those jumbled questions and prompts that were banging around, colliding and fighting for their shot for an answer.

“What are you thinking about princess?” His hand brushed over your hair, pulling it back off your shoulders.

You, me, work, money, traveling, the kids, bedrooms, my life, your life, our life.

“You.”

“Why me?” He took the acknowledgement that you were not going to ask the questions and say the things you wanted to say. He tried to answer everything for you all in one. “I love you. So much that it scares me. What happens to you, happens to me. Okay I see you upset and my entire body feels the need to lurch itself in your direction till you smile. Does that even make sense? I don’t want you to ever feel like you need to be scared to tell me something.”

“Now this? It’s not a mistake, my love for you is not a mistake. But whatever you need me to do, I want you to tell me. If you want me to- to- to stay here with you. I will do that. You want me to move to the states, or new house, or just- just tell me what you are thinking, please.”

“Chris,” he was speaking fast, trying to get it all out. You should take notes. Your soft voice was such a stark change from his own that was growing in volume. “I want you to lay back down and try to sleep before everyone wakes up. I want you to,” deep breathe, ignore the nagging in your brain, “to tell me that you are not upset with me, and then I want you to be excited. Not for me, but for the little 12 week old bean that decided now was their time.” He kissed your head and mumbled ‘of course’ to you, and maybe himself while shuffling lower so he could actually lay in the bed.

“Really?” He asked you when he settled. Your blank look was one of waiting for him to specify what he was talking about. “12 weeks already?” You nodded, a long sought after real smirk made its way onto your face.

12 Weeks, already.

“If you are going to make me stay here, you have to stay as well.” To say you weren’t planning on getting breakfast ready for the house would be a lie. You laid back down and savored the morning until chaos would ensure with an awake and lively house. “So you and a baby huh?”

“Yea, me, you, and a baby. And three other children.”

“Who knows?” 12 weeks did seem like a long time. Four weeks of knowing and not telling him. He didn’t show any signs of resentment for not knowing for so long, so you brushed it off.

“Just Bri. But I want to tell Ty while he’s here. And I think I want him to be here with me when I tell my mom, my dad too.” His hands ran up and down your back. The buzzing of the fan and the warm light from the windows created such a serene first morning back home. Maybe his gentle hands and shallow breathing was enough to lull you back to sleep for a while.

“I guess that means I need to savor my time with you and the new one before I’m killed.” Touch left your back and snaked to your front. The forgein feeling of his hand resting there was odd, but not unwelcome. “Wow.” There wasn’t much there yet obviously. Just enough to make it look like you were pretty bloated on a normal day.

You rested one of yours over his. “What do you mean killed? You are bigger than Ty.”

“Not by much, but he’s younger. Most likely faster. And he knows how to weaponize a baseball bat.” Your laugh cut him off. It was a real one, one that needed to come long ago and you couldn’t help it. “You are laughing but I’m serious.”

“Sure, sure. I’ll protect you.” You both laid talking. Staring at the ceiling for another hour before you both quieted your voices, hearing the bedroom door opening.

Little fingers around the door handle pushed it open slowly as if trying to stay quiet. Sasha’s head peeked forward through the doorway and as soon as their eyes met, his little feet were running to jump on the bed. You smiled watching Sasha cling to him like a koala. It was so precious.

It wasn’t maybe 20 minutes until the other two came in at the same time. You slithered out of the room to make your way to the kitchen, pulling on shorts from yesterday. You tried to listen for any rustling upstairs but there was not a single noise yet.

You scanned the fridge and pantry for the groceries you went for yesterday, should have thought of what to make before hand. You pulled out eggs, sausage, and fruit - good enough.

Soon as pans started making noise and the smell of breakfast starting wafting through, the house started to liven up. The three kids ran back up stairs to put real clothes on and Chaz came down offering to help. He says the other two often value their sleep over food anyway. You waved him towards the cabinets where he pulled out plates and set the table with silverware.

Chris came out not too long after with wet hair, smelling fresh. You heard them greeting each other behind you while pulling down a coffee mug. “Oh no princess I can’t-”

“This aint for you,” you look over your shoulder at him. You nudged your head towards the pantry, “Your shakes are in there.” He winked, walking past you. You figured he was going to be back strict while filming anyway.

“And that is why I love you.” His hand lifted under his grey shirt that you were wearing, brushing over your abdomen, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek as he passed. The growing hair on his face tickled and had you blushing, shying away from him. Chaz sputtered out something about going to wake them up, quickly flying up the stairs away from you both.

It wasn’t long after breakfast that Chris had convinced both boys to try to surf. At first they were reluctant, afraid of failing, but he led them both to the garage where he had all his boards placed on the wall. Telling them to each pick one and go get a suit on.

You and Emily walked out the back door, ready to spend the day at the water, the kids pushing past you both racing to run in.

“This is going to be so entertaining.” Stepping down from the porch, the guys round the side of the house, each carrying a board. Emily laughed loudly next to you while watching Chaz try to hold the board in a way that was hopefully more comfortable.

“It’s not my fault I’m short!” He yelled at her, shuffling the board above his head while walking through the grass, trying to keep up with their strides.

Chaz got up easily, finding his balance as if he had done it before. Though he didn’t move much, he rode the wave all the way in. Chris stayed shallower with them for a while trying to get Ty to steady himself. He was never one for skate boarding or paddle boarding, this was the reason. Ty stayed in the shallower waters refusing to give up while Chaz followed Chris out deeper. You both watched them from the shore, the swell approaching them faster than Chaz was ready for and he missed it while Chris was on his feet in half a second.

They were out there for so long. The boys had buried your feet in the sand and then started drawing pictures on top of them. “India can you go get me the beach bag from the porch? We need more sunscreen, you know Papa, he probably didn’t put any on.” She darted back through the sand towards the house. Oh, to have that kind of energy as an adult.

Ty came in, dropping the board in the sand and taking a seat upon it. “I did good there for a second! Did you see it? Did you get it?” He reached his hand out for the phone to examine the videos you got of him repeatedly slipping off the board. You snickered at him as he flipped through them. “Shut up, I doubt you could do better. Let me see you get out there.”

“Oh no. I’m good right here.” Emily took up to the challenge, dragging the board to the water. Chaz and Chris started to wade in when they saw her walking towards the water with it. Before they could get to her she was already up on a shallow wave, jumping off the board afterwards.

It wasn’t long after until Chris was trying to drag you into the water to try it yourself. The peer pressure was there but before stepping into the water, but away from the others you turned to him. “I’m scared, don’t tell Ty but c’mon. I’ve seen you come in with scrapes from coral on the floor. Bruises.” He pushed your hands down from pointing all over the place.

“Dont worry about it, there isn’t coral this far up, just rocks. You don’t need to go out there on a board anyway.” You loved the ocean, yea. But you still hid the fear of stepping on something or something getting you. He ought to remember that at least.

“Stay there with me,” you muttered to him, reluctantly dragging the board forward while he picked his back up from the sand.

You let him lead, following him in. Your steps were almost calculated, careful. You loved the ocean, all its contents fascinated you to no end. You loved seeing something new every time you sought out for it. Almost never the same thing twice. But you had no desire to deliberately hurt yourself, or come out bearing scratches and scary encounter stories as he has done many times.

The water flushed against your shoulders when you told him you didn’t want to go farther. He balanced the board under his arm while you pulled on to it, carefully planting yourself on your knees. You smiled at him, feeling the water move under you while you kept the balance with the palm of your hands. “Woah,” you muttered under your breath to yourself. Ok, now was the time to quit being a scaredy cat.  

You sat, bending your knees into the water while he propped up on his. You held on to his hand, pulling him so he didn’t float away from you. “No reason to be afraid, if you fall off you are just falling into the water.” He looked out behind, watching the movement while you flicked towards the beach. Ty was posed with a phone in his hand, waiting expectantly for you to bust your ass.

“Is this okay? Y’know- for me?” You couldn’t help but ask. You didn’t know the answer.

“I promise. Now listen,” he felt his hands across the water. “When it comes in you need to keep up with it, paddling. If you fall behind you’ll miss it. You know it’s time to settle your feet when the board can keep up with the wave by itself.” You nodded, watching the water too, though you didn’t exactly know what you were looking at. “You’ll have to be quick on your feet. We are shallow enough that you can just ride it in if you can keep your balance.”

“Ok, ok.” You took a deep breath, rolling your shoulders.

“When I say we need to go, we have got to go. Okay? No hesitating or you will miss it.”

“Ok!” There was going to be no hesitating coming from you, you were now on a mission to do better than you brother, which should not be to hard from the looks of it.

“I’m going to paddle a few yards away.” You let go of his hand while he laid forward on the board and pushed away. He tossed a thumbs up from a good distance, screaming at you to make sure you can hear him. You nodded, laughing at him. What a child.

You watched the expanse behind you, starting to recognize the swell of the water. You heard him yelling at you, “You see it?”

You gave him your thumbs up, turning back to look at it. Taking a deep breath, pep talk time. You could do this. All you had to do was get your feet under you at the right time and the rest should be easy.

“GO!” his voice ticked off your ears and your body sprung into action. Your arms pushed through the water, ignoring the sting of saltwater in your eyes. You eventually felt the pull of the water do the job for you. Lurching you forward with it. You planted your hands firmly on the sides and pushed off the board. Your feet were on it, they were placed awkwardly, but they were flat. You slowly tried to straighten up against the tug and pull of the water underneath you, your abdominal muscles pulling overtime to keep the balance.

“I’m doing it,” you whispered to yourself. Your eyes were cast downward watching the water, you started to lift them, catching up to the shore. “Im doin’ it!” You screamed at them, your brother had both hands in the air watching you.

Turning your head to find Chris was a mistake, as soon as you did so the board flew from under you and you splashed backwards into the water, your ass hitting the sea floor from how shallow it had become. You stood straight up, the water was patting against your skin just below your waist while you screamed at Ty. “I did it you sucker!” He shook his head and tossed the phone back it the bag. Ha sucker.

“I wanna go again!” You yelled at Chris. He waved you out, walking deeper as well.

You had about three good runs with Chris until it went downhill. You over compensated for trying to get your feet in a better position and tipped right off the board, the wave ended up flying over the top of you but you were able to catch your groundings before it sent you spinning under the surface. You came up gasping for air, coughing from the burning salt in your throat and clinging to the board. The wrap around your ankle was sore from just that one fall, you couldn’t imagine how Ty beared it for so long.

You hopped on the board again waving at them that you were okay before paddling yourself back out to do it again. You turned your back to them and pushed yourself back out there. You were going to master this, had to at this point. You got yourself situated deep enough, a minute passing till you could see it coming. You glanced forward at Chris but he wasn’t far out enough to catch this one. You decided to go for it without him. At this point in the game you were sure you could tell when to start pushing through the water to gain speed.

All was well when you could feel the board catching on the water and you were ready to prop yourself up. It wasn’t until you had your feet underneath you that you felt the board lagging, being drawn back instead of thrust forward. You pressed your hands up off the board, trying to measure the balance when it pulled back from under you.

Panic surged through you, your shoulder breaking the surface first. The rush of the current sent your legs over you, spinning under the water. You broke the surface after the wave passed you, shuffling to get your feet on the ground while catching your breath. Your luck was being tested, placing you at the perfect depth for the waves to white top. You urged your legs forward to get to shallower water but was dragging backwards already from another swell. The wrap around your ankle adding to the weight of the pull. You were so focused on getting to the board to hold on to it, hoping it would keep your head above the water so you could catch your breath that you didn’t hear the others yelling to check on you over the sound of the water. Just before your hands could reach it the wave crashed again, thrusting under the surface. The board was pushed forward before you could sink below it and it clipped you in the head before the wave crashed over you again.

You could feel your lungs begging for air, begging to be drawn to the surface again but your arms felt so heavy. Your feet pushed off the ground just as the water calmed again for a moment causing you to break the surface. You gasped, pulling at the strap around your ankle to rip it off. Your feet were starting to lose their footing again while you ripped it apart. You had no time to examine your surroundings before the wave pushed you forward.

Your chest felt heavy, too heavy to take a deep breath before ducking your head under. The board came flipping through the water with nothing to hold it, to keep it contained and it swept across you again, effectively knocking you hard enough for your eyes to black out.

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[xiaq]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15446814/chapters/35854725 Lucifer was an angel once.

That’s what Nursey thinks, the first time he sees William Poindexter.

Because the boy is beautiful even though he shouldn’t be. Even though he’s doubtless the kind of person who would punch you in the face if you said the words “you” and “beautiful” to him in the same sentence.

His skin is choked with freckles. It’s potentially more freckle than skin, really. Not just his face, where his nose and cheekbones are so hyper-pigmented they look tanned, but his collarbones and forearms and the knuckles of his calloused hands. The close-shaved dark ginger stubble of his hair should make his ears look too big or his mouth too wide but instead it accentuates the long curve of his throat, the cup of velvet skin between the tendons in the back of his neck. It makes his cheekbones sharper, his eyes—so light brown they look almost gold—more stark under pale spiky lashes.

He’s wearing boots and jeans and a leather jacket that could either be beat to shit for aesthetic reasons or just beat to shit, and a permanent scowl that will likely give him wrinkles at an early age but right now is just terribly flattering.

It all adds up: the interesting face, the long, wiry frame and taut, fight-ready stance, to create a body that casting directors for edgy photoshoots would salivate over. The sort of photoshoots that, if they involve teeth, it’s not because people are smiling.

The point is, he has a carefully curated look and that look is fuck off.

Nursey wants to touch him.

Nursey has never touched someone with that many freckles before and he doubts this particular someone would let him close enough to try which is, he thinks a little despairingly of himself, perhaps why he finds the boy so damn compelling.

The grass is always greener.

You always want what you can’t have.

Etc.

Etc.

Etc.

Regardless. That’s Nursey’s first impression: An angry, pigment-spangled, potentially once-divine being. An angel trying very, very, hard not to be.

Nursey reminds himself, standing in line at the administration office, trying not to stare at the nape of the other boy’s neck—the freckled knob of his spine, pushed hard against the skin just above his collar, that Nursey is at Samwell to focus on hockey, not admire transfer students who are undoubtedly straight and probably won’t share a single class with him and who he’ll likely only see from a distance for the next year and then never see again and that’s a good thing because he’s here to focus on hockey.

Except then, the new kid steps up to the receptionist’s desk and says in a rough, surprising drawl. “I’m a transfer. Poindexter. I need to pick up my dorm keys.”

And Nursey knows that name.

Because it was in the email that Coach sent out over the summer. It was the name that was written in sharpie on the scratched DVD on Coach’s desk that he’d pushed toward Nursey the day before. Coach had tapped the DVD with a blunt finger and said, “I’ve found you a new D-partner, Nurse.” And Nursey had taken the DVD back to his yet-unpacked room and played it on his laptop, stretched out on the bare mattress of his shitty lofted bed. The footage was grainy, badly spliced together and clearly shot unprofessionally from the stands, but it was enough. Poindexter was good. Big, but fast. Aggressive, but smart. Together, Nursey thought, they might be great.

So when Nursey hears the name, he doesn’t even think. He just speaks:

“You’re the new defenseman?” he asks. “William Poindexter?”

And the boy turns around and considers him with what might be contempt but what might just be the way his face looks and says, “Yeah?” like its a challenge.

And Nursey thinks:

Oh no.

***

William Poindexter has his mother’s eyes and his father’s nose and on his face they’re still a family.

He considers his reflection in the filmy bus-station bathroom mirror, rubs his thumb down the raised line of scar tissue bisecting his chin—pink and new and only partially hidden in the drip-paint collage of his freckles, and then rubs harder, more habit than intention.

After spending the summer as a stern man on his uncle’s lobster boat—sorting, banding, baiting, re-setting, trying his best to repair the limping hydraulic trap hauler that probably should have been scrapped a decade ago—layers of sunburn have turned into a tan, multiplying the pigment across his nose and cheeks and shoulders to a point where he looks constantly dirty. Like he’d been working in his other uncle’s garage and absently smeared an oiled forearm over his face.

His cousin, Saoirse, the one who’d left for New York at eighteen, got a job in marketing and now only returned home for shorter and shorter visits at Christmas time, had once said that Dex looked like a Jackson Pollock painting. He thinks she was trying to be mean. Or elitist. Or both. But he’d sort of agreed with her. He didn’t know who Jackson Pollock was, at first, but when he’d gone with his aunt into town the following weekend he’d used the library computer to google him.

At thirteen, with new calluses on his palms from his first ever boat haul, constant peeling skin over his nose and shoulders, and the kind of secret that scrapes your insides hollow, he’d found the paintings, grainy and pixelated as they were on the old computer monitor, strangely familiar.

Maybe he was like a Jackson Pollock painting: a dark, incensed, anxious, spatter of reds and yellows and blacks and blues. Too much color for one canvas. Too much feeling for containment. Too much, maybe, in general.

Someone bangs on the bathroom door and he stops glaring at his reflection because there’s nothing much he can do about it.

He uses a paper towel to dry his hands, runs his fingers, still damp, over his buzzed hair, and shoulders his duffle bag.

Samwell is waiting.

He’d googled Samwell at the same time that he’d googled all the rest of the best hockey prep schools in the country.

Same library.

Same shitty library computer.

Initially he’d wanted to try and play for a junior team, he was good enough, he’d been scouted, but now, money issues aside, billeting would be all but impossible considering his legal situation. So he’d spent stolen hours at school and after work searching boarding schools with prep hockey teams, comparing stats and rosters and course offerings, before he sent in his game tapes and paperwork with scraped together application fees and letters of recommendation from his former and current coaches.

He’d applied to six schools and was accepted at two.

Samwell was the closest, not that he really cared about staying close, but his lawyer said it would make things easier for possible future hearings if he was within a few hours drive of home. If he could even call it that anymore.

Samwell was also the cheapest, which he did care about, and it routinely produced D1 and NHL prospects which was his primary concern. A full scholarship with housing, a meal plan, and a chance to elevate his game to the point that maybe, next year, he could get a scholarship to college? Or even get drafted?

An easy decision.

After getting a handful of salt-crusted 100’s from his uncle at the harbor early that morning—payment for his summer of work—he’d hitched a ride with another stern man from Port Marta to Brunswick and then took a Greyhound from there to Boston, and then another bus from Boston to Samwell.

And now he’s here, standing outside the station with a paper map from his library’s equally shitty printer, a duffle bag from the army surplus store full of abused hockey gear, and an address written in permanent marker on his wrist.

He does have a newly-purchased cellphone, an unfamiliar weight in his back pocket, but he doesn't want to call an Uber because according to the map, Samwell’s campus is only a mile away and he’s not ready to start spending his money yet. Definitely not when there are more important things he’ll need soon. Like new skates. Books. Clothes.

He shoulders his bag and starts walking.

When he gets there, the campus looks exactly like the online pictures: Sun-dappled and idyllic with people lounging under trees and throwing footballs and weaving colorful bikes in and out of foot traffic on immaculate sidewalks.

He’s too hot in his leather jacket and the strap of his bag is rubbing the side of his neck raw but he walks with a purpose and doesn’t make eye contact when people look at him.

And people do look at him.

He’s six-foot-two, will probably hit six-three soon, dressed all in black and carrying a bag over his shoulder that’s nearly as big as he is. Doubtless, he stands out like some sort of hulking freckled raven among songbirds.

By the time he finds the administration building his palms are so sweaty it’s hard to get the stupidly ornate door open, and, once inside, standing in line on the marble floors, looking up at the vaulted ceiling, the whispered assertion that’s been following him since he stepped foot on campus gets louder:You do not belong here.

He’s felt that way for most his life, though, wherever he was, so it isn’t that disconcerting.

He clears his throat when it’s his turn, stepping up to the counter at the student center, trying to muster a smile.

“I’m a transfer,” he says, “Poindexter. I need to pick up my dorm keys.”

Before the receptionist has a chance to answer, though, the person behind him speaks:

“You’re the new defenseman?”

Dex turns to look at the speaker and pauses.

Because he recognizes the boy’s face.

He’d seen it on rosters and game footage.

During his furtive research, he’d memorized the names of three players at Samwell. Three players he thought were exceptionally good. Maybe NHL good. These would be your peers, he’d told himself.

The first was Jack Laurent Zimmerman. Center. Senior. Number 1.

The second was Christopher Franklin Chow. Goalie. Junior. Number 55.

The third is now standing in front of him:

Derek Malik Nurse. Defenseman. Senior. Number 28.

What he hadn’t anticipated is that, off the ice, Derek Malik Nurse looks a lot less like the goon he does on the ice and a lot more like the kind of boy his father warned Dex against becoming, sometimes with words, but sometimes with fists.

Because apparently off the ice Derek Malik Nurse wears cuffed skinny jeans stretched tight over the bulk of his thighs and half-unbuttoned floral shirts and pale, stretchy, yellow headbands to hold back his curls. His dark skin is clear and pore-less and the delicate gold chain around his neck should look out of place on someone so broad but it doesn’t.

He is irritatingly well-groomed.

He’s also waiting for an answer.

“Yeah?” Dex manages, and it maybe comes out more aggressive than he intended.

“I’m Nursey,” Derek Malik Nurse says, extending a hand and smiling: straight white teeth and the easy confidence that comes with money. “I’m on the hockey team too.”

Nurse’s hand is warm and dry and the torn callouses on Dex’s own chapped hand scrape jarringly against Nurse’s soft palm.

“Dex,” Dex says, because if there’s one thing hockey has given him it’s a name that his father didn’t.

Nurse squeezes his fingers, holds on a moment past comfortable, grins wider so the skin around his grey-green eyes crinkles, and says: “Dex. Chill. Coach says you’re going to be my new D-partner.”

And all Dex can think is:

Oh no.

You can find the rest of the story (all 74k words!) on A03 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15446814?view_full_work=true