#but flying and renting a car to drive over is still less than half the price of a direct flight to VA

[iwatcheditbegin]

I’m seeing so many people flying to Seattle for taycouver

[blueskrugs]

length: 2.5k words

full fic

april

Madison sees the Avs’ WAG jackets on Instagram the night they start the first round. The WIld had played the night before, an ugly loss Madison hadn’t been able to tear her attention away from. She could have had one of those jackets, sitting next to Syd and all the other girls. Instead, she’s back in her apartment in Denver, alone. 

She wishes she could have stayed in Minnesota with Tyson for the first two games of the series. She gets a text from Tyson after the game that’s just a thumbs down emoji. Madison “dislikes” it out of solidarity. Tyson doesn’t call her that night. Madison has to remind herself that it’s okay, that they don’t have to talk all the time.

She watches anxiously two nights later as the Wild drag out a win, clutching a glass of wine for emotional support the whole time. 

Before she can think too hard about it, Madison’s opening her laptop. She’s in the middle of searching flights to St. Louis when her phone rings. It’s Tyson, and Madison doesn’t hesitate to answer.

“I miss you,” she says, before Tyson can get a greeting out. She has perhaps had a little too much wine. 

He chuckles. “It’s been less than a week, baby.” But then he adds, “I miss you, too.”

Madison shoves her laptop away and flops backwards on her bed. Last minute plane tickets are so expensive. So are playoff hockey tickets, apparently. She wonders if it would be easier to just drive to St. Louis. “Wish I could be there,” she says next, even though she had just turned down Tyson when he’d asked her to stay. 

“Yeah, me too,” Tyson says after a beat. He doesn’t offer to fly Madison out again, though Madison can tell he wants to.

She doesn’t tell him that she’s only a few clicks away from buying herself tickets and meeting him in Missouri. Though she should probably do it while she’s not sober, before she can talk herself out of it in the morning. 

“Oh, good game, by the way,” Madison remembers to say.

Tyson huffs. “Are you already in bed?” Tyson asks. Madison can hear him banging around his hotel room, tinny and muffled where her phone has slid off her pillow. 

“Sorta,” Madison tells him. She pulls her laptop closer again. She could fly out after work and make it to the arena without missing too much of the game, probably. She winces again at the outrageous prices for the game. There aren’t even any good seats left.

Tyson speaks again. “Go to sleep, we can talk in the morning. I just wanted to say good night to you.” 

“In a minute,” she whines. She’s trying to remember her credit card number without having to get up and dig it out of her purse.

Tyson must hear her keyboard clacking. “What are you still doing on your computer?”

“Online shopping,” Madison lies. Well, half-lies. She is spending plenty of money right now. She triple-checks that her flight is booked correctly and that she purchased the ticket for the game before she finally slams her laptop shut and tosses it aside. “There, I’m done,” she tells Tyson.

“Buy anything good?” Tyson asks through a yawn. 

“Hope so, we’ll see.”

On Friday, Madison rushes off the plane, rushes through baggage claim, and rushes through renting a car. She’s cutting it close on time, with less than half an hour until puck drop. She drives as carefully and quickly as she can on the unfamiliar roads to the arena, one eye on the clock the whole time. The streets and parking around Enterprise Center are a fucking nightmare, but when she finally parks and makes it to the front doors, there’s still lines of people milling about, waiting to get in, too.

Madison checks her watch. Puck dropped five minutes ago. She pushes around a group of people who are somehow already drunk and towards the front of a line. All hockey arenas are the same, in a way, but Madison is immediately overwhelmed and disoriented. The first period is half over by the time she manages to get to the upper level and settle in her seat, but at least she finally made it. 

Madison takes a photo of the ice and texts it to Tyson with her usual black heart emoji. He’ll see it eventually. 

Madison has to keep herself from cheering too loudly for every Wild goal, surrounded by Blues fans as she is, and she’s probably one of the only people in the arena who’s happy when the Wild manage a neat win. 

She follows the throngs of people outside and back to her rental car. She has a text from Tyson waiting for her, just a string of exclamation marks. Another text comes through while she’s waiting for traffic to thin out, a request for Madison to call Tyson in all capital letters.

Tyson’s breathless when he answers Madison’s call. “What the hell are you doing in St. Louis?” 

“Surprise?” Madison says weakly. 

Tyson laughs. “Hell of a surprise, babe.” He must pull his phone away from his ear, because Madison can still hear him speaking, but distantly. “Hang on, I’m trying to get you the address of the hotel, you can meet me there, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Madison says. Tyson’s gone again, not really listening.

“Hey, I’ve gotta go, I’ll text you where to go, and I’ll see you soon, okay?” He hangs up without letting Madison reply, but he texts again seconds later with the name and address of the team hotel. 

Madison is anxiously idling in the hotel driveway when the team bus pulls in behind her. Tyson bounds off the bus almost before it comes to a full stop, and he races over to Madison’s car door and taps on the window.

Madison rolls down the window. “And what if it hadn’t been me in the car?” she teases.

Tyson is reaching through the now-open window to try and unlock the door, his tongue sticking out the way it does when he’s focusing on the ice. “I would have apologized. A lot.” He successfully presses the unlock button and yanks the car door open. “Come here, come here,” he says.

Madison laughs and climbs out of the car. Both of her feet aren’t even out of the car before Tyson’s sweeping her up in a hug so tight she swears she can feel her ribs shift. He sets her down and immediately cups her face.

“You’re here, I can’t believe you’re here.” Tyson narrows his eyes, and he squishes Madison’s cheeks where he’s still holding her face. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Madison pries Tyson’s hands away enough to talk. “I wanted to surprise you.” Tyson’s teammates are still filtering off the bus, and they should probably move inside, too. “Can you let go of me so I can get my bag out of the trunk?” she asks.

Tyson considers this. He slides one hand down Madison’s arm until he can tangle their fingers together. He also leans into the car and deftly turns it off, holding the keys up with a grin. He nudges the door shut. “We can get your bag out of the trunk.” He proceeds to drag Madison around to the back of the car and drags her suitcase out of the back with his free hand. He stares between the suitcase in his hand and the open trunk before Madison takes pity on him and slams the trunk shut.

Madison hangs back while Tyson hands the car keys off to a valet, and then he’s dragging her towards the elevators, happily rolling Madison’s suitcase in front of him. At least the rest of the Wild players have all disappeared, sparing Madison from their stares and jeers. She tucks herself closer to Tyson in the elevator, suddenly self-conscious. Tyson kisses her temple.

Madison is suddenly exhausted as soon as they enter Tyson’s room. Tyson flips the light on as Madison kicks off her shoes. Tyson left the curtains open earlier, and Madison can see the Arch, light up above the river, through the window. She’s too tired to give it more than a half-hearted glance on her way to face-planting into the pillows. 

Tyson’s laughing when she rolls over and brushes her hair out of her face. “I’m so fucking happy you’re here,” he says, jumping onto the bed next to Madison, and, really, that’s all that matters.

The Wild lose the next game at Enterprise, and Madison holds Tyson tightly for a long time in the hall outside the locker room before he has to get on a plane. They lose again at home, then yet again back in St. Louis. 

Just like that, hockey season is over. 

Tyson calls Madison after the last game. He sounds like he’s been crying, but he tries to be cheerful for Madison. She just wishes she could hug him, but she’s back in Denver. She knows the Avs swept the Predators already, and they’ll be facing St. Louis next. It’s not difficult to imagine how Tyson feels about that. 

“Come home with me,” Tyson blurts. He’s on the phone with Madison, getting ready to leave his Minnesota hotel room behind. He survived locker cleanout and exit interviews, and now he’s ready to sleep for about a week.

Madison, in the middle of complaining at work, freezes. “I—what?” She takes another moment to process. “Aren’t you coming back to Denver first?” Madison knows his apartment sits half-abandoned, filled with things too difficult or unnecessary to move after the trade. 

“Well, yeah, but like, after. You should come home with me,” Tyson repeats. He’s been dying to introduce her to his mom for months. He hopes his mom likes Madison as much as he does. He is a little worried about his sanity if Madison and Kacey get along as well as he thinks they will, though. 

“I’ve never been to Canada before,” Madison says thoughtfully. She’s barely travelled abroad at all, except for one trip to the UK after she graduated high school. Her passport has been collecting dust since then. 

“So you’ll come?” Tyson asks. 

“Is there even anything to do in Edmonton?” Madison teases.

“There’s so much to do, like—” Tyson pauses. It’s been a while since he’s had to play tourist back home. Madison is giggling on the other end of the line. “Shut up, we’ll figure something out.”

Tyson feels like he can breathe properly for the first time in months when he steps out of the airport in Denver. He wonders if any place will ever feel like home the way Denver does.

Tyson had managed to wheedle JT into picking him up, and he even brought coffee. Tyson ignores the way it almost feels like an apology. JT has nothing to be apologizing for, but Tyson just sips his coffee. 

The apartment smells stale when they walk in. Tyson’s mom had done a good job of cleaning for him, at least, and there aren’t any dirty dishes still stacked in the sink. He and JT are quiet as they walk through the apartment, opening windows. Tyson feels like he’s walking through someone else’s life. He stares for too long at his bed, freshly made and untouched for weeks. 

He shakes it off and goes to find the moving boxes.

“So, this is it, huh?” JT says.

He could be talking about all the boxes they’ve spent the last few hours filling boxes and separating them into piles to be shipped off to Minnesota—Tyson finally signed a lease for an apartment there—or to be sent back home for his family to deal with. An alarming amount of Tyson’s clothes is Avalanche-branded gear, and more of it got packed away to keep than Tyson is willing to admit. 

He could also be talking about the end of everything they’ve known together in Denver. Tyson’s spent years accepting the fact that hockey is a business before everything else, has gotten used to the revolving door of teammates each season. It’s been a long time since Rookie House days with Kerf. Tyson is going to walk out that apartment door, and he’s never going to be able to go back. A chapter—or book, really—in the story of his life ended for good. 

Tyson sighs. “This is it.”

The apartment is stripped bare when Madison steps through the door, left unlocked by JT and Tyson.

She drops her laptop bag and kicks off her shoes, saying, “You should be more careful, anybody could just walk in here.”

Tyson drops the box he’s holding and whirls around. Madison winces as its contents rattle. There’s no time to say anything else before Tyson is bounding across the room and wrapping her in a huge hug. 

“What, no hug for me?” JT asks from somewhere behind them. Tyson turns to glare at him, but Madison shoots him a smile.

“Hey, JT,” she says. She lets JT drape an arm around her in a half-hug.

“Betrayal,” Tyson says. He is ignored. 

They leave most of the boxes for the moving company to deal with. Madison bundles Tyson into her car with his bags of clothes, complaining the whole time about wanting dinner. She lets Tyson hold her hand across the console as she drives him to her apartment. 

It’s not the first time Tyson’s been to Madison’s apartment, but it still feels strange to be there instead of his own. They’ve spent so much time there the past few months, watching movies on the couch, doing things other than sleeping in the bed. He misses it already, all the memories they made as they fumbled their way into a relationship. 

He says as much to Madison, expecting her to tease him for something so objectively dumb—to miss an apartment he lived in half of the time for like six months—but the look she gives him is almost sad.

“That’s a bit dramatic,” she says. Tyson pulls her in by the hips, letting her lean her weight on him. “But I guess we’ll just have to keep making more memories, yeah?”

Later that night, tangled up in Madison’s sheets, Tyson stares at the dark ceiling. He can feel Madison, looking rumpled and in his shirt, watching him. She nudges his calf with her toes. He doesn’t look at her, focused on keeping his eyes from welling up. Then Madison’s hand is on his cheek, turning his head towards her.

“How you doin’, bud?” 

Tyson lets Madison pull him close and hold him tightly. He slides a hand under her shirt and to the bare skin of her hip, just feeling the comforting warmth of her skin. 

“What if it’s never like this again?” Tyson whispers back. This—Denver and the Avalanche, friends who become family; Madison in bed next to him, loving him and wearing his clothes. Minnesota had been okay, but Tyson worked his ass off and never felt settled. Maybe it was the endless hotel life, maybe it was the team, maybe it was him. He feels like a child, begging his mom to tell him everything was going to be okay. 

Madison doesn’t know how to comfort Tyson. It probably never will be like this again. Madison can’t see the future, and she can’t promise Tyson anything, either. “I don’t know, baby,” Madison admits. “I don’t know.” 

Tyson doesn’t cry, but they both lay awake for a long time.

june

[ask-marios-apprentice]

"Good"Man

I got back home from my trip to Sarasaland. And what did I find.

A hole in my ceiling!!!

From what happened, apparently. A man named Goodman was hosting a meeting.

Though with how there is now a freaking hole in my ceiling! I'm guessing it was not a normal meeting.

And what's worse. Apparently I'M Being Sued.

There was a note saying to call Mr Goodman when I got home from my trip.

I called and he said he wanted to meet me for lunch at Big Jimmy's BBQ to discuss the matters.

[time skip]

Well that was a bust

Let me explain the Play by play of what happened.

After meeting up with Goodman at the Big Jimmy's BBQ.

I tried to convince him that breaking the floor would not be my fault since I only own the bottom half of the building.

I didn't want any compensation (I can just use one of the compensation checks I get to pay for my lodging repair IF my insurance didn't cover it) I just want to not be sued.

Goodman responded with

Goodman: Look at someone's going to pay for the damage.That stack of caviar studed filet mignon stuffed lobster infused turduckens broke the floor.

Garth: Wha-what was even the meeting?

Goodman: If you must know. I was closing a deal on buying a 3rd yacht club.

Garth: THIRD!!!

Goodman: Yes. Did I not make myself clear?

Garth: Yeah. But still. I don't want to insinuate it's your fault bu...

Goodman: I am not coming out of this with less money.

He said this in a cold hard voice that shook me to my core.

Goodman: Now if you excuse me I meant for a moment.

He went and left for the bathroom.

When he came back he apparently had ownership of the restaurant.

Apparently there was a little bit of a spill with some drinks.

Right before they were able to bring a wet floor sign.

Goodman slipped on it and threatened to sue.

I'm going to be honest. I think he intentionally slipped on the spill.

We needed to finish the conversation.

So after we finished eating. He told me to come with him to Thirtyacre in order to collect rent.

It was the Swatter Residence

I decided to stay back for a moment as my shoe was untied.

When I went in to see what was happening.

Goodman was shouting that if Marvin did not have his rent by tomorrow...

Goodman:...I WILL HOT GLUE YOUR BUTT TO A HOT AIR BALLOON THAT SAYS" MARVIN IS A FLYING ARSE WHO CANT AFFORD HIS HOUSE PAYMENT" AND FLY IT FROM CASTLE TOWN AND ALL THE WAY AROUND THE CONTINENT OF THE MUSHROOM KINGDOM.

Marvin [groveling]: Oh. Okay Goodman. [Silently Cries].

Garth: [Softly/in shock] What the Underwhere?

Goodman: I better have my house payment by tomorrow. Or you'll be seen by everyone in the Kingdom from the bottom of a hot air balloon's basket! Now I have to get going.

Back in the car. I tried to talk to Goodman about the cruel and unusual punishment for the Swatters patriarch. Bring up both how it was undeserving and the money used for the punishment were probably be greater than the amount Marvin would probably pay him.

Apparently.

It was an empty threat.

He doesn't actually plan on doing that.

He intentionally gives Marvin such debts due to the reaction and fear.

It's like a joke to him.

He ended up driving me to his bank.

A tall building in Volcana. Near the bridge from the Mushroom Kingdom to Da'rkLand.

Before we entered the building. A homeless man asked us for change.

I give him about a dozen coins and a directory to a homeless shelter.

In contrast

Goodman yelled "EW. POOR!!!"

And then he actually proceeded to kick him over and pick up the coins I gave him.

We entered the elevator.

He began yammering on his cell phone.

Something about a suit made from an elephant butt.

At that point I had enough.

@shootysturs / @poyo-shooty-art drew this piece of art work.

"MR GOODMAN"

I took a big step and pointed at him

From what I've seen today. You are an awful person!

You enjoy taking things unfairly and humiliating people!

You're unwilling to admit your own faults!

You're sadistic, money hungry and cruel!

Frankly I don't know how you got so rich!

I... I... I...

I can't wait for your redemption!

I can't wait for you to realize how bad of a person you are!

I want you to try and make up for your faults!

I want you to admit to Marvin that all your threats are empty threats you're going to be more lenient with your payment collection!

I can't wait for you to give back any ill gotten properties and such!

I hope you put so much good into the world that it negates all the bad that you ever did and ever will do!

I can't even call you Goodman anymore because that's a lie! You're just an awful person!

But I will say this!

I can't wait for your redemption!

...

When I finish explain to him why he is not a good person. I ended up noticing that he was sort of in a... Daze. I think that's what you would call it.

I couldn't really talk to him anymore since he was non-verbally communicating and and probably in shock.

I ended up just going home after writing him a note saying that I'll try and work something out with the funds.

I ended up going home and trying to patch up the hole my self.

It went about as poor as you would expect.

I realized it was a lost cause and decided just to go to bed.

In the morning I had a surprise though.

I heard a knocking on the door and saw a construction team with a messenger beside them.

Apparently Goodman had paid for house repairs in addition to dropping the charges.

Apparently the messenger actually had some other messages to deliver, something about Big Jimmy's BBQ Being turned back to him and Marvin's house payment being delayed.

I think Goodman's actually making up for his mistakes and trying to better himself.

Maybe some of what I said sticked.

Garth Jacobs signing off.

[one-boring-person]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write more for Dutch from Predator? Lol it's me btw! I was wondering if it could be a hate to love relationship, where Dutch, being the hardass he is, can't live down his pride, and the reader (preferably female), is a strong independent woman who is actually Poncho's little sister, learning from the best. To add on, can the reader be short as Arnie is so tall, and because I am only 5'2" irl?

I kind of combined this with the enemies-to-lovers prompt request, I hope that's ok! I hope you like this!😊💛

Old Habits Die Hard.

Alan "Dutch" Schaefer (Predator 1987) x reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, swearing, mention of violence, alcohol consumption

Masterlist

"This round's on me, what does everyone want?" Mac announces as we go to sit down at the table, the mercenary remaining standing.

"A beer sounds good." Poncho says, looking at the rest of us.

We give words of agreement, taking our respective places at the table as Mac goes to leave the room and go to the bar.

"Don't forget a soda, I don't think they sell alcohol to underage people here." Dutch chips in, flashing a pointed look in my direction.

"Very funny." I roll my eyes, forcing a smile as the others chuckle, "A beer is fine, Mac. Thanks."

He nods, ducking from the room we rented out for the evening, leaving the five of us alone.

"So what's all this about, Dutch? Got us another job?" Blain questions, the gruff man leaning back in his chair, jaw working languidly at the gunk in his mouth.

"Yeah, but this one's a bit different." The major replies, taking a cigar from his pocket and lighting it.

"Different? How?" Hawkins frowns, cokcing his head to the side.

Dutch takes a deep breath of smoke from the cigar, sitting back in his seat.

"An old friend from the army got in touch. Says he needs us for a rescue op."

"Friend from the army? Who?" I inquire, lifting an eyebrow.

"Old commander of mine." Dutch replies dismissively, barely sparing me a glance.

"Ok, where is the job?" Poncho asks, my brother shooting me a knowing look, his eyes flicking up as Mac walks in again, seven beers cradled in his arms.

"What job?" He asks as he places the bottles down on the table, looking round at us all.

"Dutch got us another op." Blain grunts, reaching out to take his beer, spitting the contents of his mouth out into the ashtray on the table. Hawkins, Poncho and I pull faces at that, but don't say anything.

"Another one? We only just got back!" Mac exclaims, taking a seat across from Hawkins, taking a sip from his beer.

"Perks of the job." Dutch shrugs, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"Will you at least tell us what it is?" I can't keep the impatience from my voice, finding his vagueness irritating.

"I'm getting to it, (Y/n), calm down." He rolls his eyes, "It's in central America, somewhere in the jungle. Phillips was cagey about where exactly, but he said it's got something to do with guerrillas and hostages. We're supposed to get the hostages out of there."

"Sounds simple enough." Billy muses, rubbing his chin.

"When is it?" Poncho chips in, watching the major closely.

Dutch is quiet for a minute, his eyes flicking over us all, before he finally responds.

"It's tomorrow."

I nearly choke on my beer, spluttering as I sit upright in my chair.

"Tomorrow? Are you insane?!" I burst out, annoyed, "We got back from Afghanistan at the ass-crack of dawn today, and you want us to fly off to the jungle at the same time tomorrow? You trying to kill us or what?"

The others nod in agreement, murmuring their own complaints, only to shut up when Dutch turns a venomous glare on me.

"You know, if you spent half the energy you do on complaining on growing, you wouldn't look like a damn child anymore, (Y/n). Would make taking jobs a lot easier - means I don't have to explain why we've only got six and half mercs with us." He snaps, voice laced with anger, "I'm not insane, just practical. We all need more money, and the work is low at the moment. You'd know that if you weren't off lounging at home all day, letting us do the hard planning and prep work."

Silence descends on us all, my jaw dropping at the vehemence behind his words. No one speaks, letting the two of us stare at each other in hatred, my expression swiftly creasing into fury, every muscle in my body going tense.

Another moment passes, before I suddenly stand from the table, slamming my bottle on the table as I stalk past, heading straight out the door. Poncho tries to stop me, calling out to me, but I ignore him, practically seething as I leave the bar and stride to the car my brother and I came in. Unlocking it, I climb in and slam the door, buckling myself into the driver's seat as I throw the car into drive, pulling out onto the road. 

Furious, I drive way over the speed limit, weaving in and out of the traffic with no regard for my own safety as I careen down the highway. Screeching horns and tyres follow me as I go, but I ignore them, focusing instead on getting home, filled with anger now as Dutch's words play over and over in my head. 

It doesn't take long for me to pull up in the drive of my house, the car skidding on the loose gravel as I harshly jerk the handbrake into place, unbuckling myself before I climb out, making my way over to the door. Opening it, I go in and head straight to the bathroom, intending to take a shower to cool me down, knowing I need to calm down. I strip down quickly, quickly getting under the cold water with my fists clenched at my sides for a while, until I start to massage myself with my fingers, working out the knots in my muscles. It's pleasant, but I can still feel the anger burning in my system, so I swiftly leave again, wrapping myself in a towel. 

As I leave the bathroom, I hear a car pull up in the drive, the tyres crunching loudly on the gravel, announcing the newcomer's arrival. I dismiss it, chalking it up to it being Poncho, come to check up on me as the door downstairs opens, then closes, footsteps sounding in the hall as the person checks for me. The sounds are heavier than I thought they would be, and the identity of the person soon dawns on me.

Immediately, I feel the anger start racing through me again, my face creasing into a scowl until I force myself to calm down, at which point I turn and storm up to my bedroom. Going in, I start to rummage through my wardrobe, looking for some new clothes, trying to bite back the irritation rising in me as I hear the footsteps getting closer, the heavy boots not even halting as they reach the door. Within seconds, the wooden structure has been flung open, an angry mercenary standing in the space behind it.

"Ever learn to knock?" I snap at him as soon as I turn around, glaring at Dutch as he looms in the doorway, "Nevermind, you never learned manners period."

"Says the person who just stormed out of a bar." He scoffs, sneering at me as he steps into the room, "Talk about table manners."

"And whose fault is it I stormed out in the first place?" I glower at him, holding my towel in place as he continues forward, the glint in his eyes sparking a blazing heat inside me.

"Oh, so now it's my fault you can't take a joke?" Dutch jabs his finger at his chest before pointing it at me, brow furrowed in anger.

"You have a pretty poor idea of a joke, asshole." I spit back, lifting my finger up in his face as we step closer together, less than a foot away from each other now.

"You're the only one who thinks so, short-ass." He glares down at me, making me all too aware of how he towers over me.

Swallowing tightly, I shift uncomfortably.

"Sure about that? I can't be the only one who thinks your height jokes are getting old." I reply venomously, jabbing my finger at his chest.

He laughs humorlessly.

"Oh, but we both remember a time when you used to love playing into your shortness." His voice drops an octave, eyes boring into me, "I had you on your knees more than once with only standing over you. Remember?"

A flare of lust goes through me at the reminder, flashes of him looming over me as he pounded his cock harder and harder into my waiting mouth coming, unbidden, to mind. I'd always liked the sight of his muscular body above mine, as well as the feelings of his large hands wrapped around me, even if it was simply to hold my head still whilst he fucked it. 

"That was months ago." I hiss back at him, barely able to look up at him - if I do, it'll be too much like the memories in my head and I'll give in to the urges of my body. Already I can feel arousal pooling in my panties, my cheeks flushing as I realise this.

"Old habits die hard." Dutch growls, before swiftly reaching out to tear the towel away, exposing me to him. Before I can protest, however, he's taken hold of me and lifted me against the wall, pinning me roughly in place with his body, my legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. His lips crash into mine, a mess of teeth and tongues ensuing as we kiss like we used to, wet sounds filling the air as we press closer and closer together. Soft sounds of need escape me, but they're swallowed by the ravenous major above me, who licks and nips at my lips, a few grunts leaving him as he does so. 

Moving to pull him closer, I moan loudly as Dutch jerks his hips into mine, using them to hold me in place, his arousal pressing at my clit through his trousers. I have to bite back whines at the feeling of the rough fabric against my unprotected clit, my slick soon covering the crotch of his jeans as he rolls his hips into me. One of his hands moves to palm roughly at my breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between two calloused fingers, his other hand grasping my ass, which he squeezes tightly. Whimpering into his mouth, I take my nails down his back, grinding my sensitive clit down onto him, enjoying the waves of pleasure emanating from the stimulation. 

Months and months of pent up lust pour through the kiss, only breaking as Dutch pulls back to yank his shirt off, revealing his muscular yet scarred torso to me. Instantly, I go to lick and kiss at the toned muscles, only to yelp indignantly as he takes hold of my hair and jerks my head back, growling as he fastens our lips together again. He presses closer, crushing me against the wall with his huge body, grinding his arousal into me with vigour, only to suddenly pull away, keeping me in his arms. In seconds, Dutch has thrown me on the bed, standing at the end with his hands on his belt. 

Biting my lip, I eagerly move to help him, but he pushes me back down roughly, wasting no time in pulling his trousers and underwear down, revealing his leaking cock to the air. I moan at the familiar sight of it, eyeing up the veined length keenly, following it from the base to the reddened tip, watching as precum beads there. 

Dutch doesn't give me long to admire him, climbing over me and pressing himself against me as soon as he's exposed, his lips moving to my neck. He leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses in his wake, biting at sensitive points as he goes, licking over them briefly each time to soothe them, every movement extracting a needy whine from me. One of his hands moves down to his cock, which he takes hold of and runs through my slick folds, coating the tip generously as he supplies pleasure to me. With every pass over my clit, I moan and rock up into him, clutching at his back. 

"Fuck me, Dutch. Show me how much bigger you are." I moan out, wrapping my legs around his waist.

As he hears my words, however, Dutch growls, leaning back, making my legs fall from where they were. I whine at the lack of contact until he rolls me onto my front, grabbing hold of my ass to knead and grope. 

"I'll show you alright." He practically snarls in my ear as he bends back over me, moulding his huge body to my smaller frame, hands jerking my ass into his hips. He grinds himself into me for a moment, building my pleasure further as he bites at the back of my neck, sending bolts of electricity through me, which I respond to by rocking back onto him. 

With a final grunt, Dutch lines himself up with my hole, surging forwards into me in one stroke, stretching me out as he goes. A half-scream leaves my throat as I feel his cock slide over every sensitive spot inside me, my walls clenching deliciously around him, every vein rubbing against me. He gives me no time to adjust, pulling out entirely before slamming back into me, setting a hard, fast pace that has me seeing stars in no time. Ecstasy races through me, a knot tightening swiftly in my abdomen at the feeling of his thick cock pounding into me. 

Dutch straightens after a moment, taking my hip in one hand whilst he presses my face into the bed with the other, using me as leverage to shove his cock as far into me as he can go, grunting and groaning behind me in pleasure and need. Under his grip, I feel totally immobile, but the thought of him using me to work out his anger sends me reeling, my walls clenching tightly around him, tearing a moan from his lips. His name falls from my own, almost like a mantra as he slams into me, sending bolts of pleasure through me, bringing me closer and closer to what I really want. 

"So close, Dutch...keep going, oh fuck, you're so good…" I moan out, my words muffled slightly by the bed, though they are audible enough for him.

A whine of displeasure echoes from my chest as he suddenly pulls out, my pussy throbbing at the loss. He doesn't wait long, though, rolling me back onto my back before he hikes my legs up onto his shoulders, thrusting roughly back into me. With the new angle, whole other waves of pleasure ripple through me, his cock hitting the very spot that brings me crashing towards an orgasm. The sound of skin slapping together fills the room, along with obscenely wet noises and moans from the two of us, both too caught up in the moment to care about what comes after.

"You're getting tighter, (Y/n)...gonna cum for me, are you?" Dutch groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as my pleasure rapidly builds, "Come on, (Y/n), cum for me!"

With a final scream of ecstasy, the tension inside me snaps and I cum, hard, my walls clenching like a vice around him. White light blinds me, everything disappearing around me as the pleasure floods through me in a great torrent, rendering me incapable of moving momentarily. 

Vaguely, I feel Dutch pound into me a few more times before he pulls out and cums over my stomach, letting out a roar of satisfaction at the sensation, his hand wrapped around himself, jerking his cock desperately. Breathing heavily, he milks himself dry before he slumps over me, smearing the sticky substance between us, the two of us left breathless in the throes of our pleasure. 

"Still as good as I remember." He hums, rolling off of me to lie beside me.

"Could say the same thing." I sigh, trailing a finger through his cooling cum, grimacing at the sight of it.

Groaning, I heave myself up, taking the towel up from the floor.

"Where are you going?" Dutch asks, still lounging on the bed.

"Shower. You should, too." I inform him, moving to leave, only to stop still as the door swings open.

"(Y/n)? Who are you- oh." Poncho blushes a deep red, grimacing as he swiftly ducks back out of the room. 

"Oh shit…" I groan, putting my head in my hands, unable to bite back a small smile.

With just grins, leaning back on his hands.

"Oops."

-

Tag list: @nightime-luna-fairy

[apiratewhopines]

This one is a gift for @teamhook because she is one of the most generous people I’ve ever met.

Thanks to @jrob64 for giving me advice on artwork and to ultraluckycatnd for reading over this chapter

Midnight

Chapter 1 — The Prince

Summary: In which our heroine meets cute

Chapter 1 of 7 on AO3

“But don’t forget folks,

That’s what you get folks

For makin’ whoopee”

-Makin’ Whoopee, Eddie Cantor

Emma Swan had been in some tight spots, but she’d never been in a run out of gas on a deserted highway with a dying cell phone battery and a stomach as empty as her bank account kind of situation before. In truth, she blamed this unfortunate situation on the same person she blamed all the misfortunes of her adulthood. Neal Cassidy.

There was a time a few short months ago she would have done anything for the man responsible for her current circumstances. Neal had been too good to be true. A real Prince Charming, down to the supposed trust fund and a smile that made her believe in happy endings.

She’d been a sucker. She heard one was born every minute, she just never thought her time would come. After all, one of the few things she learned in the foster system was how to spot bullshit from a mile away. But he looked at her with his soulful eyes and whispered promises in his smoky voice and she fell for it. More than once, actually, and all she had to show for the wasted years was a voicemail box full of collection calls and a wolf at the door.

Because Neal Cassidy didn’t just leave her. He stole her identity, maxed out her credit cards, and took out half a dozen loans in her name. Then he proceeded to use the money to wine and dine a wide assortment of women, the sheer number of which would make Casanova blush. All the while professing his undying love and spending his days eating all her food and watching television from his favorite seat on the couch.

Seriously, you could still see the faint outline of his backside on the cushion.

As countless victims of his schemes started showing up at her door looking for the man who made them feel alive while killing them one dollar at a time, she listened to tears and rants and misery with ill-disguised impatience. How had she become the counselor to the trail of broken girls he left in his wake? When was it going to be her turn to moan and groan and swear she’d never love again?

Well, she did get around to the swearing to never love again part. Some mistakes don’t bear repeating.

The final straw happened two months ago. Neal had disappeared after their final fight. His righteous indignation at being called on his crap and inability to find a plausible excuse for the stack of overdue bills and statements she found stuffed in the back of his gym bag made it difficult to share the same space. She wanted him gone even as her hands itched to touch him one more time.

Unfortunately, leaving her drowning in debt with the knowledge he cheated on her for the majority of their relationship wasn’t enough for him. He decided to do some collateral damage on his way out of town.

He did the unforgivable. He went after Granny.

His target was meant to wound her. While he lied and schemed the entire time they were together, she had been an open book for the first time in her life so he knew Granny was the sole connection she formed as a foster. Her brief stay with the woman before she aged out of the system was a time of peace and healing. Granny was responsible for helping her get on her feet and the two maintained a friendship years later.

Emma received the frantic call from Ruby explaining her grandmother had been tricked into giving Neal a blank check so he could do her grocery run. Hours later, she received a notification from her bank saying her checking account had been wiped out. At that point, the tenuous control Emma had on her emotions disappeared. She sat on the kitchen floor of the apartment she was about to lose, staring at empty walls that still echoed with his laughter in her weaker moments, and she broke into a million pieces.

So it was no wonder she vowed to have her vengeance. To do anything and everything to make him pay. Luckily, since he skipped out on a court date, catching him would also get her paid.

Tracking him had taken more time than she liked to admit. She was good; even penniless and running out of options, she recognized her worth and knew she possessed hard to find skill sets. But she had a sinking sensation that he might be better.

Now she was stranded on the side of the road with nothing except her most uncomfortable shoes to keep her company. But damn did they make her legs look good and with everything else in her life collapsing around her, somehow that seemed important.

Squaring her shoulders, she climbed out of the car and pondered her next course of action. She was unfamiliar with the state road connecting the two small towns on the Maine coast, so she had no idea what the odds were that a good samaritan would happen along. She had just enough juice in her battery and lettuce in her account to call for an Uber to take her to the seedy nightclub where Neal was last seen. Or she could walk the rest of the way in her mile-high heels knowing she never looked better, even though she would probably not be able to move the next day without a significant amount of pain.

What she would do if she found him or where she would stay if she didn’t weren’t questions she was ready to entertain.

Sighing, she pulled out her phone and with a huff of frustration opened her app. Pleading with whatever powers that be to let her last long enough to see herself through to the other side of this, she leaned against her beaten down yellow Bug and waited for the black sedan to show.

Of course, her phone died immediately after she booked her ride, finally giving up the ghost even though she didn’t get a chance to see the name or license plate of her hired car. Getting more anxious by the minute, she paced along the shoulder, careful to keep on the pavement since the ground was soft from recent rain. After what seemed like forever, but had probably not been more than half an hour, the headlights of a lone car crested a nearby hill.

“About time,” she muttered. To make sure the driver knew she was not pleased with the delay or the prodding pace he maintained despite the fact the sky seemed ready to open at any moment, she moved out into the middle of the lane and placed her hand on her hips. Pride kept her from squinting even though the bright high beams made her eyes water as the car approached.

Slowing from a crawl to a stop, the driver put the car in park and jumped out. It was dark and the man was dressed all in black, but as he moved around to the front of the car, she got the impression of blue eyes and a stubble-covered jaw that could probably cut glass. Great, just what she needed. A sexy Uber driver.

“Alright there, love?”

With a British accent. He probably smelled like bacon, too.

“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting all night.”

Moving closer, he smiled with a hint of confusion. “Had I known you were waiting for me, I would have been along sooner. Tell me, do you always accost strange men in the dead of night on empty roads?”

“Only when I’m paying them to take me where I need to go,” she grumbled, walking toward the back door on the passenger side. She pulled it open as he protested, and glared at him over the top of the car.

“Love, I think there may be a bit of a mix-up—“

“It’s fine. I won’t give you a bad rating for being late as long as you don’t talk to me. I’ve been driving for hours to get here and I need to think.”

She heard him sigh and saw the flash of his teeth as he smiled at her again. “Very well. Would you like me to get your bags?”

“You’d have to go to a pawn shop in Boston to accomplish that,” she joked, dropping into the leather seat and noticing for the first time the expensive luxury of her rented carriage. She supposed if she was going to spend her last dime on a ride, she could have done far worse.

She resisted the urge to use the low ambient lighting of the dashboard to get a better look at her temporary chauffeur. The glimpse she got outside was more than enough to know she needed to keep her distance. It didn’t stop her from feeling the weight of his stare as he peeked over his shoulder while clicking on his seatbelt. Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw his tongue flicker slowly over his bottom lip before he turned his attention back to the road.

“Nice dress. Where are we heading this fine night, Miss…?”

“You’re really terrible at this. Is it your first time being a driver for hire?”

“What gave it away, love? It’s quite an unexpected development that came about just this evening. But you know what they say, you never forget your first.”

It was everything she could do not to laugh. She had a feeling it would only encourage him and if she was heading into battle, she needed her wits about her. “The Snakehole Lounge.”

“At the risk of sounding cliche, why would a nice girl like you want to go to a place like that?”

“I’m not a nice girl,” Emma informed him without a hint of irony or bravado. “And your rating is going down with each syllable out of your mouth.”

“Tough lass,” he murmured. “But do yourself a favor. Stay away from the Snake Juice.”

Little did he know that even if she wanted to have a drink, and boy did she ever, she used the last of her meager funds to get to this backwater place and she wasn’t sure where her next meal would come from. “I’ll do my best.”

The rest of the ride passed in silence. She spent the time looking out the window at the trees flying by and trying to ignore how every time she looked away, her eyes caught his in the rearview mirror.

Honestly, it was probably a good thing they were the only people for miles around or he would have gotten them both killed.

Less than fifteen minutes later, he pulled to the curb in front of a shabby nightclub. Even the multitude of neon lights flashing “Girls! Girls! Girls!” and “Half-Price Beer Buckets” did little to enliven the dingy exterior. They didn’t bother with a bouncer, probably because no one actually wanted to get in.

Before she could say anything, her driver was out of the car and rounding his way to her door. She didn’t have a chance to object as he opened it and looked at her with avid curiosity. She had to admit she was impressed he didn’t give into it and ask any questions.

“Since we’re out of the car, am I allowed to speak again?”

Perhaps she had been too hasty in her internal praise. “Thanks for the ride. I hope your next passengers are more chatty since that’s what you’re into...overall, a solid three stars.”

“Three stars? I’d be surprised, but I had a feeling you were warming up to me between the baleful stares and eye-rolling.”

Gifting him with another of the said eye rolls, she adjusted the hem of her skirt to show a little more leg and walked away. She knew if she stayed a second longer she would give in to the almost magnetic pull of him and say something foolish like, ‘What’s your name?’

—

The inside of the establishment was every bit as horrible as the outside. The low lighting obscured the grime and wear that would be glaringly obvious otherwise. She wasn’t surprised. It seemed like the kind of place Neal would gravitate to since he was a dirty little rat.

Music heavy with bass pumped out a rhythm entirely too fast for the energy of the place. The few patrons who persevered this far into the night looked anemic as tired dancers did their best to act like they wanted to be there. Pulling her ID from the scrap of a bra she wore under her dress, she flashed it at the lone employee who manned the entrance and the bar. He gave it a cursory glance and turned back to his phone.

Snapping her fingers under his nose to get his attention, she pulled out a grainy photo of her quarry from the same location and asked, “Have you seen this man recently?”

“I’ve never seen anyone. Ever.” The man grumbled, not interested in the slightest. She wondered if he would stop her if she walked behind the counter and helped herself to a drink. She was leaning toward no and tempted to try.

“Tell you what buddy, take a good look at this picture. Then look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t seen him and we’ll end the night without any trouble.”

Something in her tone must have penetrated his disillusionment and he gazed at her with more interest than he’d probably shown anything in years. She waited as he glanced at the photo for a few seconds. “No, sorry. If he’s been here, it wasn’t during any of my shifts. Is he your husband or something?”

“He’s something alright,” she muttered. Defeated, she turned around without another word. She used the last of her resources to fund a wild goose chase, but at least it got her into town. Only thing left to do was find a park or quiet bench somewhere safe to sleep for a few hours and then she would tackle whatever came next. It wouldn’t be the first time she roughed it, although she had never attempted it in formal wear before.

Pushing the door open with unnecessary force, she immediately froze. Her three star driver was waiting at the curb as if it wasn’t the middle of the night and she hadn’t given him the brush off.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yes, especially since I’m pretty sure our business is done,” she replied, walking past him and wishing the man could be a tiny bit less handsome. Now that the streetlights of the small town were there to illuminate their interactions, she couldn’t deny he was ridiculously attractive and exactly her type, complete with a black leather jacket and messy hair begging to be pulled. And, heaven help her, he was determined to extend their acquaintance apparently.

“It’s just good sense, love. I figured you’d be in need of transportation again, so why waste the gas to leave when I’d have to turn around after you called for your next ride.” He matched his stride to hers as she did her best to increase her pace.

Sighing, she stopped at the corner and looked at him. “Listen, I could tell you my phone is dead and I need to make a few more stops, that I’d pay you when you drop me off at my place at the end of the night, but it would be a lie. I’m chasing down a bounty. I need the money to pay for a ride and I need a ride to make the money. A smart man like you can see the problem. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

She turned away again but felt him leap into action behind her. He moved to cut off her escape and said, “Double or nothing.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Double or nothing, sweetheart. I take you to wherever you need to go tonight and when you collect your fee, you pay me double whatever the normal fare is for jaunts like these.”

“What if I don’t find him?”

“That’s where the nothing comes in, lass. A smart woman like you can see the benefit of such an arrangement.”

She studied him, hoping to find some ulterior motive in his seemingly selfless offer, but all she saw in his expression was an earnestness bordering on being painful and a thirst for adventure barely contained. Perhaps this was how he got his kicks in an isolated town. He propositioned strangers and gambled on fate. “No strings? No funny business?”

“This whole business is funny, but I’ll behave myself if you will. We’ll have much less satisfaction that way, but I’ll do my best to rally my spirits and overcome my disappointment.”

With a rueful shake of her head, she stuck out her hand and introduced herself. “I guess we’re doing this. I’m Emma Swan.”

“Killian Jones, driver extraordinaire and captain of this fine vessel, at your service. Where’s our next stop?”

“I need to go to every seedy bar and filthy dive in the area so you tell me, Captain.”

—

She wasn’t sure what it said about her newfound companion that he was able to rattle off several places in a matter of seconds, but as the night stretched on and the miles racked up, she found she rather liked her tour guide. Which was probably a good thing since at this rate, she would be splitting the bounty fifty-fifty with him. Who knew the twin cities of Storybrooke and Misthaven had so many sleazy places to hang out?

“I’m afraid we’ve reached the end of the line, Swan. Are you sure he’s in the area, because every traveler worth his salt makes a point to stop by Moe’s Tavern while visiting our fair city.”

“I can see why. The thrift-store ambience is delightful and the watered down drinks are to die for,” she murmured as she rested against the side of his car. She was tired and weak from hunger and as much as she wanted to curl up in the back seat and sleep, she was scared she’d get used to the comfort he was offering and do something she might regret later.

She was trying to figure out how to cut and run without seeming ungrateful when her stomach growled loudly.

In a playful tone belaying the concern in his eyes, he asked, “Was that your stomach? Bloody hell, am I in danger? Are you going to try to eat me to satisfy the beast within?”

Feeling a blush color her face, she avoided his gaze as she said, “Sorry, I...um, I skipped dinner.” And breakfast and lunch for that matter.

Taking up a position next to her, he nudged her with his shoulder. “Tell the truth, when was the last time you ate something, lass?”

“Hmm, what day is it again?”

“As I suspected. Come on, I know just the spot.” Pushing off from the car, he gently moved her and opened the door to the backseat.

She wanted to fight, to tell him she could take care of herself. She would have too, if she had any energy at all. Meeting his eyes for the first time, she joked, “You lost a gamble, Captain. That doesn’t mean you have to feed it.”

“I consider it an act of self-preservation. I figured you for a man-eater the first moment I laid eyes on you, but I’m afraid you might prove me right in unexpected ways if we don’t get some food in you soon.”

“As long as eyes are all you plan on laying on me, I accept your gracious offer,” she replied with a narrowed stare. Before Neal, she trusted her instincts. She would have insisted they were infallible, but he had shaken her confidence. She couldn’t risk being wrong about Killian Jones of the electric eyes and perpetual helpfulness.

“No strings. No funny business, Swan. Those are the rules. Get in, your chariot and dinner awaits.”

He stood a few feet from her, urging her into the car and she wasn’t sure what drove her to say it, but before she could change her mind, the words were out. “I’d rather ride in the front this time if that’s okay with you.”

His smile could have melted metal, tempted angels to fall, and inspired devils to repent. It was probably lack of rest and food causing her stomach to do flip flops. Or at least that was what she was going to tell herself.

“Your heart’s desire, Swan. I promise that’s all I want you to have…” He closed the back door with a firm finality that echoed through the night and somehow felt momentous in the thick air of summer. When he opened the passenger door, the light seemed warmer and it bathed him in softness and shadows. He waited patiently as if he knew something had shifted between them and he didn’t want any sudden movements to break the odd spell.

Then her stomach growled again, angry at the promise of food being delayed while she gawked at the man who was determined to rescue her in every imaginable way.

“And dinner, of course.”

“Of course,” she whispered, taking care not to make contact with his body as she slid into the seat. She was glad the door was already closed when she left out a huff of air. Good thing she had sworn off love or she may be in some danger.

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | chapter thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: fluff like unbelievably fluffy!

word count: 6.1

here's the playlist for the fic, the last song in the playlist if looped will lead right into Amoreena at the beginning and it works pretty well timing-wise if you like to listen while you read !!

from the beginning <3

All their bags were packed by Friday morning, Y/N and Amoreena waking up extra early with excitement for the weekend ahead of them, and they didn’t even know what was going to happen yet.

Y/N made sure everything was packed and ready for a 3rd time on Saturday morning, right before they left on the trip; making sure they had sunscreen and aloe vera, all her medicine and ginger ale by the pack for her random bouts of morning sickness that lasted all, day, long... And their dresses and his suit hanging behind the driver's seat, beside Amoreena, they all piled into Y/N’s car and took off down the road on their adventure.

Amoreena was awake for the first half of the 9-hour trip, singing like crazy as they drove through Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia and New York, it was so amazing she couldn’t stop cheering the whole time. It was more than she’s ever seen before, even though they lived so close to New York, she’s never been through it before.

Once they arrived in Rhode Island, Spencer pulled over at the closest gas station to make sure the girls were all prepared and ready for the big surprise he had for them. They filled the car, used the restroom and bought some lemonade before getting back into the car, he turned in the driver's seat to see Amoreena and Y/N better, looking at their wide eyes memorizing the calmness in their faces before he told them.

He didn’t want them to freak out too much, he was worried about Y/N’s blood pressure and how loud she might scream and any stress that a situation like this could put on her body. He’s seen how people react to Taylor Swift, he just didn’t know how they would.

“Now, I'm only telling you so you don't freak out," he repeated the same worry she had when she broke the news of the baby, "I didn’t have to rent a place on the water because my friend lives up here, so we’re going to stay in her guest house,” he explained it simply.

“Rossi's wife?” Y/N asked, confused about who it could be and if she knew this woman yet.

“No, actually I think you might know her, her name is Taylor?”

“No,” she shakes her head furiously, “no, nope, there's no way you did this, Spencer Walter Reid I am not kidding I’m going to pass away if I see her.” She's holding both her hands in fists as she tries to stay calm, closing her eyes quickly before letting out a deep sigh.

“Taylor who?” Amoreena yells, undoing her seatbelt and standing between their seats, she almost jumps into his lap as she leans over and grabs a fistful of his shirt, “Taylor WHO?”

“Go get in your seat and I’ll show you,” he teases, watching her follow orders and get back in the seat as quickly as possible, shouting at him to drive the second he hears the seatbelt click again.

Y/N is completely speechless for the next 20 minutes of the drive, eyes wide and a hand on her stomach as she stares out the front window. She’s like a statue, not able to hear anything Amoreena is saying but that doesn't stop her from going on and on with her stories.

“Mom!” She’s finally able to break her out of the haze, “pass me your phone!”

“Yeah,” she doesn’t even question it, handing her the phone back to the antsy 7-year-old so she could continue her internal panic.

They see her house on the hill as they approach, “holy shit,” Y/N whispers as Amoreena turns on the last great American dynasty, knowing exactly where they were going.

Taylor asked for his licence plate number and car model when they were emailing, letting her gate guy know to let Spencer right in so he could keep it a secret. But they knew the house, there was no point in not telling them. Y/N looked a little relieved that he gave her the time to freak out alone and not as soon as they crested the hill.

Her driveway felt never-ending as they got closer and closer, Amoreena was still in disbelief as she squealed in the back seat, hands flailing as she tried to calm the excitement inside her body with her favourite stim.

Then Taylor walked out into the front yard and Y/N was a mess. Crying as she waved her hand in front of her face, not wanting to be a mess in front of Taylor fucking Swift, “I told you nothing crazy! How did you do this?”

“Yes, but I said 'define crazy’ and you didn’t,” he reminds her with a cheeky smile.

She shoves him, “I didn’t think you could do this?!”

Once they’re parked the door automatically unlocked, and as much as spencer hated that non-safety feature, he's glad Amoreena can get out quickly before she's screaming bloody murder. Amoreena is out the door and in Taylor’s arms faster than they’ve ever seen her move, she should be a track star. It almost knocks Taylor to the ground as she takes her in, holding the sweet little girl against her chest with the biggest smile on her face. Amoreena snuggles right into her, with a hand on her cheek and her other arm wrapped behind her neck. She couldn't be any closer to her, it was like she was her favourite relative who she hasn't seen in a while.

Amoreena is talking her ear off already by the time Spencer’s helping Y/N out of the car and walking her to Taylor, she’s holding his hand like she’s going to pass out or something, “and this is my mom Y/N and my dad Spencer but somehow you know him already,” Amoreena introduces her.

“Hi, Y/N, it's a pleasure to meet you, Spencer's told me a lot about you.” Taylor’s sweet voice saying her name alone makes her stutter out a bunch of nonsense, not to mention the fact Spencer's been talking to Taylor fucking Swift about her.

Amoreena moves out of the way for Taylor to wrap her up in a hug, and Y/N cries harder than he’s ever seen on her shoulder, “thank you,” is all she can say, it’s frightening to Amoreena at first to see her mom cry like that but she knows her mom just loves Taylor like family.

What she doesn’t know is just how much Taylor saved her life. If she didn’t have someone to listen to, someone to take the pain and replace it with hope, she wouldn’t be here and by default neither would Amoreena. Spencer owed everything to Taylor swift at this point, she was a blessing in his life that he took for granted. Not realizing until that moment just how much she meant to him as well now.

“Sorry,” Y/N finally says as she pulls off her, “I’m pregnant, I can’t help it.”

Taylor’s hands fly right to her stomach, “holy crap, you never told me that she’s pregnant in your emails, oh my god!” She’s genuinely so happy for them, “how far along are you?”

“6 weeks on Sunday,” she smiles, feeling like herself again even though it’s incredibly strange to be telling Taylor before her parents even knew. “No one really knows, it’s all very new but when you know, you know… y’know?”

For a woman with an English language degree, she sure knew how to make a sentence, all of them laughing at the words she chose, but they understood.

“We should have used paper rings!” Amoreena yells, holding her hand over her eyes in disbelief as she shares her head with a sigh, she couldn’t believe she forgot that song existed.

It made Taylor laugh, scooping the little one up in her arms and starting the walk inside.

“Well come on in, I’ve got a big lunch spread ready for us and then we can go to the beach for the ceremony whenever you want this weekend, does that sound good?” Taylor is beyond excited to make new friends, much like Amoreena, they got along famously.

“Where are the cats? Do they live here or in LA or Nashville?” Amoreena changed the topic in the form of a yes and proving just how much she knew about Taylor.

“They’re here, Olivia and Benjamin will probably find us soon, Meredith isn’t very open to new friends now that she’s an old lady,” Taylor explained as she set Amoreena down in the entryway, bending down to be at her level and pointing off into the living room, “oh, see, there one is!”

Amoreena saw one of them laying on the floor under a sunny spot, running to it and petting it gently, “hi Benjamin, I loved you in the ME video,” she whispers as she pets him, making Taylor swoon.

“She’s amazing,” Taylor swooned, “I can’t wait to have one.”

“You should!” Y/N agreed, reaching to take Taylor's hand on impulse, and Taylor held it back with a smile, “oh that would be so wonderful, I can just imagine the beautiful stories you’ll create when you discover what it’s like to love someone how your mom loves you.”

Taylor’s smile was priceless, "that's the best way to think about it," she beamed at Y/N the way Spencer did, she had that effect on people. They followed her into the dining room, taking a seat near each other and digging into all the food Taylor made for them.

“Ah,” Amoreena said as she finally joined them, sitting on her knees on Taylors nice antique chairs. “Shark coochie,” she whispers the words to herself, not able to stop her mind from repeating it, but still not wanting Taylor to hear it in case it was inappropriate. She was incredibly well-mannered for someone who had a hard time reading social queues.

“It’s a hard word to say,” Taylor agreed, making her feel less awkward. Spencer may have told her about her autism in advance, wanting his little girl to be respected by everyone she met, for who she truly was, “my mom called it a coochie spread once, actually, she's going to be over tomorrow for father's day.”

"Yes! Oh, I love Andrea," Amoreena laughed at how cool this day was, smiling at Taylor the way she smiled at him that first morning at breakfast like she just found yet another person to love. “You’re so wonderful, Taylor.”

“Oh, thank you, you're pretty enchanting yourself,” she smiles, “I take it you’ve known about me for your whole life?”

“Yep,” she smiled, reaching for a chocolate-covered strawberry and taking a huge bite, covering her mouth before she continued, “I was born a month after Red came out, November thirteenth, it really is a lucky number now, mom says so at least.”

“It is!” Taylor agreed with a smile, “I have some markers, do you want to wear matching 13’s today?”

“Mom, can I colour on my hand?” She turns so fast Spencer thinks she’ll get whiplash.

“Yeah, go for it!” She agrees, spreading cream cheese on a croissant and layering tomatoes on top, definitely pregnant.

So Taylor gets a marker and both their left hands now have matching numbers. Amoreena asks to take a million photos, eventually just taking Y/N’s phone from her, permanently, to take photos of all her favourite things around the house.

She runs off with the cats at a certain point, giving Y/N a chance to thank Taylor without tiny ears listening in. “Can I get really emotional and tell you how much you mean to me or is that too weird for our first chat?”

“Not weird at all, knowing you’ve used my music to raise that beautiful child makes me love you just as much, I’d love to hear why you picked me, of all musicians, to show her how to love,” Taylor replies, as regal and kindly as humanly possible.

“My first fiancé, Stephen, he was actually like an angel and our first kiss was quite literally in the rain, but he passed away in 2010,” she explained it with a smile so Taylor knew it wasn’t a touchy subject anymore, “I bonded with Fearless in a way I can’t even describe to you, it’s my life, he was my superstar, and white horse, I mean come on, I can’t tell you how many times I cried to that after he died but it helped me not feel alone. I wouldn’t be who I am without Fearless, and then Speak Now was there for me when I needed a good cry, Last Kiss really broke me but it wasn’t until Lover came out that I realized I could find someone again, and it’s always just like you released things as I needed them like you were helping me through all the bad things,” she’s never even told Spencer all this, it was special to him that he got to give her this moment.

“When you re-released it with the vault songs, I met Spencer literally a month later. I cried my eyes out to you all over me, but That’s When makes me think of Spencer and now the whole album has a new memory in my heart that’s better. It's just like why you re-released it, to replace the bad things that happened that took all the happiness out of something you cared so much about." Y/N took a second to breathe, shaky as she got to the end of her rant that she seemed to have prepared in the 20 minutes before she had to talk to her.

"I love you, honestly. You’re my best friend and you didn’t even know me then, but you’ve held my hand through it all, so thank you,” she cried a little, holding her belly with one hand as she tried to hold the tears in.

Taylor was out of her chair and in Y/N’s arms within seconds, crying into her arms as she held her. She rubbed Y/N’s back as she cried too, “I’m so sorry that happened, but I’m glad I could be there.”

“Do you want to be this baby's godmother?” She asks on impulse without even asking Spencer if he’s okay with it, he was, it made him laugh.

“Eleonora Taylor Reid,” Spencer says from across the table, making them both turn to him with wide eyes.

“Yes,” Y/N agrees fast, “that's the name if it’s a girl, if it’s a boy he can be Taylor as well?”

“Holy shit,” Taylor smiled wide, “yes, I want to come to visit the farm and buy them baby gifts and throw you a baby shower! I inadvertently helped make them so it’s only fair.”

“Hopefully she gets your voice too, Y/N,” Spencer adds and Y/N shoots him a panicked glance, “it’s the Taylor legacy to be a good singer.”

“You can sing?” The question Y/N feared coming past Taylor's lovely vocal cords, almost on queue.

Y/N can't help but glare at spencer, he had too many tricks up his sleeve and she was at her limit.

“Yes,” Y/N finally answers, “I was going to go to theatre school, but I switched to become a Librarian, I’m not good with crowds or competition and that's basically what the industry depends on. I like the quiet, telling stories on paper is just as easy as singing it to a crowd.”

“That's fair,” Taylor agreed, “would you and Amoreena like to sing some song with me? I have my guitar or the piano? I’m not used to having new friends over without sharing at least 1 song with them. I’m sure you’ve seen my listening parties?” She was really trying to convince her to sing, Spencer knew why and what she had planned.

Amoreena came running in then, “I can play piano too, can we do the long live new year's day from the tour movie?” She rests her hands on Taylor's arm, looking up at her with the biggest puppy dog eyes.

“Of course, come on,” she says taking Amoreena’s hand and rushing into the piano room. “Here, we’ll record it too,” she offered, setting her phone up on the music stand to capture the moment forever.

They sat side by side on the bench, Amoreena showing her how she could play the opening perfectly and surprising Spencer. He knew they had a piano at home, he’s just never seen her play it before.

“She has perfect pitch,” Y/N bragged, “she can play a song after hearing it once.”

“Really?” Spencer had no idea, unbelievably proud of her as he listened to her play.

She’s quietly playing the intro to Long Live as Taylor watches, joining in with the harmony of New Year's Day, “this one reminds me of my mom and dad.”

“Does it?” Taylor coo’s, smiling at her softly as Y/N tries not to cry beside Spencer.

“They’re the knight and the princess of our kingdom,” she explained before the two of them started singing the words together, like they always have, only Taylor was beside her and not just on the TV.

“I said remember this moment, in the back of my mind, the time we stood with our shaking hands, the crowds in the stands went wild,” Amoreena’s tiny voice lead-in, fearlessly as she played away.

“We were the Kings and the Queens, and they read off our names, the night you danced like you knew our lives would never be the same... You held your head like a hero, on a history book page... It was the end of a decade, but the start of an age,” Spencer couldn’t help but cry as she sang with Taylor.

This was on the concert movie, he showed her after school, this song came on and she was silent, listening to the words as she stared at him and then back at the TV. Her mind was connecting little dots, making a story about her mom and dad being the king and the queen, it all made sense now.

“Long live the walls we crashed through, how the kingdom lights shined just for me and you, I was screaming long live, all the magic we made and bring on all the pretenders, I’m not afraid,

Long live all the mountains we moved, I had the time of my life, fighting dragons with you, I was screaming long live, that look on your face, and bring on all the pretenders, one day, we will be remembered,”

Their fingers moved in sync on the keys as they harmonized almost perfectly, she wasn’t kidding about Amoreena having perfect pitch. She knew all the words and sang them almost louder than Taylor.

“And hold on to spinning around, confetti, falls to the ground. May these memories break our fall…”

The piano changes, the cords softer as they move into a new song, smiling at her mom and dad like she knew something. She had no idea what happened the night of the fake wedding, just that they had a party without her.

“And hold on… To spinning around… Confetti… Falls to the ground…”

Spencer wraps his arms around Y/N then, resting his chin on her shoulder as they sway to the tune, she’s barely whispering the words beside him as she smiles as her baby.

“There's glitter on the floor after the party, girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby, candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor, you and me from the night before, but… Don’t read the last page, but I stay when you're lost, and I'm scared and you're turning away. I want, your midnights, I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day,”

Y/N’s hands rest on top of Spencer’s, she squeezes them three times, right before the next lyric.

“You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi, I can tell that it's gonna be a long road. I’ll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe, or if you strike out and you're crawling home,

Don't read the last page, but I stay, when it’s hard or it’s wrong or we’re making mistakes. I want, your midnights, but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day,”

“Hold on, to the memories, they will hold on to you,” the two of them chanting along with Taylor in beautiful harmony, Spencer felt like he was in heaven among the angels, but for real this time. “And I will hold on to you…”

The piano is so soft, it’s just Amoreena’s fingers hitting them as Taylor goes silent, letting her take the lead with a soft smile, “Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh, I, could recognize anywhere. Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh, I, could recognize anywhere.”

They stop for just a moment for Amoreena to smile up at Taylor, just like the break in the concert, “I really do love you,” she reminds them all before playing again.

“We love you, too, sweet girl,” Taylor replies for them using the same nickname for her because it was the truth. She was the sweetest girl, that Amoreena.

“There's glitter on the floor after the party, girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby, candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor. You and me forevermore, don't read the last page, but I stay when it’s hard or it’s wrong or we’re making mistakes and I want, your midnights, but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day,”

“Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you,” the girls all chant together, swaying back and forth to the rhythm before taking different parts in the song like they’ve planned it before.

“And Long live,” Taylor takes the one song, while Amoreena takes the other.

Please don't ever become a stranger…

The walls we crashed through..

Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere…

I had the time of my life

Please don't ever become a stranger…

With you…

Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere…"

Amoreena plays the rest, smiling wide at the best day of her life. Meaning every single word she’s saying. “And Long live, the walls we crashed through. I had the time of my life… With you…” Amoreena ends with a few extra notes, making Taylor smile as she held her in a side hug.

She turns back to the piano then, starting to play Amoreena by Elton John. “No way..” Y/N gasps, before getting ready to sing along with all the confidence in the world, alongside Taylor Swift of all people.

“It’s just that; Lately, I've been thinking, how much I miss my lady, Amoreena's in the hayfield, brightening the daybreak,” Taylor changes some of the words, much to Y/N surprise.

“Livin’ like a lusty flower, runnin’ through the grass for hours, rollin’ through the hay, oooh, like a puppy child! And when it rains, the rain falls down… washing out the cattle town… and she's far away somewhere… in her eiderdown… And she dreams of crystal streams, of days gone by when we would lean… Laughing, fit to burst, upon each other…”

Y/N turns to Spencer then, singing to him softly as she wraps her arms around him and sways her hips to the song, pressing against him like they were in the movie Dirty Dancing, something she’s always wanted to do, clearly, with the smile on her face as she sings.

“I can see you sittin’, eatin’, apples in the evenin’. Fruit juice, flowing slowly, slowly, slowly down the bronze of your body. Livin’, like a lusty flower, runnin’ through the grass for hours, rollin’ through the hay, oooh, like a puppy child.”

Amoreena’s voice was the loudest in the chorus, this was her song after all. She belted it out like it was made for her.

“And when it rains, the rain falls down! Washing out the cattle town! And she's far away somewhere… in her eiderdown! And she dreams of crystal streams, of days gone by! When we would lean, laughing, fit to burst upon each other…”

Spencer knew the words as well, who didn’t? It was Elton John's best song. He hugged Y/N, snuggling into the crook of her neck as they twirled in Taylor Swift's living room, swaying with her, forgetting they weren’t alone for a moment.

“Oh, if only I could nestle, in the cradle of your cabin. My arm's around your shoulder, oh… The window wide and open, while the swallow and the sycamore, whoa! Are playing in the valley. Oh, I miss you, Amoreena, like the king bee misses honey!”

“And when it rains, the rain falls down! Washing out the cattle town! and she's far away somewhere… in her eiderdown! And she dreams of crystal streams, of days gone by when we would lean! Laughing, fit to burst upon each other, oooh!”

Amoreena and Taylor playing the iconic piano solo together, Y/N can’t help but move in closer to watch over her little girls shoulders.

“Lately, I've been thinking… How much I miss my lady… Amoreena's in a cornfield, brightening the daybreak. Livin’, like a lusty flower! Runnin; through the grass for hours! Rollin’ through the hay, woah! Like a puppy, like a puppy, child…” Y/N’s voice loud enough to be on the recording Taylor was making as the song ended.

Taylor stopped it then, just as Y/N swore, “holy shit, that was the coolest thing that’s ever happened in my whole life.”

“Mom,” Amoreena looked at her like she broke the law or something, “you don’t swear in front of her…” she mumbled.

Taylor laughed, wrapping her up in another hug, “have you heard champagne problems? It’s okay for big kids to swear here,” she teased her.

They laughed like they were family like they’ve been there before and were always meant to return. Something just clicked with them, and without a doubt, they’d be returning. Taylor Swift of all people slipped right into their little life, filling the shoes of big sister, best friend and coolest aunt in the world all in one day.

It was the most perfect afternoon.

—

Just before the sunset, they all changed into their wedding attire. Meeting out on the beach for their small, extremely intimate wedding ceremony with miss Taylor Swift. Getting it out of the way so they could have the whole weekend for whatever Taylor had planned for them. She said she had a few surprises up her sleeve still.

They filled out all the paperwork required on Taylor's kitchen table beforehand, she had all the right documents from when she registered to ordain online. All they had to do was submit it at town hall and they’d be legally married.

But it didn’t matter to them, this was enough.

Taylor and Amoreena stood side by side at a homemade arch on the beachfront that Taylor owned, waiting patiently for Spencer and Y/N to walk down the fake aisle, hand in hand. They couldn’t stop smiling as they saw Amoreena at the end, a big smile on her face as she bounced with excitement.

They reached the end, turning to each other, Amoreena took Y/N’s bouquet, it was her duty as maid of honour and best man.

“Spencer and I have been emailing for 2 weeks about today, he’s been filling me in little by little about you both as he got to know you, I’ve really gotten to see his love for you in the form of letters,” Taylor described with a large smile on her face.

Y/N looks at him with an open mouth, shocked as she shakes her head in disbelief at him. “You’re kidding, is she who emailed you when we had lunch 2 weeks ago?”

Spencer nodded with another cheeky smile, “she emailed me as you told me not to plan anything too crazy.”

Y/N just laughed at the insanity, “sorry Taylor, please continue.”

“It’s okay,” she laughed along, “it’s actually kind of interesting how Amoreena picked long live and New Year’s Day to sing because from what I’ve learned about you both, the intermission poem from that tour really was written for you, somehow. Almost like by design or some violent, exquisite happenstance…”

Y/n’s eyed do that thing they always do when she’s remembering something she’s heard before, finding the exact filing cabinet in her mind and opening it. She finds the words.

“When she fell, she fell apart. Cracked her bones on the pavement she once decorated as a child with sidewalk chalk,” she starts the poem with a small nod, letting Taylor continue the monologue in the form of vows.

“When’s she crashed, her clothes disintegrated. And blew away with the winds that took all of her fair-weather friends, family and lovers. When she looked around her skin was spattered with ink. Forming the words of a thousand voices, echoes she heard even in her sleep: whatever you say, it is not right. Whatever you do, it is not enough. Your kindness is fake. Your pain is manipulative.”

Y/N hasn’t watched the concert recently, unlike Spencer. She didn’t realize how much it sounded like them. Spencer, however, spotted the coincidences the second he heard it that night with Amoreena. Telling Taylor, explaining in detail how Maeve and Stephen were their personal last kiss storylines, but they’ve found a lover in each other. Cheesy, but it was the best way he could describe it.

“When she lay there on the ground she dreamed of time machines and revenge. And a love that was really something. Not just the idea of something.”

She turned her attention to Spencer, replacing the pronouns to fit him for the next part, Y/N looked at him already knowing why, smiling as she made the connection in her mind.

“When he finally rose, he rose slowly. Avoiding old haunts and sidestepping shiny pennies. Wary of phone calls and promises, charmers, dandies and get-love-quick-schemes.

When he stood, he stood with a desolate knowingness, waded out into the dark wild oceans up to his neck. Bathed in his brokenness. Said a prayer of gratitude, for each chink in the armour he never knew he needed.

Standing broad-shouldered next to him, was a love that was really something. Not just the idea of something.

When they turned to go home, they heard echoes of new words: may your heart remain breakable but never by the same hand twice. And even louder: without your past, you could never have arrived so wondrously and brutally, by design or some violent, exquisite happenstance… here.”

“What she said,” Y/N says with a quick giggle, leaning in as she laughs, taking him down in a giggle fit with her.

Amoreena’s lightly tugging on Taylor’s dress then, “you have to say it, please you can’t not say it, I had this planned out before I even knew you’d beee here…” she whispers like Taylor has any clue what she’s talking about.

Y/N just starts to shake her head with a smile, “I think she means the speak now bridge,” she reminds her.

“Ahh,” she smiles, picking Amoreena up to be at eye level with them all, she sings. “I hear the preacher say speak now or forever hold, your, pee-E-eeace,” she sings it exactly like it is on the album, almost as if she’s been practicing to release it again…

“There’s the silence there’s my last chance, I stand up with shaking hands all eyes, on me,” Amoreena lightly signs right back. “Horrified looks from everyone in the room but I’m only looking at you!”

Spencer laughs then too, smiling at his little girl living out the fantasy of a lifetime, seeing her mom dressed like a princess and marrying the broken knight with rusty armour, while Taylor Swift of all people holds her. Nothing about the life they had together felt real, but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

“I think it’s only fair if I get a say in who marries my mom because I’ve known her the longest,” she adds, “and I’m not the kind of girl who should be rudely barging in on this white veil occasion, but you happen to be the best dad in the whole world, so I think it’s cool that you love my mom.”

Y/N lets out a choked sob, she clearly had no idea that Amoreena was planning to say all that, but of course, she was. She knew all about every single Disney princess wedding, every fairytale ending and happily ever after, Taylor has helped her learn about love and vows and true feelings that cannot be stopped.

She knew what to say and she meant every word.

Spencer reaches out to take Amoreena from Taylor, holding her in his arms instead as Y/N snuggled in close to them, both his girls in his arms.

“I think it’s only fair I give some vows to you as well, I’m committing my whole life to this family, you should know how much that means I love you, too, Amoreena.” She snuggles in closer to his neck as she holds him back, Y/N’s head resting on his other shoulder.

“Till the day I die, I am going to be here for you: with unconditional love, with the best stories and the best morning cuddles. I don’t care if you pull me out of bed at 5 in the morning to feed the goats, or the chickens or just because you think the sun looks pretty and want me to see it too. I love you Amoreena, you’ve completed my life."

"Do you remember that day you asked me to be your dad?” his voice is so soft as he bumps her cheek with his nose.

She wipes her tears as she pulls away from his shoulder, overly emotional at the events of the day and extremely tired from the excitement she let out earlier. She nods softly, “I meant it.”

“I know honey,” he can’t help but start to cry a little as well, dropping his manly facade and being real with her. She deserved to see exactly what she meant to him, “I watched you pouring glitter glue all over that table, making the biggest mess ever, but it made me think… I had a hole in my heart for so many years, there was a part of me missing for so, so, so long, and then I found a little Eden by beautiful little kingdom, and the fairest lady in all the land took me in, and she patched up my broken heart with glitter glue.”

Amoreena tried to smile the tears away, sniffling as she tried to nod, “that's how I felt when you told me I could pick you to be my dad.”

Y/N was a sobbing mess, having to crouch down to her knees as she let it all out, steadying herself by holding onto Spencer’s leg like a child would at that height, “is she okay?” Amoreena worried.

“Your mom loves us so much, and the baby does too, so it’s making her a bit more emotional than normal,” he explains, wishing he could scoop Y/N up and hold her as well.

She wipes the tears from her face as she calms herself down and stands back up with help from Taylor, “thank you,” she manages to whisper to her with a smile.

She’s also been crying, watching the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. A family built on true love coming together, using her songs to form a bond that she’d never understand.

And she didn’t want to, some stories were best kept in families, to be sent down the line, generation after generation, to fall into the lap of someone like her one day and create a whole world with it.

“With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband, wife and daughter, the royal Reid family,” Taylor’s voice is soft as she plays along with Amoreena’s fantasy land, hushed to match the moment as Spencer leaned in to kiss Y/N.

Amoreena doesn’t cry out in disgust this time, instead, resting her head on her dad's shoulder as she watched them peck each other's lips gently. Watching a fairytale happy ending unfold in front of her very eyes, blessed to be the result of this happy union.

...

A/N: my anon is on now if anyone wants to come talk about the fic with me!! i love to share little hc's and things with you over here (also this was the original planned ending I wasn't going to continue past here but I'm probably going to write this for the next 10 years its too fun not to)

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

[reifromrfa]

Surprises: Vanderwood x MC | Mysme RBB fic

Hi guys! I’m sure you’ve seen this project in the fandom, there are a lot of talented artists and writers who are a part of it ^^ This piece is for the @mysme-rbb and it was such a thrill to write it! I’ve missed writing for the fandom and I’m glad I got this opportunity to do so <3 Even luckier that I got paired with two amazing artists! 

For this first collab, I got paired with the wonderful GLX ! Please check out their instagram HERE!  We’re super lucky to have collaborated on a character we both love: Vanderwood! So I hope you enjoy the story and I hope I can write for everyone again soon ヾ(@^▽^@)ノ PS: I’ll edit this post with the link to the art once it’s out! ^^

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Surprises

In collaboration with gl.artsy 

"Hurry!"

Vanderwood chuckles and closes the car door, hoisting bags and baskets on his arms and shoulders. MC laughs and hugs the beach towels to her chest, grinning widely.

"Sorry...I'm a little excited," her grin turns sheepish but Vanderwood shakes his head, his smile mirroring her own. Seeing her this happy makes him feel things he hasn't felt before --pleasant feelings. Feelings...that a secret agent just doesn't have the luxury to be thinking about, much less feel. But he's not a secret agent anymore --he has a legal job now, one where he doesn't have to risk his life everyday or dirty his hands. Hell, the dirtiest his hands can get with his new job as Jumin's bodyguard is cleaning up after his cat.

With his free hand, he reaches for hers and weaves their fingers together.

Today is their one-year anniversary and Vanderwood wants everything to be absolutely perfect. He's not one for grand gestures and romantic stuff, but he knows celebrations like these matter to girls.

In the past year he's been with MC, he's gotten used to watching those cheesy romantic chick flicks. Never in his life did he imagine he'd be forced to watch those kinds of shi--stuff. But he's braved through The Notepad, A Stroll to Remember, Crazy Silly Love...and he's learned a lot from those movies. For one, his girlfriend ends up crying every time they watch the shows together.

Every. Single. Time.

But he'd see how immersed she is in the scenes where the guys make a big move for the girl. Vanderwood would notice how she heaves a deep sigh and wipes her eyes, a dreamy smile on her face.

Ha...he's new to this relationship thing but he's not stupid; Vanderwood knows how this works. The bigger the gesture, the happier MC will be...

...right?

He's startled out of his thoughts when MC tugs his hand, pointing at a spot on the beach. "Over there! There's a free spot there!"

Vanderwood follows after MC and starts setting up their towels and beach umbrella. This is the first step in his grand surprise for MC today: spend the morning at the beach, a place MC rarely went to. The excited look on her face is all the confirmation he needs; he did good, choosing this as the start of their date.

MC sits on the towel under the shade of the umbrella and takes off her wide-brimmed hat, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. When she opens them, she turns to Vanderwood. "Baby, this is perfect. The skies are clear, there's a breeze and there's not much people; it's almost like we have the beach to ourselves!"

Vanderwood chuckles, sitting beside his girlfriend and reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. "You like it?"

At his touch, she blushes and smiles, nodding her head. "I do, Vanderwood. I really do."

He leans forward, lips quirking up into a smirk. "Good...that's real good, MC." Vanderwood can see the blush on her face deepening as he inches closer and his own heart races, eyes darting to her slightly-parted lips. As he draws nearer though, he hears a whooshing sound through the air and a distant yell: "LOOK OUT!"

His reflexes kick in and Vanderwood pulls MC against his chest then pins her against the ground, using his body to shield her from whatever it is --MC doesn't even have the time to process what's happening. But she feels herself warming, eyes fixated on Vanderwood's tense expression, at the way he's hovering on top of her, holding her protectively against him.

A second later, their umbrella is knocked over and a spray of sand flies across Vanderwood's back. He turns away and shields MC's eyes, a million thoughts already flying through his mind.

"Could it be that some agents found me? How many are there? How am I gonna get MC safely to the car? The taser's in the bag, if I could just reach it in time

"Vanderwood turns his head to look for the target-

-when his eyes fall to the white volleyball lying on the sand near them.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry, that's my fault!!!" A kid with blonde hair is running up to them, waving his hand and trying to bow at the same time. Vanderwood's eyes narrow. Wait a minute...isn't that-

"Yoosung?" comes MC's voice.

Sure enough, Yoosung's purple eyes widen as recognition dawns and he laughs, running faster. Right behind him is the silver-haired actor and Jaehee Kang, all dressed in their beachwear. Zen smiles when he spots the two familiar faces but it only lasts for a second --the moment he realizes the position the couple are in...

"YA!!! Vanderwood! What are you doing!" Zen glares at Vanderwood, pointing an accusatory finger at the Silver Spoon's bodyguard. Vanderwood narrows his gaze at the actor but hurriedly straightens himself, his face feeling warm.

"Baby, are you okay?"

"I am...what was that all about?" MC takes Vanderwood's hand and he pulls her up just as Yoosung stops in front of them, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Sorry! Zen hit the ball too hard and I received it wrong so it went flying...I didn't know it would end up here where you guys are! I didn't even know you two were going to be here too!"

Vanderwood rubs the back of his neck, wishing they'd leave him and MC alone. It's not that he doesn't like them, but today he'd like MC all for himself. "Ha...yeah, what a coincidence."

"Ya, you!" Zen jabs a finger at Vanderwood's chest, eyes blazing. "What the heck was that!"

Vanderwood looks at Zen with a deadpan look on his face. "I thought there was a threat, so I was defending my girlfriend. Will you stop having perverted thoughts?"

MC giggles. "It's true, Zen! He was just trying to protect me~"

"That's very quick thinking." Jaehee pipes in, picking up the ball. "I suppose that's what makes you a great bodyguard, Vanderwood."

"Ha...thanks." Vanderwood feels awkward still, but for an ex-agent with no family and no friends...his life's shaping out real good. Still, friends or not, he wants these people to go away and let him pamper his girlfriend. "So, now that that's settled-"

"OH! Why don't you two join us in a game of volleyball? Please!!! I'm tired of picking up the ball all the time!" Yoosung begs them, hands pressed together in front of him.

"Aww, that sounds fun! We're game, right, baby?" MC says, winking at Vanderwood. To the others, she says, "The two of us will be in a team against you guys! You'll see, Vanderwood will carry our team!"

Vanderwood can't help but feel proud at MC's words. Okay...maybe one game of volleyball wouldn't hurt. After that, they'll go back to their spot and maybe he can go swimming with MC, or get some cool drinks.

~

Yoosung, Jaehee and Zen stayed with them the entire time. After volleyball, they took MC and Vanderwood to their rented cabin and shared their meal. Vanderwood and Zen ended up grilling meat and seafood for the rest but it was actually fun. The non-stop chatter and laughs, the volleyball games, seeing MC enjoy herself --okay okay, it's not so bad that their first date got interrupted. But of course, Vanderwood has more tricks up his sleeves.

A long drive and a shower later, Vanderwood and MC change into more semi-formal attire as he drives them to one of the fancy restaurants in town. The restaurant is situated atop a building, with the entire floor encased in glass windows so guests can dine with a view overlooking South Korea. It's fine dining and Vanderwood has never been to a classy restaurant while off-duty; to be honest, something like this kinda suits Jumin Han more...but Vanderwood doesn't want to take MC to their regular dining spots. No, for this special day she deserves something special too.

As they're led to their seats by the hostess, Vanderwood once again intertwines his fingers with hers. "I heard this place has the best seoullangtang."

MC tugs at his hand, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "Baby, this place is really expensive...you didn't have to."

Ha...oh no, doesn't she like it?

"It's our anniversary," he tells her, lifting their hands and then turning hers so he can kiss the back of it. "Don't even think about that, baby."

MC turns red at Vanderwood's blatant display of affection. Usually, he's more reserved and careful when they're in public; she assumed it's because of his past and she didn't mind. But today, he's been more touchy and showy...MC has to admit, it's giving her heart a pleasant workout. They're seated right by the window and Vanderwood is the perfect gentleman, pulling her chair out for her and helping her onto her seat. MC feels shy all of a sudden as Vanderwood slides into his seat across her. With the dim lighting from the restaurant, the candle in the middle of the table casts Vanderwood's face in a warm glow and MC unconsciously swallows, entranced by him.

Their previous dates were never this fancy and she's not complaining --she loves wherever they are, be it the beach or the supermarket, a fancy restaurant or McFonald's. As long as they're together, she's happy.

But seeing her boyfriend all dressed up in a crisp button-down shirt and a coat, hair tied into a half-ponytail, brown eyes staring at her --she can't help but feel the depth and seriousness of their relationship. Today is their anniversary, which means she's spent 365 days with this man...more than that, of course. Ever since they met, her days have been full of color and life. MC reaches across the table for his hand and holds it tightly in hers.

"I love you, Vanderwood."

Vanderwood's glad it's kinda dark because his heart does that weird little thing and he feels his cheeks burn as a smile spreads across his face. "I love you too, MC."

She mirrors his smile and it's strange but MC feels like she did the first time she met him in person, nervous and intimidated, but at the same comforted by his presence and intrigued. This once mysterious man is hers and though she knows she's barely scratched the surface of all that he is, she can't wait to learn more about him everyday, for the rest of their lives.

"Baby, order whatever you like, okay? Haha, don't be worrying about the prices." Vanderwood says as they open their menus. MC's eyes are skimming through the dishes (half of which she can't even pronounce because they're in different languages) when she hears the sound of a familiar voice.

"I didn't expect to see you both here this evening."

Vanderwood tenses. No freaking way...

But he's been hanging around that voice for months now and he'd recognize it anywhere --his boss, Jumin Han. Vanderwood reluctantly looks at the man standing beside their table, the leader of the RFA at his side. Jihyun at least looks apologetic for barging into their date.

"Jumin! Jihyun! What a coincidence!" MC exclaims happily, smiling at them. Truth be told, she was looking forward to spending more alone time with her boyfriend, but she also doesn't want to be rude to her friends. "Did you guys just arrive?"

"Yes. A business colleague recommended this place. I would have asked for a private room but Jihyun preferred to stay close to the windows."

Jihyun laughs good-naturedly at Jumin's words. "This place is popular for their stunning view of the city, after all. We should get going to our table, Jumin, let's not bother them..."

"Have a good time, boss, Jihyun." Vanderwood gives them a little wave. "Nonsense. We haven't seen MC in a while. Perhaps we should ask for a bigger table and dine together."

You've got to be kidding me.

"Jumin-" Jihyun tries to interrupt, but Jumin is already gesturing for the host. In mere minutes, Vanderwood and MC are seated with Jihyun and Jumin. Of course...it's not all that bad. He didn't have to be so formal with his boss since they're outside of work, and Jumin knew his way around the menu; the meal Jumin ordered for them was mouth-wateringly delicious. Vanderwood had no idea which ones were good, so he's grateful for that part, at least.

But seriously...this was starting to get annoying. Would the RFA be popping up at his planned dates with MC? Vanderwood represses a sigh though, and fights the itch for a cigarette.

They enjoy their meal and, realizing he has no choice but to endure it, Vanderwood relaxes and allows himself to enjoy the company.

All of a sudden, they're bathed in a hue of colors and MC's eyes turn to the windows, widening with surprise. The sky is lit up by fireworks --something Vanderwood had arranged for. Her eyes are bright and her smile is priceless. As the fireworks paint the night sky with streaks of brilliant color, MC feels a peace inside her, knowing that's exactly what she was thinking of moments before. Vanderwood is like the scene outside, illuminating her life with the most dazzling colors.

And while MC gazes at the beautiful display, Vanderwood stares, enchanted, at the woman who brought light to his life.

~

The last stop of the evening is the last showing of the latest romance movie, a movie MC has been waiting for. Vanderwood settles into their comfortable lazy boy couches, glad he paid for these seats.

"I'm so excited, I've heard a lot of good reviews already!" MC whispers to him, leaning close. Vanderwood chuckles.

"Baby, it's gonna be amazing." He leans closer to her, stealing a quick kiss in the dark theater. MC bites her lower lip as he pulls away, wanting to tell him how much she loves him. But the movie starts and MC has to stop herself from squealing in excitement. She keeps her hand locked with his, eyes focused on the screen.

Vanderwood feels relaxed now, knowing no one can interrupt them, knowing he can enjoy this moment with his girlfriend and sneak glances at her cute reactions.

But just thinking those thoughts has jinxed the situation. The doors to the cinema creak open and Vanderwood picks up the sound of popcorn bags and two hushed whispers. He glances at the empty seats beside him and sighs.

"Oh! If it isn't Mary and MC!"

Vanderwood curses inwardly and almost slaps his hand to his face. No. No freaking way. No damn way.

But after some shuffling sounds, Saeyoung plops down on the seat beside Vanderwood with Saeran occupying the other.

"Ohoho, I didn't know you were into romance movies, Vandy~" Saeyoung whispers before leaning forward in his seat and waving at MC. "Hi, MC! Thanks for restarting this guy's heart! If you ask me, you should have used a tase-"

"Ya! Shut up!" Vanderwood says, a little too loudly. The audience shushes him and Vanderwood slinks into his seat while Saeyoung covers his laughs with a hand.

For the duration of the movie, Vanderwood has to put up with Saeyoung's reactions and his hushed side comments. At some point, popcorn starts to fly towards the brown-haired man too, bouncing off his hair. Saeran shakes his head, heaving a sigh as Saeyoung takes another popcorn and throws it subtly to Vanderwood. The ex-agent was ready though; he catches the popcorn and throws it back to Saeyoung, who slides down his chair dramatically.

"I've been hit...Saeran ah, save yourself~~~"

Vanderwood glances at MC's face to watch her reaction and he's surprised to see her eyes fixed on him. She's biting her lower lip, trying to stop herself from laughing. Vanderwood smirks, reaching out and freeing her lower lip from her bite.

"You want a shot at the idiot?" Vanderwood murmurs near her ear. MC nods and takes a piece of popcorn then tosses it to Saeyoung, who's crawling up his chair as quiet as he can.

Saeyoung gasps and flops back down on the ground, holding his chest as though he's wounded.

"Sneak attack! Saeran, help m-"

"No."

"Okay no ;;;;"

~

Vanderwood stirs, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn.

Damn, what time is it?

Yesterday felt so long --with all that happened, Vanderwood feels exhausted and a little disappointed at himself for failing MC. Everything should have been perfect, but as luck would have it, the RFA just had to meddle in all his plans.

He lays in bed, blinking away his sleepiness, wondering if he can do anything today to salvage their anniversary. Absently, he reaches beside him, wanting to pull MC to his side and wake her up with kisses --but his hands come up blank.

"What the-?"

His head whips to the empty space beside him and Vanderwood sits up just as the door opens. MC comes in, balancing a small tray table filled with food.

"Baby, what are you doing?" Vanderwood asks, bewildered. He starts to move from the bed but MC makes a sound and continues moving towards him.

"No no, you stay right there," she says, eyes staring at the orange juice sloshing inside the glass. "Don't get off the bed, baby!"

Vanderwood freezes, unsure what's happening. Finally, MC lays the tray table on the bed and beams at Vanderwood. "Happy anniversary, baby!"

The brown-haired man blinks, surprised. Then a soft chuckle escapes his lips. "MC, baby...did you do all this for me?"

MC shrugs, her smile wide enough to light up the room. "Maybe~"

She carefully sits on the bed closest to Vanderwood, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Baby, yesterday was amazing! I wasn't expecting those surprises at all."

Vanderwood's brows furrow. "What do you mean..? MC...I...was gonna apologize-"

"What? For what?"

Vanderwood awkwardly scratches his cheek, not sure what to say. "Uh...ha, 'coz I didn't intend for the RFA to show up. And I mean, anniversaries aren't supposed to be celebrated like that...right? The movies we watched, the celebrations ain't like that."

Giggling, MC leans towards her boyfriend and kisses his cheek. "Oh Vanderwood, it was perfect. I had so much fun, even more so because our friends were with us celebrating our special day with us.

Without the RFA, you and I would have met in a different way. But I like our love story, because everything that has happened so far has led us to this moment, baby." She holds his hands, cheeks turning red. "I loved watching you play volleyball and grill our lunch, I loved listening to you talk with our friends, I loved catching my boyfriend all dressed up to take me on a fancy dinner, and I loved that you sat through another romance movie with me, all the while having a popcorn battle with Saeyoung."

MC squeezes his hands and all of Vanderwood's doubts vanish; his eyes fix on her, his heart beating loudly against his chest.

"Vanderwood...the girls in those movies we watch get one big gesture per movie but I got three amazing dates in one day. My friends were there to celebrate a special day with me: the anniversary of the day I promised forever to the love of my life. And I-"

Before MC could finish her speech, Vanderwood closes the gap between them and meets her lips for a kiss, pulling her close to him without toppling over the tray. MC's hands clutch the front of his shirt and her eyes close, her body tingling as he pours his emotions into their kiss.

"MC," Vanderwood says breathlessly, leaning his forehead against hers, "I love you. I'll keep takin' you out for dates, keep celebrating this day with you every year. 'Coz it's the day you and I got together, the day my life started to make more sense..." He gives her another peck and pulls her closer, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "But every day you remind me that there's more to life than fighting and running. Every day, I wanna see you smile and hear you tell me you love me."

MC giggles and wraps her arms around him. "I love you, Vanderwood." She lays her head on his chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart, a heart that's tied to hers. "Yesterday was amazing but today I'm keeping you all to myself."

Vanderwood chuckles, reaching for a piece of bacon and holding it near her lips. MC takes a small bite from it and Vanderwood takes a larger chunk. "You and me all day, huh?"

MC nods, reaching for her phone. "You and me, all day, everyday." She holds the phone away from them, opening the camera app. "Happy anniversary, baby~"

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Thank you so much for the opportunity to participate, @mysme-rbb :) I had fun and kudos to the mods for an amazing project! 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Check out my other Mysme writings here!

Mango Shake/Ko-fi is always very much appreciated (ᵔᴥᵔ)

I’d be honored to write your story <3 (Commissions are full and closed atm ;A;)

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 27

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Angst, slight fluff

; Word Count: 4k

; Warnings: Not really an argument but close to it, depictions of anxiety and stress

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: This is one of the more angsty ones, not as bad as before, I swear! I hope you don’t think too harshly of the MC, she’s trying :( the next one is super fluffy...as it’s their anniversary! :D so fear not. As usual, please reblog if you enjoyed it so others can read it and leave me comments, feedback and asks! Thank you!

; Flower Masterpost

-

Straightening up from the bent-over position you’d been in for the last five minutes, you wince at the pain in your back and rub at it with a slight pout to your lips. You don’t remember if moving into your apartment had been this stressful or tiring, but then your place had been much smaller and you’d had less stuff. 

Even with the help of Jimin and Jungkook, it had taken Hoseok and you three days to get everything out of both your old apartments and into your new place. The two of you had started looking for somewhere soon after agreeing to the idea and it had been pure luck to find your new home.

The two-bedroom house that you were both renting was only half an hour away from your parents. It was bigger than you’d originally anticipated but small enough to make it perfect for a couple. There was a backyard that was currently a little overgrown but offered a surprising amount of space while the driveway had space for both your cars. 

The interiors needed a little rework initially but the landlord had promised to have everything repainted and fixed for you both, which they had thankfully. You also had permission to put up decorations on the walls and treat this place like your own home, as long as it all went back to looking neutral at the end.

There had been no reason for either of you to turn it down, especially as the rent was low and the utilities more than affordable. Okay, so you both would need to drive a little further to get to work every day. But both of you were making up for it with the reduction in what you would be paying now compared to before, so you’d eagerly signed the lease agreement as soon as possible.

Which was how you were now here, kneeling on the floor of your new living room as you let out a deep sigh of resignation. Even though you’d been the one to ask Hoseok to move in together, which had surprised pretty much everyone you both knew, it had unsurprisingly been you who’d ended up having issues about the whole thing.

The issues were nothing to do with him or even the idea of living with him. Instead, they were everything to do with the fact that you hated, and struggled to cope with, change of any kind. There probably wasn’t a bigger change out there than uprooting your entire life to a new house and then sharing that house with someone else, a person whom you were romantically involved with. 

Suddenly, any decisions you made regarding your home would need to include Hoseok in them. You wouldn’t be able to change things on the fly like you were used to, nor would you be able to be by yourself at home when you were feeling overwhelmed. It sounded silly when you thought about it logically, or said it out loud, but you’d found yourself struggling over it all.

You’d thought you were ready for it all. After all, you’d been the one to ask him the big question. Only you’d had more than a few meltdowns in the process of packing up your apartment. It made you cringe to think back on them, embarrassment and shame flooding you as you recall the way you’d handled it all.

If there was one thing you’d learnt over the years, it was that you didn’t handle things well in all honesty. Which was why you bottled it all up until it got too much. The results of those explosions got you even more upset, producing a never-ending cycle. Which was why you would often get set off by the smallest, most unimportant thing.

Only last week you’d slipped into, what could only politely be termed, a temper tantrum. A big, fat, adult tantrum. You’d been in the process of breaking down one of the bookcases in your old living room, unscrewing everything carefully after you’d packed away the contents.

The combination of tiredness from all the packing, the stress of moving and changing over debits, the strain of all the lifting, the fact you were doing all this after a full day of work and how your body ached from all the lifting and dismantling had accumulated after you’d accidentally dropped one of the wood sections onto your foot. Almost immediately you’d yelped out in pain before cursing loudly, frustrated tears seeping as you’d visibly trembled in rage at the stupid bookcase.

It had taken half an hour locked inside your bedroom until you’d finally calmed down enough to go back out and carry on. Thankfully, Hoseok hadn’t been there to witness that moment.

Your boyfriend was far more than you deserved as he hadn’t complained about your slowly souring mood. If you were being honest with yourself, he’d probably seen it coming. He had been the one to make completely sure that you were okay with the idea and had tried to make things go as slowly as possible so you didn’t freak out too much. But you were still struggling with it all.

Your antidepressants were working fine and you were thankful that you hadn’t fallen into a slump, but you just felt like you couldn’t think properly. Nothing was in its right place and everything was just...wrong at the moment. Then there was the fact that you were going to have Hoseok’s stuff here too and you’d both bickered about whether or not to set up the second bedroom as a spare bedroom or an office.

He was truly a saint, you were positive, because despite how grumpy you had slowly become he had taken it all on the chin with a patient smile. You, however, just wanted to go to sleep and for everything to be ready to use in the morning. 

It frustrated you to look around the house and see everything that still needed to be built and put away. If you stared too long then you often ended up feeling the heat build in your eyes, tears threatening as exhaustion buffeted you. But that wasn’t how it went, and so you had been unpacking box after box only to find it was more stuff that needed to go in the storage unit that Hoseok was going to build.

Or rather, should have built. He’d promised a few hours ago that he’d get it all set up for you so that you could at least get these boxes out of the way. This unit was going to store all the books, board games and Hoseok’s vinyl records. Instead, they were all still in the boxes and you were glaring at the box that held the storage unit. Still not made.

“Hoseok!” You yell, the tone of your voice a little harsher than you’d intended it. He wasn’t used to hearing you get angry or annoyed but he’d certainly gotten used to it in the last two weeks. Being the good person he was though, he hadn’t snapped back at you. Yet.

“Yeah?” Comes his muffled response and you hear the quiet, low voices of the other two men from the main bedroom. They’d been putting together the bedroom furniture all day while you’d unpacked the kitchen, carefully storing the fragile dishes and glasses before finding homes for the food that you’d run to the store for.

“I thought you said you were going to build this unit?” Even as the words come out of your mouth, you can tell that you’re being unreasonable. He’d spent all day sweating and swearing as he’d set up bedside cabinets, drawers and even the bed. The two of you had decided to invest in all new furniture given you both had rather dated furniture that didn’t match at all.

Unnecessary? Yes, but you’d just wanted to have a nice home that looked right. Yet again, more unreasonable demands from you and more expense. But he hadn’t complained about any of it, instead just going shopping with you and getting it all. Maybe he thought there was no point in complaining or something, but you had the furniture you’d wanted in the end.

And you weren’t being a mean person. You had offered to help them build it all but they’d waved it off with the eagerness of men wanting to be manly and build things. Plus, you were pretty convinced that Hoseok knew how frustrated you’d become just dismantling furniture and didn’t want to risk you getting even angrier if something went wrong while building. 

After repeated offers to help them being rebuffed, you’d finally just shrugged and settled yourself for putting away everything that you could. You liked doing that much better really as it gave you a sense of peace and satisfaction to see things in the places you wanted them and looking tidy.

Maybe that was why Hoseok had suggested you do that. He’d been amused the first time he’d seen your food pantry all in neat lines for ease of storage and access but had slowly learnt that you liked everything to have a place and always be in it. 

As it was, the kitchen was pretty much completed and so was the ensuite bathroom and the guest bathroom. The living room had Hoseok’s couch and your coffee table while there were a dining table and chairs towards the back. Perfect for both eating and gaming, of course.

But there was no storage in here because...well because Hoseok hadn’t built it!

“Sorry, I’ve been busy here. We’ve just got to finish up with these drawers-” Huffing, you scowl at the unopened box before looking over all the other boxes that haven’t even been touched as his excuses wash over you. The rational part of you knows that they’re valid excuses and you even want to tell him it’s fine, the living room can wait until tomorrow.

The dark cloud of annoyance, stress, anxiety and tiredness has settled fully over your mind though and you grit your teeth as tears form in your eyes. Why did you always have to cry when you were angry? It was pathetic.

“It’s fine. Whatever.” There’s a terse silence that follows your short words and you can practically hear Jimin and Jungkook cringing at the tension that’s suddenly ratcheted up. Pursing your lips, you wipe at your eyes furiously before closing the box back up and pushing at it harshly.

“I’ll build it now for you.” Hoseok’s voice is much closer and you look up, noting his carefully neutral expression on his tired face. Almost immediately you feel remorse for being short with him but the words get stuck in your throat. His hands are a little dirty from the dust of the furniture he’s been building and you note they’re also a little red, probably sore from using the screwdrivers and stuff. 

You go to look for some of your hand cream to rub into them for him before realising that you have no idea where it is and the negativity comes rushing back. The box that he’s carrying clinks quietly and you know it’s got all the tools he needs in it to build the unit.

“I said it’s fine. We can do it tomorrow.” Looking away from him, you rub at your forehead from the headache you’ve got while rolling your shoulders, trying to stretch the aches and pains away. There’s a deep sigh from Hoseok that sounds incredibly controlled and you wince slightly, realising that he’s holding his temper back.

“It’s okay, it’s a quick build. It’ll take half an hour or something and then it’ll be done. Better to get it done now and then we get some of these boxes gone, right?” Closing your eyes, you bite your lip hard as you try to settle yourself. When you’re in one of these moods, you normally just take yourself off somewhere to be alone so you can’t be rude or mean. 

But there is nowhere to take yourself to here. Nowhere that’s ready, anyway.

Pressing your hands to your eyes, you feel the hysterical urge to just cry and scream. The knowledge that all your safe spaces have vanished for the moment and you have nowhere to go to be calm tipping you further. Even Kasumi is stuck just sleeping on the floor as her stuff is also packed away, waiting to be rebuilt.

You just want it all done so that you can settle back down and allow yourself time to get used to the new environment you live in. Let it all become familiar and warm once more, a home that you can retreat to and feel comfortable in. Right now, it resembles more of an IKEA and you hate it.

“Baby-” Hoseok starts and you shake your head furiously, wiping hard at your eyes before pushing the box of books as hard as you can in front of you. It’s a futile way to get out some of your anger and stress, but it feels good. Better than saying something that might hurt the one person who’s understood you more than anyone in years.

“Leave me alone. Please. Go build the bed or whatever. It’s fine. Tomorrow. I just, I need you to-” You’re not even sure what you’re saying anymore and you feel the anxiety of it all building up. Leaving your old apartment was so much harder than you’d expected and you’d struggled with the idea of knowing you no longer had anywhere to truly be alone. If you got mad at Hoseok in the future, he’d still be in the house somewhere.

You’d spent so many years making your place somewhere that was comfortable and familiar to you, a home that you enjoyed being in and now it was all gone. Now you have to relearn how to make this space comfortable and learn entirely new ways of how to cope with your moods and behaviour with another person.

The quiet sound of the door shutting clues you into the fact that Jimin and Jungkook have left. Unsurprising really, because you sure wouldn’t want to hang around to hear a domestic argument. Particularly given one of those involved is perhaps the quietest person they’ve ever known.

Standing, you pick up one of the boxes that are filled with your board games and move it to the other side of the living room, providing plenty of space to build furniture tomorrow. Going back, you don’t look at Hoseok and you’re not entirely sure why. Maybe you’ll explode on him or maybe you’ll burst into tears. Who knows?

You don’t, which is why you clench your jaw. 

There’s an awkward silence between you both as Hoseok doesn’t move, simply watches as you rearrange the boxes in the living room. It makes absolutely no difference now that they’re on the other side of the room but you feel a small sense of relief and peace when they’re all lined up neatly in one area, stacked on top of each other carefully.

The floor is visible once more and you frown at the sight of all the dust covering it. You should vacuum that, only you don’t think you have a vacuum anymore. That may have been one of the things Hoseok said to throw out as yours was ancient and he didn’t even have one. 

Scowling at it, you go to the kitchen to grab some cleaning spray and a cloth to at least get the coffee table looking nice. There was no reason for it as it was just going to get dirty again immediately from all the furniture dust but you just needed to make it look clean for now.

“I’m not gonna fight you, Y/N. Please tell me what’s wrong?” Hoseok says quietly, his voice carefully neutral and you pause at the kitchen cabinet, fingers on the door handle. “Please. I don’t want to argue with you when I know you’re not mad at me.”

He sounds so reasonable and calm that you don’t snap at him immediately, instead frowning down at the countertop and rubbing at a mark on it. For a few minutes, you don’t respond and he doesn’t push either. You’re not entirely sure what nation you saved in a previous life to get him, but it must have been a big one.

There’s plenty of other men who would have had a full-scale argument with you by now. The kind of argument that would have let you in tears while you struggled to breath from the anxiety of it all. But t Hoseok knew you. After almost a year together, he knew what upset you and made you angry. Most of all, he knew that you didn’t respond well to conflict. Which was he was just waiting for you to talk to him instead of shouting at you.

Maybe the knowledge that he wasn’t going to snipe at you or be mean was the final straw. All you know though, is that his soft and reassuring words seem to cause something inside of you to crack and all the stress that’s been building up inside your mind finally bursts free. 

Lips quivering, you frown hard as you wonder how you’re meant to get across what you’re feeling and thinking. You don’t even really know yourself, so trying to describe it to the one person who you want to understand the most is even harder. Made more so by the fear he might find your excuses pitiful.

“I don’t...it’s just,” Your throat closes tightly as thick tears slowly start to fall. “It’s a lot. Everything’s a lot right now and I just...I can’t handle it. I don’t know how to. I mean...I don’t feel comfortable here yet and it’s making me so anxious and unhappy. And then everything is in these fucking boxes and nothings built properly, we don’t even have the television set up and it’s just...I’m just struggling. I’m trying Hobi, I’m trying.”

You whisper the last words, wiping at your eyes and nose as you try your hardest not to completely break down. If there’s one thing you hate the most in the world, it’s probably crying. It makes you feel pathetic, and when you’re struggling with something as simple as moving places it makes you even more so.

“I just...nothing’s where I like it and I don’t know where everything is. It all feels foreign to me and even Kasumi doesn’t have her stuff! I don’t even know what I’m saying, it’s not even that bad but...but...I just want it all finished so I can start getting used to it! Start thinking of it all as a home and getting used to a routine here! And I’ve had to change all my routines around now because it takes longer to get to work so I have to get up earlier which means I have to go to bed earlier and find out the traffic and-” You’re interrupted by Hoseok wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you tightly.

For a few seconds, you do nothing until the warmth of his embrace causes you to turn around and link your arms around his waist too. Inhaling deeply, you take in his scent and start to cry once more as everything all comes to a head in your mind, all the ramblings thoughts and stressors and worries you’ve had flooding out as you ramble on to him.

Finally, though, you run out of things to tell him about why you’re so upset about seemingly nothing and instead just hold onto him silently. Your tears are soaking his shirt and you feel a little embarrassed at your minor meltdown but most of all, you just feel safe in his arms. Like no matter what you say or how silly it sounds, he won’t judge you.

In the chaos of your mind and surroundings right now, he was stable and familiar. Comforting.

“Why didn’t you argue with me? I could practically hear you restraining yourself. I was being so stupid and mean for no reason.” You whisper after a while, lips brushing against his shirt with every word. His chest shakes as he chuckles, a hand stroking along your back reassuringly.

“Oh, I almost did. Today was the closest I’ve ever come to snapping back at you. There’s every chance I might’ve done if you’d been someone else. But I know you. And even though you haven’t confided it to me...I know you’ve been putting a brave face on with this whole moving thing. We’ve been together for almost a year, sweetheart. I know what makes you upset and I’ve learnt that change is one of them. And this? Is a big change. I’m stressed over it all so I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling.” The tears return to sting at your eyes, pricking at them hotly and you sniff almost pathetically at his sweet, soothing words.

“I’m sorry. I just…” He cuts you off once more with a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“It’s okay, honestly. I’m just happy you’ve finally told me. I’d pretty much figured all of this out and I knew you weren’t coping too well. But you weren’t talking to me and I didn’t want to push it if you didn’t feel comfortable. But baby, please, in the future just talk to me. I don’t want us to get into another situation like today where we’re on the verge of an unnecessary argument over something as stupid as a storage unit.” He’s rubbing his hands along your arms in a warming gesture, giving you a soft smile that has the tears banking once more.

“I’m sorry. I just...I always feel so stupid. It’s not even anything that bad and I’m here acting like a baby over it all.” Your words are a little thick from how tight your throat is and Hoseok sighs once more, only this time a little more affectionately. The small smile he gives you cuts through your wallowing self-pity.

“You’re not being a baby. If you’re upset over it, then you’re upset over it. I don’t want you getting stressed or anxious over anything but I’ll take having your routine changed and the places where you feel safe and comfortable changing over you getting pissed at me just because I hadn’t built something on time. Those are real reasons to get upset, emotions that are a part of you and I’ll try my hardest to never be angry at you for feeling them. I can’t guarantee it’ll always work because Lord knows I’d almost reached my point today but I will try. Because I know you don’t mean it. You’re the least angry and mean person I’ve ever met, to be honest.” A kiss to your forehead once more seals his words and you sniff, wiping at your face again.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. Or upset you. I’m sorry. This is just, really big. And I’m scared too. Because if something goes wrong between us then this,” You gesture round to the house in general. “Makes it harder for us to go our separate ways. That frightens me.”

“Hey, it frightens me too. But you know what’s good about that? I have zero plans of leaving you anytime and I’m pretty sure you have zero plans too. Right?” A head tilt from him adds to his questioning tone and you can’t help the soft smile as you nod. Enveloping you in a tight hug once more, Hoseok does his best to reassure you before pulling away slowly.

“Okay, we finished all the bedroom off so...how about we just get the bedding sorted, order takeout and then just watch something on my laptop? No more negativity and no more work today, okay? Let’s just cuddle up and relax.” Looking out over the living room that you can see over the island in the kitchen, you twist your lips at the sight of everything still packed away before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“Yeah. That sounds good.”

[anonsally]

Days 0-1 of mini-trip to Pinnacles National Park

tl;dr: The trip did not start off well last Friday, but was great once we got to the park! Photos here.

Day 0

We had planned to pick up the rental car at noon. However, not only did we go a little bit late, but when we got the car, it... was a car they should not have rented out. It smelled strongly of cigarette smoke--but by the time I figured out it was the car, not just the air around where I got into it, I was already out of the parking lot and was so flustered trying to get the hang of driving an unfamiliar car, that I didn’t turn back to complain and trade it in... I just drove it home. (Wife had returned home in our car already.) Then, as I arrived home, I realised the car also smelled like liquor! We called the rental car company, who said we could bring it back and trade it in. So as not to lose any more time, we finished packing and loaded all our luggage and food into the smelly car and drove it back. We had to wait a little while for new car (which was also smaller at our request and thus easier to drive), and then we had to transfer all of our stuff from the smelly car into the new one, but we finally set off around 3pm. 

Which, on a Friday afternoon, is a Really Bad Time to be trying to leave the Bay area.

The drive, which should have been about 2.5 hours without traffic, took well over 4 hours. It was stop-and-go traffic a lot of the way, and very exhausting. But we finally did arrive before sunset, and we grilled some zucchini and halloumi for dinner. We saw bunnies and lizards, and heard a coyote and some sort of night bird that flew past.

We went to bed earlier than usual, both because there wasn’t good wifi and because we were getting up early the next morning. I had set my alarm for 7:30.

Day 1

Unfortunately, I only slept about 5 hours, probably a little less. I woke up spontaneously at 4:49am and could not fall back asleep. Around 6:10 I gave up on sleep and got up. I ate breakfast (it was already pretty warm out) and then tried to take a shower. There was a terrible few minutes where I thought there was no hot water and I ended up sobbing with exhaustion and frustration--it was our first trip in a year and a half and I’d been looking forward to it so much and everything was going wrong and all I wanted was a hot shower--but then I tried again and waited longer and the water finally got hot.

While waiting for Wife to be ready to go to the park, I walked around admiring the views and the wildlife. We were staying somewhere pretty remote, and aside from the bunnies and lizards and ground squirrels, there were lots of birds: Say’s phoebes, barn swallows (including a nest with young nearly ready to fledge!), house finches, and Anna’s hummingbirds. (I only saw those 4 kinds, but they were abundant!)

We left for the park a little behind schedule, which made me anxious. We had been told to arrive before 8am to be sure to get a parking space at the trailhead, but that was hopeless, so we had intended to get there by 9:30 when the auxiliary parking was likely to be filling up. In the end we were even later than that, but it turned out that the park is much less crowded after Memorial Day, so we needn’t have worried. We could park at the trailhead after all! So from then on, the day was pretty great!

We set off on the Juniper Canyon Trail to meet the High Peaks loop for a “lollipop” shaped hike. Although it’s only 4.5 miles, this was an ambitious hike because:

the elevation gain was 1260 feet (384m),

it was very hot,

we haven’t been hiking much recently, and

I had barely slept.

But the High Peaks are where the California condors are, so I was determined to try.

I had brought plenty of water and started drinking it early in the hike. Aside from a blood sugar crisis early on (in which I felt shaky and nauseated and had to sit down by the trail even though it wasn’t a great spot to stop, but I revived after a couple of bites of a dried fruit bar and some water), I did really well, resting when necessary, snacking periodically, drinking frequently, and appreciating the expansive views (nary a city in sight in any direction), the weird rock formations, and the assorted lichens. 

We saw a scrub jay early in the hike; once we were higher up, there were lots and lots of turkey vultures, a few crows, and also many swallows (@lies: I couldn’t identify them. They had a very distinctive black-and-white sort of T-shaped pattern on the underside, but they were flying quickly and I never got a look at their upper parts. Any thoughts?). 

When we were pretty close to the “steep and narrow” section the book had warned about (not suitable for those who are scared of heights, a warning I ignored despite being somewhat scared of heights), I saw a California condor soar past! but by the time Wife looked up it had disappeared behind a big rock. I think that one was number 745; if so, he hatched in the wild! It was definitely a green tag with a 4 on it; another possibility is 747, a female (naturally named Boeing) who hatched in the LA Zoo and is part of the Big Sur flock.

The “steep and narrow” section of the High Peaks loop trail does indeed have some steep and narrow stretches, in which foot-holes have been carved into the rock to make one-lane “stairs”. However, it was much less treacherous than I had feared: there are very sturdy handrails, so it never felt scary to me. 

Eventually we got up to a wider, flatter section between the big rocky pinnacles and found two guys with a spotting scope they had focussed on condor number 692, who was hanging out at the tippy top of one of the pinnacle rocks. They let us look through the scope (I even managed to get a photo!) and we chatted with them for a bit about the condors. Then, after reaching the highest point of the hike and just starting to come down the other side, we saw another condor soaring up. It might have been number 726 (definitely a green tag with a 2 on it, could also have been 725 or 729), who is 692’s mate; it landed near 692. 725 is part of the Pinnacles flock; the other two possibilities are part of the Big Sur flock, but since members of the two flocks mate with each other, they obviously do travel back and forth.

So that was very exciting and made the hike worth it, though of course the views were spectacular enough to be worth it anyway!

We eventually found a slightly shady spot to sit and eat lunch before hiking the rest of the way down. I ran out of water pretty near the end of the hike, but Wife still had an extra little bottle of juice for me to drink to tide me over until we reached the parking lot, where there was a water faucet. 

We drove back to where we were staying and I tried unsuccessfully to nap. We had a brief swim in the pool, then there was a little wine-tasting, then easy sandwiches for dinner and we headed to bed early. I was utterly wiped out, but very pleased with the day nonetheless.

Photos to follow!

[welllpthisishappening]

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. 

With bright lights and beeping machines and out-of-date magazines. Roland’s career was supposed to end with confetti. Maybe a parade. At least some sort of cheering, because if there was cheering then it wouldn’t be possible to hear how difficult it was for Matt to catch his breath and if he started crying in the waiting room he was never going to forgive himself. 

Or: Roland Locksley gets hurt and Matt Jones doesn’t handle it very well. 

----

Rating: Teen, but like with a heaping side of angst Word Count: 5.2K or so AN: This story has been living rent free in the back corner of my mind that I reserve for angsty hockey head canons for as long as I can remember and last week I finally sat down and typed it. Anyway, this is as angsty as advertised, is basically just original characters at this point and I had no intention of actually posting it anywhere, but I thrive on forcing hockey words at the internet so here we go. Also, probably important to remember that Roland and Lizzie are together and that Taylor is Phillip and Aurora’s kid. I was not kidding about this really being mostly original characters.  

----

“Where is he? Is everything—”

Matt cut himself off. Nearly bit his tongue in half in the process too, but he also couldn’t quite come to terms with the overall circumference of Lizzie’s eyes or just how quickly Peggy had slid in the chair she was draped across. 

Both of their mouths dropped open. 

Audibly. 

“What are you—” Lizzie breathed, shaking her head slowly and she didn’t blink. Matt wasn’t sure she was capable. That was fair. Every time he blinked he saw the play all over again. In slow motion, even. Like his brain was trying to remind him of the wholly inhuman angle Roland’s leg had taken when he slammed into the boards and no one was supposed to slam into the boards like that. 

“MD,” Peggy said when the rest of Lizzie’s sentence drifted into the low hum of an exceptionally packed waiting room. “What are you doing here? How are you here?” “They do have cars, Mar.” “Was that supposed to rhyme?”

“And he doesn’t know how to drive,” Lizzie mumbled. Matt ignored that. “Where is he?”

Taking his time on every word felt like overkill, even as Matt was saying them, but he was also at least passably familiar with the accepted resting heart rate for professional athletes and his appeared close to beating out of his chest. 

Someone was walking towards them. 

And Lizzie still hadn’t blinked yet. 

“They took him to pre-op twenty minutes ago.” Matt startled at the new voice, not entirely surprised to see Taylor turning the nearest corner with three cups of undoubtedly shitty coffee clutched in his hands. “I didn’t get you any of this. Did you fly here?” “I don’t want your garbage coffee anyway. Probably burnt.” “You’re something of a snob, you know that?” Matt shrugged, trying to ignore the exact way his stomach continued to clench. Although when that same organ had spent most of the rented car ride from New York to Philadelphia trying to lodge itself in the middle of Matt’s throat, he supposed this was a step in the right direction 

Metaphorically speaking. 

Now that he was in the hospital, he wasn’t doing very much literal stepping. His legs felt like they’d frozen. 

Locked up. Particularly in the knee-type area. 

Knees were not meant to bend like Roland’s had. 

“What’s the kid doing here?” Matt nodded towards Taylor, who only grumbled a few choice words under his breath while he doled out garbage coffee and he must have bailed on his classes that afternoon. Apparently none of them could operate without at least a few of the others, because no one was entirely surprised when Taylor decided to go to school in Philadelphia and Temple didn’t have a hockey team, but that probably wasn’t really all that important. 

The Mills-Locksley plastered across the back of Taylor’s t-shirt looked bigger than usual. 

Peggy made a face as soon as she took her first sip of coffee, the expression quickly evolving into a glare. Directed entirely at Matt. That didn’t seem fair, honestly. He’d spent a lot of money on that car. “Does front office know you’re here? Or Henry?”

“Those two don’t go together.” She rolled her eyes. While Matt’s kept darting towards Lizzie — who, it seemed, was trying her best to bite her lip in half. Wringing her fingers together wasn’t doing much to help the anxious energy practically falling off her, the kind of pale that made it look like she hadn’t seen the outside world in several decades. 

She kept tapping her right foot. Five quick movements, the bottom of her heel colliding with the tiled floor, and a sharp inhale on every third tap. Her gaze had a distinctly glazed edge to it.

“Henry didn’t have any idea Matt was going to be here,” Lizzie muttered, not taking her eyes off him. It felt like she was staring through him. Or at whatever was directly over his right shoulder. 

Looked pretty interesting. 

Distracting, maybe. 

Matt could have used a distraction. 

“Didn’t say anything, at least,” she added, “neither did Gina or Robin. But, they’re uh—I mean they’re kind of preoccupied and—” Something wasn’t right. 

Less right. Than the piece of shit situation they were in now. 

He really hadn’t thought when he’d left New York. Just told everyone that he wasn’t going to be at skate that morning and made a few phone calls, sent a text to his parents and his brother, and the whole thing would probably end with some sort of lengthy discussion about priorities that Matt wasn’t particularly interested in hearing, but he really had lost track of how often he watched the video and people knew. 

What Roland meant. To him. To the game. To the way Matt was when he played. 

So, he’d sat in the backseat of that car, twisting his phone and resisting the urge to torture himself some more and maybe he should have told someone he was coming. Seemed almost redundant though.

People knew. 

Everyone knew. 

Something was incredibly wrong. 

“Lizzie,” Matt said, unable to stop himself from stretching the name out into some sort of reprimand. She blinked. He was suffocating. 

Shaking her head slowly appeared to be the only answer she was capable of giving at the moment, which wasn’t so much frustrating as it was a little overwhelming and Matt was going to set records. For self-inflicted oxygen deprivation. 

His mind raced. 

Tried to understand options and recovery periods and—this wasn’t the first time this had happened to Roland. Matt licked his lips. Several times. Didn’t help. Lizzie blinked again. And he kept trying to think. Because ACL injuries were common now, the inevitable cause behind most of the NHL’s publicized “lower body injuries,” and surgeries were relatively quick, but multiple issues with the muscle that basically allowed skating couldn’t have possibly been good or healthy and—

“No,” Matt exhaled. 

Lizzie closed her eyes. Lightly, as if she were giving into the feeling or everything she hadn’t said yet and it was Matt’s turn to shake his head. 

In disagreement. 

Of the strongest kind. 

“No, no,” he chanted. “That’s—c’mon, you guys are kidding me.” Peggy’s mouth twisted, as far away from a smile as the movement could be. “No one said anything, MD. Seriously, are you going to get in trouble for this?” “Fuck that.” “An irresponsible mindset.”

Something flew out of Matt — loud and wholly inhuman, like it was scratching its way from the depths of his soul and some deep, dark part of him where disappointment lurked and unfair things festered and this wasn’t fair. Nothing about this was right. 

He wanted time to freeze. To stop and give him a chance to understand, for his pulse to settle and his legs to move because he needed to move and Matt couldn’t move and there were tears on Lizzie’s cheeks. 

Machines beeped at the other end of the hallway. Outdated magazines moved as other people who did not have several worlds crashing around them at that very moment looked for something interesting to read in Philadelphia’s most brightly-lit waiting room. Orthopedic shoes squeaked on the floor. 

Voices drifted. Calls and pages and a slew of other words Matt couldn’t begin to think of or even pretend to care about. 

Taylor downed the rest of his coffee. 

“Might not be good, Mattie,” he mumbled. 

And that was it. Of all the things that could do it, Matt wasn’t entirely surprised when a decades-old nickname was the thing that pushed him over that metaphorical edge. Directly into what felt like a never-ending chasm of knowing and understanding and Peggy really was very quick on her feet. 

Moving into his space, her hands on his chest were most of the reason Matt didn’t fall over right there. Plus his knees. Which refused to function, still. She had to press up on her toes to curl his t-shirt into her fingers, saying things he didn’t hear and didn’t want to understand and the feeling of weightlessness on his descent into that metaphorical chasm was oddly pleasant. 

He figured that would end relatively quickly. 

“What—” Matt’s voice didn’t sound like his. Rasped out of him through lips that were quickly turning chapped, and that didn’t make sense either. It was April. Playoffs were just starting. 

It was so goddamn sunny out. 

He resented it, honestly. 

“What, uh—what have the doctors said so far? That’s...I mean, I know it was shitty, but Rol’s come back from—” “—Yeah,” Henry said, appearing out of seemingly nowhere with neither one of his parents nearby, “that’s not really what he wants to do anymore.”

“Be more specific, old man.” “Ah, that’s just rude.” “It wasn’t just last night,” Lizzie whispered, and Matt genuinely did not know where to look. He had to pick somewhere. He couldn’t glare at all of them at once. 

He tried anyway. 

“What does that mean?” “Something about a camel and last straw, I think.” “Grandma is not here, Elizabeth.” Narrowing her eyes only made the red in them more pronounced, a thin line across her face that Matt was sure had, at one point, been her mouth. “You know better than anybody, Mattie. Teams don’t disclose injuries like that. We—” Lizzie huffed, another quick shake of her head that only served to make her hair flutter against her cheeks, “He’s been playing banged up all year.” “Banged up? That’s what we’re going with?” “What would you like?” “Hurt?” Matt snarled, marginally disappointed when he couldn’t control the volume of his voice. Anger mixed with fear, manifesting itself into a weird tightening around his core and possibly the general area of his spleen. 

He wasn’t ever sure what the point of his spleen was, exactly. 

“It’s....it hasn’t been easy,” Lizzie explained. “This season, at least. Playing so long last year didn’t help with his knees and skating isn’t—” “—Easy?” “If you’re going to be a dick about this, you can get back in a car I know you paid way too much for and go home.”

Deflating wasn’t exactly a word Matt wanted to think about in that moment. But for as quickly as the fight had risen in him, it disappeared even faster. Leaving nothing more than a sharp emptiness in the very center of him. 

None of it made sense. 

“I really paid way too much to get here,” Matt admitted. 

Lizzie sniffled, dragging her hands down either one of her cheeks with enough force that she left angry red streaks in her wake and it didn’t look like she’d slept in several days. Possibly this whole season. 

“How bad was bad, then?” “Bad,” she echoed. “He’d kill me if he knew I said this, but getting to the Conference Finals took a lot last season. All those extra games and that triple overtime was a fucking disaster and...you know, there’s something about the way he plays. Never the biggest guy, or the most physical, but it—” 

Lizzie tugged her lips behind her teeth, another inhale that affected Matt’s respiratory system and this was why. Why he didn’t waste time thinking. Why he wouldn’t look at a single newspaper article the next day. Why he had to be here for a surgery he’d spend sitting in a mass-produced plastic chair. 

Because he knew. What this game meant to Roland. And what losing it would do to him. 

“Spent half his mornings in PT this year, and never really said anything, but I—” 

Lizzie always had exceptionally straight teeth. 

When they were kids, Matt thought it was entirely unfair that she hadn’t needed braces or a retainer or anything. She simply existed and everything was great. That had been some sort of trend for most of their lives. Lizzie knew. She had a plan and a list, and she got shit done. No matter what else was going on or who else said it was impossible, and when people had started muttering and questioning, whispering about how much older Roland was than her, she’d flashed them that kind of hundred-watt smile that usually distracted opposing counsel and, quite easily, told them to go fuck themselves. 

Lizzie never broke.

She never wavered. She believed and she knew and she fixed everything. 

None of this could get fixed. 

At least not entirely. 

And every one of her perfectly straight teeth was on display when she grimaced. 

“It hurt to skate,” Lizzie breathed, “every time he got on the ice. But he’s an idiot, so—” Matt chuckled, a sniffle of his own and eyes that couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of him anymore. “Anyway, uh...we’d talked about it, a little. What would happen after the season, but that always seemed like such a far away thing and then there’s playoffs and that’s just another season, isn’t it? I’m rambling. Aren’t I?” “A little,” Matt agreed. 

“You really came down here.” “That wasn’t a question.” “More a slightly stunned observation.” Matt’s smile felt carved onto his face, nothing more than muscles that weren’t all that inclined to move the way he wanted them to. “Was he playing on the tear?” “No, no, no,” Lizzie promised quickly, but Matt lifted his eyebrows and Taylor snickered into his empty coffee cup. “Might have been strained.” “Likely,” Peggy amended.

Widening his eyes, Matt hoped he didn’t look as deranged as he felt. “You might have been right about the camel and the straw.” “Is that two different cliches?” Lizzie asked. “Yeah, absolutely. Grandma really would be impressed.” Another less-than-impressive laugh fell out of Lizzie at the same time her chin dropped to her shirt. “You play through the pain, Mattie. As idiotic as it’s always been. That’s the game, isn’t it?”

“It’s a dumb one.” “Yeah, it is. A good one too, though. Sometimes. Most of the time, really. All those cheers and the people and every stupid opinion on TV shows and tweets. You play for that chance. To be something bigger than yourself. To leave it all behind, for people to remember you by. You play for the possibility of it all, and sometimes you forget what losing that will mean.”

Matt’s hands moved. Darted, really. Onto Peggy’s shoulders and she grit her teeth at the force of his grip, but she didn’t tell him to move and he was going to have to take her to Serendipity for that. 

“You’re going to dislocate something in her,” Taylor chided lightly. He dropped into Peggy’s forgotten chair, catching one of Lizzie’s hands when she started wringing her fingers again. She didn’t pull away, either. 

Matt shook his head. He wasn’t sure what he was objecting to anymore. “I don’t think I have that kind of dexterity in my fingers, actually.” “Good word,” Henry murmured. 

“How long have you been here?” “Since last night. There was some talking and,” he shrugged, “planning and discussion. Now, Luce and Ella are back at the apartment trying to make sure no one starves after this operation—” “—Awfully pointed,” Lizzie interrupted. Taylor squeezed her hand. Her head fell to his shoulder. Which couldn’t have been very comfortable with the armrest looking like it was poking rather prominently into her ribs. 

“What have you eaten since the game?” “Uh, like...some saltines.” Peggy groaned. “Liar, you took at least two bites of my egg sandwich this morning. Please stop spreading rumors like that.”

Lizzie’s answering laugh sounded far too watery. 

“And,” Henry added, “Mom and Dad are outside talking to El and Liam who just got here and had to park several miles away, or so they claimed.”

“My parents are here?” Lizzie asked. “Probably texted you several dozen times.” Without letting go of Taylor’s hand, Lizzie threatened to dislocate her own shoulder as she yanked her phone out of her back pocket. She let out a low curse at the number of messages she’d missed, and Matt was getting a little frustrated that no one had actually confirmed anything to him yet. 

He also didn’t object when Peggy curled against his side. 

Made it easier to rest his chin on top of her head, anyway. 

And none of them flinched when the automatic doors slid open, four more sets of footsteps and muted discussion in obviously worried tones — but Lizzie wasn’t much more than a blur when she moved, launching herself into Aunt Elsa’s outstretched arms. 

“It’s ok elskan, it’s ok,” Aunt Elsa said, one of her hands coming up to cup the back of Lizzie’s head as she pressed endearments into her temple. None of the words were in English. Peak Jones comforting techniques. In addition to losing track of how often he’d watched the video, Matt couldn’t even begin to guess how many times his parents had done the same thing to him, quiet assurances and guarantees that worked when he was young, but might have rung a little hollow now and maybe he was just some sort of pessimistic asshole. 

No one had said the word actual yet. 

He wouldn't believe it until Roland told him. 

“C’mon MD,” Peggy said, tugging him back towards a pair of empty chairs on Taylor’s other side. “I can’t support your weight forever.”

He let her direct him, not sure if his lack of fight was a reaction to Lizzie or how blotchy Gina’s face was when she followed Robin into the waiting room, or how at some point in the next three hours he’d become the de facto contact point for anyone not in Philadelphia. 

Dad texted him and Mom called him — another round of those quiet assurances that Matt tried desperately to believe, but the growing lump in his throat made it difficult to respond and time was going backwards, he was sure. Chris FaceTimed. Four different times. 

“Nothing to report, kid,” Matt said, for at least the seventy-sixth time. Peggy was pacing a lopsided circle in front of him, Lizzie’s head resting on Aunt Elsa’s leg and her feet propped against Uncle Liam’s knee. 

“That’s bullshit.” “Saying it over and over is not going to help, Toph,” Henry muttered, not bothering to open his eyes. It was the middle of the afternoon. 

Matt couldn’t imagine any of them had slept the night before. What with life-changing conversations to have, and everything. 

“Lizzie eat yet?”

Matt’s eyes darted towards his cousin, but she didn’t so much as move — let alone show any signs of hunger, and he very much doubted she’d even tasted those so-called bites of sandwich she’d taken that morning. 

“Gets in her own head,” Chris mumbled, “can’t think about anything as human as sustenance.” Sliding down in his chair wouldn’t help the covertness of a conversation that should have had headphones, but Matt was getting more desperate the longer he sat there and he was even more convinced Lizzie wasn’t paying attention to him. “At some point, I’m pretty positive Aunt Gina’s just going to take over and start doling out rations to everyone and—”

He cut himself off. 

Suddenly. Sharply. As soon as he processed the specific squeak moving towards them and how quickly it stopped in front of Lizzie. 

She swung her feet back onto the floor. 

“Got quite a party out here, don’t you?” the doctor asked, like that was a joke and he was allowed to smile and both Peggy and Chris clicked their tongues knowingly. At Matt. Who couldn't see his face, but knew all too well the glare it had almost immediately shifted into. 

His shoulders rolled forward too.

“Like he’s going to check the goddamn medical professional,” Peggy muttered conspiratorially. Chris rolled his eyes. 

“Get fined, suspended and arrested, maybe?”

“That’d be a fun distraction.” “I will kill both of you,” Matt hissed. Peggy scrunched her nose when she nodded. For added effect. And obnoxiousness. 

And he was so busy doling out threats that Matt barely heard the updates. Something about feeling good and still a little groggy, but coherent and Lizzie nodded in what could only be described as understanding and possible hope while the doctor listed post-op plans and medicine schedules and then they were moving and squeaking and Matt was back to waiting.

Impatiently. 

He picked up Peggy’s route, ignoring the lingering looks from Henry and Taylor and Aunt Elsa caught his hand before he was entirely ready for it. 

“You’re making me dizzy,” she smiled, pulling him next to her. Still no fight. The lump in Matt’s throat was enormous. 

“Sorry.” “Ridiculous.” “Is that a compliment or an observation?” “Eh, little of column A, little of column B. How’s your breathing going?” Blushing was stupid, all things considered — but Matt suddenly felt like he was ten years old and getting caught for shoving Peggy into the pool because of course the Vankald-Jones’ moved into a house outside of D.C. that had a pool. Perfect family life demanded such things. 

“That’s what I thought,” Aunt Elsa nodded, “you know, sometimes you are so much like your dad it is amazing.” “Oh, that didn’t sound like a compliment either.” “It wasn’t,” Uncle Liam said, a soft laugh clinging to the words. “Nice shot the other night, by the way. When you guys start the next series?” “Once Carolina and Pittsburgh finish. They’re probably going to go seven, though.” “Carolina’s a better match for you guys, right?” Matt shrugged. “Both of ‘em have their strengths, but—” He desperately needed to finish his sentence. That proved impossible when he heard Henry’s smile stretch across his face, and Uncle Liam didn’t bother to hide his own look, a distraction that almost took root in the form of a politically correct and PR-approved answer and—“It’d be fun to fuck up Pittsburgh” Matt finished. “That center of theirs is a bastard.” “That’s the spirit.”

And, really, it didn’t take long. For Lizzie to come back and Aunt Gina to pretend like she hadn’t been crying, and Uncle Robin’s hand appeared cemented to the back of his neck, but then Matt was standing and Henry was standing and neither one of them double checked. They went in at the same time. 

To a room that was also questionably bright, bouquets of flowers already dotting a variety of flat surfaces. An IV wire ran towards the bed, the same one Roland was propped up in with more pillows than the hospital could have ever provided. 

“Your mom bring those?” 

Roland's grin threatened to split his face. The ache returned to Matt’s chest. “Don’t act like you aren’t jealous. And it smells like a goddamn rose garden in here. They’re going to have to drag me out.” “Don’t tell Lizzie that, she might not ever forgive you.” “She likes all those sweet smells at home. Vanilla, sugar cookie, cinnamon, coffee house whatever.” “Is a coffee house inherently sweet?” “Yes,” Roland replied, “and it’s our biggest disagreement ever.” Matt stopped short, not sure when he’d crossed so much of the room or how close he was to the bed and more beeping machines. “That so?” “Huh. You want to do this now, then?” Anger really was the most ridiculous reaction. It wasn’t Matt’s knee. Wasn’t his career or his legacy — which was stupid in its own right because Roland was this team and this city and the only reason they’d even gotten to the fucking Eastern Conference Finals the season before was because he’d set up the game-winner the series before and it had been a seven-game series and if Matt actually started crying in this overly bright hospital room he was never going to forgive himself.

“Is that the reason for the face?” “You cannot hold a conversation by only asking me questions,” Matt argued. 

Roland smiled. Asshole. “Can’t I, though?” “He’s going to have a coronary in front of you,” Henry chided, hooking his foot around the only chair, “and it will be your fault.” “Ah, well we’re in the right spot for it. And that wasn’t a question, Matt. Means I’m winning.” “This isn’t a competition,” Matt objected. “Are you serious about this?” And for half a second Roland almost looked like he regretted it. What could have been. What hadn’t happened. What had happened. Losing in five in the Eastern Conference Finals. But then it was gone. Replaced with something far closer to resolve and an understanding Matt couldn’t begin to wrap his mind around. 

“The first time sucked,” he said. “Getting back and trying to get my speed again and—” “—You are not a fast skater,” Matt interrupted. “Yeah, well you’re some freak of genetic nature. So we can’t all be like you, can we?” “‘Nother question.” “Conversational marvel, you are.” Matt huffed, blinking quickly and biting down on his lip until he tasted blood to keep himself from unraveling over something that didn’t belong to him. “It’s ok,” Roland said, “all of it is, really. It’s—this is the end, kid. And I’m not as freaked out as I thought I’d be, honestly.” “No?” “No. My knees are fucked. Even if I came back, it’d take months. I wouldn’t be ready for the start of next season and I don’t want to be that guy, Mattie. Showing up in fucking January, like some replacement. Clinging to something that’s passed me by already. Taking a spot from some other kid. Playing fourth line.” “But that’s not—” “—I’m not playing fourth line minutes, Mattie.” Twice. He’d said it twice, that nickname and all the meaning that came with it and Matt didn’t think. Again. Thrusting his hand forward he held onto Roland’s with enough force that someone’s knuckles cracked, but he could not begin to guess whose and that was probably some sort of metaphor. 

For the way they grew up and how much the game had twisted its way into both of their lives and—“Gotta be the star, huh?” Roland’s laugh echoed around them. Nothing about it was watery or disappointed, but rather certain and confident and Matt’s dad had always been his favorite player, but he’d been a kid when Killian Jones was captain of the New York Rangers and there was something different about now. About watching Roland come into his own in Philadelphia, a spotlight that was his on his own, not because of the name on his back, but because of how good his wrister was and how much those kids did look up to him. Matt included. 

“Face of the franchise, Mattie Jones. So, uh,” Roland continued, “this is it, kid. Not quite perfect. But you know I hate those farewell tours anyway.” “Could have gotten some good gifts,” Henry pointed out. “Bringing home some garbage merch from a bunch of Eastern teams that hated me every other day of the year really would have driven Lizzie insane. Plus, think about all the networks that’ll be clamoring for my face on their pre-game shows. Retirement’s got it’s perks.” There it was, kind of. 

One word and one decision and Matt was briefly worried about the blood flow to Roland’s hand, but he figured one of the machines would alert them to any problem before it happened and— “I’m going to retire,” Roland said, like he knew Matt needed to hear it. “Announcement coming in the next couple of days, probably. I’m almost looking forward to the tearful goodbye videos.” “God, you’re an ass,” Matt grumbled. “One who’s going to rake in that TV money.”

Smiling continued to feel more than a little unnatural, but it was some sort of innate reaction in that moment and Matt didn’t have to say anything. Roland didn’t expect it either, which felt like a bit of a twisted reward, but then he was walking and moving and Henry was still in the room. 

No one was in the hallway. 

Made it easier, that way. 

To quickly and completely go to pieces. 

Sliding down the wall, Matt’s legs tangled in front of him, tears on his cheeks and oxygen staging some sort of revolt in his body and he wished his girlfriend was there and he wished his dad was there and Peggy still had his phone and— “Hey, hey, hey, at least get your hands out of your hair.” The words didn’t connect immediately, another noticeable knuckle crack as Matt’s fingers dug into the strands he’d started gripping at some point. Uncle Liam groaned when he crouched, stymying the threat to Matt’s scalp as he ducked into his eye line. 

“If you tell me it’s going to be ok, you don’t have to. I—” Matt’s inconsistent breathing was even more annoying than his sentence structure. “I know it’ll be fine. Rol’s choice and for the best and...God, fuck, shit, damnit.” “Last one wasn’t very impressive.” “I ran out.” “Ah, don’t lie to me, kid. I know we taught you way more creative words.” “Mostly use that on the ice.” Uncle Liam hummed knowingly, finally letting go of Matt’s hands when it seemed he trusted him not to start yanking on his own hair again. “It absolutely isn’t fine. None of it. It’s bullshit and unfair and knees are worthless joints anyway.” Matt blinked. 

His neck ached with the force of his head jerk, gaping and staring and Uncle Liam’s smile shifted slightly. Into something almost like understanding. He knew. 

He knew. 

“Game like this, it...it sinks into you, doesn’t it? Has to, that’s the only way you can get through it. Because it’s not like other ones. No grass, no court, no sunshine. Fuck, any sunshine just makes it even harder to see on the ice. And that makes it worse and even better. Because for every time you’ve managed to sweat through your pads while shivering at a shitty rink, there are game winners and brekaways and hitting some bastard who thought he was better at faceoffs than you.” “They measure things like faceoffs now, y’know?” “I’m giving you a motivational speech.” Matt nodded. 

“Point is, a sport like this, it...for as much as it gives, it takes a little bit too. Because you’ve got to give yourself to it. Understand that the bumps and the bruises and the incessant cracking of your joints is payment in kind.” “For?” “For the way it felt. The way it’ll always feel, even when it doesn’t end the way you planned.” Letting out a shuddering breath, Matt barely felt his head when it dropped against the wall. “He never won. That’s—of all the things, that’s the worst.” “Sure he did. You don’t think so?” “Unless I forgot about a parade.”

“That’s not how this stuff works, kid,” Liam sighed. “All those runs when you were growing up, even before you were born, those were Rol’s as much as they were Locksley’s. As much as they were your dad’s. And anything you do, that’s his too. Not just because you stole his wrister. Which is kind theft four-times removed, actually.” “How you figure?” “Well, Rol stole it from your dad who ripped it off me, so. You’re welcome.” He might need oxygen sooner rather than later. And a tissue. More than one tissue. “The point I’m getting at,” Uncle Liam said, “is that there’s no perfect way for this to go. Happily ever after isn’t guaranteed, but it doesn’t wipe out everything else that happened. Doesn’t change how good this game is or how good it will keep being. You play with a team, right?” “Sounds like a cliche.” “You grow up in that house, some things become entrenched.” “Yeah, I get that.” “I know you do. Your sister was talking to your parents before, I’m sure they’re waiting for you to get back out there.” It wasn’t the dismissal it sounded like, especially when it came with a hand clasped on his shoulder — but Matt nodded all the same, muttering a quiet thanks and Uncle Liam had been right. Mom had totally been crying too. 

And it wasn’t perfect. Wasn’t the ending that Roland deserved, but eventually Matt started to wonder if it was actually the end and as the years went on he started to know it wasn’t. Not with weddings and kids and a whole subsection of the internet that was decidedly preoccupied with the cut of Roland’s suits on postgame television spots. 

They kept going. Games and hits and a few more injuries, and, eventually, when the Stanley Cup came back to New York and back to that brownstone downtown, Matt didn’t hesitate. He handed it to Roland. 

And took a picture. 

With both of their kid sitting in the goddamn thing. 

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - I Was Given Four Rules to Follow ... I Broke Every One: Chapter 2/3 (Rated PG13)

Summary: When Warlock Dowling is summoned to the old South Downs cottage of Aziraphale and Crowley to help clean out their attic, presumably after their deaths, he is given four rules to follow.

... He breaks every single one.

Notes: So here's the chapter where we really lean into that post-accident imagery. Again, it's not gory, but it may be unsettling. Please be warned. Also some very mild thoughts of suicide on Aziraphale's part, the typical 'why don't I off myself to be with me husband instead' sort of inner monologue.

Read on AO3.

I drove back to The South Downs in the Celestial Blue Fiat Crowley had gifted me last anniversary completely on autopilot. I never really used the thing, to be honest, so I was astonished I hadn’t run off the side of the road, especially when the thought was ever in the back of my mind. I kept the windows down, breathing in deep the brisk air and trying not to think too hard over what I was about to do. Or what I could do instead, the possibilities ranging between getting on with my life - sell the cottage and travel the world, forget about everything that had led up to this point … or driving straight off a cliff.

Of course, if I was lucky, fate would decide for me, and I would catch pneumonia driving in the freezing cold with the windows down and only a thin jumper for protection.

I put the radio on and cranked the volume. I caught a replay of The London Symphony Orchestra performing Holst’s The Planets as I tried to focus on everything and anything besides my dead husband waiting for me, lying naked on our bed, packed in ice with several brand new swamp coolers blasting on high to keep decomposition at bay. I thought it best to stow him out here in the middle of nowhere for the time being instead of at our flat in Mayfair - less a chance of anything going wrong, of the swamp coolers drawing suspicion (seeing as it had barely broken seven degrees Celsius over the past month), or (if this worked) people who knew my husband to be dead seeing him walking around, and asking questions.

Accepting that that was a possibility led me back to the question of why was I doing this? Why was I so set on bringing my husband back? Why didn’t I leave him be, allow him peace? Why didn’t I take the opposite route, off myself, and go be with him instead? Had to admit, it was a lot more natural than what I was intending. But there was a simple reason for that.

I’m a coward.

A bloody coward.

I don’t know what awaits us after death. Not truly. I’d been raised a Catholic, and I hold strong to many of those principles still (mostly out of guilt inflicted upon me by my dear old mum). According to the teachings of the church, a Heavenly kingdom would be ours after death … but not if I killed myself.

Suicide was an unforgivable sin.

If I wanted to see my husband again, this might be the only avenue available to me.

I didn’t want to wait, rely on “faith” that we would be together again, and risk being wrong. I was tired of playing guessing games with my future.

I felt like a massive ball of contradictions flying down the motorway at felony speeds, both exhilarated and terrified at the venture I was about to embark on. The old woman wasn’t wrong. For as blisteringly angry as I got with her, that was the worst part. I was tampering with the laws of nature. I knew that. I loved Crowley more than anything, more than my own life, but Crowley was dead, and in the eyes of the universe, there should be nothing I can do to change that.

But apparently there was.

I’d found it.

And I was going through with it regardless, even if it scared the shit out of me.

I’d not told another living soul about this. I had a pretty good idea of what might happen if I did. I didn’t require an intervention, and I didn’t need institutionalization. I wasn’t crazy. I was grieving, searching for the same solutions that dozens of people have probably thought of but would never admit to. But other people - people who knew me as the eccentric book seller of Soho who didn’t actually sell any books and who once rented a live python for the sole purpose of roaming the store in order to keep uni students away at the start of the school year - might not see it that way.

I had also entertained the possibility that this might be a scam - a way to extort five thousand pounds out of a grieving widower willing to pay anything to have his husband back. Except that the old woman – possibly a hundred or so years older than God – put on a convincing act of being afraid for the paltry sum of five thousand (paltry considering what the granddaughter had said about their financial straits - tens of thousands in mounting debts, interest on bank loans that have ballooned into larger sums than their principals, and the shady men who dropped by most nights to ‘browse’ even though they bought nothing but always broke something in ways that implied mishaps more sinister).

They probably could have gotten twenty thousand out of me easily.

I switched off the radio when I turned off the motorway. It wasn’t like the music would disturb anyone. I lived miles away from my closest neighbor. But it seemed disrespectful to keep the volume so loud.

Disrespectful to the dead.

I love our cottage, fell in love with it the first moment I laid eyes on it, but that was back when it was about to become a home.

Now, it was a tomb.

What would our property agent think - that kindly, middle-aged woman who kept making moon eyes at us every time we snuck a kiss - if she knew I was harboring a corpse in my bedroom? The expression of shock that would erupt on her pinched face nearly made me laugh. But the overwhelming pitch blackness of the cottage sapped me of anything even remotely similar to glee.

When I had left earlier in the day, I had neglected to keep any lights on. It seemed fitting to have the place dark while my husband’s body lay within. But I wished I had left one light on at least, or put a torch by the door. My cellular phone battery had died somewhere along the way so it was of no help whatsoever.

As I opened the door and peered into the living room, I held my breath, half-expecting Crowley’s naked corpse to meet me at the entryway. I chided myself for being an idiot, though how ridiculous was it really? A day ago, when I went searching Soho shops for that horrid incense Crowley used to love in the hopes of keeping his favorite scent alive in the house, I would have agreed that the concept of life after death was ludicrous.

That was until I stumbled upon a teenage girl who promised me the secret to bringing Crowley back.

“Cr---Crowley? Crowley, honey? I’m home, my dear,” I called out, hoping that he wouldn’t actually answer. I was thirty steps away from walking out of my comfort zone and into a world I would rather not know existed, so Crowley coming back to life on his own would tip me over the edge into insanity.

I reached out a hand and turned on the light. My living room, warm and comforting, decorated in muted blues, cinnamon browns, and subtle creams, welcomed me. There was nothing out-of-place here.

Nothing dead.

I continued to the bedroom, switching on lights as I went. With every step, I had to convince myself to keep going. I originally pictured me racing into the house, eager to get this started. But with reality staring me in the face, I wasn’t sure. But I didn’t have the luxury of waiting to see if I would eventually change my mind. Crowley’s internal organs, especially his brain, were decaying fast, regardless of how much ice or air conditioning I piped into the place.

Soon the choice wouldn’t be mine to make.

Twenty steps brought me to the threshold of my bedroom where I stopped, staring at the closed door. I reached down and patted the bottle in my pocket, feeling the lump through the linen of my trousers. Touching it gave me the strength I needed to move my hand to the doorknob, but I halted once more with it hovering when I heard a small creak – like a foot stepping lightly on the hardwood floor. It was the house settling, I told myself. That was what Crowley always said when I woke him in the middle of the night to the sound of odd creaking and whining.

“It’s a mid-century house,” he’d say. “The floors contract in the cold and expand in the heat.”

“So what your saying is …?” I quipped.

“... the house talks in our sleep,” Crowley had replied without opening his eyes. “Now go back to your reading so I can get some sleep, too.”

“Just the house settling,” I muttered in my best rendition of Crowley’s accent, plucking the explanation from my mind and saying it out loud to make it real. “Nothing else alive in the house except for me.”

Still, I couldn’t bring myself to open the door.

I heard the creak repeat, closer this time.

I swallowed so hard, everything from my jaw to my stomach ached.

“Crowley? Are you there? Are you … are you waiting for me, my dear?”

Of course he’s waiting for you! I scolded myself. He’s waiting for you to grow a pair and get this over with.

I sighed, allowing the rush of breath in my deflating body to give my hand momentum, touch the doorknob, and open it like I had hundreds of times before.

This time was no different.

Yup. Maybe if I kept telling myself that, it would feel real.

I turned the knob and switched on the light without thinking about the sight that awaited me on the bed. My eyes flicked up … and my stomach fell to the floor.

There was Crowley, right where I had left him, lying in bed, eyes closed. He looked asleep and, from this distance, normal except for a few cuts and bruises on his face. The accident hadn’t banged his body up that badly, not from what I had noticed, though I didn’t make it a point to look at him for too long.

His neck was why not.

His broken neck from the whiplash that had killed him instantly.

He’d been leaning forward in his car seat, looking at street signs, stuck on a small, offshoot road that the GPS on his phone had apparently never heard of before. He had cautiously entered the intersection when a pickup flew through out of nowhere and slammed into him from behind. Crowley jettisoned forward and hit the steering wheel.

Being a classic car, restored to original condition, it had no airbag.

I blinked back the tears that leaped to my eyes at the thought of the accident that took my husband from me, at the fact that the driver of the truck, being sloshed out of his gourd, walked away from the same accident with only blacks and blues. The police caught the bastard a few miles down the road when his engine stalled.

He claimed he didn’t stop because he thought he had only struck a deer.

“H—hey,” I said, trying to get comfortable with the idea of talking to my husband again. “I went out shopping today, and you’ll never believe what I brought home.”

I could see my own breath as it met the air in the room, like walking into a gigantic meat locker, making what I was doing that much more morbid. My knees knocked but I clamped them together to keep them mobile. I reached the bed, and my casual, conversational tone disappeared, the words wavering as I spoke them.

“I think … this might … help …” I hiccuped, side-eyeing my husband’s body. Crowley’s skin appeared waxy, coated in moisture from the frigid air, and the color wasn’t right. I knew that soon blood would pool and Crowley’s unnaturally pale skin would turn black so I had to hurry, but every muscle in my body screamed for me to turn and run.

I touched the bed, and I’m ashamed to say, I whimpered.

I can do this, I can do this … I chanted to myself. I reached out and let my hand brush Crowley’s fingers. I tried to recall their warmth, the way Crowley’s touch made me feel loved, desired. Whole. I wanted that back, and I wasn’t going to let anything stand in my way. I knelt on the bed, crawled over to Crowley’s body, and leaned over his serene face.

“I’m going to get you back,” I whispered, cursing the fear in my voice. “If I have to claw my way into Heaven and drag you back with my own two hands, I’m going to get you back.”

I pulled the blue bottle out of my pocket. I held it to the light and gave it a swirl, watching the liquid spin around the belly of the glass and then settle into a shimmering mass. Crowley’s life was sitting in the bottom of that bottle. All I need do was give it back.

I yanked out the stopper and brought the bottle to Crowley’s lips.

“Bottoms up, love.” I pecked a kiss to his cold skin and then tipped the contents into his mouth. I expected to see Crowley’s throat move as he swallowed, his eyes snap urgently open, but they didn’t. The potion didn’t act instantaneously the way I’d assumed then. He was still dead … but not for long.

I remained kneeling at Crowley’s side, staring into my husband’s face, heeding the ancient woman’s words to be the first person Crowley saw when he opened his eyes. I knelt and knelt for over an hour, thighs cramping in the freezing cold. The sharp prickle that comes with poor blood circulation assaulted my skin, the thought that this was an elaborately planned and executed hoax becoming more a likelihood as time passed.

The sun started to light the grass and hills outside. I could barely see the early morning rays seep in beneath the blackout curtains, but there they were nonetheless - evidence of a brand new day. Still, there was no change, no sign, nothing on Crowley’s face that might give me a reason to hold on. I struggled against exhaustion, grasping at thin straws of hope, but with each passing minute, I was failing.

It had been a dream – a wonderful dream.

But I had to wake up and face facts - my husband wasn’t coming back to me in any form.

I’d been most grievously had.

I stretched my limbs - one leg, then the other. Then I lifted my torso, bending my arms and flexing my hands. I crawled backward off the bed, raising my arms above my head, listening to my spine snap and pop. I looked at Crowley again, peacefully expired – one last look before I made plans for his burial.

I was beginning to feel it was about time.

I walked to the dresser and opened the top drawer, looking for my pajamas. Before I did anything, I needed a nap or I would drop dead on my feet.

I winced at the ill-placed pun, but chalked it up as part of the healing process. Gallows humor. I could never appreciate it before.

That probably wouldn’t change.

I rummaged through the drawer, looking past perfectly suitable shirts and lounge pants but for what, I didn’t know … until I found it.

A journal.

I have lots of journals, to be honest. Writing is a passion of mine, along with reading. In their pages, I have documented everything that has ever happened to me in excruciating detail - as if anyone would ever be interested in that sort of thing. As if reading about my pains or my triumphs would help anyone. I don’t find myself to be remotely (as the kids put it) relatable. I have no desire to be famous, and the circumstances of my life (mainly my marriage to Crowley) have made me wealthier than I could ever possibly enjoy in my lifetime.

But not today.

Today I felt numb to everything around me, and not just because of the intense cold. Nothing seemed to matter. I left my pajamas in the drawer and hopped back onto the bed. I might have been cavalier about it, but there was nothing here for me to fear. What lay in bed beside me was a body, nothing more - flesh and blood rotting from the inside with no unique soul to keep it all together.

Make it worth something.

I opened my journal - this journal - to the first empty page where a blue ballpoint pen had been shoved into the spine, waiting for me. For how long …  I can’t remember. I picked the thing out and uncapped it. I put the tip to the paper, but I didn’t start writing right away. I hadn’t written in a journal in weeks. Where should I start? Do I pick up where my last journal entry left off, no matter how long ago that was? Even if it ended on a happy memory, like me and Crowley going to the cinema, having dinner at The Ritz?

Making love in the backseat of his Bentley?

Or do I forget all that and start a few minutes ago when I finally decided to give up on the possibility of my husband coming back? A couple of hours ago when the old woman almost refused to sell me the potion? Or that horrible night, when the police showed up at my door with apologetic looks and horrendous news?

While I juggled those thoughts, trying to decide, the world around me began to awaken. Birds sang their melodious songs in the bitter cold. The wind outside knocked against my window. A tiny critter scritched inside the walls, which would have had me running for the traps, but not today. Whatever you are, little creature, you have been granted a stay of execution.

Nothing would be dying within my home today.

The sun rose higher and the room got brighter. To my surprise, it heated up a little, and the ice cubes on the bed began to melt. I heard them collapsing in their piles, some having turned to water, making way for others to fall. The bed dipped as I shifted my legs beneath me, my crossed limbs having fallen asleep in their bent up positions. I cleared my throat, the sound rumbling in my chest, though the voice didn’t sound entirely my own. My ears had been ringing during the drive home and for most of the night, so I imagined I must have caught some kind of cold.

But as I reasoned out all of this, going about my task, my heart realized a truth that my mind hadn’t.

When my mind caught up, it went blank.

My blood turned to ice, secondary to the chill in the room, helped naught an inch by the invading sun. I didn’t think I could get any colder, but I did. That inside out feeling returned as another started to register.

I no longer felt quite so alone.

I lowered my journal, glancing up from the blank page to find Crowley, rolled onto his side, staring at me with wide, emotionless eyes.

[gobbluthbutagirl]

in case anyone wants to know how my interview went yesterday:

so basically they had me drive a half hour out there just to tell me they didn’t think i was qualified lmao. like you could’ve just told me that over the fucking phone instead of wasting my time lmao! but like even before that i was realizing i absolutely did not want this job. i was supposed to call the guy i was interviewing with when i got there and i literally had to call him 3 times before he picked up(and ofc he had no voicemail either) so like, red flag number one. then the moment i walked through the doors into the actual bakery i started having like war flashbacks to my old job and i was just like ‘oh my god i do not want to go through this again’. THEN the actual interview started and just fyi for those who have never worked in a bakery/restaurant kitchen/etc they are really fucking loud. and this man was barely speaking above a whisper. so ofc i could hardly even hear his questions. it lasted less than five minutes and at the end he told me verbatim ‘based on your resume, your experience is not enough, so we will not be moving forward with your application’ LIKE YOU’VE LITERALLY HAD MY RESUME THIS ENTIRE FUCKING TIME SO WHY’D YOU EVEN CALL ME OUT HERE GENIUS??? so i was just like, ‘well, thank you for your time’ and then i got the fuck out of there as quickly as possible.

and then here’s where the REALLY fun part comes in. i was literally less than ten minutes away from my airbnb when i got into a crash that totaled my car. my car which is still filled with boxes and boxes of stuff i was keeping in there until i move out of my airbnb and into more permanent housing. i was mostly uninjured except for a cut on my leg and some scuffed up fingers from the airbag deploying(basically i was t-boned on the passenger side so my car took the brunt of the impact) but my car was beyond repair. i still don’t know if/to what extent all the stuff i had in the back was damaged. a ceramic travel mug that was in the passenger side cupholder survived the impact but the plug part of my phone charger(which was plugged into the center console) did not. the fire department got there first, then the cops. they took down the information(but apparently the other driver and i have to actually go online and file the report ourselves due to some recent law change) then asked if i had a ride/anybody i could call to come pick me up. i was like, ‘no, i don’t, i’m from south carolina, my family is 2500 miles away, i’ve been here for 3 days and i literally know nobody.’ the cop was like, ‘well, i can either impound your car and you can come pick up your belongings and pay the fee later or you can have the tow truck guy tow your car and go with him, but either way it won’t be cheap.’ i was basically hysterical at this point and i was like ‘it doesn’t matter just do whatever’ and she was like ‘ma’am i can’t just do whatever you have to make the decision yourself.’ so i ended up calling my dad to get his opinion and the tow truck guy talked to him directly and we ended up going with that option.

so i rode to the collision center with the tow truck guy then called geico to file a claim(which according to the collision center guy was a much faster way to get a rental than using the app), then ended up being on the phone with the geico guy for about an hour. by the time it was all said and done with my phone battery was about 40%, and by the time i was in the rental car it was down to 26%. but here comes the kicker: not even ten minutes after i left the rental car place i was involved in ANOTHER collision. fortunately this time it was super minor and the police didn’t need to be called; i just exchanged information with the guy and he drove off. but i was thoroughly shaken at this point and i was like ‘i am never driving again for the rest of my life’. also my phone was down to 13% by now. so i called the rental car place and explained what happened, and they said i could either bring the car back or have it towed back. well obviously i did not want to drive that car back to the rental place(plus, as i noticed later, i had gotten a flat tire at some point before/during/after the collision) so i called the tow truck guy, who said he was towing another car but he would get there as soon as he could. my phone was at 5% during this conversation, which quickly became 1% and essentially rendered me unable to use it for fear of it dying completely and leaving me with no way to get back to my airbnb. i wound up standing there waiting for about an hour and at one point this man literally pulled his car over to the side of the road and got out so he could hand me his business card ‘in case i ever wanted to hang out’. like thanks dude good to know i’m hot i guess but can you not see that i am literally in the middle of a crisis right now? fortunately though that guy wasn’t the only one who pulled over and the other guy was actually sane and stood there waiting with me so i didn’t have to wait alone, which i really appreciated.

anyway the tow truck guy finally got there a little while later and i rode with him back to the rental place, where he tried to convince me to get another rental and i was just like ‘nope, i’m never driving again’. they wound up putting the rental on hold so i could come back and get one if i changed my mind but like. i’m not changing my mind lmao i’m not getting behind the wheel again until i’m familiar enough with the area that i don’t have to rely on google. which is most definitely going to take longer than the week that a rental car would be covered by my insurance. so i rode around and talked with the tow truck guy for a while before he eventually brought me back to my airbnb, where i proceeded to stand in the kitchen in my underwear and eat ricotta cheese straight out of the tub and then cry in the shower and in bed for at least an hour. it was like 9:30am when i left my airbnb and 8:00 in the evening when i finally made it back. i fell asleep close to 11 then woke up at 2, tried for an hour to fall back asleep then gave up, called my mom(thank god for time differences) and talked for like 90 minutes, then eventually managed to get a few more hours of sleep.

so yeah, my life basically got turned upside down yesterday. i’m out at least $550 for the rental car, and my stuff is still sitting in my totaled car at the collision center. i think i’m gonna end up renting a storage unit for it bc i don’t want myself or anyone else to have to deal with lugging my 100+ pound rock collection up and then down all the stairs at my airbnb. on the bright side my anustart vanity plate is still in perfect condition but on the downside the front bumper of my car basically fell off and is now inside my car on top of all my belongings. and i’m stuck using uber or public transportation for the foreseeable future and basically when i transition from the airbnb to wherever i end up living i’m gonna have to fly my dad out to help me move, which is gonna be another large chunk out of my savings. and all because that fucking bakery couldn’t just tell me over the phone that they didn’t think i was qualified.

[enthusiasticsobrietyabuse]

“Enthusiastic Sobriety programs tearing families apart and convincing parents to kick their kids out onto the streets.” Originally posted on OnTheEmmis.com in 2004. ICECAP is the former incorporation and has since dissolved due to the efforts of OnTheEmmis.com

There is a thread on the other message board that I think the parents need to be informed about. This is about the harm that is caused to the children from parents that are still in an ICECAP program. These are true stories (not edited) just copied and pasted for you to read.

What Bob AND Joy teach parents about "tough" love and their version of "unconditional" love are just that "their version".

Does this seem as though families are being brought together and healing to you?

This is a great example of the pain that is caused when one person in the family (the child) wants to leave ICECAP and another person (the parent) believes the lies that they have been taught (that they are or will get high, can't live without being in the program, etc.) They, ICECAP, breed the fear that you as a parent have when you see them making choices that YOU don't like. What is the true meaning of letting go? Or the true meaning of unconditional love?

This is not to make any parent feel guilty for their time in an ICECAP program. I truly believe you thought you were doing the best thing. You were also a victim of the cult and it's way of thinking. That is the very reason I am posting this thread. To show the harm and hopefully save some pain for others.

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Author:

Bailey [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

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Date Posted: 13:27:44 12/22/04 Wed

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Getting kicked out of your house by your once all loving supporting do anything for you family

As most of you know my family is ALL involved in Crossroads and sense I've left its been hell, Thursday night my dad and step mom freaked out on me and my dad started pushing me and threatening to "lay me the fuck out" My dad has never so much as spanked me before we used to get along great until x-roads we got high together went to concerts movies dinner and what not, But now its as tho i don’t exist to them they call me ungrateful bitch and many other names after all that happened he told me to pack a bag and he didn't want to see me anymore, Luckily i see a therapist and he talked to my dad and calmed them down they still want me out of the house tho. I cant leave now because i belong to the state until me 18th birthday which thank god isn't far off but if they kick me out or i move out i have to spend the next month and half in juvenile again, this has happened to many of my friends who have left too they end up homeless because if there not in the group they cant be at there house, i was just wondering if anyone else's parents went crazy after they left and if it does get better?

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[> Subject: It happened to me Part 1

Author:

Hollywood

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Date Posted: 17:59:18 12/22/04 Wed

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I lived threw this every time I left the group, but especially the last time.

The last time I left I bailed the group with a guy, I knew from prior experiences that my parents would not tolerate me living in their house and not be in Pathway. So I did what I knew how to do, and hopped on a bus to California. When we got there we had no money or anything. At that point and many points throughout my time in Pathway I was willing to be a street person rather than be involved in the group. To say it didn't last long was an understatement; he was scared and refused to talk to anyone. His parents agreed to fly us back to AZ. I almost did not go because I knew that upon arriving I would have no place to go. Mind you at this point I had over a year sober. I did not bail because I wanted to get high.

When the plane touched down in PHX he had people from the group waiting to take him back. They shunned me. I had been in the group for about 5 years at that point and they could care less if I had a place to go. I now know it was because my parents would not shell out even more money for me to go into IOP (that would have been the third time).

I truly did not know who to call; I had been in the group since I was 14 years old. Not many people I knew had left and were around or willing to talk to a program drop out.

I finally gathered enough courage to call a friend of mine that had left the group, I knew she was getting high but at that point I didn't care. The streets of Phoenix were a lot more cruel than the streets of Hollywood. Her mother answered the phone, she did not sound very happy to hear my voice, on a previous runaway trip I bailed the group with her daughter and a few other people and we stole her credit cards and over $1000 dollars cash if my memory serves correctly. So this was a lady that I had fucked over to say the least. This kind woman opened her home to me. More than what my own family was capable of at that point. She allowed me to stay at their house and helped me try and find a job. At the same time unknown to me she was in contact with my parents trying to convince them to take me home, that I was actually doing fine and wasn't what the group was telling them about me.

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[> [> Subject: Re: It happened to me Part 2

Author:

Hollywood

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Date Posted: 18:00:08 12/22/04 Wed

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For some reason on Christmas Eve my parents called and told me I could move back in, but I had to live in the garage. They would set up a cot in there. I would not be allowed to use anything in the house, except the bathroom but my parents had to escort me to and from it. I agreed I didn't care; I just wanted to see my father.

When we were driving to my parents house the kind mom who allowed me to stay at her house explained to me that this was all my mothers doing, my father wanted nothing to do with my and had informed her that I was dead to him. It was because of him I would be sleeping in the garage until I could find my own home (mind you I was 18 and had never held down a job, paid bills, etc.) I lost it, this man, my father, my hero wanted nothing to do with me. This was a turning point for me. This is when I decided in my crazy still experiencing the effects of Kool-Aid that I needed to get high in order to get in the house. Because, try and follow this it is way crazy thinking looking back, if I just got high I would have something to cop to, the group would take me back, I could make amends and therefore my father would allow me in his life again. Crazy I know.

Well living in the garage lasted about 2 hours before my parents (read mother) got sick of it. My father sulked in his room and wanted nothing to do with me. Christmas Eve with all the family and Christmas day were rather awkward, to say the least. My father still did not speak to me. I believe that year they even attended the round robin. I sat at home. I soon got a job and almost immediately began getting high, smoking speed, snorting coke, and shooting heroin. This went on for about 2 years. I worked therefore my parents didn't care. They had both left the program (details of that have never been disclosed to me, I do not know why or how). And my father and my relationship finally started to re solidify.

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[> [> [> Subject: Re: It happened to me Part 2

Author:

Hollywood

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Date Posted: 18:01:09 12/22/04 Wed

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Except by this time I was strung out on heroin. Believe it or not I did go back to the group. After my parents discovered my horrible habit and asked me to check myself in to a detox center, I made an appointment with the then OG counselor. He told me to that I was going to die, that I needed to go into some Step something or other. I told him I had no money. He told me to sell my cars, I told him he was on crack my parents would never let me do that. At the same moment I was absolutely terrified they would. I told him to call them and if he could convince them I was willing. From what I understand that counselor did call my father and my father told him he was full of shit. That was the day my father became my hero again and not some brain washed ego maniac. I wound up getting off heroin a few months later. My father and my relationship has been wonderful ever since, for Christ sake we even work together. My mother is still struggling with the fact that I drink . But her and my relationship is better than it ever has been my entire life.

Sorry this was so long and detailed I never knew I would share all of this. I hope this helps you to realize to hear that some else has been threw a similar nightmare.

Good luck and if you ever need anything or need to talk about the ‘rents and the evil things they can do when they are still slugging down the Kool-Aid but you are not, email me. I am more then willing to listen.

Also if a parent reads this who is considering throwing their child out on to the streets because they are no longer in the group, let me tell them from being that child: They have no place to go! The situation that they are in worsens, they feel abandoned, and the people that they turn to are usually using drugs much heavier than they are or ever have!

PLEASE DO NOT BUY INTO ICECAPS TOUGH LOVE- this is what killed Bob’s son, this is what almost killed me, and what almost killed or even did kill many people I knew.

Hollywood

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[> Subject: Re: Did this happen to anyone else

Author:

michele

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Date Posted: 22:27:49 12/22/04 Wed

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ok bailey, i know you've already heard this but there are some who haven't... the first time i left stl i was 16. i lived on the streets and 20 dollar hotels and at my old sponsee's house. it was bad but didn't compare to when i left atl. that time i was 18. my dad had driven a car down for me. i eventually got myself kicked out. i knew it was coming. i packed up my car with at much crap as i could and then i left. i went to stl then kc. stealing gas the entire way, oh yeah and wrote a bunch of bad checks. i had to go back down to atl to pick up more of my stuff. so i took a friend with me. i got there and packed up more crap. i made it all the way back up to nashville, then my car broke down. to anyone who lives in there car it's the most important thing to you. it's your bed, your transportation, your only way to and from work. it makes your whole life work. my friend's parents wired her money and left me 60 miles south of nashville, in manchester. i took what i could from my car and started walking. i hitch hiked from there to kc. it took me 3 days almost. i looked like complete shit when i got home. think the garage is bad? my mom made me sleep on the back deck for 3 weeks. like a dog. i woke up went to work (walked my happy ass) came home and then when my mom got home from work she would let me in to go to the bathroom and shower, then i got kicked back out. when i finally proved my self she let me in the house. well that's the most important parts i guess. there's more but i wanna go to sleep. point is that things did get better. i just had to fight so hard for it. i've never had to fight for anything harder then to survive. but i'm still here. and to everyone who will ask, i never touched a truck driver, and they never asked. actually the fed me and let me sleep.

[> Subject: Re: Did this happen to anyone else

Author:

Jen from AZ

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Date Posted: 02:27:25 12/23/04 Thu

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It's stuff like this that really gets me riled! It bothers me that the "Family" (talk about dysfunctional families!) pushes parents to treat their own flesh and blood like animals! I'm sorry - but tough love is bullshit! As parents, we are to care for our kids - whether we love them or not - they are a gift from God and these parents ought to be damn grateful that they have children! Do these parents not realize that there are LAWS about this?! As long as their kid is under 18 they are required BY LAW to give their kids food, clothing and shelter. Parents, if you are kicking your kids out of your house - YOU DON'T DESERVE TO HAVE THEM!

I will NEVER turn my back on my child! I don't understand how any parent can do that! How can a parent look Their child in the eye - no matter how old they are - and turn their back on them? How can they sleep at night not knowing if their child is dead or alive? How can Bob and "friends" push this kind of treatment?! This is just totally beyond my comprehension! My blood is boiling right now!

I would give ANYTHING to have more kids at home! I cry almost every night because I want a houseful of children! Yes, I love my son with all my heart - but yes! I also want a houseful of laughing - hell, even screaming - children running around! And quite frankly it fucking pisses me off that parents treat their children like this! Sleeping in the fucking garage? On the damn patio!? Wake up you parents who are in ICECAP! I don't care if you believe the Bible or not - I do and I believe it with all my heart and it says in there that "whatever you do to the least of these, you have done to me". Guess what parents! When you treat your kids like this, you are treating God like that! I pity you! I pity the fact that one day you will have to answer for the way you have treated your kids! And I pray that you get the justice you deserve!

Sorry webmasters for going off and for using the language I used. I haven't talked like this in years, but this is a hot button for me. I get into a lot of trouble when I'm out and about in stores and see a parent yelling and/or cursing at their child. One of these days I'm probably going to get punched - but I will not keep silent! The treatment that ICECrAP pushes parents to do to their kids is abuse - pure and simple! And I refuse to hold my tongue when I see it going on!

To those of you who are experiencing this treatment or have in the past - please know that I am thinking of you and praying for things to change. Especially that your parents wake up and seek your forgiveness for the treatment they have given you! NOTHING a child does - NOTHING - warrants throwing your kids out on the streets! The atrocities that are out there... it just makes me shudder! And want to scream and rip out Bob's eyes with my bare hands. Not much gets me this worked up.

[susanoosama01]

Midam Headcanons part 2

After they get out of the cage, Michael is pretty weak for some time. Adam is also wounded and unstable so they drag themselves to a motel and stay there healing for a few weeks without letting anyone else close to them. They don't even draw the closed curtains to let sunlight in. After two days, Adam wants to take a shower and eat. Since Michael's grace isn't recharged yet, he lets Adam control his body and silently observes the human. Adam makes sure to use lots of hot water and eat everything he likes half because he missed those trivial things and half to show Michael there are nice things about being human.

When they finally step outside, they find a flat immediately. Adam gets a job in the nearby cafe with a little of Michael's help faking all his documents. Michael doesn't understand the necessity of getting a job. He can materialise money after all. But Adam doesn't want to accept money he did not earn. Also he needs distraction. He needs somewhere to start if he's ever getting his life back. Michael doesn't get it for a long time but doesn't oppose the teen, instead simply observing.

'Why do you want to become a servant to get some paper? I can create it for you.' 'Michael I am not a servant. It is called working. And you can't just create money, that's not how life works.' 'At least let me create one of these buildings for you. You can hire other servants to work for you and earn your money.' 'Michael no.'

Adam tells Michael about every small thing he wants to know. 'Why do we have to change clothes so often?' 'Why does everyone stare at those screen things all the time?' 'Why can't you go grab food when you're hungry? Why do we pay for everything? God didn't create you like this.' 'Why does this man in the box pretend to be Lucifer? Lucifer doesn’t live in the City Of Angels anymore. He also couldn't care less about humans or their crimes. What is a nightclub? Why do you watch this ridiculous man?'

When Michael gets his own vessel he fakes his own documents with Adam's help. When Adam sees the fake ID he is frozen where he stands for a few seconds. He asks Michael why he did something like that when they had already chosen his fake name along with his fake parents' and his age. Michael just shrugs and tells Adam that 'Michael Milligan' sounds better than anything else and is more familiar.

Michael Milligan is 25 and he never went to college as he lost his parents at a car accident a few years ago. He works at the cafe with Adam.

When they fight it usually turns into a small battle. Michael wrongly pairs all Adam's socks and makes him search for a pair for ten minutes. Adam just wears some of Michael's and claims everything he wears once as his own. Michael starts stealing Adam's t-shirts and hoodies as counter.

Once Adam got really pissed and tried to eBay Michael for 50$. He wrote Michael's number there and watched with glee as Michael received numerous spam calls for the 'Archangel for Sale' for two whole days before he took pity on Michael.

They marathon Disney movies and other things about angels. Michael's favorite so far is Frozen. He likes Elsa because she reminds him of Lucifer. He also likes Good Omens.

Once when he was still not fully recovered from the Cage, Michael had some kind of angel fever. It was nothing serious or dangerous. Michael was just cute and grumpy for five days. Adam made sure to get as many photos of him sleeping on the couch with his Elsa blanket Adam got him as a joke as he can manage and fed him everything he likes.

Michael once lost Adam in the grocery store and couldn't find him because of the enochian seals in his ribs. He just went to a cash register and sat there for ten minutes sulking. In the end the cashier made an announcement for Adam Milligan whose kid was waiting there. Adam came runnig and laughing. They got him a phone of his own after that incident.

'You have reached the voicemail of-' 'What do you need my name for? Is this another strange human custom?' 'The person you have called can not be reached at the moment. Please try again later.' 'Who are you woman? Why do you have Adam's phone?'

Adam makes Michael listen to Christian Rock. Like Skillet or Flyleaf. Michael sings All Around Me for weeks.

They eventually go to Kate and Adam's house. Adam gets the place back but can't bring himself to move back in there. He rents it to a single mom with a baby girl for half its worth.

Adam studies through the nights on final week. Michael just sits on the fluffy carpet and quietly flips through the books Adam puts down. He sometimes helps Adam as he is perfect at algebra and organic chemistry. After Lucifer moves in, he helps most of the time instead of Michael because he is a better tutor according to Adam and he really wants to do something for the teen.

After Lucifer first came to their house, he tried to spoil Adam by snapping five star restaurant dinners and luxury hot tubs into the flat. Just like he told Michael, he tells Lucifer that he doesn’t need to constantly give or be perfect to earn love. In fact, love isn't earned. It just doesn't work like that. Like he guessed, Kate Milligan's exact words get to him too.

They play card and video games together. In the first week after Lucifer arrives, Adam suggests a game night for the brothers to spend time. They make snacks and sit down. Turns out Lucifer doesn't know poker. Even Michael learned it from the TV and internet. The two of them spend the night teaching Lucifer the game.

Adam asks when Lucifer was born. The younger archangel doesn't know his birthday. So Adam asks Michael and tells him to calculate exact date on the human calender. That year Lucifer gets his very first birthday party. Adam and Michael bake a big cake together and invite their friends. Gabriel and Raphael appear two. While the youngest of the four is familiar with the concept and immediately starts stuffing his face with cake, Raphael doesn't understand much. Sam isn't really too comfortable around Lucifer but still comes anyway. Dean grumbles something about how he wouldn't have believed it if he had been told that he would celebrate the Devil's birthday back at the Apocalypse. Castiel is almost as clueless as Raphael. Somehow they all survive the night without any incidents. Except Adam and Michael who got Lucifer a camera, no one remembers bringing gifts. It doesn't matter though. For the first time ever, someone told Lucifer that his existence is something to be celebrated and Michael is the happiest Adam has ever seen him as he hugs his brother. Adam discreetly snaps a photo in Lucifer's new camera of them laughing with arms around each other and Michael ruffling Lucifer's hair.

Michael's birthday is the same as Adam's. Theirs is after Lucifer's so the party is even better this time around. Even Raphael who doesn't like Adam very much softens when Adam pulls him in for a hug instead of the offered handshake because Michael joins and it is the first time that Raphael is emraced by his older brother. The four archangels tell their funniest stories all night. Like how Lucifer accidentally seperated the continents while secretly playing with Michael's sword or how a toddler Gabriel broke into God's work room once and created the most absurd animals while playing there. In the end, Michael too used to sleeping after months of living with Adam dozes of and all three of his brothers snuggle against him eventhough Raphael is a little hesitant at first. They make another perfect picture for Adams album.

Michael and Adam get a car after a year and a half of living together. Teaching Michael to drive is hard. The archangel just zaps the whole vehicle when they are stuck in traffic. He has no patience for that when he can just fly.

The neighbour's teen daughter has a crush on Michael. The girl hits on him a few times. Adam makes fun of Michael who is pretty oblivious for days once he notices. Jokingly he tells Michael that maybe he could get her something for Valentine's and ask her out. Michael asks about the specific holiday in all seriousty. Adam wakes to find Lucifer and Michael trying to make chocolate and arguing in whispers at 5 a.m. on the day. He just goes back to bed and pretends to not see them. The chocolate tastes awful. But Adam still smiles and thanks Michael because it's too cute how Lucifer ushers him into the living room and gives his brother a thumbs up when Michael wants to just change his mind. His gift for Michael is a little different. He gives him the photo album he handmade and tells Michael that he cherishes all their moments together.

They adopt a kitten. At first Michael doesn't want an animal in the house. One mere week later though Adam finds him sleeping with the small thing sprawled over Michael's chest. The little ball of fur ironically named Michelle by his previous owner never stops following Michael around after that.

Lucifer and Michael constantly go back between Heaven and Earth after some time. Just helping rebuild their childhood home. They take Adam to Kate's heaven. When the teen sees how peaceful and happy the place is, he also feels better. Kate's spirit has heard Michael's prayer back at her grave and she gives them her blessing.

They don't have a ceremony. They just change their documentation again and have a small celebration much like the birthdays with wedding cake and drinks. Sam and Dean give Michael the 'you break his heart, we break your face' talk. Raphael asks if he can make a speech and Lucifer carries their rings, turning the moment into some kind of ceremony anyway.

Michael introduces Adam as his mate to all other angels. The Heaven celebrates too. All the angels Adam and Michael helped have befriended the human after all.

Lucifer permanently moves to Heaven. Adam and Michael finally move into the Milligan house after their tennant finds a new job and moves to the other side of the city. With the new photos, Michael's Elsa blanket draped over the couch which ,Gabriel makes fun of non stop, the other archangels' leftover stuff the house becomes a home again.

Part 1

[onepdumpsterfire]

Eviction

#1 in the modern living series 

(Man is writing in third person hard for me. haha i might just change to first person for the rest of the series.)

Summary: Ace just wants the moving to stop, Sabo is the most responsible of the three and Luffy thinks m&m dominoes is bullshit.

Word Count: 1798

Ace . Sabo . Luffy . Sanji . Nami

Out in the countryside, where neighbors were half a mile away from each other, stood a house filled with memories long passed. Boxes littered its hallways as its normally rambunctious inhabitants sullenly grumbled their way through their belongings.

“This is stupid!” Luffy yelled while throwing down the blanket he was folding. “Gramps owns this place, they can’t just kick us out!”

“We’ve been through this, Luff,” Sabo said while gesturing at Ace to keep putting away clothes. “The city sent Garp invoices about the property, and since he’s never here the city just decided to go through with demolishing this place and build the extension of the highway here anyway.”

“But still! They can’t just kick us out!”

“Yeah. They can,” Ace retorted, once again giving up on folding. “It’s called ‘Eminent Domain’. They can take it if it’s for public use, and since we aren’t on the lease for the house we gotta wait till gramps gets back to get the money the city’s paying for the property.”

“... so we sold our house?”

“No, they’re taking it; but legally they can’t without giving us compensation for it.”

Pouting, Luffy huffed about how he didn’t see what m&m dominoes had to do with a highway being built on their home. “Don’t worry about it too much, Luff.” Sabo interrupted his disgruntled brother, “one way or another, construction already started. It’s too late to change anything.”

“Which brings me to my next point,” the blond turns to Ace, who averts his gaze to a far off corner in an attempt to try and remove himself from the situation. “They gave us until the end of the month and we’re already two weeks away! Have you even packed your room?” The question was more rhetorical than anything. Sabo already knew the answer, but if he didn’t antagonize his brother now he’d never get it done.

“I...have?”

“Why does your answer sound like a question? Y’know putting your clothes in the laundry basket doesn’t count as packing.”

“But they are put away,” Ace looked back at Sabo with a shit-eating smile and a pointed finger that dared the other to question him again.

“Have you taken down your posters? Or put away your covers and comics?”

Though, Ace should have thought better than to start a battle with someone who had an arsenal compared to his one bullet. “Were you just planning on moving without them?” Slowly, Ace’s finger deflated and cold sweat appeared on his brow.

The two had the same fight every time they had to move. 

Ace hated moving, but in a military family, all they did was move.

It happened every few months and yet he could never be bothered to do it until the very last second, when everyone else already had taken all their stuff.

Garp thought that this might have been his way of rebelling against it, but one thing Ace hated more was being left behind; so he’d wait until his anxiety got too much and then pack in a panic.

Eventually, though, Ace started to plan to move out on his own. That’s when Garp, begrudgingly, told them they could move to a house he owned. To where Luffy grew up before Dragon (Luffy’s father and Garp’s son) left for the military to follow in Garp’s footsteps. Before all the moving started. Before Ace and Sabo were adopted by him.

It may have been a more rural area than the apartments they usually lived in but that meant there was more space for ‘outdoor adventures’ as Luffy put it. (Not to mention he really wanted to introduce them to the two neighbor kids he’d made friends with and still kept in touch with from when he was little). Nonetheless, the other two just liked finally having a permanent place to call home.

However, until after they moved did they realize that it meant they would get to see Garp less. Garp used to show up about every two weeks then every few months was moved to a new station, but now they’ll only get to see him whenever he had enough time to fly all the way to visit them. 

As cold as it may sounds, they soon decided that they’d have to get used to it eventually and moved on pretty quickly. They were about to start their twenties, eventually, they were going to have to. (It wasn’t like he was around that often, to begin with anyway.) And with that, they moved to the countryside, though they would have never guessed that almost half a year later they were going to get an eviction notice.

The city thought there was no one living there, Garp having never answered the invoices or being there when they visited, so they moved on with expanding the city. But after the three showed up it had to be delayed. The city sent another notice that the three had to send to Garp, but this time it was telling them they needed to move out by the end of the month. At first, Garp told them not to worry about it, that he’d solve it. Though, one week later it became apparent that there was no way of changing the city's mind. 

The three boys decided that they’d move into an affordable two-bedroom apartment that Garp helped them get. Though, after the initial month, they’d have to find a way to start paying bills and such on their own. 

Sabo wanted to move out as soon as possible but if Ace kept up his usual antics, moving would have to go on hold until he could persuade the man-child to get a move on.

“Can you take this a bit more seriously?” Sabo wanted to continue to pester Ace until he did as told, but a sudden knock at the door stopped their bickering. “Just go pack your room.” 

“Saved by the bell,” Reclining back on his seat, Ace ignored him once again, “We have like two days left, man. It won’t take long to pack, so I can just do it later.” 

“I’m serious, Ace!” Sabo shouted from the front door before opening it up to see their red-headed neighbor. 

“Hey Nami, they’re in the hall clearing out a closet.”

“Okay, I got some boxes in my truck,” she pointed behind herself.

“I got them, you guys start eating without me.” Sabo moved aside so she could come inside before exiting himself to get the boxes.

“I’m back!” Nami set the pizza boxes down on the kitchen counter, “and I brought food!”

“Food!” Luffy dropped what he was doing and ran to her side. ”Thanks, Nami!”

“Sweet,” jumping up, Ace walked straight to the fridge “I’ll get us some drinks.”

“Your brother is getting some boxes from my car, by the way,” Nami said loudly, in the off chance either of them cared at the moment. “Greeeaaat. More boxes, just what we needed.” Ace commented sarcastically while handing out some sodas. 

“Don’t be an ass,” Sabo came in holding three boxes stacked on top of each other, “I’ll put these in your room for when you start packing.”

“Do as you please your royal highness.” Ace jeered, “just so you know, if you come back and there’s no pizza, it’s your fault.” 

“It’s right down the hall, I’m not gonna take long.”

“Yeah, but Luffy just tried to put three slices in his mouth.”

“Mook! Ah c-ah-n mut soar shlifesh im my mouf!” (translation: look! I can put four slices in my mouth!)  That was Luffy gargling over a mouth full of pizza. “obbb!” (translation: oww!) And that was Nami hitting him on the head for talking with his mouth full

“Stop stuffing your face, and eat normally!” 

“...Make that four...”

-

After their lunch, they all started packing everything into the U-haul moving truck they’d rented earlier that day, and finally, they called up Sanji to tell him they were on their way.

Sanji is someone Luffy met a couple of days after they’d moved into town, and pestered into coming over to hang out with him and his brothers. They’d all hit it off pretty fast after that, so much so that when their home was set to be demolished Sanji was the one who suggested they move into the same apartments as him and even helped them checklist everything they needed for first-time renters then offered to help them move in.

One long trip and much lifting later, everything they needed from the house was moved into the apartment and the rest of the stuff was either thrown away or kept in Nami’s shed until they could sell it in the flea market or a thrift store (this includes any of Garp’s belongings that weren’t sent to him.)

With exhaustion pulling down on her and an awaiting hour drive back to her home, Nami left the boys to finish the rest by themselves. “Alright, it’s getting pretty late so I’m gonna head out.” a chorus of tired goodbyes followed her to the door, “call me if you guys need anything.”

Getting up from his position on the couch they’d just dragged in, Sabo walked her to the door. “Yeah. Thanks, again, for helping out today.” 

“Don’t worry about,” Nami playfully pushed at his shoulder, “but if you wanna repay me then how about helping me out in next year’s summer market?” Chuckling, Sabo agreed to her request.

“Hey! Wait up, I’ll walk you to your car.” Sanji went to stand next to Sabo, “I have class early in the morning and should get some rest.”

Repeating their goodbyes one final time, the two left the boys to their first night at their new home.

Bonus:

Immediately after they both left Ace fell asleep on the couch, already knowing what Sabo wanted them to do next.

“Oi, wake up!” Sabo shook him by the shoulders, “we still gotta put the bed frames back together!” though to no surprise he didn’t budge.

Giving a sigh of surrender, he turned to Luffy, “guess we’re gonna ha- oohoho both of you are pieces of shit.”

While Sabo was busy trying to wake Ace up, Luffy made himself comfortable on the floor next to Ace and fell asleep.

“Fine! Fine, I’ll do it myself.” The blond threw his hands in the air while walking away to a bedroom to re-build the bed frames. “I hope both of you get a crick in your neck.”

Ace and Luffy opened an eye to sneakily check if the coast was clear before high-fiving each other and actually falling asleep.

[providentially-demonic]

Necromantic Mistakes

Based on this drawing by @ectoimp. 

Arthur had always dreamed in technicolor, bright violets and soft blues and warm reds filling his restless sleep. After that night in the cave, the colors changed, acid greens and splashes of bold crimson and delicate pinkish-purples that did their best to drive the other, less pleasant colors away. Nights after their reunion with Vivi had been better, sea tones creeping back into his slumber, and holding the line against the darker shades.

Tonights dream was different, first in that he was certain he was dreaming and second, that everything was black except for a hellish orange light that wrapped around his limbs, holding him immobile one moment and then forcing reluctant movement that he fought against with everything in him, remembering with terror the last time his body had moved without his permission. He looked down at his arms, trying to claw at the lurid orange that held him, but his claws weren’t there, replaced with blunt nails on massive tanned hands below white sleeves. He knew those hands, having clung to them desperately, both before and after the cavern.

LEWIS!

He came awake like a drowning man, gasping for air and flailing against the sheet tangled around his legs, claws scoring great rents in the linen. His wings beat the air frantically and he tumbled off the couch where he’d been napping.

Unlike the graceless awakening, he landed in a neat crouch, legs tucked under him, ready to spring at some unseen enemy, wings mantled and tail lashing like an angry cat’s. A low growl rumbled in his chest.

Vivi, curled up in an overstuffed armchair with a book, yelped in startlement, the book going flying.

“Artie? Are you okay? What happened?” She sprang to her feet and rushed to him, coming to an abrupt halt a foot away as his growl deepened. “Arthur?” she offered cautiously, empty hands held out soothingly.

It took a moment to orient himself. He straightened up, but the growl wouldn’t stop, only lowering to underscore his words as he asked. “Vivi? Where’s Lewis?”

She relaxed when he came up out of the crouch, her expression settling into a familiar one, the mulish frown she got when she couldn’t make someone understand something. “He and  Mystery went to the store to pick up food for the weekend. I’m hoping they’ll actually talk, not just glare at each other the entire time.” Lewis still hadn’t quite forgiven Mystery for the cave though he mostly kept his temper under control.

Arthur didn’t respond with his usual “Good luck with that.” Sniffing, he prowled to the door and then outside, shifting unconsciously into the faster gait that using his wings afforded him. He loped back and both in front of the cabin a couple of times before heading down what was now a well-worn path through the underbrush to the hidden spot where they parked the van. Vivi followed him but he had no mind for her, all his attention on that tenuous feeling of wrongness that had been burning under his breastbone since waking. It strengthened the farther he got down the path.

Vivi had the sense not to distract him, only trotting grimly in his wake, her baseball bat clenched in white-knuckled hands.

The van wasn’t parked there, and Arthur moved unerringly over the crushed grasses toward the road. He hesitated only long enough at the edge of the trees to be sure no one was coming and loped out onto the blacktop, turning toward town after a moment of hesitation.

Vivi gamely tried to keep up with his quadrupedal stride, but kept falling behind. As much as it chafed, Arthur stopped and turned back to her. He dropped into a crouch, wings held carefully out to the side. “Climb on.”

Vivi huffed but obeyed, settling herself against him, piggyback. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and pinning her bat between her stomach and his back, wrapped her arms around his neck. He carefully tucked his hands under her hips and hoisted her up, shifting back into the strange, wing-aided locomotion.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on, Artie?” She asked in his ear.

Most of his attention still on that wrong feeling, he answered her absently. “Something bad happened to Lewis.”

“What?!” Her shout startled him and he missed a stride, staggering. “How do you know?”

Recovering, Arthur hiked her back up into position. “I-it’s a little hard to explain. Y’know how Lewis and I had been practically in each other’s pockets, when we were tr— stuck in the cave? And even after, living in the cabin, we’ve been really close. Sometimes, like— I know when he’s— he’s having a, he calls ‘em ‘moments’— but they’re basically breakdowns, when it hits him again, what happened. Him dying and me— turning into this.” The sound of an engine reached them and Arthur darted off the road and into the treeline. When the car had passed, Arthur took to the road again. “I know when they’re coming and do my best to help him through them, and I can always tell when it’s working. I kinda sense it, I guess. That dream I had, that I woke up all weird from? I knew something had happened to him.”

“That’s strange,” Vivi said thoughtfully. “I had no idea you were... sounds like you’re empathic.”

“Dunno if that’s what you’d call it, honestly. I just know when something’s wrong, and right now—? It’s way wrong.”

He missed his stride again, but this time it wasn’t any of Vivi’s doing. This time it was because of the sight ahead of him, the van pointing back towards the way they had come, pulled onto the graveled edge, driver’s door hanging forlornly open. Vivi cursed in his ear, and he let her down, his attention centered on the van and the door standing sadly open.

He let his clawed fingers brush the metal, warm in the sun, as Vivi circled the van, to report that the back door was hanging open too. Arthur concentrated his attention on that tenuous feeling of Lewis. His nose twitched, reporting an acrid scent, and suddenly he knew what he was smelling, the sour fear-sweat of three other men. He hadn’t even known he could do that, and he tried to catalogue every bit of information as quickly as he could, before this new heightened sense abandoned him. One of them had a musky, dry-paper odor that it took a minute to recognize. He was still trying to place it when Vivi spoke up.

“It can’t have been that long ago,” Vivi reported, pulling her hand from one of the bags of groceries he could see over the back of the seats. “The refrigerated stuff that he didn’t manage to cram into the cooler,” She flicked a finger at the sadly battered ice chest. “— Is still cool to the touch.”

He itched his nose with a blunted claw. “Don’t ask me how I can suddenly do it, because I don’t know— but I can smell three other people— men— here. The were afraid. One of them smells like—” he brightened, finally able to place the smell. Vivi was not a casual drinker but she used sake— rice wine— in her spells sometimes. “Like alcohol, specifically sake.”

Vivi frowned. “Why booze? Unless one of them needed some liquid courage?” Then she brightened. “Can you track them that way?”

“Do I look like a bloodhound? I barely even knew how to do this much!” Arthur grimaced, gesturing at himself.

Vivi flicked the tip of his nose. “Okay, but how did you get this far?”

Batting her fingers away, Arthur scowled at her. “Because this is the only road to the store, dammit!”

“Before that. You knew Lewis was in trouble. How?” Vivi folded her arms, implacable.

“I— I dreamed it.”

“You said it, yourself. Because you two are connected.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Vi! Do you think I wouldn’t be right behind him if it did?” Arthur growled.

“Then tell me, which way didn’t they go?”

His left wing unfolded and stabbed the thumb-claw toward the way they had come. Arthur stared at his wing in consternation. “How—?”

Vivi stepped close enough to cup his cheek. “Because you are connected. You can find him through that. Now, c’mon. Help me track down our boyfriend.”

Arthur flushed a muddy brown color. “Vi! He’s not— we’re not—!”

“Only because we never asked formally, you silly greenbean.” Vivi chided. “But we can talk about that later— let’s go get him back first. Onward, noble steed!”

“Vivi!”

“Don’t you Vivi me. You’re faster than I am, even carrying me.” She folded her arms and nodded firmly. “Let’s go find our ghost.”

Arthur snorted at her, but climbed up into the van. The keys were still in the ignition, another worrying sign, but it made it easier. “We’ll take the van as far as we can. Hopefully we won’t have to go off-road again.”

Vivi rolled her eyes but shut the rear door and slid into the passenger’s seat. “Aww, no fun, I wanted to go charging into battle astride my noble steed!”

“No.” Arthur started the van and followed the strange link he had to Lewis. It led them down the dusty highway and to a graveled road running between between two wheat fields. Even in the van, they could not see over the tops of the rows. After he’d gone a few miles, Arthur stopped the van. “We’re close. Should probably go on foot from here.  I don’t know if whoever took Lewis and Mystery are expecting us.”

Vivi nodded grimly. “Expected or not, they’re getting us and my bat to the face if they try to stop us.”

Arthur didn’t lock the van, but took the keys, just in case they needed to make a quick getaway. They slid into the waving wheat, headed for the dark treeline that marked the end of the field. The ground rose slightly underfoot and the closer they got to the trees, the more rocks poked out of the earth. It was much darker under the branches and instinctively Arthur hurried his pace. He didn’t like the feel of this place, with its tangled branches and utter absence of the almost welcoming feel of the forest around their cabin. Vivi clung close to his side.

The strip of trees ended abruptly, marked by the tumbledown remains of a wooden fence that was easily stepped over. Beyond it was a stretch of blacktop. “Where are we?” Vivi murmured softly. “It feels like I should know— Arthur?”

Arthur was frozen in place, his wings half-spread and the tuft of hair on the end of his tail puffed like that of a frightened cat. His clawed feet were inches from the shattered remains of a boulder— one that almost looked— scorched. “I— it can’t be.”

He reached a shaking hand out and carefully brushed his fingers over the stone. There was  faint tingle in his fingertips, but nothing like the remembered sting.

He looked up, and up, at where the ground had risen steeply, and into the eerie face of the last place he had ever wanted to see again.

He started shaking so hard his wings rattled. “Vi—” his voice came out small and frightened. “I—”

Vivi was right beside him. “Hey, Arthur, breathe.”

He sucked in a gulp of air that lodged in his throat like a stone. “The cave—”

Vivi’s eyes widened in understanding and she glanced up at the menacing face of the craggy rocks. “Oh— I thought it looked familiar.”

Arthur had never had clearer proof of the fact that there were still some tiny gaps in her memory. She remembered most everything that had happened, but once in a while she would get a puzzled look when there was a blank. He bit hard on his bottom lip, the sting of his fang breaking skin giving him something to ground himself with. Gulping a deep breath, he shook himself all over, like a wet dog. “C’mon. W-we have to save Lewis....and Mystery.”

Still gripping her bat with the other, she slipped the fingers of one hand into his. He gave her fingers a squeeze, and started forward, avoiding the blackened remains of the boulder that had seal— He shook that thought off. No. Saving the others was all that mattered.

The entrance to the cave was much like how he remembered it, but for the tattered remains of some yellow, ‘Police line- Do Not Cross’ tape fluttering in the breeze from the entrance. It was a stark reminder of just what they had left in the cave.

At the fork in the path, he was torn between relief and dismay that the faint feeling of Lewis led to the lower path. He didn’t think he had the nerve to climb the other way, not again. Not ever. But he still didn’t want to see the lower part. Most of his memories of it were hazy with fever and delirium, but he knew what they would find. The police might have removed Lew— the remains, but he was betting the signs of what had happened were still there. The closer they got to the bottom of the cave, the tenser he got. “Vi— I gotta warn you, um— we— we both fell down here... It’s not— not gonna be a pretty sight.”

Her button nose scrunched, Vivi glanced around. “Wasn’t it... greener?”

She was right. Though the cave was still smelled of dank stone, and water dripped somewhere in the distance, the green fog that had characterized most of his earlier memories of the cave was gone. Gone but not forgotten, he thought as he stretched a wingtip into his line of sight as a balance over a rough patch. That green tone was now a part of him, as much as his hated claws.

“The mist is gone.” He knew his tone sounded a little short, but Vivi gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

The tunnel before them opened up and Arthur instinctively flinched from the sight of the towering stalagmites. Several of them were stained a disturbing rust brown, and other, less pleasant colors. Behind her glasses, Vivi’s eyes went wide and she made a sick sound low in her throat, dropping her bat to clap fingers over her mouth.

Arthur stopped in front of her, lifting a wing to block her view of the offending stones. “Hey, Vi, breathe.  C’mon, it’s okay.”

Her eyes were wet as she irritatedly glared up at him. “It is not okay, you ninny!. I just— how badly you two must have suffered—?” She waved past his blocking wing. “I knew, I can remember some of it, but—” Her voice broke on a choked sob and she lunged forward to squeeze him tightly around the waist.

Arthur curled wings and tail around her, holding her close. He gave her the minute she needed, the closeness, the reassurance. But he couldn’t give her more than that. “It was bad, for both of us. But we have to find Lew and get him out of here, okay? Everything else, it can wait.”

Vivi pursed her lips and Arthur could almost hear her thinking that they had waited too long to talk about this, but she had to concede the point. Being here wasn’t doing her any good, certainly wasn’t doing Arthur any good, and she was sure Lewis was no better off. She lifted a balled fist and scrubbed at her stinging eyes. “R-right. We have to find Lewis.”

Arthur heaved a sigh and drew his wings back, but his tail, as usual, had a mind of it’s own and clung tightly to Vivi’s waist. She didn’t seem to mind, running her fingers briefly over the tuft of hair at the end, before groping for the bat she had dropped in her desperate hug.

Arthur shivered the skin of his wings a little, trying to shake off the sick feeling that just being here gave him. It took a long moment before he was able to get back the concentration needed to find the tiny trace of Lewis. It led further down, away from the fatal stone spires. He hadn’t even known there was more to the cave, but past the field of stalagmites the floor dropped into a slope, rough walls crowding close. It— felt older here— not just in the age of the cave, but like they were headed into a place never meant for human eyes.

He could still see easily enough, but Vivi’s steps had slowed, faltering. She stumbled a little and clung to his arm to steady herself. “I can’t see anything,” she muttered softly. “A flashlight would be nice, but I don’t want whoever took them to see us coming.”

Arthur managed a weak huff of laughter. “You just want to ride in on your ‘noble steed’.”

“How dare.” Vivi poked the arm she clung to. “But, yes. Onward, my faithful mount.”

“Watch it or I’ll—”

“What?”

Grumbling, Arthur crouched and guided her back into place on his back, dropping his wingtips to the floor for balance, until she was settled. “Just hold on,” he muttered, dropping back down into the graceless, but infinitely faster, strange wing-aided movement he had developed.

The way narrowed again, and Arthur could hear the plinking of water. This part of the cave was still live, with water still shaping the rocks. He could smell wet stone, and although the cave appeared in gray-scale, he could see where water had smoothed the tunnel floor, the rock damp beneath his feet and wing-claws.

A sound echoed to him and he froze in place, straining to hear better. There was silence and then a mournful sound, almost a whine, rebounded from the stone around them. This time Vivi heard it to and stiffened against his back, her grip on his shoulders tightening. “Mystery—” she breathed.

He sped his pace, blunted claws sometimes slipping on the increasingly damp stone. He could now hear voices, carried by the acoustics of the tunnel, but could not make out what they were saying. None of them were Lewis’s familiar baritone though, and fear clenched his heart in an ice-cold fist. He rounded a curve in the tunnel, and suddenly could see color again, the warm amber and reds of firelight, glowing softly from further ahead.

“ — Isn’t it working?”

“I don’t know. This is where he died, the spell led us to this cave and we gathered his blood from the rocks. It should be working!” The voice, heavy with an unfamiliar accent, growled angrily.

Arthur crouched and let Vivi slide down off his back. She edged forward, back to the wall.

Another whine, louder this time, brought a curse. “Dose the beast again, it’s ruining my concentration!”

“I doubt it’s the beast ruining your concentration,” a third voice added, sarcasm dripping from the tone. “And you might want to try a little harder. We’re running out of sake and I don’t wanna be here when that wakes up from the stupor.”

“Then, shut up and let me work. Do your job instead of harping on about that,” answered the accented voice. “Once the spell works, we’ll have all the power of this revenant at our fingertips and you won’t have to worry your pretty little head about the oversized mutt.”

“I’m gonna enjoy using your pet ghost to fry this stupid kitsune.” The first speaker muttered. “Look what it did to my hand!”

“I told you not to get so close!”

“And how else were you intending to get the stuff down it’s gullet? You’re just lucky that I realized what it was back there in the store. You two have no idea how to deal with anything that’s not a ghost!”

“Two hundred dollars worth of booze should put anything on the floor.” snarked the other speaker.

“You are an idiot.”

“You're both idiots. Shut the creature up and let me work.”

Arthur growled softly, edging forward and hoping for a glimpse of what lay ahead.

A new sound shot a spear of ice right through him. The pained groan carried the strange distortion that Lewis’s voice had gained since the night his life had ended here.

The snarl ripped out of his throat before he was even aware of making a sound and he sprang forward. The ground dropped abruptly away beneath his feet, but all he could see was Lewis beneath him, lying spread-eagled on a flat slab of stone, sickly orange magic weaving a cage around him. A man stood above him, Lewis’s anchor clenched in his fist, held over a tiny brazier that burned with that same malignant radiance.

His wings snapped open, caught air, and drove him like a bullet toward the man holding Lewis’s literal heart in his hand. A wild, shrieking cry of rage tore out of his chest and four sets of claws arrowed down on the target of his fury.

“What the fuck, man?”

He heard the cry, but it was meaningless. Red rage and the sight of the golden locket, its color dimmed by the sickly orange, was all that filled his vision. He hit the man with a solid whump, feet first, growling ferally as he crouched over the now prone figure. His blunted claws still left lines of red on the man’s hand as he snatched Lewis’s anchor away. He cradled it close to his chest and leaned down to snarl in the terrified face of the man under his feet, wings mantled over them. A faint gold light underscored the wanna-be necromancer’s pale, sweating features, picking out the horror in his bloodshot eyes. “Don’t take what isn’t yours,” he snarled, low and menacing.

A thin, terrified whine was all that escaped the man’s slack lips.

Vivi’s wild attack yodel finally got through the rage and Arthur lifted his head. “Don’t move if you know what’s good for you,” he snarled down at his hapless prisoner, before turning his attention to the rest of the cave.

One of the other men, the one with a bandaged hand, was already face down next to the furry lump that was a hog-tied Mystery. Vivi was whaling on the third, who was trying to defend himself with a short knife and a hardcover book. Scrapes on one thigh and a tear in her skirt indicated how she’d got down the steep sloping drop-off.

Even as Arthur watched, she knocked the knife away with her bat and kicked her opponent in the balls with far more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary. He went down with an agonized scream. Wincing in instinctive sympathy, Arthur abandoned the gibbering necromancer. Lewis was still pinned to the stone by the orange light emanating from the brazier. His first instinct was to knock it over, but something told him that wouldn’t help.

Instead, he gingerly picked the whole thing up and headed for where he heard the splashing of water. Water dripping down from stalactites had formed a pool, and he chucked the brazier into the water. Hissing, it threw up a cloud of steam and the orange bonds holding Lewis vanished like the remnants of a bad dream.

Vivi was across the floor in a heartbeat, flinging herself on Lewis in a hug. He sat up, closed his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. “Vivi—”

Glancing over to make sure their opponents were staying where they had been put, Arthur hurried over to them. Scratching the back of his neck with one hand, he offered Lewis his anchor back. “You need to stop losing this.”

“R-right,” Lewis’s laugh was a little watery and he was clinging to Vivi like he would never let go.

Without looking up, Vivi caught the wrist of Arthur’s extended hand and dragged him down into the embrace. Lewis freed one arm from her and wrapped it around Arthur’s waist with desperate strength.

Sighing with relief, Arthur closed his wings around the two of them.

A whimper from Mystery broke the moment and Vivi huffed a tearful laugh. “Suppose I should go untie him.”

Arthur reluctantly let her go, but Lewis held onto one of her elbows and followed her over to the prone kitsune. She knelt beside Mystery and began picking at the knotted ropes around his legs. Mystery stirred and flopped his heavy head in her lap while she did.

“Phew, your breath reeks,” she chided.

“Ish no’ my fault.” Mystery roused enough to say. He hiccuped mournfully. “Thish time.”

Lewis groaned. “Don’t start this again.”

“Start what?”

“They clocked him a good one when they grabbed us, but to  keep him from using his magic, they started pouring booze down his throat.” Lewis pointed at the unconscious one with the bandaged hand. “He knew the story that being drunk screws with a kitsune’s magic. Unfortunately, Mystery gets very maudlin when he’s not sober.”

“I shcrewed up and tried t’ kill Arthur,” Mystery pronounced woefully. “Nobody’ll trusht me anymore.”

“Shh,” Vivi said. “You stopped attacking Arthur, remember?”

“But I shtill didn’ believe in him.”

Arthur snorted. “Join the club. I didn’t always believe in me either.”

Vivi huffed, but finished untying Mystery. “Enough recriminations over the past. We made it through, all of us. Mystery, small form, please. I am not dragging twenty feet of drunk fox out of here.”

While Mystery tried to untangle himself enough to stand up, Arthur cocked a thumb at the erstwhile necromancer and his assistants. “What do we do with these yahoos?”

Mystery looked up, a little cross-eyed. “I could alwaysh eat them.”

"We'll save that as a secondary option," Vivi's tone was grim. She stood up and dusted off her torn skirt. Picking up the book from where it had fallen, she marched over to the leader of the group. He had gotten to his knees and she expertly brought to heavy tome up under his chin. His teeth clicked together from the force she put behind it. She bent slightly to meet his eyes. "You made a very large mistake in trying to take one of my boys. I don't suffer interlopers in my territory very nicely. I advise you to move along, and if you know what's good for you, leave Texas entirely.

"You see," she grinned a little too broadly. "We know you and your magic now... and if you try it again, we'll know. And we'll come looking."

His frightened eyes skittered over Lewis, Arthur and Mystery, and Arthur could almost see the calculations going on in his head. A ghost, a kitsune and a demon... that she called hers.

"W-what are you? A—"

Her smile was sharp enough to draw blood. "Oh, I assure you, whatever you're thinking—" she leaned close and dropped her voice to a whisper. "I'm much worse."

She lowered the book. "Now run along, little spellcaster, and think about what you've done..."

Gulping harshly, he scrambled to his feet, roused his moaning companion and between them hefted the unconscious one. They headed for a different tunnel than the one they had come through and vanished into the darkness.

Lewis waited until they could no longer hear them before laughing. "Vi—!"

She grinned at him. "What? I think I put a good fright in them. Plus I've got their spellbook." She sauntered over and threw an arm around his waist and the other around Arthur's. "I didn't really lie. I don't like wannabe necromancers messing around here. And if he messes with my boyfriends or doggo again, I will be his worst nightmare."

A/N: I waffled so long on posting this. Drunk, maudlin Mystery is all @phantoms-lair‘s fault. The reason the spell for controlling Lewis entirely wasn’t working? They used blood scraped off the wrong stalagmite.