#incredibly stressed and slow. still have big love for everything in my drafts and will be sending memes out to people and liking starter

[ninkaku]

obligatory writing - hiatus notice !!! i won’t be here from 19/03 … 31/03 because i’m travelling to the states to see my girrrrrrrlfriend 🤪✌️ i might post a little, rb a little … general chatter to be had but for the most part my blogs will be empty caverns. rip </3 17hr travel day ahead of me i hope i live through it !!! 😵‍💫

[boldlyvoid]

Million Dollar Man | Chapter Five

18+

summary: Spencer's therapist recommended he branch out and meet new people who don't want to talk about his work... she didn't expect him to sign up for a Sugar Daddy website.

Content warnings: sugar daddy!spencer, age gaps (14 years), daddy kink, blow jobs, handcuffs, thigh fucking, public sex, exhibitionism, edging, vibrators, dirty talk, dom spencer

word count: 4.6K

a/n: updates on Wednesdays and Saturdays

Chapter Five | Masterlist

He’s ripped from a peaceful slumber by his work phone ringing on the night table. Y/N asleep on his chest, he tries to reach for it without waking her, successfully he answers with a groggy whisper, “hello?”

“Morning sleepy head?” Emily laughs, “it’s 10 am, Reid, why are you whispering?”

“I’m with my girlfriend, she’s still asleep,” he realizes he’s never told the team flat out that he was seeing someone, they all guessed but none of them had really asked.

“Oh,” Emily seems just as shocked that he said it. “We have a local case, I need you here for the geo profile and then you can go back to your mandated break.”

“I’ll be in, in 30,” he replies before hanging up.

“Can I come?” She whispers against him, obviously awake from all the commotion.

“Sure,” he shrugs, “if you don’t mind seeing and hearing about whatever horrific thing happened this time.”

“I don’t,” she sits up and stretches, “come on Mulder, we’ve got a case to crack.”

He laughs, “sure thing Scully.”

—

He’s nervous in the elevator on the way up to the BAU, Y/N on the other hand is so excited she’s practically vibrating. She’s dressed for the part, with her little visitor's badge and Spencer’s hand held tightly in her own, she basically drags him towards the bullpen when the doors open.

“Spence!” Luke calls for him, Tara and Matt turn around with big smiles to see him. “Who’s this?”

“Uh,” Spencer swallows sharply, “this is my girlfriend, Y/N this is Luke, Matt and Tara.”

She lets go of his hand to shake theirs, he watches as they all smile and introduce themselves to her, causing the rest of the team to notice the new person in the room and rush over. They have a lot of questions, they’re all very surprised she’s as young as he was when he started at the bureau and that he’s actually bringing her around.

When he finds out what’s going on, he’s really glad he brought her in. There’s been a few bomb threats in D.C, one of which is the building across from Y/N’s apartment. They’re trying to keep hysteria to a minimum, he knows he wouldn’t have been able to tell her if he didn’t bring her, he also knows he would have broken protocol to get her out of there.

She sits at his desk while he works, looking through all his things for a while before Spencer hears a familiar voice in the bullpen. Penelope was called in for backup, making eye contact with Y/N as soon as she walked in and cheering. “Oh! You’re here!”

Spencer leaves the briefing room, abandoning the geo-profile to introduce Penelope to the girl she helped him find, he runs down the stairs and wraps his arms around her.

“Spencer,” she relaxes into his embrace and holds him close, “I’ve missed you so much.”

When Spencer pulls away, the smile on his face is remarkable, “Penelope, this is Y/N,” he says her name and Penelope automatically knows who she is.

He told her right after he bought her whole Wishlist, Penelope has known about her the longest and yet she’s never been able to meet her. She turns to Y/N with a smile, “are you a hugger?”

Y/N stands and wraps her arms around her, “I think I owe you a very big thank you,” she whispers in Penelope’s ear.

“For what?”

“Teaching grandpa over here how to use the internet,” she teases him, “and for your helpful tips, he was the nicest one I met on there.”

“You’re very welcome,” Penelope pulls back with another smile, holding Y/N’s face in her hands, “and thank you.”

Y/N pulls her into another hug and now everyone is watching, Spencer knows he’s going to be bombarded with questions eventually but for now, Y/N is going with Penelope to her office and Spencer has a map to look at while he stresses himself out.

Matt, Tara and Emily head to the scene to join JJ, Rossi and Will, leaving Luke with Spencer in the briefing room.

“Can I ask?”

Spencer nods, “go ahead.”

“How did you meet her? Was she one of your students?”

He doesn’t know how to answer, not because he’s ashamed of it or of her, rather because he doesn’t know if she’ll want people to really know. “Penelope helped me get online to meet people, I made an account on a sugar daddy website thinking it would be easier to pay someone who doesn’t know me to hang out rather than try and make a new friend.”

“That’s smart,” Luke nods along as he listens. “She seems really cool.”

“She’s the best,” he smiles. “She’s really smart and talented, she’s an author actually, her books coming out in January.”

“I’ll have to get a copy,” Luke smiles right back.

“Her publisher and I have actually planned a big birthday party slash final draft party, if you and the team want to come and have drinks and get to know her more, that would be really nice,” Spencer offers, knowing it’s about time they all celebrated something together.

“I’d love to come, and I’ll bring Penelope,” Luke’s just as excited as he is.

“I’m a little surprised you didn’t know already, being with Penelope and everything?”

He shrugs, “we don’t talk about work or really gossip about the team now that she’s not working here, it makes her a little sad that she left but she’s doing a lot better just coming in occasionally.”

“I didn’t think I’d like my months off at first, either, but now I’m also debating leaving,” he knows it's a lie. He’s already written his letter of recognition, he’s just waiting for the go-ahead from Y/N that they’re moving to California.

“16 years is a really long time to be doing this job,” he agrees, “I’m sure if you wanted to leave the bureau would offer you your full retirement package early, given everything you’ve been through for this country.”

Spencer nods, “don’t let this job take your spark, you’re very wonderful, Luke, and I’d hate to see you lose it for the greater good.”

“My greater good is just down the hall,” he smirks, “I make the world a better place for the woman I love, she’s the reason I get up every day and come to work because I can’t wait to get home to her safely.”

Luke has always loved Penelope, it’s been very obvious, and yet she didn’t want really anything to do with him until Derek advised her to be nice. She was so busy thinking about all her other babies leaving the nest after Derek that she didn’t take the time to consider bringing in Luke to the nest for warmth and love as well.

“When are you asking her to marry you?”

Luke turns bashful, a slight blush on his cheeks as he stares at the table, “Christmas, it’s her favourite time of the year.”

“Have you talked to Derek?” Spencer only worries slightly, after what happened with Kevin he doesn’t want to see it happen to Luke.

“Nope, I’ve talked to her brothers though, we’re going to California again this year for Christmas and they all said they’d love to have me in the family,” Luke smiles, “the Garcias are my favourite.”

Spencer isn’t normally a hugger but he walks around the table and wraps Luke up, “I’m asking Y/N in a week.”

“No way?”

He nods, “she’s the greatest good I’m ever going to get.”

“Amen, brother.”

—

Penelope’s job was incredible, she was in awe as she watched her tap away at her keyboard and answer a million and one questions. She reminded her of Ned from Kim Possible and she knew if she said that to anyone she’d give away just how young she is.

She’s gotten a lot of looks, she knows people are talking about it and yet she doesn’t really care. There isn’t any malice behind the stares and the whispers, they all seem genuinely surprised that Spencer has a girlfriend over the fact she’s in her 20’s.

There’s a single dull moment and she turns to Y/N, “can I please have the juicy details, please,” she begs and it makes her feel giddy.

She’s never really had any girlfriends like this, and she certainly didn’t have anyone to tell about Spencer. “He’s the love of my life, I’m completely serious.”

Penelope squealed, “that’s all I’ve ever wanted for him, ugh this is so exciting! Are you guys serious? How long has it been?”

She nods, “not long, uh he got me this necklace a week or two ago and we’ve been moving pretty slow for his sake. In the last 10 months he’s become my bestie and I’ve convinced him to move in and he sleeps in my bed now and I love waking up beside him… he’s a real gentleman.”

“That’s good, he’s never been able to take the scenic route in life… I know you’re only here cause he trusts you and if he trusts you that means you know everything and if you know ever—“

“Yeah,” she cuts her off, “I know about all of it and everyone who’s hurt him and how he’s hurt himself but what’s more important is that it doesn’t phase me, he’s just a person trying to deal with the life he’s been given, we all are.”

Penelope wraps her up in a gentle hug, “he’s always needed someone like you.”

It makes her heartbreak just a tiny bit thinking about how as long he didn’t have anyone. Sure, he was surrounded by his friends at work and loved enough that they all brought him back home but he was never cared for the way she would have done it. There’s a weird maternal instinct that comes over her with Spencer and she knows exactly why, all she knows is she wants to love him and care for him for the rest of his life.

If she lives to be 100, she hopes he lives to be 116, because there isn’t a day she wants to spend on this earth where Spencer Reid isn’t alive and beside her.

She’s not going to cry in Penelope’s arms after just meeting her so she pulls back with a smile, “but what kind of juicy details are we talking? Cause I can’t embarrass him too bad…”

Penelope’s laugh is evil as she rubs her hands together, “a little birdie whose name rhymes with shmerek said he knows how to use that mouth for more than just talking…”

It makes her laugh almost a little too hard and she starts to feel her face heat up, she simply nods, “yeah, we haven’t gone all the way but from what’s happened so far, I can agree.”

Penelope turns in her rolling chair and laughs, “ugh that’s so great, I’m glad you’re having a good time— I mean I always thought Spencer would be good in bed after all the chats we’ve had about kinks and shit, he’s really educated, obviously, but I always knew that it would translate from paper to real-life very easily.”

“Oh totally,” she nods feverishly, “we talked about that before actually, virginity is simply a construct used to control women and make them feel pure or dirty, to feel like they can take something from a woman and yet virgins are so sexual and in tune with their needs and wants that they typically are good or at least know what to do from whatever porn they’ve consumed when it comes down to it. How the more in tune with someone's sexuality that they are the better they are in bed because they apply what they want to their partner and almost get off more on the fact someone is enjoying them than the fact they’re being pleasured.”

Penelope shakes her head with a loving smile, “you listen when he talks, you love every part of him and you’re beautiful… he really hit the jackpot.”

She brushes it off with a laugh, “I got pretty lucky with him too.”

Her phone rings before she can agree, answering with a cheerful tone, Spencer is on the other end, “do you have my beautiful girlfriend with you still?”

“Present,” she answers for herself, “are you still here, dad-Spence?”

She bites her lip and closes her eyes, fuck.

“Yeah, uh, I am, we think we got the actual building with the bomb, they’ve sent the team down there to clear it and check it out.”

“I’ll head back to the bullpen, then,” she stands and heads to the door, not wanting to face Penelope after almost calling him daddy right in front of her.

“Hey,” she calls to Y/N, “don’t be embarrassed. I get it, believe me, I’ve answered some calls in here with the dirtiest remarks to the completely wrong people. But, I’ll see you later?”

She smiles, “yeah, I’d love to see you again.”

In the bullpen, Spencer’s by his desk all alone. His teams cleared out and now it was just the office staff wandering around. She wraps her arms around his waist and rests her head on his back, “ready to go home?”

“Uh, not yet…” he turns to look at her, “I don’t want to bring you back to D.C unless the case is closed.” He looks nervous and she understands it perfectly.

“Okie Dokie, she smiles, leaning in for a hug to get close to his ear, “can we fuck in a storage closet to pass the time?”

He laughs but he takes her hand and he pretends to take her on a tour, he leads her down the hall and towards the filing room where he knows no one will be. “No one has really used this room in ages, since we went digital, and Penelope had all this stuff put online anyway.”

“So you can bend me over that table and rail me next time we come back?”

“Or?” She hears his playful tone and smirks to herself, letting him manhandle her hands behind her back as he bends her over a table, “I could fuck these big beautiful thighs of yours?”

“So only you can get off? Please,” She scoffs at him, wanting to piss him off to see where it gets her, wiggling her ass back against him as she does so.

He unbuttons her pants and drags them down her legs to leave her in just her thong, taking a handful of her ass and squeezing before laying a hard slap against her, she gasps at the feeling but also at the fact it was so loud.

“They’re going to hear you?!” She whispers with a disappointed tone.

“Isn’t that what you said you wanted? You wanted everyone to know only daddy can take care of you?” He uses her own words against her and she whines. “That’s what I thought.”

“No, but seriously,” she turns her head to look at him, “check my pocket.”

He does exactly that, finding one of her little bullet vibes in the front pocket of her jeans, “you planned this?”

“I knew we’d be having some kind of sex somewhere in this building,” she smirks. “Also my safe word is red but keep going.”

“Alrighty, then,” she can hear the smirk on his face as he thinks it over.

He takes his handcuffs out of his back pocket and cuffs her, “you know, it’s public indecency looking like this in here, technically it’s a federal offence and it’s my duty as a federal officer to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

She swallows sharply, pushing back against his groin and gasping when her bare asscheek meets the cold metal of his gun in his holster. Sometimes she forgot he was a real FBI agent, sometimes it didn’t feel real to her because he was just her nerdy boyfriend and he never had any of his "cop props" with him… suddenly they weren’t just accessories to her anymore, he was actually a cop who just bent her over a table and cuffed her and now he’s going to fuck her "big beautiful thighs" as he called them.

“What’s the sentence, agent?” She plays along because damn he’s hot like this.

He presses his chest to her back as he leans in close to her ear, “It’s doctor, and you know that.”

He turns on the vibrator and rests it inside her underwear, right against her clit at the lowest setting, her thighs twitch at the feeling and all she wishes is that she had something to hold on to.

She whines again when she hears his belt buckle dangle and his zipper open, he grips his cock at the base and drags the head between her cheeks before slipping between her things with a sigh, “and it’s taking my time, you’re just going to have to, rather impatiently, deal with it.”

“Yes, doctor,” she closes her eyes and waits for the feeling of his cock between her legs but he doesn’t push in.

He places his feet on either side of hers so that she can't open her legs any further and finally, finally breaches her thighs. He groans at the drag of his cock against her skin as the vibrations from her panties continue to make her legs quake. She lets out a shaky breath and reaches for his shirt as he presses against her once more. Grabbing his tie instead, she pulls on it and he gasps for air.

“Sorry,” she mumbles with a smirk, not sorry at all for slightly choking him as she continues to hold his tie.

He swats her hands away from his tie and grips the cuffs to separate her hands, pushing them further up her back until it’s almost uncomfortable. The most uncomfortable thing about this was the fact he wasn’t inside of her, she felt so empty as she clenched around nothing. The stimulation on her clit was nice, the feeling of him taking her from behind is ungodly and yet he’s not in her. It’s the worst punishment in the whole world.

It was nowhere near enough to get her off and he knew that she wanted so much more that she wasn’t going to get, whining as he kept his thrusts at the same slow pace. It was agonizing, she squeezed her legs together more to tease him but he ended up liking it. There was nothing she could do for more, she was just going to have to let him take her, and that thought was what brought her closer.

“Please?” She begged, sounding just as desperate as she thought she would and not giving a single fuck.

“Please what?” He snaps his hips against her just a bit harder with each thrust.

She gasps again before biting her lip to hold back a moan, “finish in my mouth?” She begs once more, “please?”

He pulls off of her and yanks her off the table, turning her around, she drops to her knees without being told and opens her mouth immediately. He grips her by her hair and guides her towards his cock, slipping it past her lips and right down her throat.

He groans at the feeling, she closes her eyes for a moment to enjoy the feeling of his heavy cock in her mouth. Taking him more forcefully than ever before, he’s too caught up in the moment to realize he might be a little too rough but she also doesn’t mind. Breathing through her nose to stay calm she takes him as far as she can, pressing her nose to his pubes he can feel how hot her breath is as she struggles to breathe.

“Such a good girl,” he pulls her off so she can breathe for a moment, “you want my cum so bad don’t you?”

“Yes please, daddy,” she replies with a rasp in her voice that makes it obvious where he’s been.

She takes him in her mouth once more, sucking earnestly to get him closer and closer to the edge. He’s whining, pulling her hair and doing everything in his power not to thrust against her face, even though she’s okay with it.

She knows when he’s close because his cock always twitches in the same spot, it’s a tell-tale sign that he’s going to cum in a second. She applies more suction, running her tongue along the underside before taking him all the way once more just in time for him to cum right down her throat with each swallow.

He’s not quiet, anyone walking past the door will hear him panting and gasping, muttering good girl under his breath, he’s more fucked out by this blow job than she’s ever made him before. She can’t help but smirk as he pulls away and leaves her there on her knees, covered in spit and drool and unable to wipe her own mouth due to the fact she’s still fucking handcuffed.

She rests against his shoe, pressing the vibrator against her clit a little more, she twitches at how good it feels but it’s still not enough to get her off, and a part of her doesn’t want to.

He pulls her up to her feet and sits her down on the table he was just pretending to fuck her against. He attempts to spread her legs and get between them but she stops him, “leave the vibe where it is and let’s just go home?”

“You want to walk out of this building with a vibrator in your panties, and say goodbye to my co-workers and friends knowing you could cum anytime?”

She smirks, “yes, but I won't cum cause this pathetic toy isn’t as good at you.”

He clicks the button to turn it up a speed and she gasps, pushing against the feeling and moaning into it, “I’d like to see you try that.”

—

He takes her on the rest of the “tour” with that vibrator in her panties, she’s getting more and more flustered the more they look around. Eventually, he shows her the library, getting her alone in the back corner where he can talk to her without the risk of people knowing what’s going on.

“I can’t,” she whines as he presses her against the shelves, “please?”

“Please what?”

“Turn it off, daddy, I can’t take it anymore,” she grips his suit jacket tightly as she looks up at him with the eyes he can’t say no to.

“Mmm,” he hums, reaching into her pants to free her from the stimulation, she relaxes finally. “What do you think you deserve now?”

“Don’t wanna cum till we’re at home,” she whispers, “but you’ll have to make it quick because we have a flight to catch at 8.”

“Fuck,” he whispers like he forgot. “I hope we can get back into the apartment in time.”

“Why?”

“The bomb was in the basement of the building beside yours,” he admits and the whole facade fades, “that’s why I’m not taking you home yet.”

“That’s why you wanted to fuck me,” she whispers with a giggle. “You could have at least told me this was a ‘you almost died’ rush for you.”

“I didn’t want to say it like that,” he admits and a depression washes through his blood, he feels the low settle as he drops, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she takes his face in her hands and makes him look her in the eyes, “I love you, I’m glad we’re both safe. Everything in there is replaceable, you and me aren’t. This is a really good thing, Spencer.”

He nods, doing what she’s told him so many times she wants him to do, telling her his thoughts so that he’s no longer haunted alone, “when I told my friend Derek about you, he said dating a younger woman means I’ll never have to worry about you dying of old age before me. That’s one of his fears being the same age as Savannah, but I’ve lost so many people I never even thought about getting old with you I’ve just wanted to keep this version of you safe and with me forever.”

“Penelope said she always wished you’d find someone like me, and my only thought was If I live to be 100, I hope you live to be 116 because there isn’t a day I want to spend on this earth where Spencer Reid isn’t alive and beside me,” he whispers with a smile, “but now I’m thinking if you live to be 100, I don’t want to go past 84.”

“You can’t say that,” he whispers, tears bubbling in his eyes, “what if I die tomorrow? I need to know you’re going to be fine and not end your wonderful existence because I’m not here anymore. You’re too wonderful to put all your worth on me.”

She doesn’t want to cry, she already looks like she’s been fucked and now she’s a mess, she pulls him into a kiss so he’ll stop talking and they can just be together, it was hard enough for her thinking he was going to die eventually, let alone him hypothesizing dying tomorrow.

She rests her forehead against his, “we always do this.”

“What?”

“It’s like orgasms open the emotions or something,” she snuffles which turns into a laugh, “do you think our kids are going to find it weird that you’re so much older than me?”

Everything takes him for a loop, “uh,” he struggles to find the words, pulling back and looking at her as her face drops, “I um—

“You don’t want kids anymore?” She looks genuinely saddened and he doesn’t know how to answer.

“I do,” he nods, “just—“

“Not with me?” She puts the words in his mouth.

“With you, just not yet,” he holds her by the shoulders, “I need more time with you before we have a kid, I need to love life and be in a good place and somewhere where I can focus all my attention on them, and I can’t yet.”

“I want a baby by 30,” she whispers before pressing her lips together awkwardly, “46 isn’t too old to be a dad, I’ve seen men become fathers at 80.”

He laughs as the anxiety leaves him, “a little California surfer baby wouldn’t be too bad.”

“Well, we fuck like rabbits, we might get there sooner than you planned,” she nudges him, “you’re a wonderful boyfriend, and if you don’t mind, I’d like for you to stay my boyfriend for a little longer? I’m not ready to be a wife or a mom and change my name when I just got it put on a published book.”

“I’ll change mine to yours,” he replies like it's nothing, “or keep yours and we’ll hyphenate the kid's names.”

“It’s plural now?” She teases him once more.

“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you,” he assures her, “forever.”

“You’d pluck a star from the sky for me wouldn’t you, Doctor Y/L/N?”

He laughs at how it sounds but he kinda likes it. Her word choice is even funnier to him, however, because he’s actually gone out of his way to pluck a star for her. She has no idea, but her last present is a big one.

She struggled to get her own name on a book for so long, now there’s a star named after her, in the sky for everyone to see for the rest of time.

Permanent tag list:

@ssacalumsg0lden @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @shemarmooresfedora @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @blanchardsbk @idonotexiste @measure-in-pain @dreams-in-blxck @doc-padfoot @nomajdetective @xoxospencerreid @mggswhorificlover @dinonuggets1967 @meganskane @kya-li @reidsbookclub @muffin-cup @sassymoon @shirleyrose @reidsacademia @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @spooky-goob @anaagraceeberr

Sugar daddy fic

@mggs-sidehoe @bakugouswh0r3 @mggskneescrews @moonlight-2-6 @spencerreidscumwhore @my-thoughts-are-weird @violetclifford @youabitchhhh @bunny-script @baby-i-am-fireproof @moondustmemories @rexorangecouny @minervaonmars @onlyhereforthefanfics @anonymous-reading @go2sleepducky @kingcrain @beepbooptoop @givemeth @emma-is-a-nerd @wrecky-becky @eternalspence @ne--yo-pets @valerieweasley @coldlilheart @andiebeaword @bingereid @a-mended-pact

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

07. Attack in the Pumpkin Patch

AU Grace and Simon story. Takes place in the instance that they never got on the train, but crossed paths and became friends.  Installments can be standalone pieces. Word Count: 3904 Trigger Warnings for this one include: racism, classism, and violence.

 Previous

Simon arrived with a satchel and a big gym bag, but Grace was still asleep. He looked at her and the way that her makeup was a little smeared on her face, but she still looked so incredibly pretty that it just didn’t make any sense. The alarm on her phone went off while he was hovering and gawking. When her eyes opened, his eyes widened. She shut off the alarm and smiled sleepily at him, “You’re just in time for my wake up photo shoot,” she announced and handed him her phone. 

“Your… what?” 

They spent several minutes with her posing in various positions in the gown, in bed and getting up and heading for her lavatory. She let him know when it was the last one and said that she needed him to edit them and post them to her social media with the hashtags “iwokeuplikethis,” “belleoftheball,” “beautyrestchamp” and “apexbeauty." She also got him to tag everyone who had anything to do with her look the previous night with a cutesy apology that she delivered for him to type, calling out their names through the door while she washed her face and brushed her teeth, to his annoyance in trying to spell some of these people’s names or handles. He would have complained that he didn’t work for her, but Grace probably purposefully did this right now because she knew that he wasn’t going to interfere with her getting ready today.

The way that Grace simply tossed her gown onto the floor whenever she went to get ready, how she spent far more time than reasonable on her hair and hygiene, and then went through a tedious procedure to pick the perfect outfit was a level of blatant disregard that Simon was definitely used to. He brought along figures that he needed to work on and set up his workspace at her reading bench, with a drafting table that she let him stash in her huge closet, specifically for times like this. 

Simon would focus enough on his hobby that Grace's dancing around her room in a tank and boy shorts was… ignorable, while not necessarily the easiest thing in the world to turn his attention from. If I don't look, I won't stare, he'd remind himself whenever he heard her say something, sing something or do something that might elicit a glance at any other time. "Aha!" She said, grabbing her fourth attempt at a shirt selection.

If he paid attention to her, she'd milk it. If he tried to rush her, she'd slow down. Simon didn't react at all and left her to her own devices, because he had known her long enough to know that anything else would keep them in this room longer than her typical antics. "Ppbbbbbbrrrrrrrrr!" She sputtered, looking in the full body mirror. Simon glanced up and winced, immediately regretting doing so, because not only was she still not dressed, she noticed him in the reflection and smiled. He put his head back down and began vigorously painting his figure. "Simon," she called, "You're doing okay waiting, right?" 

"I am," he lied, but this time not looking up.

"Good. Because I think that none of this is working for me. It's chilly outside and I need a new fall wardrobe," she whined. "I should have gone shopping specifically for a pumpkin patch date outfit." Simon looked up at the mention of the word "date," but she had gone back into the closet and came out with an armful of clothes.

"That's it!" He said. He set his figures down to dry, slid from his seat and grabbed his new skateboard (same skateboard he stole the previous night, but now it was officially his). "We go to the pumpkin patch every year. It's not some kind of new event and I'm not waiting all day for you and missing out on stuff because you wanna be the fashionista of the pumpkin patch this year!" 

She rolled her eyes and slowly sorted through the clothes. Simon paced for a moment, then he sat back down, like she knew he would. Go by himself? Somewhere that other people would be? Simon wasn't doing that. He hated other people. And doing stuff like this wasn't fun by himself - only with her. He fumed and asked, "Could you please hurry up?"

"I'm going as fast as fashion greatness will allow! Don't you WANT me to look good?"

Simon blushed and groaned, "I don't care how you look!"

"The cuter I am, the more free stuff they give us," she reminded him.

"I get free stuff all the time and I never have to be ‘cute’ to get it," he complained.

"Noted… but, I don't feel like robbing farmers and stuff. They're nice, good people just trying to sell their wares. Now, if they GIVE me their delicious treats, that's another story. A story that starts with how cute I am. Which one?" She asked about two sweaters. Simon looked between the two, selected one and she set it down to put on the other. Joke's on her. I picked the one I didn't like as much. I know exactly how she is. Which was moot because she looked good in anything. 

It hugged her curves and fell just to her thighs and she gave herself a nod before grabbing her leggings. Simon sat by the window and looked out of it. Her locs were down again and she slid a tam hat over them and purposefully set the number of locs she wanted to hang out.

Nobody had brought up last night's kiss. He was awake all night thinking about it and what she meant by it. He’d stayed in the shower until the water was freezing, he’d laid down and stared at the ceiling, asking Samantha everything that he needed to know, “Was she just caught up in a moment? Does she actually like me? If she likes me, would she even really ever date me?...” Samantha eventually left him and he just thought more questions, vowing that the cat was a traitor that always left him whenever he needed her. She ran past his door and he jumped up. She ran the other way and he rolled his eyes and laid back down. Cats were weird… Like that kiss from Grace. Because, that was weird, right? They weren’t… like that. They were friends. The best of friends, but… friends, yeah?

He would ask her, but they didn't need to elongate her preparation time. He'd ask her at the pumpkin patch. Maybe over some pie and cider…

"All set!" She announced. “I look good, right?” He begrudgingly nodded. “Totally worth the wait!” She added. Now, he just threw her a look of disbelief and she smiled at him, already convinced that her look was worth the wait, whether or not he agreed. It wasn’t like they’d be late. He always arrived much too early to everywhere, including her place when she had to get ready.

.

Grace's driver dropped them off at the entrance and Grace let him know where and when to get her, many hours later and many miles away. She was on her third driver since her hair incident and this one she knew wouldn't last long, because he bothered her parents too much. The last one didn't touch base enough. The one before that didn't like Simon. She couldn't remember these days how she got rid of him, but not liking Simon was indeed a deal breaker for her. What if he’d told her parents about Simon? What if he’d said something that would prompt them to forbid her to see him? She didn’t think the guy would, but if he might, he had to go.

Whenever they went through the patch, she noted that Simon seemed deep in thought. "Dude, if you're thinking about student council or the cub scouts or something nerdy or pretentious, like war reenactment or your engineering grade; I'm un-dating you today." 

He furrowed his eyebrows. "We were cub scouts as little kids. It's just called a scout, now."

"That's all he heard," she said, shaking her head.

"I heard you," he said, rolling his eyes. "Addressing it seemed non-essential. All you did was make a list and throw it at me. You're not leaving me at the pumpkin patch. We do the pumpkin patch every year."

"You're just really not gonna tell me what's on your mind, then."

He opened his mouth, shut it, tilted his head in thought and said, "Last night."

"Last night? Last night was amazing! How can you think about last night and make this face?" She imitated his face but totally exaggerated it to be far more sullen than he knew he looked. He was troubled, but not like THAT. "This is the face I make when I think about last night." She smiled as big as she could smile and pointed to her smile with both of her thumbs. He couldn’t help but to laugh. “You’ve got it, now.” 

He stopped laughing and sighed, back to his broody self. “Simon, listen to me. As far as the time we spent together, as far as I’m concerned, last night was THE BEST NIGHT that we’ve ever had!” He nodded his head in agreement. “So, don’t stress yourself out. Be thankful that what started as a really crappy night, thanks to Mom, ended on such a high note!” He blushed. 

A high note. They ended the night kissing. It was small, but there was no such thing as a small kiss as a teenager with precisely one friend. She tucked her arm into his. This wasn’t necessarily new, but it felt so different to him now. It felt more romantic. It felt more emotional. He looked at Grace’s smiling face and she looked exactly the same as she always had, but she somehow looked totally different, like he was looking at her with somebody else’s eyes now… somebody in love with her and not just loving her as a friend. Oh God! Was he… in LOVE with Grace? Was that why he was so preoccupied with what that kiss meant? He’d presumed he just wanted clarity of her intentions, as to not taint the friendship or make things incomprehensible, but… He was feeling love feelings!

Within moments, she broke the physical connection and he immediately craved it, but she was rushing towards the line for a hayride, doing a jazz run and chanting, “HAYRIDE, HAYRIDE!” with her fist in the air. He laughed and followed, just running like a regular person, not some kind of pumpkin patch fairy, but also cheering, “HAYRIDE, HAYRIDE!” 

.

Later on, she got a phone call, while she was trying to stuff a handful of popcorn into Simon’s mouth, despite him playfully shoving her away. They both knew he wanted to eat out of her hand. She placed a single finger up to indicate “wait,” tossed the popcorn at his face and only a few pieces went in, while the rest slapped various parts of him. He dusted himself off while she looked at the phone, hesitant. He was going to ask who it was, but she answered, “Hi, Mom?”

She listened for a moment, then her charming voice kicked in, explaining, “Sorry about the gown, I went to this exclusive after party with the best of company and… Oh! Of course you don’t care… Sorry I. Yes mother. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Oh?” She was listening for a little while longer, then said, “Well, I have plans with Sim… uh… some friend…” Simon heard it and instantly turned red, staring at the ground with a dejected glare. “Yes, of course, I’ll be there. Yes. Thank you. I appreciate everything that you do for me.” She hung up and put her phone away, instantly noticing Simon’s change in mood. 

“After meeting her, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that that’s the way that you sign off of a phone call with her,” he said, shoving the bag of popcorn her way.

“So, good news!” She cheered, not addressing his comment, but accepting the bag of popcorn.

He looked up and she just KNEW, he was not about to let this go easily. She tried to graze over it anyway. “My mom was just setting up this video chat interview for me for later on…" He raised an eyebrow. "Apparently someone contacted her about the pics you posted this morning, and I just might become a brand ambassador for this holistic health and beauty company to tap into the teen market!" She was extremely excited for a moment, then her excitement died. "But that's stupid. It's skin and hair and makeup and fashion… Like, I'm a dancer? I'm a musician…" his face hadn't changed. "Sorry about the uh, the other thing. It's just… I mean, you've met her now. You can see how she'll act towards you…"

"So, I'm supposed to not feel it whenever you throw me under the bus to save face in front of your mom?"

"I mean… she's not important, to us, Simon. How I have to communicate with her is fake. You shouldn’t feel it. Don't worry about it." She flicked his little ponytail with her fingertips and watched him blush, but he was still glaring at her. She handed the bag of popcorn to some kid passing, and reached under Simon’s hoodie.

“What are you?...” He didn’t get to finish asking, and his widened eyes shut, though he was just as red from her reaching under as he was from her tickling him. “STOP! THAT’S NOT FUNNY, GRAAAAAYYYYEEECE!” She stopped and he fumed for a quick second, then rushed at her and began to tickle her back. She tried to jump over a pumpkin to begin running but he caught her mid jump and declared, “Tickle fight!” She squealed and laughed and fell back onto him and they both crashed to the ground. He groaned and she continued laughing. 

“Are you okay?”

“She asked, after laughing very vigorously at my pain.” She got up and held a hand out to help him up. He rubbed his back. “Who’d have thought that a tickle fight could get so rough?” They laughed and continued. 

Even later still, Simon was in line for pie, Grace was going to get the hot cider, and they were gonna meet up to have their picnic before selecting pumpkins. She went along, humming to herself and lightly dancing towards the line whenever she bumped into someone. “My bad,” she said, with a smile. 

“Is that supposed to be an apology?” He asked, roughly. She glanced around, noting that Simon was out of eye shot, and decided not to escalate, because of it. It was a big guy, older than her. She’d venture to say this was actually a grown man by his features, and he looked like two things - like one of those dudes that flew a Confederate flag from his truck, and also like he had a gun on him.

“I apologize,” she said through smiling teeth. She turned to leave and he mumbled a word at her. She still heard him clearly. Her eyes stung and she turned to glare at him, but he simply gave her a daring smirk until she left. 

Shaken up and angry, she got into the line and ordered drinks and a cup holder. She traveled back over to meet Simon, who was setting down stuff for a little picnic, but she shook her head and reached into the bag for her mask. He became alert almost immediately as she took off her sweater. “What happened?” he wondered. This was the pumpkin patch. They kind of were known here and the way that she looked, her mask wasn’t going to hide her identity today. She shook her head, angry and ready to fight as she put the mask on and picked up two of the four ciders. 

Simon had just realized that there were four ciders. She had her mask… those two ciders were weapons in her hands “Grace, your interview!” She was breathing hard when she stopped and looked at him. "Don't let someone take that away from you." He walked over to her slowly, removed the mask and took the ciders. “Tell me what happened.”

Breathing hard, she repeated the story for him and he nodded his head. She could tell that he was livid, even though he seemed to be keeping his cool. She got back into her sweater, now that she wasn’t fuming, the undershirt was nothing for this wind. “Where is he?” Simon wondered, with eyes darting around the area. She described the guy, but she didn’t see him around or anything. They sat in silence. She didn’t seem hungry anymore and Simon couldn’t enjoy himself with her like this. “Wanna go?” He asked.

“I’m Grace Monroe,” she said. “I mean… He was some null who probably barely scrapes by for a living, and he calls ME the N word?” She shook her head, “I’ve gotta get away from here. I don’t even feel comfortable here right now.” Simon nodded and packed up his bag. He handed her a leftover cider and she accepted it, but wasn’t drinking it. 

He couldn’t ask her more about the kiss and he felt kinda bad that he was even thinking about that while she was going through… something. He couldn’t really tell what she was going through. He only understood this experience in passing and from reading about it. It wasn’t really something applicable to his life, but he was guessing from her reaction that she had not had the experience herself, or she just didn’t often and it shocked her system or something. If she had ever been called that before, she'd never told him about it. She was really… upset. He hated how much. He knew that she would feel weak for it. It hurt him to watch.

They walked for a little bit longer, heading towards the exit when she stopped and narrowed her eyes. Simon looked at somebody who fit the description of the person she described earlier. He was larger than she made him seem, and he just looked extremely mean and probably violent. 

Simon passed her up, slid the cider out of her hand and beat her to the punch… or rather, the splash. Simon was so quick the man didn't know he was coming at him until the cider was in his eyes. Dude went down. Simon swung his skateboard at him and hit him with it. Grace looked around, making sure nobody saw him and picked up the bag that Simon dropped. 

Nobody seemed to notice them yet, but the guy was screaming, although, she was sure that the cider had cooled down a lot, maybe it was Simon cracking his head with that skateboard. Simon slammed the butt of it into his throat and he started coughing and gagging, but he wasn’t screaming anymore. “We gotta go, Gray Eyes,” she said. Simon nodded once, reached for her hand and she took his, smiling triumphantly as they took off running. They made it far enough away to feel okay pausing and she laughed. “Oh my god, I know you like SERIOUSLY hurt that guy!”

Simon held out his hand, smiling, “And I got you a gift.” It was a lighter. He put it in her hand and closed her hand around it. 

"Are you alright though?" She wondered, not smiling now. Simon had been vicious. She had definitely seen him mad before, but this was the most aggressive that she could remember him being and she wondered if… if it wasn't something else.

“I’m never gonna let anybody get away with making you feel bad like that. I've never seen you so upset and helpless. It was like he'd taken your power, and I had to be the one to get it back. You have too much going for you. If somebody noticed you... I don’t know what I’d do if you got into trouble.” It was partially that, partially he felt protective and possessive of her, partially he wanted her to look at him exactly the way she was right now… like he was her king.

“You’re the best friend that anybody could have… You… I’m gonna bring you home to my mom and dad. I’m gonna present you and I’m gonna DEMAND that they treat you with kindness and respect.” 

He held out his hand for hers again and she took it, and leaned in closely to him. “I don’t… know if… I want to be your friend…” Simon said. 

She frowned and nodded her head. “I definitely get that feeling… But… I think we should. I mean… I think we work really well like we are, and that we shouldn’t mess that up. People turn into boyfriend and girlfriend, then when something bad happens, they hate each other. I can’t have my one person hate me. That would hurt me more than getting caught burning some null.”

His face went through a range of emotions that she wasn’t looking at. She was avoiding seeing his face at the moment. “Are you sure it’s just that?” 

“What do you mean?” She asked and stopped walking.

“The way you talked about that racist null… Like he should’ve known better because you’re rich and he’s not. It's the way that the rich kids at the academy talk about me."

“Oh.” She shook her head, “Whenever I say stuff like that, I don’t mean YOU, ever. You were right when you said you deserve to be one of the elites. It’s not your fault that your parents don’t have as much as some of ours, just like there’s nothing I’ve done to deserve it. But, you should know that whatever is mine, anything that I have power over is yours, too, Simon. Anything that I get, I split with you, always. You’re my other half.” She intertwined their fingers and he squeezed them together. He smiled at their hands, but her face suddenly changed to one of... contempt. 

She knew that something was bothering him at school, but every time she asked him about it, he’d tell her that everything was fine and that he was glad that she was happy. She should have known that people where being mean to him. They were all just fancily built nulls, flagrantly trying to assert their dominance. Well, not over her Simon. Not on her watch. “Why aren’t we RUNNING the Academy, by now?” She asked him, flustered with thoughts of the past few months being hard on him and her... not even noticing...

“Because you’ve been playing nice and being everyone’s friend instead of showing them who you are and using them like stepping stones,” he said with a shrug. "You’ve hidden your power every time we step on campus."

“Yeah… I’m not doing that anymore. They're not gonna disrespect you as long as I exist. The Apex is taking over the Academy.” He smirked at her and she smirked back. Maybe he didn't need to have her romantically. She had a point - they were still a team, even without a title or the responsibility of romance… no, not just a team… she’d said before, and even tonight that he was "her other half." 

They were one. 

Next

[artsninspo]

Scared to love (One Shot)

Authors Note:  Just a little something sitting in my drafts that I think you all will enjoy.

Summary: Sometimes relationships end out of the fear of moving forward, fear of heartbreak. Sometimes those people find each other again.

The thing that made him a good partner was the same thing that made her pull back. He was good at everything whether it came naturally or not. He was willing to put in the work, committed to a routine, showing up, doing the work — the whole nine yards. Day in and day out with a smile and a renewed appreciation for it.

They were forehead to forehead now in the moonlit living room, their breaths in harmony, chests rising and falling at the same pace. The distance between them shrinking with each passing moment. The love felt too strong to be denied.

It was more than a young relationship. It’s not often lost people find each other. But they had. It was terrifying to her — riveting to him. The kind of woman she was excited him in every way. Beautiful, smart, witty and sharp. A little hard on the outside but the sexiest kind of thoughtful a woman could be to the man she loved.

Love.

He’d never felt that for a woman before. Family didn’t count. He’d never felt that from a woman before not in a way that gratified his manhood in the absence of sexual pleasure.

“Elle” his voice is deep and attentive as his bowed head rises and his eyes open. They’d broken up months ago — the decision had been mutual and the root of Tre’s misery. Elle had disappeared and become inaccessible. She excelled at running. Not the moderate consistent kind. Making mad dashes and zig zagging out of perceived danger. Comfort and stability were things she was unaccustomed to finding in other people. Finding a good man altogether was something beyond her - but she had.

With Tre the fairytale was real. He didn’t hate moving slow. They were friends for six months before it turned into something more. Their attachment found in mutual care for each other and attentiveness. It was too much for her, too intense. Meeting his gaze wasn’t easy either. She could feel his frustration brewing apart of her wanted to pull away but the other couldn’t.

“I don’t want us to be broken up anymore”

“We haven’t worked through any of the problems” Elle reminded.

“We don’t have any problems” Tre snaps.

“We doo it was too much” Elle explains bruising his pride. He’d been a ladies man. Young handsome and with his life together there were at least ten women he knew personally that would do anything for the commitment and love he gave Elle.

“Do you love me?” He asks and Elle sighs looking away. It was another part of her he’d come to be amused by. Her general mistrust for affection and skepticism of love. She’d loved him then. He gets up and she pulls him back down to the sofa ready to admit her feelings. His frustration builds and he kisses her as a mercy. It’s intimate and intense. It ends with her straddled across his lap and her head resting in the crook of his neck. She still loved him. There was no escaping that part of their relationship. Her feelings were strong and so were his and sometimes it felt like drowning.

She could feel his manhood hardening under her. He was well endowed and a great lover. He’d been her first. The first person she trusted with that part of herself. He carried that dutifully making love to her intimately each time their clothes came off.

“I’m sorry” he comments when she gets off stepping back. His expression changed when she gets on her knees in front of him. Lack of experience had been against her. She was terrible at blow jobs before. She knew Tre was lying when he said they were good but he never pushed to have them so they couldn’t have been. The problem was not reciprocated.

His heart was racing as she undid his pants taking him out of his boxer briefs. He missed how her hands felt. Sex was a challenge for them at first. He was big and physical and she was a virgin. He was forced to hold back every time but seeing her open ready and enjoying him was enough to get him off most times. She felt incredible and holding back to not hurt her was a struggle.

Her mouth felt amazing to him and his eyes widened at how much of him she was able to take before gagging. He had to keep himself from thrusting it had been months. Her technique improved to the point of driving him crazy. He pulled her up from her knees with one hand bringing her into a kiss with the other as he cane with her still stroking him.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” His voice deep and libido laced.

“It’s not important.” She whispered. Her eyes said it all — she wanted him. Kissing her again  he rose getting rid of his pants before breaking it to lead her to the bedroom and pulling the shade immediately as sunlight beamed in. He cleans himself off before putting on a condom and Elle straddles him lowering slowly before finding her own rhythm and grinding her hips.

Tre watched in confusion admiration and pleasure. She’d never done anything like his before. Taken this much control or this much of him with confidence. Somehow now she was grinding with him inside her and kissing him sensually. His hands grip her ass. He misses them being body to body.

“Slow down, it’s hard to hold back” he breathed feeling tension build. She stopped abruptly which was more normal for them.

“Don’t” she breathed tempting him as she removed her dress. Her body had changed he decided for the better igniting fires within him. He held back to not hurt her. His daily routines made him incredibly physical while she was the opposite.

“You better stop of I won’t be able to slow down” he warns.

“I don’t want you to” she admitted and he let go. Elle could feel the difference, he was fucking her and it felt amazing. Pounding her from behind and holding her arms back behind her suspended. Only for positions to switch moments later and him hold her body against his forcefully. While fondling her breasts and thrusting with hard fast strokes. She couldn’t control her thoughts of her moans.

“Fuck you feel good” he gritted before pulling out and letting her fall onto the bed. She knew what was coming and tried to move but he grabbed her getting on his knees and feasting on her. His tongue had always been dangerous. It felt so good she couldn’t explain it. There was never any pain only pleasure unlike the complications with his size. His words were dirty, provocative and encouraging. She fell deeper and deeper into pleasure. The way his body moved, the way he looked at her everything was too much. She’d already come more than they ever did in a session. Still he didn’t stop he kept going. It had never been like this between them before. Dirty and relentless.

They both lay panting after 4 climaxes each, way past their normal record. Elle probably at 8.

“I’m not going to be able to walk after that” she admits. She’d been stretched and bent and pounded relentlessly.

“I’ll be here” he assured with a loving kiss pulling her to him. She ran her hand down his chiseled chest and torso. The perfect body he works on so diligently. He appreciated how perfect she fit against him and how good she feels in his arms.

“I like that”

“Come on lets shower and go for a drive or something” he picks her up heading to the shower and washing her attentively. “You’re perfect Elle” he smiles kissing her neck and enjoying the view.

“Nobody’s perfect but you’re close” she smiles as they share a kiss.

“Never Leave again” it’s an order as he wraps her in a towel with care before getting one to dry himself off. He’d kept her clothes in his closet after all his time he enjoyed watching her get dressed in there.

“How’s all this here after a move?” Elle asks putting on another casual t-shirt dress.

“I wasn’t letting you go” he shrugs making her smile. He kisses her with sloppy attention. He’d never had sex that good with anyone.

“Come on” Elle smiles taking his hand.

Tre wasn’t religious but he’d prayed for Elle to come back to him. He never forgot about the things she liked. He always wanted her with him. He regretted not having her meet his mother. He regretted not telling her no when she asked to end things. He loved her with everything in him. He felt responsible for her. He watches her laugh with a slushie in hand on the beach.

“You really wouldn’t do it for me?” She asks.

“You’d never be stupid enough to let that happen” he smiles sitting up.

“Did you ever leave the gym these past 9 months?” Elle asks looking up at him. His arms had gotten bigger. A lot of him seemed more defined.

“I had a lot more time” he reminds and Elle smiles. “What do you have comments and concerns about it?” He asks only for her to kiss him.

“You’ll have less time now” she shrugs.

“And now you’re a little coke bottle?” He comments making her smile.

“There’s a lot to tell you. What I’m ready to talk about is I started going to the gym” Elle smiles and Tre applauds both of them laughing.

“Tell me this, have you been with someone else?” His heart has to know and Elles smile subsides.

“Yes, I’ve had sex with one other person” she admits. He could feel his heart breaking. The stress of the reality. She was his, wholly, when she left.

“Were you guys together?” He asks and she shrugs.

“Kind of, not like we were. It was different.” She shrugs. “It was about four months after we broke up. It didn’t feel right so I ended things” Elle explains honestly.

The car ride is silent and the tension thick. Two steps forward and five steps back.

“Tre just tell me why you’re quiet? Ask me what you want to know?” Elle sighs tired of the distance between then. Especially after their progress. He stops parking in her underground lot turning off the car before looking at her.

“It’s just some shit I have to get over Elle” he says.

“It wasn’t love and the sex wasn’t good because it wasn’t love. It only happened twice” Elle explains honestly.

“Don’t lie to me if it was good it was good” Tre sighs.

“It wasn’t Tre, I didn’t want him to look at me. I didn’t feel comfortable. I just wanted to try moving on.” She explains and he leans in to peck her lips.

“Goodnight” he says and she deepens the kiss.

“Come up, spend the night” Elle pleads and he nods obliging her. They’re hand in hand up to her apartment. He’s undressed only to be given his old workout T-shirt’s and shorts Elle had a habit of sleeping in. She smiles laying in front of him.

“Goodnight” she says turning and he pulls her against him kissing her neck.

Authors Note: Thank you to everyone whose been reading, enjoying and supporting the fics. Its GREATLY APPRECIATED!!!

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[malecftw]

Distractions

A/n: so this was an idea I’d been playing with for a while. It’d been sitting in my drafts for like a month and rn I was just feeling best friends to lovers, a slow cute fic sooooo that’s what came out lol tadaaa. I’ve never really written for David or the Vlog Squad before but let me know if you liked this, maybe I’ll write more in the future. Hope you like it :)

Word count: 1814

Warnings: Idk if Jeff being rejected counts as a warning but here we are, I mentioned the word vagina and idk why but in the context it seemed weird but also okay so yh lmfao y am i acting like im 12

Masterlist.

The LA air was soft and warm, making a strand of hair fall out of your loose bun and tickle your cheek. LA seemed quiet at this time of day, the sun was beginning to set, golden hour was upon you. Lana Del Rey was playing on the background, her deep, soft voice flowing out into the crisp summer air through the open windows. The smell of food made it’s way into your nose, your stomach beginning to rumble at the thought of dinner. Heath, Scott, and Jeff were having a beer at the barbecue whilst Jason was grilling the various types of meat. Kristen, Mariah, Carly, Erin, and Corinna were setting out white plastic chairs in a circle on the grass. Rosé was being spilled, laughs were had and a carefree feeling overtook you.

You still couldn’t believe this was your life. You were living in one of the most famous, loved places on earth surrounded by good friends who were always looking out for you.  Your daydream was cut short when you got nudged in the side. Your head turned around to see Zane standing next to you, leaning on the glass just like you were. “What’s up?” “Not much.” He nodded and directed his eyes to the skyline of LA. “So when are you going to tell him?” He asked, not taking his eyes off of the beautiful view before you. “Probably never.” Your nails clicked slightly against your plastic cup, preferring a soft drink before having a glass of wine with dinner. “Why are you so hesitant. You’re perfect for each other.” You shrugged, being uncharacteristically comfortable with the topic around Zane. “I don’t know. I’ve been flirting with Jeff. I’m just going to look like a slut if I fess up now.” He clicked his tongue at your answer. “Please y/n. You were never in a committed relationship with Jeff. Hell, you never even kissed. He’ll get over it. And we know you, none of us would ever put your name and the word slut in the same sentence.”

A sigh escaped your mouth yet you didn’t have a chance to reply when Heath called out to Zane. He quickly squeezed your arm in comfort before heading over to the boys near the barbecue. You pushed yourself off of the glass and made your way inside. Enough with the overthinking, it was time to make yourself useful. “Nat, can I help?” Natalie looked up at you, pausing mixing the dressing and the salad for a second. “Sure y/n. Could you bring this over to the yard, just put it on the table.” She said with a smile and pushed the salad bowl into your hands. You just nodded and did what she asked. The notification sound of your phone distracted you as you set the bowl on the table and while you quickly replied you felt an arm being swung over your shoulder. “What’s up y/n? Why so quiet?” Jeff said, a silly smile on his face as his eyes screened over your expression. “Not now Jeff.” You shrugged off his arm and started walking away when he grabbed your arm, concerned for your obvious distress. “Hey what’s wrong?”

“Is everything okay here guys?” David walked up, noticing your tense figure and Jeff’s already apologetic one. He didn’t even know what was wrong but was already stressed thinking he was the cause. You looked back and forth between the two guys. Life was playing another trick on you and frankly, you were sick of it. Why couldn’t you just go for the obvious choice? You had a beautiful man right in front of you willing to take things to the next level but no. Instead, you had to fall for the one dude that wouldn’t notice an eager vagina if it slapped him across the face. 

As you were having this inner dialogue with yourself the two guys still looked at you, confused by your off behavior. “Nothing is okay David, just leave me alone.” You headed for the living room and David took your words like a man. “What the fuck did I do?” He shouted as he ran after you. “Nothing. That’s the problem.”

“Wait what? Y/n what the fuck?” Of course, he didn’t get it. You hadn’t made a move since you were too busy distracting yourself with Jeff. “I just... Just... Just drop it okay. It’s about me, myself and I don’t worry about it.” “Sure doesn’t sound like it.” You rolled your eyes but were secretly grateful for everyone staying outside to give you some privacy. You even notice Nat sneak out of the kitchen, feeling the uncomfortable switch in the room when you walked in.

“Y/n. Just talk to me. Remember that time when you accidentally spilled glue in my hair and we had to shave my head? Didn’t snitch on you then. I looked like a bald man child. I still didn’t snitch. And let me tell you, it wasn’t a look.” David said in a cute attempt to make you feel better. “Of course you didn’t snitch. It was your own fault. Who the hell decided to smack my hands with their head while I was holding an opened bottle of kids glue.” “I’m sorry I forgot to turn on my spidey sense, else I would’ve known you were standing right behind me before I stood up.” “It’s not my fault you were shorter than me.” David placed his hands over his heart, jokingly looking offended. “Ouch.” He teasingly took a couple of steps closer to you causing him to tower over you. “Not anymore though. Now you’re tiny.” You look up at him, arms crossed, confused and annoyed by your feelings for the big man child in front of you. “Now, tiny, are you actually gonna tell me what’s up or am I going to have to keep you hostage until you do?

A pressed sigh leaves your lips. Now or never. His expression turns more serious when he sees your big eyes gloss over. “Hey whatever it is, we can work it out. You and me.” “I’m not so sure about that.” “Well I am.” “I just don’t want to mess things up between us. You’re my best friend.” David immediately knew where this was going and a wide smile formed on his lips. “And?” He said teasingly, eager for the moment in which you’d fess up the same thing he’d been feeling for a while now. “Ugh David you’re a pain.” You say as you softly poke his stomach with your index fingers. “But am I going to be your pain?” His voice has turned hoarse, excited yet on edge. He never dreamed of going there with you. He never had those feelings for you. Until one day, he started seeing you in a different light. He couldn’t pinpoint one moment, it just slowly happened. At first he’d thought it was a silly random idea his mind for some reason made up, but he couldn’t help but think about it from time to time. Then he started getting used to the idea of you two together. It grew on him. Suddenly it didn’t seem weird, it didn’t seem awkward. It just seemed right. But then you’d started flirting with Jeff and David knew he had no chance.

Until now.

You swallowed loudly, your hands pausing, staying put on his sides. “If you want to be.” He nodded slightly, it was the only answer he needed before leaning in. He paused, needing your permission. He needed to know this was it. That this was something you both chose. You slightly pressed your fingers into the clothed skin of his sides, allowing him to connect your lips. It’s wasn’t earth-shattering, it wasn’t filled with sparks and fireworks. It was sweet, soft and gentle. It was what you both wanted. Needed. It wasn’t filled with sexual desire or incredible passion. It was the confirmation you’d both been waiting for. You’d found your person. Ironically enough, he’d been there all along. Love was a big word, you’d known you loved David for as long as you could remember. But back then, you loved him as your best friend.

You both pulled away smiling like idiots. You could see the love and happiness on his face, but he also looked pensive. “So what about Jeff?” You nodded. Of course, it looked really bad. “I like Jeff. I thought I could learn to love him. I needed to learn to love him. I was still waiting for the click in my brain, but it never happened which is why I never took it to the next level. It wouldn’t have been fair to him. He deserves better than a girl whose heart isn’t really in it.”

David’s eyes moved from you to something behind you so you turned around. Of course, like in any other predictable movie or show, Jeff was stood right there, leaning against the window frame. Your mouth fell open, You wouldn’t blame him if he was angry even if he didn’t seem that way right now. “Don’t worry about it y/n. It’s okay.” His thick New York accent filled the room. In a few big steps, he was stood right in front of you, looking to David quickly before grinning. His arms wrapped around your neck and kept you in a playful headlock, messing up your hair as he laughed. “You respected me enough to not go there with me. I appreciate that. At least now I still get to tease you and prank you. David’s lost those privileges.” Relief washed over you. This was the most drama-free ending to this situation you never thought you’d get. 

David put his hands in the air, looking happy and relieved as well that things went as smooth as they did cause let’s face it,... They rarely do. “Hey, as long as I get to film it that’s cool.” He said laughing and you smacked his chest. Jeff let go of you and shot you and David a smile before joining the others in the backyard. David sighed as he took you in his arms, looking down at you before bringing both of your attention to your intertwined fingers. “You ready baby?” He asked, voice high and excited to show off what had been his for the longest time but never really realized until now. You nodded and slowly made your way into the backyard. Jeff probably already told everyone since not a single soul seemed to question what had happened.  “Yes, baby girl you finally did it!” Zane shouted, holding up his beer and everyone cheered.

The smiles on each one of their faces only made it more clear to you.

This had never been a matter of if. 

This had been a matter of when.

[writingformadderton]

Your Song💜

Ship: Madderton

Word Count: 2134

Summary: Taron and Richard attend the Rocketman premiere. Richard often feels uncomfortable during premieres and fights with panic attacks, just like this time. Taron does his best to support him and helps him through the evening.

Additional tags: panic, comfort, soft, fluff, singing

A/N: We already posted it once on my blog (nati) but we decided to publish the fics in order of the soundtrack so you´ll find it here again. 

“You almost ready, Rich?” Taron knocked eagerly against the bathroom door of his co-stars' apartment. He straightened his velvet deep grey suit and looked at his watch. 15 minutes, and they would be on their way. 

Richard opened the door, eyebrow raised and slight irritation in his features. “Calm down, we have enough time.” he spoke, his thick accent always made Taron weak at the knees.

Taron scanned over his co-star carefully, admiring him. He wore a crisp white suit that made his ocean blue eyes stand out amazingly. He was closing the buttons on his jacket and looking in the mirror. He looked like a dream. Though in his eyes, Richard was not convinced. “You look great!” he spoke immediately, seeing the doubt on his face, and stepped closer. Replacing Rich’s hands, he closed the last buttons on his jacket.

“I wish I would feel like it.” Richard said with a heavy breath. They shared a look between each other. T’s eyes softened and he closed the last button. Richard knew Taron understood what was going on. He always did. 

“I won’t leave your side.” he affirmed the Scottish man as he pat him on the shoulder and walked into the living room. Taron knew he had to give his boyfriend some space. Richard struggles with some personal insecurities. Sometimes, he has panic attacks when there are too many people around him or when he’s really nervous before a premiere. T always tried to give him the space he needed.

He made himself comfortable on the sofa and looked out of the window. The sun was shining brightly in Cannes today and it will be a beautiful scenery for the premiere of Rocketman. He looked forward to seeing how the movie turns out and if the audience would like it. Taron rested his head against the sofa and closed his eyes. They all worked so hard to make the movie look good. He longed for the moment the press marathon would be over and he could lie in Richard’s arms again, not thinking of what he had to do the next day.

A few minutes later, Taron began to worry. Richard still wasn’t ready yet and they only had 10 minutes left before they had to be on their way. “Babe?” He called out.

“Hmm?” Taron rose from the sofa and made his way to the bathroom. Richard was standing there bracing himself at the sink. His eyes were closed and he gave out slow, shaky breaths.

“Rich, are you alright?” T asked gently and Rich stood up straight, but looked at the floor. T stood in the doorway and watched him carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was stress him out or send him into a panic.

Richard nodded and took a deep breath. He forced himself to smile. “Gimme a minute, okay T?” Taron did as he asked and gave him his space. Sometimes this happened during premieres and he hated to watch it unfold. He knew he couldn’t do anything about it and tried his best to keep himself calm. Whenever it happened, he just wanted to grab his pretty boy and take him home to safety. But it wasn’t always that easy.

The beeping of the cab’s horn interrupted T’s thoughts. Richard came out of the bathroom breathing slowly, closing the door behind him. He smiled weakly at Taron and opened his apartment door. While walking outside, Taron took his boyfriend’s hand and felt him relax a little bit. He gently rubbed his thumb over his knuckles. They entered the cab and sat in silence, their hands still connected. After a few minutes, Richard let out a moan and leaned forward. He buried his face in his hands, yet still kept his hold on Taron’s hand.

“We can still go home you know?” Taron offered while rubbing his back. It was torture to see him suffer. It was a dumb offer and he knew Dickie would deny it. This evening was too important.

“I won’t ruin your evening. It-it will be okay.” He recognized how hard his boyfriend was trying to stay calm and rubbed his back softer. He gave him a gently kiss on his neck which made Rich sit up. He placed his lips on Taron’s and kissed him gently. “We’re going to celebrate your amazing work today and I can’t think of anything better than supporting you.”

Taron smiled and kissed him passionately. “Not only mine. Also the one of my incredibly good looking co-star.” Both let out a chuckle and kissed again. “I swear to you, I will get you out of there as soon as possible.” Richard looked at him and T could see the tears forming in his eyes. He put his arms around him and Rich buried his face in his chest. Richard was the kind of person that needed T close to him whenever he felt the panic rise in his body.

They exited the car and Richard felt the fear coming along. He started breathing deeply, trying to gain control of his heart rate and keep his vision clear. Taron was talking to someone and his demeanor was very serious. Rich’s chest was feeling tight and his breathing was ragged. The screams of the eager fans and the paparazzi made him nervous. Suddenly, Taron stood next to him with a worried look on his face. “Are you sure you want to do this darling?” Richard nodded weakly and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, he felt dizzy and the world was turning. He immediately took Taron’s hand in his. T leaned in to his ear. “I just talked to one of the organizers. We are allowed to go out together, so you won’t be alone. I’m right here.”

“I love you so much T.” He whispered and looked into the blueish green eyes of the amazing man he called his.

Someone approached them. “Taron Egerton and Richard Madden? You’re up next.”

 They walked down the carpet hand-in-hand, posing for pictures and doing a few interviews. Taron tried to comfort Richard with his gentle touches. During the interviews, it was especially hard for Richard to focus and he seemed as though he was hopelessly overstrained.

As soon as they passed through the red carpet, Richard felt a bit better. He pulled Taron into a hug and tried to calm himself down. His hands were shaking and his whole body shivered as though there was a draft. T whispered into his ear. “I’m so proud of you my love. You did so well.”

His hands and neck were covered in tiny beads of sweat. He realized he was about to have a panic attack and asked his lover if they could search for a public bathroom. While they were walking, he felt his chest getting tighter than before and his body still shaking. Taron wrapped an arm around his frame while walking away from everyone. He hurried along, knowing what was about to unfold. Tears began to form and alter Richard’s sight and he held Taron closer.

Finally, T found a bathroom and opened the door, never letting go of his boyfriend. As soon as the door was closed, Richard’s body began to give out as he staggered over to the countertop sinks, sitting on them. Tears were streaming down his face as he tried to wipe them away. Taron stood in front of him and pulled him into a strong hug. Richard slightly relaxed his shaking body against him and buried his face in his chest. Taron gently kissed him on his head and started whispering to him, calming him down and creating a safe space between them. He still had short uneven breaths that seemed to be out of his control. “Shhh, calm down. Everything is okay. You’re safe love.”

The door opened abruptly and Dexter Fletcher walked in. His features dawned a slightly irritated look and he tapped on his watch. “Taron mate! You need to be on stage in a minute. Everyone is looking for ya.” Richard flinched in his arms due to the sudden interruption. He tried to sit up and distance himself from his beloved boyfriend.

“Tell them I’ll be there as soon as possible.” He answered and held Richard tighter. There was nothing that would pry him away from him right now.

“That won’t make them happy.” Dex spoke.

“Unfortunately, they’re gonna have to wait. Give me 5 minutes please Dex.” He said harshly. “I have something more important at the moment.”

Dex noticed Richard in Taron’s arms and raised his eyebrows. “Panic attack?” He mouthed to Taron. He nodded softly and rubbed the back of his still shaking boyfriend. It wasn’t a big secret beyond the cast, that Richard had some struggles from time to time and needed Taron then. Dexter have a sympathetic look, understanding the gravity of the situation. He put up 5 minutes with his hand and exited the room. They were alone again.

Richard sighed and removed his face from Taron’s jacket. His eyes dawned a tint of red and tear stains decorated his cheeks, the look of exhaustion on his face. Taron began to feel his protective side coming on. He felt sorry the fact that his lover was insecure sometimes and he suffered from these attacks. His thumbs rubbed away the remaining tears and he placed kisses over his wet cheeks. “I’m sorry.” Richard spoke quietly and didn’t dare to look up at his boyfriend.

“Don’t you ever apologize for having a panic attack! Your feelings are more important than this premiere to me Richard.” Taron placed his hands on Richard’s face, trying to create eye contact.

The Scott man slowly got down from the sink. “No, you really don’t deserve this, T.” He turned on the faucet and washed his still shaking hands. Why did this have to happen today? Carefully, he washed his face, avoiding getting water on his suit. He looked up and say an annoyance settle in Taron’s face in the mirror. “Are you alright?”

As soon as he turned around, Taron’s lips were on his, his hands bringing him closer than they already were. He stopped and looked into his eyes. “You’re so right. I don’t deserve you, Richard Madden.” Richard frowned slightly, trying to hide the fact that his sentence stung him a bit. Taron bit his lip and played with the hair on the back of his neck. Rich stood there not sure of what was happening. “You’re too perfect to be mine and I just freaking love every beautiful inch of you. So you’re right, I don’t deserve you.”

Richard leaned in for another kiss. His smile was bright. “Shut up, dumbass.”

Richard sat in the audience next to Bryce and Jaime. They were at a beach in front of a stage where Elton would play a song in honor of the first ever screening of Rocketman. During the movie, Taron wouldn’t let go of his hand and they enjoyed watching it. He felt a lot better now that all the public things were done for the day. “Where’s Taron?” Jaime asked as Elton began to play the first notes of “Your Song”.

“To be honest, I don’t know.” Richard sat up straight and looked around searching for the familiar stature of his boyfriend. Jaime nudged him with his elbow and nodded towards the stage. Taron came out singing the first words of “Your Song”. When he locked eyes with his surprised boyfriend, he gave him one of his signature winks.

It soon became clear why they picked “Your Song”. Taron sang his heart out without looking away from Richard, not one time.

“You see I’ve forgotten if they’re green, or they’re blue.

Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean.

Yours are the sweetest eyes, I’ve ever seen.”

A picture of Richard’s blue eyes suddenly appear on the big screen behind Elton and Taron. Richard blushed and tried to hide behind Bryce, who began to laugh warmly. Taron looked shocked as he looked at the screen behind him, continuing the show.

“I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind

That I put down in words

How wonderful life is

While you’re in the world.”

More pictures of Taron and Richard shuffled on the screen while the performance went on. Richard found it quite amusing to see the expression on his lover’s face. Elton’s mischievous smile indicated to Richard that it was his idea, and Taron knew nothing about it.

When the applause died down, Taron hopped from the stage and took Rich into his arms. “I love you and nothing will ever change that!” He breathed out, still trying to steady his heartbeat after singing. The sunset colored the sky beautiful hues of pink, orange and a gentle violet. It made him look even more lovable and his eyes shined in the remaining sunlight. Richard kisses him softly and the second applause of the evening underlined the moment perfectly. 

@taruhnegerton  @cheshirechan @dreamingwolfthings @mochidoubleb

[kewltie]

i have been working on social media au on and off for a couple months now but uh regretfully it’s not very productive work??? just mainly editing and formatting some of the contents and adding and removing others bc i couldn’t decide or change my mind on some things so i didn’t make any real progress toward the end goal :S. it’s in a standstill and i dont know how to move it forward. 

i took a couple of days off to think about it and why im in such a huge slump over it. i soon realized it’s me and not the fic. there a bunch of annoyingly complex things i have to juggle within the fic but im pretty sure i can grind my way through it and frustration is a great fuel for me lol. my main issue is myself bc of crippling self doubt and anxiety and how i can’t imagine finishing up this ch for some reason. it’s like i have some sort of mental block bc everytime seeing it done i get really anxious and scared and i immediately find reason to not work on it at this second.

like, im sooo incredibly grateful and humble by how the first chapter is received by the fandom!!! you guys have been so kind and encouraging to me and im so very thankful to each one of you but with such kindness i feel so much guilt and anxiety bc it’s almost half a year since it first posted and so many ppl tell me one of the biggest selling points of social media au is its unorthodox storytelling, formatting, and portrayal of fandom and i just dont know how i can top what i did for ch 1. like, how can i supposed live up to all your expectations??? i feel like i set myself up for failure and with such a long waiting period in b/t idk if im able to deliver ch 2 the way everyone kind of expect to be blown away by it also?????? i keeping thinking and worrying if ch2 will be good enough and honestly it was stressing me out and i didn’t want to work on it bc i was afraid it wasn’t going to be live up to the hype :(((. 

i tend to overthink and worry myself until im a mess of anxiety and stress esp combine that with my doormat personality, i just dont know how to stop the urge to please everyone bc my eternal fear of disappointing people. esp knowing how well received  ‘demolition boy’ was. it blew up unexpectedly and i never really intend it to get as big it did /o\. i lit wrote it in like 2-3 days w/o much of a thought and now it’s my most popular fic and it often get drawn in comparision to social media au and how l social media au is like a more well polished and deeper fic and that’s great but also OH GOD. i can’t do better than that!!!!!! ah, it sucks and i couldn’t just break that that kind of metal block so i avoided writing social media as much as possible. im terribly sorry for that!!!!!! i do want to work on it and see it to completion more than anything but i just got really scared by it and how ch2 might just be a huge fucking fail. so i just sat on it for a while and let my anxiety eat away at me. 

it took me some time and some soul searching but i slowly worked through my brittle nerves and fear. i had to tell myself that it isn’t my job to make everyone happy but MYSELF. writing is always and will always be FOR ME. everyone else, while im grateful for the audience, is just a bonus. no matter how popular a fic get, no matter how many people like it, at the end of the day if a fic doesn’t make me happy writing it than there’s no point. i love social media, i love how it drives me up the fucking wall and make me want to pull my hair out every single time, and it’s soooooo incredibly frustrating but also rewarding as fuck when i pull back and see what i had completed. to me it’s great story and i want to not just tell it but show it to you guys and i just need to shut up that fucking NAGGING VOICE IN MY HEAD that tell me all the wrong things. so im trying and working through my fears; it’s slow but i’m getting to the point where i can open up my ao3 draft folder and look at it and know ‘yes, i can do this now’. 

right now, off the bat w/ my knowledge of what still need to be done and how much whinging i have to do to get it there, i am like 30% confident i can pull off finishing social media au at the end of this month. the estimate is going to go up and down in the next couple of days as i work on it and hopefully one day it would say 100%. 

my goal is to have it done either by end of march or beginning of april but hopefully end of march. i think it’s doable but then again i think everything doable up to the point where i actually have to sit down and punch it out /o\.  beside my two bkdk fic fests projects, this is the only project i will be working on in the next couple of days (or weeks) so please be bare with me a lil more as i try to complete ch 2. 

the next two-three-four(???) weeks is going to be v v v v tough for me bc i will scream, cry, and rage about quitting and never writing it again but im like 99% sure i won’t mean any of it lol /o\. if seeing me like pulling an allnighter to finish up ch1 was bad then the end of march is going to be a trial with every step. we’re doing this and it’s going to be end in tears BUT THE GOOD KIND (i think)!!!!!! tmr, i’m off so let’s GET TO IT!!!!!!

p.s. thank you for always putting up with me!!!!!! i know im incredibly flighty, emotionally compromised, and difficult as a writer to follow but your support and encouragement had helped put down some of my insecurities to rest and im forever grateful for that.

[welllpthisishappening]

For a Good Cause (1/2)

Emma wasn’t nervous. She wasn’t worried. She was maybe, kind of, sort of ridiculously excited. And just a hint anxious. Because she’d spent years watching Killian play on Garden ice and was almost getting used to Matt playing on Garden ice, but the thought of them playing together on Garden ice was enough to leave her heart beating just a hint faster than usual. 

Add into the mix absurd trash talk and ridiculous bets and handmade signs and Emma wasn’t sure she was going to get through the day without setting some kind of record for sighing dramatically. 

At least it was for a good cause. 

Rating: T. They banter. They kiss. They scandalize their kids by flirting.  AN: HAPPY HOCKEY SEASON EVERYONE, LET’S HOPE THE RANGERS AREN’T HORRENDOUS THIS YEAR! It’s time for me to get overly invested in the success of this ridiculous team and that, by extension, means it’s time to start posting an absurd number of words about the fictional version of the New York Rangers and this world that, seemingly, will not end. So, over the summer Zucc and Henrik hosted a charity hockey game and drafted their friends and it was as ridiculous as that sounds and both @optomisticgirl and @alicerubyfloyd were like “What if they did this in Blue Line?” And several thousand words later, here’s this. Time-wise, it’s July 2041, which makes Roland 31, Lizzie 24, Matt 22, Peggy 19 and Chris 13. Killian’s POV on Sunday. 

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll. 

“Sit.” “I can’t. Everyone is late.” “Wandering around this arena is not going to help.” “I don’t care.” “Swan.” “Killian.” Emma spun on the spot, pulled out of her pace mid-pace by several fingers around her wrist and the overwhelmingly effective smirk on Killian’s face and it wasn’t, technically, in the arena. He didn’t mention that. He probably knew it’d stress her out.

And that wasn’t even really the right word for it.

She wasn’t stressed out. She’d barely planned anything, was so used to doing events like these now she could probably come up with the schedule in her sleep and Merida had done most of it anyway. Emma had just agreed to do some Garden of Dreams promo and make sure the banners got to Chase Square on time and call someone in facilities about getting actual podiums set up.

That had been the most difficult part.

Stressed wasn’t the right word.

And it wasn’t worried either. She’d watched Killian play hockey for the better part of the last three decades and watched Roland play and Matt play and every single person that was, eventually, going to show up and stand by those absolutely absurd podiums was incredibly good at what they did.

They got paid millions for it.

Emma wasn’t really sure what emotion she was – unless it was generically annoyed because everyone was seriously late and Merida looked like she wanted to throw her phone at the will-call window behind her – but it might have just been some strange mix of nervous and excited and, well, mostly, nervous because she’d watched them all play hockey, but she’d never watched them play hockey together.

And she wasn’t sure she could handle her husband and her kid playing on the same ice at the same time.

“Swan, I can’t actually tug you down, it’s going to hurt my arm,” Killian muttered, and they both knew it was a great, big, enormous lie because he was probably in as good a shape as he’d been when he was playing. Maybe better. Well, no, maybe not that, but he still ran through Riverside three times a week and Emma was having more and more trouble thinking when she kept noticing new flecks of silver in his hair and--

“You’re trying to distract me,” she accused.

He nodded. “Yes, I am. Is it working?” “Not really, everyone is late.” “Or we’re just impossibly early.” “Is that really the word you were looking for?” Emma asked, hating whatever her voice was doing because his thumb had started tapping against the back of her wrist and she was ninety-two percent positive he didn’t mean to do it.

She didn’t think he even realized.

“I’m not really worried about the specifics of my sentence structure,” Killian said. “This is going to be fine.” “Of course it is.” He blinked. And his lips twisted, eyebrows pulled low when his eyes flashed up towards hers and Emma tried to make sure her smile looked as confident as she felt. That was one of the emotions she was feeling, she was certain.

She was confident. It was a great idea and it was going to be great and Garden of Dreams was going to make a shit ton of money for an anniversary thing that definitely deserved a charity hockey game with Rangers legends and some of the biggest names in the league today.

That’s what the e-mail blast had said.

Emma wrote it herself.

The whole thing had been her idea. She was pretty positive that was the only reason she wasn't freaking out. And she was having a lot of thoughts about Killian in uniform again. That were probably not appropriate for a game that also included her kid and her friends and Roland Locksley.

“Wait, what?” Killian asked, and Emma’s smile widened.

“Yeah, didn’t expect that at all, did you?” “I have no idea what the hell is going on now, love. Can you honestly sit down though, you’re going to do damage to the ground.” “The stone ground?” “Yes. Sit, Swan.” She rolled her eyes, but let him pull her towards him and she probably should have expected it – there was, after all, several decades worth of experience to all of this, but Emma wasn’t entirely sure if they’d ever made out in Chase Square and she gasped when Killian tugged her onto his legs. “That can’t be safe, pre-game,” she mumbled, appreciating whatever sound he made when she tried to get more comfortable.

“You’re going to make me think you don’t think I’m game ready.” “You were the one going on about the state of your arm,” Emma challenged. She twisted again, slinging an arm around his shoulders so her fingers could find the back of his hair and they really were there impossibly early.

“Ah, but we agreed that was a distraction. And this conversation makes no sense.” “Slow on the uptake, Cap.” He arched an eyebrow, letting his head fall forward so his lips landed on the curve of her shoulder and Emma’s emotions settled into something that felt a hell of a lot like flirting. Merida was going to throw her phone at them.

“I’m still waiting on that explanation, love,” Killian muttered. “The game’s going to be fun. We raise some money, we score some goals, we impress loved ones.” “Loved ones?” “I am consistently and only ever trying to impress you. Who I love. Quite a bit in fact.” “Is this still part of the distraction?”

He made a contradictory noise, mouth still pressed against her skin and there hadn’t been much argument about naming him captain of one of the teams. Emma wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever really stopped being captain of the New York Rangers. Or would. Any tense, really.

There’d been some discussion about the other team and it took, exactly, ten minutes for Robin to sigh dramatically and agree to Merida’s request – possibly because Regina had turned towards him and her eyebrows didn’t move at all when she glared. It was incredibly intimidating.

“It’ll be good for TV,” Merida promised. “Plus don’t you want to brag to Cap when you come up with a different team?” “Wait, what?” Robin balked.

“I mean...you’re going to have to stage a draft.” A draft. For a charity game. On Garden ice. In the offseason. With all proceeds going to a very good cause and an absurd amount of signed merch that was piled in Emma’s office and had recently migrated a bit to Matt’s old room because there was so much and Chris had only argued a little bit about helping.

He was thirteen he argued about everything.

There’d been more talking after Merida’s announcement, more planning and way too much trash talk amongst a group of former and current athletes than Emma entirely expected, but they were all way too competitive and it was only a matter of time before someone made a bet about something.

Or several things.

There’d probably be multiple bets.

“Swan,” Killian said, drawing out her name and pulling her out of memories and she startled against his chest. It was enough to work another groan out of him. “Look who’s being incredibly distracting now.” “You’re going to scandalize Mer.” “She’s way too busy trying to figure out who hit what traffic and how much she’s got to placate this growing crowd.” He waved his free hand, the one not currently wrapped around her middle, through the air and it was a testament to Emma’s current mental state that she hadn’t noticed the crowd or the media or the, frankly, ridiculous number of twenty jerseys around them.

She was still sitting on Killian’s right thigh.

“You think we scandalized all of them by whatever it was you were doing to my shoulder?” she asked, and she expected his answering laugh.

“Oh, absolutely. That was part of the distraction technique too.” “This is a very involved plan.” “Yeah, well, you were going to do damage to the ground by pacing right through it,” Killian countered. “So it seems to keep getting more and more complex with each passing moment. Also I know you’re worried they’re all going to be weird about this.” “Weird?” “Weird. Strange. Overly competitive. Absolutely refuse to draft Scarlet until the very final pick.” Emma’s jaw cracked when it dropped, fingers still where they’d been tracing patterns on the back of Killian’s neck and she swore his hand tightened around her middle. “Have you been staging secret draft meetings without me, Cap?”

He shook his head, but that felt like a lie too and the smirk was honestly absurd. It shouldn’t get more powerful as the years went on.

Merida had started yelling in the phone. Emma wasn’t entirely sure it was all English.

“No, no, no, no,” Killian stammered, and Emma had to move her eyebrows when she glared. She was never as good as Regina.

“You want to try that again?” “They’re not meetings, really…” “No, they’re, like, battle plans,” Roland said, appearing in front of them with a smile on his face and head-to-toe Flyers gear. Killian groaned against Emma’s shoulder. “Why are you guys sitting on the ground? Don’t we have chairs at this shindig?” “Please don’t call it a shindig in front of Mer,” Emma implored. “She’s stressed enough as it is. And where did you come from?” “And what are you wearing?” Killian added.

Roland crossed his arms. “I play for this team, Hook. It’s not like I’m going to show up in blue merch for this. I don’t care what ice I’m skating on.” “You practice that?” “Several times in the cab cross-town.” “Gina know you took a cab?”

The orange appeared to get stronger or brighter or some other verb that wasn’t possible because it was a shirt and not a sentient being, the longer Roland stood there. His eyes widened and his lips pressed together, and Killian practically cackled into Emma’s arm.

“If you tell Gina that I took a cab from the apartment, she’s never going to let me back into the apartment,” Roland hissed.

“Why didn’t you come with them?” “They were having breakfast when Henry and his kids. Because Henry is staying in a hotel and--” “--Didn’t get guilt tripped by Gina to sleep on the couch when he was home for the weekend,” Emma added, and she wasn’t sure if that was another laugh out of Killian or if he’d just never really stopped, but Roland’s face was almost too red now. “Go stand next to Mer, Rol,” she continued. “I’d like to compare shades of red.”

He stuck his tongue out at her.

“You’re a picture of maturity,” Killian chuckled. “Thirty-year-old man guilt tripped by his mother and then embarrassed by it.” “Ok, I’m not embarrassed by it,” Roland argued. “I just didn’t know it was going to be some kind of point of contention or fodder for trash talk or--” “--Are we trash talking you?” Emma asked, the sound of footsteps moving towards them and it sounded like Merida had finally taken a deep breath. She probably should have helped some more. She was way too busy flirting with Killian.

“Well, yeah. Right, that’s what’s happening? Isn’t it? Also where is everyone?”

“That’s a very good question. We think that’s what Mer is yelling about.” “Trash talking the trash talkers, huh?” Emma shrugged. “I’m fairly positive she’s upset no one is taking this as seriously as they’re supposed to.” “That’s not true at all. Dad and Uncle Will and Hook had some kind of meeting about how they were going to draft. Uncle Will was super pissed they wanted to draft him last and Uncle Liam laughed so loudly the rumors were it was going to do damage to Hook’s phone.” “How do you know that?”

It could not have been safe for Roland’s skin to keep shifting between pale and flushed so quickly. Emma tried not to laugh. Killian absolutely did not.

“Ok, you can’t be annoyed by this,” Roland said, holding both his hands up and Emma widened her eyes. She figured Killian moved his eyebrows – based solely off the blush-type reaction in Roland’s cheeks. “I’m pretty positive Uncle Will told Mattie because he thinks Hook is going to draft Mattie first, which, you know, obviously.” “And that means what, exactly?” Emma asked, only slightly frustrated she hadn’t been involved in any of these pre-draft meetings.

She should not have been surprised that there were pre-draft meetings.

They were all way too competitive for their own good.

Roland sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. It sounded like Merida was growling on the other side of Chase Square. “I’m, like, sixty-seven percent positive Uncle Will thought he could get Mattie to persuade Hook to break the pre-draft agreement and then he wouldn’t be angry about getting drafted last or whatever, but I don’t think Mattie went for it. I’m like ninety-two percent positive about that.” “These percentages are absurd.” “Math’s not his strong suit,” Killian grinned.

Roland kicked at his ankle. “If that’s your form of trash talk you are crazy out of practice, Hook. And I only know because I talked to Mattie yesterday because--” “--You were trash talking?” “I mean if I lie are you actually going to ground me?” “As previously discussed, mate, you are a professional athlete. Who is thirty years old. I don’t think I’ve got that kind of clout anymore.” “Thirty-one. Technically.” “Math’s not his strong suit either,” Emma laughed, leaning back when Killian hooked his chin over her shoulder and there must have been hair in his face. He didn’t seem to mind.

Whoever groaned behind them, however, very clearly minded quite a bit.

And was holding two different signs.

“Aw, c’mon, seriously?” Peggy sighed, flanked by a clearly amused Anna and a slightly disgusted Liam. Elsa didn’t look surprised. Lizzie’s eyes darted towards Roland’s immediately. She was wearing orange too.

“Right?” Roland laughed. He took a step forward, cheeks still far too flushed to be healthy and curls that were far too long because it was the offseason and hockey players were notoriously lazy when there weren’t games to be played.

At least the ones Emma knew.

Her fingers moved back to Killian’s hair.

“You guys know there are chairs here, right?” Peggy asked. Someone laughed. It might have been Elsa. It was definitely Elsa. “Where’s Uncle Robin? Does Dad win by default if Uncle Robin forfeits the draft?” “No one is forfeiting anything,” Emma said evenly, tugging on the hem of Peggy’s shirt when she moved in front of them. It was appropriately team-branded. There wasn’t a C on her shoulder. Elsa was still laughing. “I think that’d actually make Merida start to cry.” “Does Mer know how to cry?” “I’d really rather not find out.” Peggy hummed in agreement, sinking onto the ground without ceremony and letting her elbows rest on her bent knees. “Yeah, that’s fair. She know there’s some crazy accident on the FDR? That’s why we were late.”

“Locksley doesn’t have that excuse,” Killian reasoned. “They’d probably be coming up 10th Avenue anyway.” “You some kind of traffic soothsayer now, KJ?” Elsa asked, Liam’s arm still around her when she moved and Killian was going to do permanent damage to his eyebrows. “How come you aren’t letting Emma sit in a chair?” “He’s worried about the draft,” Liam answered. Killian flipped him off.

“Hey, c’mon, your kid is sitting right there!” “I’m almost twenty, Uncle Liam,” Peggy said, and Emma wasn’t sure what her soul did at that, but she was glad she was perched on Killian’s right leg when it happened. His arm tightened again. “I don’t think that makes me a kid. And Dad’s not worried about the draft.” Sprained eyebrows. Honestly. Emma wondered where Ariel was. Probably stuck in some other part of Midtown. Or the Long Island Expressway.

“Is he not?” Liam asked, and they were all going to be sitting on the ground sooner rather than later.

Peggy shook her head. “Obviously not. You hear about that trash talk he was giving Uncle Robin after he made that mistake on TV?” She let out a low whistle, eyes bright and only a little disconcerting and all of their kids were far too charming for their own good. They knew it too. “Could barely talk about the game without laughing in the middle of his segment. Nah, Dad’s crazy confident in his team already.” “Maybe you’re the soothsayer, little love," Killian said, smile obvious in his voice and Emma groaned when he leaned both of them forward to read the signs in Peggy’s hands. “When’d you make these? And when did you see the segment?” “On the plane. I think the lady next to me thought I was legitimately crazy. You know how expensive markers are in the Eugene airport? Highway robbery, honestly.” “Wouldn’t it be, like, sky robbery?” Lizzie asked, and Peggy rolled her eyes. “You make everybody signs or just people you’re related to and making out with?” Peggy appeared to be trying to melt into the stone ground. Merida stopped talking for half a second. Emma was, at least, ninety-seven and a half percent positive it was because of the look on Killian’s face.

“Thanks a lot, Elizabeth,” Peggy grumbled, and Lizzie didn’t answer, just leaned further against Roland’s side. Peggy didn’t notice. She was far too busy staring at her hands. They were still holding signs. “Ok,” she mumbled. “It’s not really like that…” “What is it like then?” Killian asked. Anna laughed that time.

“Jeez, KJ. That was way too hardcore for whatever it is we’re doing. Where’s your other kids?” “Chris is with Mattie,” Emma explained. She wasn’t entirely sure if Killian could actually answer. Or formulate any thoughts that were not about getting immediate and concrete answers out of Peggy. She bit her lip.

“It’s really not like that,” she said again, glancing up under her lashes and Killian’s whole body sagged against Emma’s. Liam mumbled something that sounded a hell of a lot like overprotective idiot under his breath.

“You do not have a leg to stand on this situation, Liam,” Killian warned. “See if I draft you later.” “Please, I don’t want to play for your garbage team.” “Oh don’t do that,” Anna groaned. “You want to be on KJ’s team, Liam.” “How you figure?” Anna muttered a string of curses, most of them in a language that was neither English nor Norwegian, and something cracked loudly when she leaned back against Peggy’s side. “Ignore that,” she said, a command to the whole lot of them and there was another car door slamming from Seventh Avenue. “Also, you’ve got to be on KJ’s team because otherwise you’re going to have to face off against Matt and that’s going to literally be the single most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you.” “And one time he fell off those rocks in Central Park and nearly sprained his wrist and had to come up with a lie to Mom and Dad about why he couldn’t move his hand without wincing,” Elsa added conspiratorially. Liam gaped at her. “Who’s the guy, Pegs?” Peggy gritted her teeth, glaring daggers at Lizzie. “I didn’t realize it was a secret.” “It’s not an anything,” Peggy shouted. “Margaret,” Killian muttered, and her whole body sagged forward when she exhaled dramatically.

“Who do we not know that’s playing in this game?” Emma asked. She tried to glance up through her skull when a hand landed on her shoulder and David grinned down at her.

“Your eyes are going to get stuck that way,” he said, Ruth plastered to his side and Mary Margaret was absolutely holding some form of baked good. “You know there’s a ton of traffic on the West Side, who decided to do this in the middle of the afternoon on Saturday?” “Ruby?” “God, remind me to yell at her about that, where is she?” “I have no idea,” Emma answered at the same time Peggy said “in her office, yelling at someone about the banners that very clearly aren’t here.” “How do you know that?” Peggy made a noise in the back of her throat. “She wanted to know where we were and if I was with you. And also where MD and Toph were.” “Are they not here yet?” Mary Margaret asked, already holding the Tupperware container out expectantly when Roland all but lunged at it. “And where’s the rest of the draft stock? Shouldn’t Robin be here? And Humbert?” Peggy froze. Liam chuckled.

“I’m not going to draft you solely so I can check you later, Liam,” Killian hissed, but his eyes didn’t move away from Peggy.

Emma reached out slowly, tapping her thumb on her lower lip in an effort to make sure she didn’t bite through it. “We don’t have time to get stitches, babe,” she mumbled. “And your brother will be mad if we steal his spotlight.” “Please,” Peggy countered. “The only brother’s who’s going to be mad about anything is Toph. Literally no one in the world has ever been more excited to see Dad play hockey.” Those emotions Emma was fifty percent certain she’d managed to corral a few minutes before reappeared in full force and the thought had crossed her mind more than anything else, the first and only time Chris would ever see his dad play on Garden ice and it made her heart do something and her pulse do something else and she wanted to scream and shout and jump up and down and one charity game should not be causing her so much personal turmoil.

She might make her own signs.

“Aw, we can’t even trash talk that,” Will said, and Emma wished they’d all stop teleporting to Chase Square. Peggy jumped up, concern over maybe boyfriends and guys who weren’t playing hockey, but had also grown up around hockey, forgotten as soon as Will moved towards them and he grunted when she threw the full force of her weight into his chest. “God, I’m not a hurdle, Margaret,” he mumbled, but there was a note of something in his voice and Peggy looked like she held on tighter. “You don’t have to try and jump over me.” “Shut up, Uncle Will.” “Aye, aye, ma’am.” She burrowed her face into the crook of his neck, and David was only slightly vocal about not getting a reception like that. Will grinned at him over Peggy’s shoulder. “Why are you guys all sitting on the ground? Where’s Locksley?” “Stuck in traffic with Matt and Chris and Graham Humbert’s kid apparently,” Killian said, catching Emma around the wrist before she could swat at his shoulder. Will’s eyes widened.

“Dad,” Peggy whined. “It’s not like that. It’s...the only people who got signs were you and MD.” “Wait, wait, Scarlet and I didn’t get a sign?” Liam asked.

“Liam, I’m seriously going to check you tomorrow,” Killian said. Will’s eyes still had not returned to a size that was correct for a human being.

“And I don’t think Graham’s kid is in the same car as Chris and Mattie,” Emma reasoned. It wasn’t easy to stand up, particularly when Killian’s arm seemed intent on melding into her body, but she managed to shift back to her feet and Peggy scrunched her nose when she pried her away from Will’s chest.

Her hair brushed Emma’s mouth.

“You’re no help at all either,” Peggy grumbled. “And it’s really not like that at all. Jer and I are friends. Lizzie’s just a giant jerk and--”

“--Mattie was the one who told me he thought he had to talk to this guy in person this weekend,” Lizzie interrupted.

“What?”

Lizzie held both her hands up, a rare surrender from anyone with the last name Vankald or Jones. There were more footsteps coming towards them. And heels. It appeared Ruby had descended from her office. “If you tell him that I told you that Margaret Elsa, I will push you in traffic,” Lizzie hissed, Roland clicking his tongue and Will mumbling oh shit in between laughing.

“Why is MD talking to you about this?” “Probably for the same reason we always talk about this. And because he was really mad we accidentally liked that one girls Instagram photo.” There was a chorus of what from the ever-growing peanut gallery and Chris slammed into Killian’s side, barely managing to get up before a thirteen-year-old inadvertently concussed himself on his ribs. “Slow down, kid,” Killian mumbled out of habit, and it didn’t work. It never worked. None of the Jones Line ever learned to control their limbs.

“Dad, seriously, I need you to stop making that face,” Peggy continued, seemingly unperturbed by the arrival of her younger brother when she was so clearly planning the murder of her older brother. “I can make a sign that says Jer and I are just friends if that’d help.” “I mean, it might,” Killian admitted. He flashed her a smile and his eyebrows twisted, tongue pressed into the corner of his mouth in a way that was supposed to be charming, but just left Peggy groaning against Emma’s side with more hair everywhere.

“And,” she added. “That Instagram thing happened literally years ago. MD was like--” “--A sophomore in college,” Matt finished, stepping towards them with Robin and the rest of the Mills-Locksley family close behind and both Emma and Will chuckled when Roland practically jumped to attention.

“Saw that,” she mumbled. He made a face.

“I was a sophomore in college, Margaret,” Matt intoned, hardly flinching when Peggy kicked and punched at him and Emma was going to end up bruised and battered by the end of this inevitable argument. “And that girl thought I was nuts after.” “Should have explained it better,” Peggy said. “And, you know, look at you now. I bet she’s really regretting that decision.” “She wouldn’t have had to if you and Lizzie were normal people!” “Ok, well, that’s just kind of rude, MD.” “Super rude,” Lizzie agreed, digging her chin into Peggy’s shoulder when she took a step closer. “Plus, who freaks out about that? A normal person would have thought you were just interested in--” “--Stalking her,” Chris finished. Matt lunged at him, more laughter ringing in the air and both Killian and Emma sighed, but that was as much reprimand as they were going to get out because they were incredibly behind schedule and their kids were some of the best trash talkers in the Tri-State area.

“We were stalking here a little,” Lizzie admitted, the smile on Chris’ face growing with every passing minute. “You late because you were stuck in traffic or because you were watching film?” Chris stopped laughing. And Matt froze, a picture-perfect impersonation of Killian being caught mid-lie that was absolutely, positively not on purpose. Emma’s emotions could not handle that day. Peggy nearly fell over when she cackled.

“Oh God,” she mumbled, shaking her hair away from her face. “You don’t get to say anything to me for the rest of the weekend, MD. I can’t believe you almost messed up Mom’s event because you were showing off for Toph. That one goal against the Pens was not that impressive, I promise.”

Matt blinked. And it took Emma, approximately, three seconds and one emotion-fueled gasp for everything to click.

Because no one had ever been more excited for Killian Jones to make his return to Garden ice than Christopher Jones – even through all that thirteen-year-old teenage angst.

“Wasn’t me,” Matt muttered. “And that goal was insanely impressive and you know it.” “You flatter yourself.” “Wait until tomorrow. You’re going to be stunned.” “That so?” “Guaranteed.” “Care to place a wager on that?”

Matt’s smile was as wide as the entire goddamn island of Manhattan, eyes flashing and hair falling towards his eyes and Roland was already demanding to get in on that action too, Lizzie rummaging in her bag for a notebook to make sure the rules were properly documented.

Emma moved, fingers lacing with Killian’s on instinct and several other things that would make everyone in a twenty-foot radius groan and gag and Chris had three cookies in one hand. “Slow down kid,” she said. “Didn’t your brother feed you?” Chris nodded, bobbing on the balls of his feet. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, but then we were watching the film from the first Cup run and he was letting me practice that shot Rook took--”

“--In his apartment?” “Matt doesn’t care about his security deposit. You see his rookie signing bonus?” Emma scoffed, but she couldn’t argue and Chris probably knew more about the contract than Matt did. At least as much as Regina did. “And?” she prompted.

“And that was a really good goal at the end of the game, Dad.” Killian’s hand squeezed Emma’s. “Thanks,” he grinned, wrapping another arm around Chris’ middle and pulling him back to his side and there was the teenage angst, right on schedule in disgruntled noise form. “Nah, nah, you don’t get to compliment me and then try and get out of being properly parented in public.” “That sentence doesn’t even make any sense.” “You want to get on the ice later?” “I mean...obviously, but only so I can figure out how you got enough speed on that breakaway.” “Don’t expect too much out of him, Toph,” Robin said, a kid clinging to his side who did not appear to appreciate the amount of noise the Jones Line was making. “He was running on adrenaline and the end of the game and trying to impress your Mom.” “Gross,” Matt and Peggy yelled in tandem.

“True though,” Will promised. “Almost always for like eons.” “It has not been that long, Scarlet,” Killian objected.

“Hasn’t it? Time flies and keeps on slipping and all that. I got a question for you, Cap.” Killian hummed, caution in the sound and Chris’ eyes darted between the two of them like he was watching a passing exercise. “Who’s going to wear twenty in this game?” Will asked, and it was like someone had pressed pause or pulled all the oxygen out of the entire planet and Emma was not entirely prepared for Ruby to curse as loudly as she did.

“Aw, shit,” she growled, stomping her foot for emphasis. “I didn’t even think about that.” “And you don’t have to,” Killian promised. HIs hand was still a vice around Emma’s though, and Chris appeared to have turned into some kind of stone, the number on his back growing larger with every passing second. Or at least it felt that way.

“Hey, what?” Matt asked sharply. “That’s my number.” Killian shook his head. “That’s my number.”

“Are you kidding me?” “Are you?” “I’m not giving up my number,” Matt said evenly, and Emma wasn’t sure who laughed loudest or longest, but she had to resist the urge to glance at the ceiling because her kid never really tried to sound like Killian, but it usually happened that way more often than not.

Killian didn’t move, didn’t pull his hand away from Emma, but she swore he got taller or more intimidating and Matt’s shoulders slumped slightly. “If I’m going to play in this game, then I’m going to wear my number,” Killian said.

“Captain voice,” Chris mumbled, Matt rolling his whole head in frustration.

“See if I feed you again later, C,” he groaned. “Dad, is this a joke? It’s my number. Currently. I’m going to wear it in a couple of weeks when camp starts.” “Because he’s a professional hockey player now, Hook, you see,” Roland grinned, gaze darting towards Peggy when she couldn’t keep her laugh in her body.

“I’m well aware of what he is, mate. I’m just not entirely understanding why that’s got any bearing on what number he wears for this game.” “I’ve never worn anything except twenty,” Matt cried. “This is insane.” “Nah, I think that’s just you and Dad, MD,” Peggy said. “Also you’re both ridiculously superstitious. That might be the most insane part.” “That’s definitely the most insane part,” Lizzie agreed.

“Ah, that was nice backup. Sorry for you calling you Elizabeth before, it felt weird when I was saying it. I’d like to never do it again.” “I’d like to never hear it again.” “Done.” Peggy shrugged. “Maybe Uncle Liam can just check MD tomorrow instead. It was his fault anyway.” “Consider it done, Pegs,” Liam grinned, Elsa only groaning slightly at the guarantee. It didn’t matter. Emma groaned loudly enough for the both of them.

“You guys can’t check each other,” she said. “It’s a charity game. We’ve had this conversation, I know we have. I was there.” “We don’t know how to play any other way,” Will argued. Ruby was never going to stop cursing. That was probably what the stories would be about. “And I really, really want to check Cap.” “I’m not drafting you, Scarlet, I don’t know how you’re going to check Cap,” Robin said.

Will checked him. Without a stick.

“Scarlet, if you do that again, I will never let you on Garden ice,” Ruby threatened.

“Can you actually do that?” “You want to challenge it?” “I mean, not particularly.” “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Ruby grinned, but that felt a little threatening too and Merida had finally hung up her phone.

“Are we all here?” she asked. Her hair was in even more disarray than Peggy’s. “Where’s Rook? And Humbert? Why did we invite Humbert?” Several pairs of eyes flashed towards Peggy, color rising in her cheeks and the toe of her shoe digging into the ground. “All of you guys are the worst,” she mumbled. “Can we focus on MD and Dad being crazy people instead? That’s way more fun.” “It is a little crazy, KJ,” Elsa said. “This is your kid. Wearing your number.” Killian narrowed his eyes. “A beacon of support, El. I can’t play on Garden ice if I’m not wearing my number. Peg’s right, it’s way too many superstitions.” “That’s ridiculous.” “You want to be responsible for the broken bones I’ll inevitably endure when Scarlet checks me?” Emma wasn’t sure what noise she made – a groan and gasp and possibly some kind of inhuman growl, but her head collided almost painfully with Killian’s shoulder and the twenty on her back was his twenty and they were arguing over possession of numbers.

“Wait, what?” Merida asked sharply. She looked like she was considering using the clipboard in her hand as a weapon.

“Nothing, nothing, Mer,” Robin promised. Killian’s eyes, somehow, got more narrow. “We’re super behind schedule, right? You look like you want to kill us.” “I don’t want to kill you. I want to know where Rook and Humbert are.” “Hey, hey, hey,” Phillip yelled, one hand in the air and Emma could just make out Canucks colors and Will was going to check Graham before he checked Killian. Before the game started. “We’re here, we’re here, Mer, please don’t curse us or anything. Did you guys start? Humbert was worried Cap was going to start without him so he didn’t have to draft him.” “Ok, I never said I’d do that,” Killian muttered, but that didn't ring quite true either and Peggy was biting her lip again. And doing an absolutely horrible job of avoiding Jeremy Humbert’s very obvious gaze.

“Right, right, God, should I be this out of breath before I’ve got to wreck all of you tomorrow?” “Wow, just starting real early with the trash talk, huh, Rook?” Ruby asked.

“I wanted to make up for lost time. Plus, I’ve got nothing on the Jones Line. Hey Pegs, when’d you land?” Peggy opened her mouth to answer, but Ruby was back to threatening and the media horde was starting to get restless and they really did need to draft a team. Preferably before Killian challenged Jeremy Humbert to one-on-one combat. Or Liam did. Or Will did. Or Matt did.

Peggy pushed her signs into Killian’s chest. “They both say skate fast,” she announced. “Because both you and MD are ridiculously fast and superstitious and I’m not that creative.”

Killian stared at her for a beat, those eons Will was talking about before seemingly passing by them just to prove a point or toy with Emma’s emotions. Peggy didn’t argue when he tugged her forward, brushing a kiss over the crown of her hair like she was a kid and not an even better athlete than her professional athlete brother.

“Thank you, little love,” he said. “C’mon, let’s go draft a team.”

That, however, proved to be more difficult than just standing at those absurd podiums with an absurd number of cameras pointed at them and Chris didn’t appreciate when Emma’s head fell to his shoulder. Peggy’s head was on his other side.

“I’m not actually a pillow person,” Chris hissed, while Ruby explained the rules and one player for every pick and please keep this rated PG and a few fans laughed at that. Robin won the coin toss to pick first. They literally flipped a coin. “God, P, stop digging your elbow into my hip.” “That is not where your hip is, Toph.” “Can you guys relax, please?” Emma asked, but it was drifting dangerously close to begging already and no one had even made a pick yet.

“Toph and MD didn’t invite me to their super cool, super hangout thing,” Peggy said. “That means I can do whatever I want with my elbows.” “I don’t think that’s entirely true, babe.” “And we didn’t know what time you were going to land,” Chris added. “So, like...move your elbow or I’m going to tell Jeremy Humbert you want to marry him.” Peggy jabbed him in the side, drawing a far too loud to be appropriate exclamation out of Chris that also led to him jumping to his feet and a shoulder slamming into Emma’s jaw. Killian’s head snapped up, both hands gripping the side of his podium with a wide-eyed gaze, like he was waiting for the inevitable broken bone or someone to find a stick somewhere and start hitting the other in the ankles.

Emma sighed.

And she almost didn’t hear it at first.

Peggy and Chris stopped arguing immediately.

“What?” Killian rasped, and Robin grinned like he’d already won the entire goddamn game.

“I said, with the first overall pick in whatever we’re calling this--” “--The summer classic, Locksley,” Ruby growled. “God, we’ve been over this.” “Right, right, yeah, that’s not very creative though.” “I’m going to revoke your captaincy, right here.” “Oh my God, Lucas, do it,” Will yelled, Liam shouting his own encouragements and Emma couldn’t actually see Matt anymore. He appeared to have slumped in his seat, Roland trying to pull him back up by the scruff of his own jersey.

“Say that again, Locksley,” Killian challenged. Robin’s expression didn’t change. “I’m drafting your kid, Cap. First overall, so, uh...congrats Matt, even better than your actual draft.”

Emma didn’t remember standing, only that she was and that was kind of a problem because her knees didn’t seem all that interested in functioning like actual parts of her body.

“It’s not like I didn’t get drafted, Uncle Robin,” Matt countered, but Robin shrugged and Ruby was trying to get him to come on stage so he could change jerseys. “Wait, wait, wait,” he sputtered. “This isn’t actually a joke?” “Please don’t call this event a joke, mini-Jones,” Ruby said.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Ru.” “Yeah, sure you didn’t. I really need you to put this jersey on and pose for a photo. Like twenty minutes ago, honestly, but your parents were probably flirting and--” “--Hey,” Killian cut in sharply, and Emma hoped Ruby hadn’t done damage to any of her teeth when she snapped her jaw closed. “Alright, with the second overall pick in whatever the hell we’re calling this ridiculous game, I draft Roland Locksley. And I’m keeping my number, Matthew.”

Robin’s mouth fell open.

“Oh my God,” Ruby mumbled, head in her hands and Merida had dropped her clipboard on the ground. “Mini-Jones, I wasn’t kidding about the photo. That goes for you too now, Rol.” Roland saluted. “Sure thing, Rubes. You see what a better choice the number two overall pick is? Ready and willing to report for duty.” “You’re a kiss-up,” Matt hissed.

“And that’s an insult you came up with when you were eight years old. It still doesn’t make any sense now, Mattie.” “Aw, c’mon.” “Mattie Jones, going to lose more than half his faceoffs tomorrow afternoon.” “You’re a winger, Locksley,” Matt challenged, and Emma pinched the bridge of her nose, her two other kids enthusiastically cheering for whatever against the rules trash talk was preventing Ruby from staying on photo schedule.

“Who’s not going to score any goals tomorrow,” Peggy yelled. “Down with the Flyers! Fly away home, Locksley!” “That was kind of funny, P,” Chris grinned.

“Right? I’ve been waiting to use that forever. Who shows up in orange in New York? You look ridiculous!”

Roland ignored both of them.  “True, I am a winger, but you’re some kind of All-Rookie centerman, so that’s free bait to mock.” “That doesn’t make sense either! Yours makes less sense than mine did! At least I was eight, that gives me some more leeway to--” “--Guys, please,” Ruby groused. David was hysterical. The subReddit was probably already talking about this. Emma was pretty positive there was a live stream somewhere. “Locksley you’ve got to make another pick.”

“Of course, Lucas,” Robin said. “I’d like everyone to take notice that my draft pick couldn’t take his picture in a timely fashion because Cap’s draft pick stalled him.” “That’s your kid, Locksley,” Killian yelled.

“No, no, for the next forty-eight hours, that’s your right winger.” “Oh my God. I want Rook on my team.” “Cap, you can’t go out of order,” Ruby yelled, jumping slightly in frustration and Phillip was already standing up.

“Yeah, I don’t care. Rook, c’mere, you know how to take faceoffs?” “Are you kidding me, Killian?” Liam shouted. They were all, apparently, going to stand up now. “You’re going to draft a winger before you draft an actual centerman. Whose rookie record for faceoff wins stood for a very long time.” “He’d like the record to show,” Anna intoned dramatically. Elsa had to put her hand over her mouth to stop her laughter. It didn’t work at all.

“Yeah, how’d that work out for you, Uncle Liam?” Matt asked archly.

Liam crossed his arms. “Don’t get uppity on me, kid. I’m willing to bet at least twenty bucks and some form of food for both you and your constantly hungry brother, if I win more faceoffs than you tomorrow.” “What if we’re on the same team?” “And I’m not always hungry,” Chris objected, a choir of ehhs raining down on him.

“C, you literally ate an entire box of cinnamon LIFE this morning,” Matt sighed, refusing to acknowledge Peggy’s outcry at that. The media horde was going to have a field day with this. “Alright, Uncle Liam, you’re on. No matter what team we’re on. You win more faceoffs than me, I want food, real food, not street cart shit.” “Matthew,” several adults shouted, and both the media and fans laughed loudly.

“You got a deal, kid,” Liam said, finally sitting back down.

Ruby inhaled, shoulders moving with the force of it. “Can we take two seconds to focus on what we’re actually here to do?” she snapped. “Cap, you can have Rook, I honestly do not--” “--Hey, I thought there were rules,” Robin interrupted. He’d definitely done damage to several teeth when Ruby very clearly tried to turn him to stone with the force of her glare. “Fine, fine, fine, then I take Humbert.”

Graham flashed a cautious smile over his shoulder, and Killian groaned, slouching so his forearms rested on the podium.

“Hey, remember that time Humbert punched, Cap?” Will asked brightly. “That was fun. What good memories we’ve got, huh?”

“You’re not doing your draft stock any favors, Scarlet,” Emma chided. He winked at her.

Ruby had sat down at some point. This was going to get its own 30 for 30 based solely on the absurdity of it all. “Alright, Locksley,” she said. “Back to you.”

It went that way for what felt like several increasingly long eternities, Emma tugging Chris back down so she had something to lean on and he didn’t bother arguing when Peggy moved to rest her head on his leg. And Emma couldn't really say she was surprised. Even if she hadn’t known about the pre-draft meetings, she knew both Killian and Robin would absolutely try to pick Will last, but she hadn’t expected it to come down to him and Liam.

There was a considerable amount of cursing going on in Norwegian.

“This is honestly insulting,” Liam announced, not for the first time.

“And embarrassing,” Elsa chipped in. “Babe, you’ve got to sit down. The pacing thing is freaking me out and you’re only playing into KJ’s plan.” “I have no plan, El,” Killian promised, but his eyes flickered towards Emma and his answering smile when she mouthed liar was honestly unfair. “I’m merely weighing my options.” “You’re being a jerk is what you’re being, KJ,” Anna corrected. “Lording your power.” “You think Liam will pull a hamstring from pacing so much? Can’t be healthy or a guy of age.” “Oh screw you, Killian,” Liam seethed, wincing when he realized what he’d said. “Sorry, Lucas. Just like...tell the media not to listen to me or something.” “Yeah, I don’t think it works like that,” Ruby said. She was still perched on the steps leading to the podiums, but she’d coerced Matt next to her some time in between the tenth and eleventh pick and they both looked dangerously close to falling asleep.

Emma wondered how much film had actually been watched the night before.

“Seriously, Cap,” Robin sighed. “It’s not that hard. Pick Scarlet and live with your spotty at best defense.” “What the hell, Locksley?” Will seethed. “Listen, you’re more removed from the game than I am. By, like, actual seasons.” “Four seasons, Scarlet.” “Five, actually. Do you not know how to tell time?” “God, did you really play that long after I retired?” Will nodded quickly, sarcasm practically radiating off the movement. “Yeah, you’re old, Locksley. And you are notoriously terrible in the defensive zone, so maybe you’re the one who needs a defender in this game.” “Where are you trying to get drafted, Scarlet?” Emma asked.

“At this point, I genuinely don’t care. I just want to go before Leader, so I can brag about that for the rest of time and then we can all get some food somewhere.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Ariel said, perched on the same seat as Mary Margaret with what appeared to be cookie crumbs sticking to the pads of her fingers.

Ruby made a noise that was equal parts absurd and impressive. “Did you teleport here?”

“Snuck in during the whole who gets to draft whose child debacle. M’s fed me, but this has honestly taken several lifetimes, right? Did someone feed Chris? He’s probably chewing Emma’s arm off back there.” “He and Pegs went to get pretzels like twenty minutes ago,” Emma explained. “You hit traffic in the tunnel?” “Someday that construction will be over. Hey, Pegs, how was your flight?”

Peggy opened her mouth to answer, but Ruby clicked her tongue and Liam threw his head back and there really weren’t many fans left. They’d exhausted the fans with their nonsense.

“You’ve really got to pick, KJ,” Elsa said, a note of ancient command in her voice that made several next-gen children sit up straighter. “Just take Liam so Anna and I can freak out about it.”

Killian tilted his head, and Emma could almost hear the thoughts and the metaphorical gears, and she wasn’t entirely sure what she’d do if that happened, but the world still didn’t seem to care because--

“I’ll take Liam,” Killian said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big and huge and emotional deal. “Need a centerman anyway.” “Wow, that’s a glorious show of support, little brother,” Liam muttered.

“Younger. And it’ll be easier for you to face off against Matt if you’re actually facing off against Matt.” “Jeez, Dad,” Matt mumbled. “That competitive streak knows no bounds, huh?” “You wouldn’t give me my number.”

“You going to score on a breakaway to impress, Mom?” Killian’s eyes flashed back towards Emma, standing again with an arm around Chris and something fluttering in her chest that might have been her heart or her pulse or the same thing it had done for eons because he still looked at her the same way he had all those same eons ago.

And she knew the answer to the question already.

“Every single time,” Killian grinned. Smirked. It was really a smirk. God, that worked so well.

Peggy gagged. “You better score a breakaway too then, MD. Show off that speed or something.”

“Yeah, well, you made a sign, right, Mar?” he asked. She nodded. “Alright, alright, well, I’ve got a distinct lack of cinnamon LIFE in my apartment now, so what do you say, Dad?” Killian quirked an eyebrow. “To?”

“A wager. Best breakaway has to refill my apartment with food because your kid depleted all my recently purchased groceries and probably will when he stays over again tonight.” “I’m staying over again tonight?” Chris asked, excitement obvious in every letter.

Matt shrugged. “I figured.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah, ok!” “Hey, uh, not to spoil this undeniably adorable and only slightly debaucherous Jones family moment,” Will cut in. “But is anyone going to bother to draft me because it’s garbage you guys are being jerks about this.”

Robin laughed, jumping off the podium with an agility that was only slightly surprising. “Sure thing Scarlet,” he said. “I draft you, and if you let up a single goal, especially a Cap breakaway while you’re on the ice, I will check my own top defenseman, deal?” “Jeez, Locksley, you are insane when given any power. Gina, you know he’s like this?” Regina waved her hands through the air, a grandkid asleep on her shoulder. “I’m refusing to acknowledge any of this. I’m showing up in orange tomorrow, Jones, try and keep me out of the Garden.” “I wouldn’t dare, Gina,” Killian promised. He glanced back at Matt, a smug smile on his face and arms crossed over the twenty that really was both of theirs and Emma was going to hurt her neck shaking her head so often. “Alright, kid,” he said. “We’ve both got to try for breakaways, whoever gets it wins?” “What if you both get it?” Anna asked.

“Mom’ll judge,” Matt shrugged.

“No, no, no,” Emma exclaimed. “I am not doing that. I am not picking sides in any of this. This is absolutely insane and superstitious and I expect goals from both of you.” Killian laughed softly, covering more ground than Emma was entirely ready for and he was in her space almost immediately, lips on hers and a hand on her hip and the entire neighborhood probably groaned at that. “Deal, Swan,” Killian muttered, not bothering to move away from her mouth. “I’m totally going to win, though.” “God, that’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever said to me.” “This doesn’t answer the question though,” Anna pointed out. “If you guys both score on breakaways, then someone’s got to win the bet. Matt can’t be without cinnamon LIFE forever.” “God forbid,” Killian chuckled.

“I’ll do it,” Will said, a note in his voice that refused any questions. “I doubt either of them’ll score because my defense will be that good against Cap and Dr. J absolutely cannot cope with beating Cap, so I’m going to win by default. But I’m more than happy to judge if they manage to try it or whatever.” “Eloquent as always, Scarlet,” Robin murmured.

“Yeah, well you should have drafted me earlier. Can we eat now or should we stick around and scandalize the New York media some more?” “Nah, I think we’ve done more than enough of that,” Ruby said. “I refuse to share a cab with Cap and Emma. They’re going to make eyes at each other.” “Not true,” Emma argued, an arm around her shoulders and kids already groaning before she added. “We’re totally going to make out in the back of the cab, so…” Killian kissed the top of her hair. And hailed a cab. And made out in the backseat.

[ecotone99]

[MS] The Ground Was Wet (Chapter 1 of a story I'm writing) - Details in Comments

​

It was ten years since my sister went missing, I still remember the day. I came home from school thinking she was there, maybe she went home early sick or something, I told myself. Checking each room of our house, I started to get a bit worried – not enough to start signalling any alarm bells, though. It was a warm afternoon in May, my sister was fourteen and I was twelve. We got along as well as any siblings did: a superficial hatred for one another, but a mutual love and understanding that we would always be the ones who the other could go to when the going got tough. And it got tough a lot.

When our parents would come home from work, pissed off because they felt they didn’t get the respect they deserved in their jobs, that would come out on us. But our parents weren’t hateful people, in fact, they were loving. Their biggest flaw, however, was that they raced into having a family without becoming people in their own right. They were high-school sweethearts, if there ever was such a thing; they got engaged on their prom night and married two years after. They had my sister after that, and then me two years later. Before having me, my mother’s dad passed away, and then soon after that so did my dad’s.

My sister and I were the bread of a dead father sandwich.

I checked the time and saw that it was 4PM, which meant my mother would be on her way home. I called her up and asked her where Holly was.

‘She’s not at home?’ my mother asked, a slight tinge of worry in her voice, before she relaxed a bit. ‘It’s the fourteenth today, isn’t it? She was going into town to get some things that were on sale.’

Made sense, I didn’t even think about questioning that. Hanging up the phone, I ran upstairs to change out of my school uniform and into something comfortable; I replaced the unnaturally yellow mustard tie and black slacks with a pair of grey shorts and a hoodie, before getting the box of cornflakes from the cupboard. It was my turn to do the dishwasher, but I couldn’t be bothered, I just wanted to get my homework done and be outside.

The sequence of events that followed are, in honesty, a bit fuzzy. I remember doing the dishwasher, then doing a bit of homework, before sleeping for an hour. When I woke up, Holly hadn’t returned and it was 6PM, way after the weeknight curfew and the time at which my dad came home. My mother was cooking something: chicken breast with savoury rice, a weeknight staple. I woke up because my dad was getting annoyed at my mother for something.

‘I know she’s a teenager, but this is too late,’ he said in a heavy tone. At the time, it seemed this anger was misplaced and came from his usual place of distrust of children, the children that he chose to have and that he brought into the world. It seemed like he said to himself: “I didn’t choose to have these kids so, if they’re going to exist, they’re going to exist on my terms.” And that was his justification for how he treated us at times. But, at other times, he wasn’t like that at all.

I remember it getting to 9PM and Holly hadn’t returned. Then, it got to 9:30PM and the police were informed. At this point, the panic set in; panic for what, I wasn’t quite sure. My mother cried, though she cried for everything, and my dad was just pacing. My mother wiped away tears with her slender fingers and tried to speak through her caught voice. She told the police officers what she told me; I’m pretty sure she already told them that though.

When they approached me, I had a rock in my throat. I gulped and told them that I checked the house when I came home and spoke to my mother, I didn’t think anything was wrong at that point. Nobody went missing in Little Yeadon, it just wasn’t the thing. I realised though, at that point, it wasn’t that nobody went missing; it was that nobody went missing yet.

As the years went by, our lives moved on. My parents sold the house, too many bad memories, they said – but I knew it was because they needed the money. I went to university and did alright; I got a job at a tech start-up in London that developed search engine optimisation algorithms for small-to-medium businesses. All of that was way above my head, I only worked in business development. That being said, I still went to Little Yeadon every two months. My parents were getting to their late forties, though they felt like it was time to retire.

When it gets to May, people at work always walk on eggshells around me. They never wanted to address it; it was just this unspoken thing that was a part of me. I had to basically beg the guys at the interview to let me work there despite the potential negative association my name would carry. I think I sold it as, ‘Well, how good would you look as a company that wants to give people with complex backgrounds a chance at a normal life?’ which I think they liked. They must have done, because they offered me the job the next day.

This year was a big one, it is ten years since Holly disappeared. I think the foundation my parents set up was planning on releasing some new mock-ups of what she would look like now, but those always terrified me. My parents needed me back in Little Yeadon for a vigil which was going to be held at the park, renamed for Holly as Hope Park. There, people were going to be given leaflets on child protection and posters to hand out to others they knew. That stuff annoyed me because I was trying to be realistic, I knew she was dead – she had to be. Nobody who went missing after ten years suddenly reappeared.

I left the office and got into the lift, hoping nobody would catch me before I got out. Hope wasted. ‘Danny,’ said my supervisor, ‘before you leave, do you mind just looking something over with me?’ She absolutely knew what she was doing, but I couldn’t blame her for it – I sold myself on the basis that my history as the Brother of the Missing Girl wouldn’t interfere with my work, so I helped her out.

When I was done, she tried to make small talk about our plans for the week – apparently the heads of departments needed to meet with some ministers about compliance regarding GDPR, or something like that. I told her that I was going home, just that. I confirmed she knew that ‘going home’ meant I was going home to the vigil of my sister who had been missing for ten years, but in a more implicit way. Though, when I got back to the lift, I wished I realised that subtlety was one of her few weaknesses. I checked my phone and saw an email from her asking me to read over these draft service agreements when I had time, which was code for when I had a desk nearby.

I jammed my phone into my pocket and walked outside, dragging my hand luggage bag behind me. I checked my phone to see the car number of the taxi I ordered to take me to my parents’ – I couldn’t be bothered with a train and I needed a few moments to myself. When I found the guy, he was standing outside smoking his vape. He signalled two minutes to me as he was on the phone, so I walked to the grey sedan and started loading my bag in, mouthing ‘It’s fine’ to him so he could carry on his conversation. He was a few years older than me, he looked Pakistani and spoke with a thick Northern accent. His stubbly beard would crease whenever he laughed, which was a lot, and his hair was slicked back with an inane amount of product. I just got in the car and waited a few seconds before he returned.

‘Sorry about that,’ he said, bounding in and slamming the door shut. ‘Right, Daniel. Just double-checking, you want to go to Little Yeadon?’ he asked, tapping away at the price controller, attached to the windscreen, on his right side. ‘Should take us about two hours so do you want to make a stop on the motorway about halfway?’

‘Sounds good to me,’ I said. I loved the services; I don’t know why but there’s something so exciting about stops like that. The intersect of people there who are all doing the same thing, all feeling the same way. It’s the same reason I love airports, and the same reason I loved the library at midnight during exam season at university. Petrol station Costa, overpriced KFC and all the sweets I could spend a tenner on.

We drove out of London for a bit and hit the M25 services before stopping. I checked my phone and saw a text from my mother, ‘Have you seen this write-up x’ she asked, sharing a link to a true crime blog, which had a link to a YouTube video. In that video, I saw someone try and do what people did five years ago – capitalise on the disappearance of my sister.

‘Hi everyone, welcome back to my channel,’ he started. ‘Today, we’re going to be talking about the tragic disappearance of Holly Ranger, a fourteen-year-old girl who went missing ten years ago almost to this day. Before we begin, I’d like to thank our sponsor for this video,’ she said, explaining that her viewers could get ten-percent off this subscription service if they used her code: ‘MISSTERRI10’. That was clever, her name was Terri Knowles and she caused my family a bit of unintended stress a couple of years ago because she brought Holly’s disappearance to an audience of over 750,000 people at once. It made everyone feel a bit on edge because of the unwanted comments, it was the main reason I almost didn’t get the job. Over the past few years, though, my parents reached out to her to get their side across. She accepted their invitation and it was the best business decision she ever made, because she started getting brand deals and gaining influencer status – she was known as the true crime buff.

‘The case of Holly Ranger is one I feel incredibly connected to,’ she started, her voice dancing softly on the quiet melody she used in all of her videos. ‘Part of what makes this case so interesting is the sheer lack of evidence and seemingly no motive by anyone, there aren’t any concrete theories. All of this has led police to slow down their search.’ That was true, there wasn’t any of that. Every time there was a lead, it was immediately severed because it led to nowhere. There were seventeen persons of interest, my father and uncle included, but nobody was officially ruled as a suspect because there was nothing tying anybody to Holly.

I carried on watching the video because, whenever I saw something about my sister, it didn’t feel like it was about someone I knew. They took her personality, her love and her flaws and used them as markers. She was a statistic; she was a product, something to be put on display for views, for reads, all to generate money. My parents didn’t mind, they thought that the more exposure she had the better the chances would be at finding her. Though that did make sense, the commercialisation of my sister didn’t sit right with me.

When I saw the picture of Holly that Terri put on the screen, I started to laugh. It was one that I took when we went to Margate and Holly wanted to do a handstand on the sand. Her brown hair was mid-fall, cascading onto the golden sand. Her face was skewed, and I remember showing her the picture, only for her to call me a dick and tell me to take it again – even if her face was red from all the blood rushing to her head. Our parents walked back to us with some churros and slush, I loved the blue one. It was a really nice day, a good memory. Over time, I grew to resent that my mother shared that with Terri; it was ours, not hers. Not anybody else’s, but I couldn’t be bothered opening up that can of worms. I just wanted to move on.

When the driver came back after his piss, he filled up about forty quid and ran in to pay. I followed him in and bought some low-quality, high-price gummy sweets and chocolate, and a Coke for good measure. The little bits of my childhood that I try to hold on to are the only ones that are mine and mine alone, everything else is just mired with Holly. There are moments in your life that help to define who you are, but there is only one for me. My life is divided into moments that are BH – before Holly, and AH – after Holly. Everything that is part of AH, I try to keep in my short-term memory, I can’t be bothered dwelling on it. I started doing that once I got to university, making friends on my own terms and living with people I wish I’d known my whole life. I never spoke to many people about her because of the unspoken ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ rule at university. You can be who you want to be there, but I’d spent so long in the shadow of my sister’s disappearance that I had no idea who I was. The first few months, I spent doing work, maybe I was going to be the person who just excelled at everything. Then, I spent a month just going out, maybe I was going to be the person who loved to party. Eventually, it got to the exam season and I realised how much work I had to do. Before I knew it, two more years had passed and I graduated, unsure of who I was and just going through the motions of a life I accidented myself into. Though I knew this was the case, that I was on autopilot to some degree, I still felt like I had a bit of autonomy, which I suppose is why I never wanted to change what I was doing, it was just what it was.

When the car started up again, the radio turned on. It was a news report about how tomorrow was the ten-year anniversary of Holly’s disappearance. The driver looked at me, then at my name on his screen, and he made the connection.

‘I’m so sorry, boss,’ he said, more restrained than I thought he would be. After some discussion on what he thought, which I don’t think he realised was a discussion I was trying to avoid, we wound up at my parents’ house – a small cottage illuminated by the mid-evening sun as it set over the hills. ‘I’ll tell you what, no charge.’

I’d already paid a £20 deposit, but this was nice. I told him that I’d just send him the rest as a tip and closed the door. Walking my bag to the house, I could see a horde of people through the window, all of whom were comforting my parents. My mother sat on the couch with her arms latched tightly onto her friend from work, my father was flitting in and out of the room getting people teas and coffees. I walked up to the entrance and, for some reason, rang the doorbell, like I didn’t belong.

My dad opened the door wearing a fleece jumper with some brown trousers, his hair started greying slightly. He hugged me asked how I was, before ignoring my answer and leading me into the living room. ‘Look who’s back,’ he said to the room, announcing me – I was on display for him. Everyone turned and rushed towards me, all hugging me, creasing my suit jacket. Holly would hate this, I thought. But then I thought a bit harder and realised that she would absolutely love it, the idea of people coming from all over just to be there for her – it was something she’d relish in. And that’s not a knock on her, but she was a fourteen-year-old girl who was reasonably popular, attention came like to oxygen to her. She so naturally basked when all eyes were on her; she would tell a story and have everyone balancing on the ends of her sentences, it was an art form really.

I finally managed to clear my path a bit and made my way to my mother. I sat next to her and hugged her, ‘How’ve you been keeping?’ I asked. ‘Did you enjoy the thing I sent you last month?’ I couldn’t come to Little Yeadon that month because I had a pitch to prepare for a potential client – I sent her a care package instead. I put in some colouring books because she told me she found them soothing, I threw in a candle or two because there’s no video on how to make a package for your mother whose daughter went missing, funnily enough.

She turned to me, taking my hand into both of hers, and smiled. ‘I’m much better now that you’re here,’ she said, stroking my face. ‘I’ve missed you a lot, how’s work going?’ It wasn’t unusual for her to be this candid in front of everyone, but I felt awkward having a small-talk conversation with my parents while everyone else listened in. I told her that we can discuss that later, I just want to unpack my stuff and get ready for tomorrow. I saw her face drop slightly; why, I couldn’t be sure. If I had my cynical hat on, it would be because I stopped her from having the opportunity to flaunt me in front of everyone else; if I had my caring son hat on, it was because I didn’t want to let her into my life. Often times, it was somewhere in the middle.

I pulled my bag upstairs and walked into my room, the spare room as it became known. My parents sold our old house a few years ago, while I was at university, so they didn’t need to redecorate a whole room that I’d only use once in a few months. They kept Holly’s old room though, almost a perfect recreation, in the event that she returned. I’m sure a twenty-four-year-old woman would just love the room she had when she was fourteen. But still, they kept it; I think my mother changed the sheets every two weeks. They used to spray her perfume in there too sometimes, just so they would walk by and catch a glimpse of it and feel alright – even if only for a split-second. I begged them to stop that and that wound up in an argument again. It wasn’t healthy, which they agreed. Sometimes it felt like I was the only rational person here, which I couldn’t really blame on them. A missing daughter and a son who wants nothing to do with them, that’s on me.

When everything was unpacked, I heard someone call my name. No, it wasn’t my parents, it was someone else. I peeked my head out of the door and looked to the bottom of stairs to see Arielle, my sister’s best friend when she was younger. She never left Little Yeadon, her parents owned the estate agents and she worked in there instead of going off to university. She was pretty, her hair was a dark blond and she had a nicely tanned complexion. It was weird, but the older I got the less attractive I found her. She was always in my sister’s shadow; when we were younger, she wore these thick “old lady” glasses as she called them. Her hair was always in two ponytails and she used to have retainers. I found her to be a really non-threatening member of my sister’s group of friends, she was the one I could geek out with about things and I loved that. After Holly went missing, she used to come home every so often to check up on us but, like everything, it started to peter out and it turned sparse. Out of everyone close to Holly, she was the one who wanted the least to do with the sensation that it brought our town.

‘Ari,’ I said, smiling. ‘Thanks for coming, how’ve you been?’ I asked her while walking downstairs. She took my arm and pulled me close to her, like a hug she couldn’t commit to.

‘Same old,’ she said, ‘I can’t complain.’ There was something else, though. She never wanted to make eye contact with me, and I could tell that her voice held some restraint. ‘There’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Can we go somewhere private?’ she asked.

I nodded and led her to my room. While walking, my mind raced through the possibilities of what she could want to talk about. I thought it was maybe something my parents, specifically my mother, did that I wasn’t informed of. That was something I appreciated about the relationship I had with Little Yeadon; people tried to keep me out of things unless I wanted to be involved. The town acted as a filter for me, and I loved that. Except at times like this because I knew my mother was volatile at times. I’d rather know about it when it happened than find out however many months or weeks later.

Ari sat on my bed while I closed the door, pressing it hard to make sure it was shut properly. ‘Everything alright?’ I asked her, half-jokingly.

She breathed, ‘I’m not sure. I didn’t want to speak to your parents about it because it could just be some kids playing a nasty prank, but you know how to handle things like this.’

My head was pounding. ‘What is it?’

She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope that was folded in half. Handing it to me, I noticed there was no handwriting; there was, however, a label. It was addressed to ‘The parents of Holly Granger’. The envelope itself didn’t look like it had ever been sealed, the lick-and-stick seal was unused and there was no stamp. I opened it and found a typed note which said only one thing:

THE GROUND WAS WET

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[aowanders-blog]

New Post has been published on https://aowanders.com/travel-blog/travel-planning-is-so-overrated/

Travel Planning is so Overrated

AVOID TRAVEL PLANNING AT ALL COSTS

My first big trip away from home way back  in 1998 I planned nothing, and look how that turned out?  I knew where I was going to stay, and how I was going to get there.  But that was about the extent of my travel planning skills.  Plus the internet wasn’t actually a thing back then, but with the gaining popularity of the internet, and fear of what happened in California you would think I would turn into a “Plan everything” kind of guy.

TRAVEL WITHOUT A PLAN

On occasion I have been the “overpacked” guy, but never the “plan everything” kind of guy.  I have learned over the years that nomadic life works out in the end, and mishaps are just part of the adventure.  Planning a journey is actually a pitfall because now your on the clock.  Deposits are at risk, and anxiety over takes your trip.

  Years of adventure travel have made me much better at just going with the flow.  I’m a last minute travel planner who has never had any set itinerary.  When plans change or things go wrong I just roll with it because from my experience it just adds to the adventure.  And the alternative to dealing with it will have you curled up in a ball of stress and anxiety trying to figure out how to get back on schedule.

Traveling without a plan allows you incredible adaptability to take advantage of opportunities you wouldn’t otherwise been able to.  It allows you to pivot to other options you couldn’t find on the internet back home, or change your mind when something different comes along.  Letting your trip unfold randomly can lead to exciting and unplanned adventures.

TRAVELING WITHOUT A PLAN WILL GIVE YOU A PLAN

I set my heart on Florida one winter, but ended up in Outer Banks North Carolina where I made the most money I had ever made in one season. I met a girl and bought my dream truck!  Another time,  I found myself in the middle of a civil war in Bangkok so I bailed.  That lead me to Grand Teton National Park where I found employee housing for $210 a month, and a $1200 a week job in one of the greatest landscapes in America.

I wouldn’t have had these or many other experiences had I planned an itinerary with a set schedule.  I recently wrote about a hail mary road trip I made to change my situation where I drove from Montana to Arizona in the hopes of finding that summer money in the winter months. After struggling for longer then I wanted to I stretched up to South Lake Tahoe only to find locked doors of opportunity!  Which at the time had me frustrated.  Especially since I had to drop Kota and the RV off in Minnesota, but now I reside in the Grand Canyon.  I have a job that pays close to $40 an hour, and charges me only 45 cents a working hour for housing.  I’m on another working vacation in one of the seven wonders of the world because I traveled without a plan, and let the adventure unfold.  Travel planning wouldn’t have gotten me to the Grand Canyon, or see my old friend in South Lake Tahoe.

NEW TRAVELERS OVER PACK AND OVERPLAN

Most new travelers are the opposite as they over plan and over pack.  I understand why people schedule their entire route sometimes down to the specific hour, or even why they overpack.  Its because travel planning is intimidating and they are afraid of the “what ifs”.  I was afraid too at one time.  What if I meet someone who wants to go to the beach, and I don’t have any shorts?  Or what if I get there and the tour is over booked because I waited to find a better a deal in person? Travel life has a way of providing you everything you will need to have the greatest experiences & best adventures.  Alaska taught me that.

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MY FIRST TRIP TO ALASKA

My first season in Alaska I packed city clothes.  No sleeping bag, no tent, camping gear of any kind.  Surrounded by hippies & vagabonds there I was with a suitcase full of Khakis & dress shirts.  All I needed was a pair of jeans, tennis shoes, T-shirt, sleeping bag & a hoodie.  Instead I had 4 suitcases of useless clothes and gear.  This last move I packed one bag of clothes, and still brought too much.  I packed it in under 10 minutes 15 minutes before I left, and I still over packed.  Life on the road will teach you that all you need is the basics.  Everything else you can buy, make do with what you have or it will emerge from the people you meet along the way.  Don’t over think your travel planning like most rookie travelers do.

TRAVEL SLOWER TO TRAVEL MORE

When it comes to travel less is more, and slowing down is the best travel planning advice anyone can give you.  Traveling slow creates opportunities for happy accidents of travel where you find yourself on amazing adventures you wouldn’t have otherwise been exposed to.  Spending more time in one destination allows you to get a better feel for the pulse of the rhythm of life in the area, and meet amazing locals that will turn into travel angels.

I have a friend that prays for things to go wrong because his best memories are from the worst scenarios.  He is strong believer in “The Adventure starts where the planning stops.” So plan your route and fill in the blanks along the way.  Your going to meet like minded people at every hostel you stay in, and there’s another hostel just down the road if you don’t like what you find at the first one.

OVER TRIP PLANNING

Travel planning trips can be exciting and adventurous.  When you start out you’ll be overzealous and try to cram everything in.  That’s ok.  Consider this your rough draft, or what I like to call a highlites reminder.  These are the things you want to see and do, but take a deep breath.  Realize its unrealistic, and burdening to try and rush from attraction to attraction.  Plus costly.  The slower you travel the cheaper things are.  Taking a taxi from the hostel to the Eiffel Tower is practical, but what will you uncover walking the 3 miles through the city of Paris from your hostel to the Eiffel Tower?

The best advice I can give you for trip or travel planning is to figure out the destination.  Then figure our your direction, and slowly start moving that way.  Book your first few nights of travel.  This lets you get a feel for the vibe of the layout around you.  Then let the adventures unfold from there.   Slowly travel from destination to destination until you feel like stopping or changing direction.  See the sites on the way, make new friends at the hostels you find, and take notice of the little things.

TROVER

Go with the flow, and follow your highlites list.  Or better yet let Trover guide you.  Its the greatest guidebook ever invented,  and never goes out of date.  Trover is perfect for travel planning on the fly.

When it comes to trip planning there is no magic answer., but there may be a universal approach to keep you focused and stretch your budget.  Whether its through a city or  country simply keep moving forward.  Travel in a continuous loop, and avoid doubling back.  This way you can keep your transportation costs down, and use your time more efficiently.  Keep your plans flexible so that you can stay in a destination longer or leave sooner if you find a better adventure.

TRAVEL WITHOUT A PLAN QUOTES

Every long term traveler has done their fair share of travel planning and will tell you:

“Life on the road will destroy even the best planned trip.  When the unexpected happens thats when you will find yourself in a great adventure story you can tell all your friends back home some day.”

From breaking your hand, traveling to new destinations with new travelers, vehicle breakdowns,  loosing reservations, staying longer, leaving sooner, finding love or even finding you’ve been robbed unexpected things happen on the road of travel.  Roll with it, and move on.  Dwelling on it will only wreck your trip.

BE FLEXIBLE WHEN TRAVELING

Be flexible because if your not the only thing your going to find is stress & anxiety.  Don’t rush from attraction to attraction.  You traveled all that way so soak it in.  Enjoy the moments and leisure of life while on your trip. Its ok to create a vague plan or even a back up plan, but be flexible or you’ll regret it later.

Travel is meant to be leisurely, exciting and adventurous.  If you get overwhelmed, burnt out or just want to relax for a few for a few days or take a “travel-time out” its important to give yourself some wiggle room in your travel schedule to do so.   Its important to give yourself flexibility for destinations you like or dislike so you can stay longer or leave sooner.

The best travel plan is a flexible travel plan that gives you direction, and adapts to your likes or dislikes while on the road.  Traveling with a vague plan is ideal, but traveling without any plan is even better.

Check out these articles to learn how not to not to over pack, travel planning  & prepare for long term travel.

Prepare for long term travel

What to Pack for my trip.

Travel Planning