#but I hope you enjoy my love for Matthew being a possessive little shit

[fireandspiceland]

Hiii, secretly a dom while being so shy and sweet on the outside Canada hcs?💕💕

I mean you already have a whole headcanon right there 👀 Canada being a dom behind closed doors and the sweetest boyfriend of all time whenever there’s people around 🥰

I feel like this also goes and in hand with him being a little yandere (which I love for him ngl).

Him and his s/o going out and when they talk to someone he isn’t close with or when he sees another man put his hand on their shoulder and leave it there just a little too long - you know his s/o will have to make up for it.

Also Canada doing this thing where the grip he has on their waist or thigh (or whatever part of their body he can subtly touch in public) is becoming tighter after they made a mistake 👀

Or even better, him excusing himself and his s/o to basically drag them into whatever room is available, bathroom, conference room, maybe an elevator and teach them a lesson on how to behave. And after he’s finished his s/o is forced to pretend like nothing happened. To sit back down for dinner or work, even if their body aches from being choked (on his dick) or spanked just a minute ago. 😩 And depending on how grave their misbehaviours was, his s/o might also still be shaking from being denied their orgasm if Canada wasn’t so gracious as to let them finish too.

But of course if anyone detects a hickey on Canadas neck and so much as asks if he had some “fun” the night before he’s a stuttering mess. 💖

[thepaintedlady00]

So there’s something I can’t get out of my head. Jealous morpheus. That’s it, but I’m a cute way, nothing obsessive or dark. Just imagine reader being too friendly with the Corinthian cause she find him a funny nightmare or they get along just too well, and the Corinthian watching the grumpy morpheus only goes more gentlemanly with reader to annoy him. Or just reader spending too much time with Mathew cause hey, he used to be human so they have much in common. Grumpy morpheus till he gets her attention back at him

The Corinthian and Reader being best friends is an idea that I'm OBSESSED with!!! Dream would try so hard to be supportive but Corinthian is such a little shit that he'd just immediately know Dream was seething with jealousy and do everything he could to make it worse 🤣 So, enjoy!!! 😍

Dream watched as his sweet dreamer laughed at his nightmares side, the sight should be comforting and fill him with relief at the knowledge that she loved all his creations, dream or nightmare. But this did not make him feel good. Not when The Corinthian looked up and tipped his hat to his creator with a smug grin. Not when you seemed to be so close with his most fearsome nightmare.

You had spent so much time with him, walking through The Dreaming and laughing at the jokes he told you, giving him handmade gifts and kisses on the cheek, seeking him out to tell him about something funny you'd heard earlier. The two of you had become near inseparable and Dream was jealous. Not of The Corinthian in particular, though he did manage to just know exactly how to get under Dreams skin, but of everyone that blessed to your attention and affection.

He was not a particularly possessive man, not anymore at least, but he couldn't help the persistent itch to toss you over his shoulder and steal your attention for himself. Instead, he'd taken to moping. He sat on his throne and watched you giggle with his raven at the bottom of the steps, a deep pout evident on his face. You glanced back at him and shook your head. "It's been fun, feathers, but I think someone needs some attention."

Matthew looked up at him and chuckled. "Damn I don't think I've ever seen you look so sad, boss."

"Don't you have duties to attend to?" He practically growled.

The bird took flight, laughing quietly as you ascended the steps to stand in front of him. "Have I neglected you, Dream Lord?"

"No," he said. "You have given me much attention in the past days."

"Then why do you pout?" You asked, running your soft thumb over his bottom lip.

Dream sighed, pulling you into his lap, gently nuzzling his face into your neck. "I liked having your attention too much, it seems."

"Ahh, so you're jealous then?"

"No."

You laughed and pulled his face up to yours, pressing light kisses to his head and cheeks before pressing one to his lips. "Want to know a secret?" He only hummed in answer. "You're my favorite."

Dream smiled now, holding you tightly against him. "I should hope so."

"Just don't tell Corinthian." You added. "He'd be very offended."

"Yes... That would be horrible."

You should have known you'd come back the next night to a very offended Corinthian demanding to know if uptight Dream of the Endless was really your favorite, but the sight was well worth it in Dream's mind.

[engineer-in-space]

a simple call of the wild review that is totally professional and not way too detailed by me (February)

It's gonna be a bit of comparing to previous powerwolf albums/songs and remember everything is my own opinion. If you disagree/agree we may talk about it in a civilized way, I actually love talking to others about this shit!

But otherwise (hate, insults, etc.) you can keep your opinion somewhere where I can't see it :) Also, the album has barely been out for a day and things change with time and I may grow to like certain things more. (but there's not too much that I don't like tbh) But I hope you enjoy this metalhead-gremlin's ramblings!

Faster than the flame

I had to listen to it quite a few times before I could say anything about it. It's a powerful start into the new album, however, it is (as previously stated) powerful but didn't blow me away like the first songs on the previous albums. (Fire &forgive, Blessed &possessed, amen & attack - wait am I just now noticing a pattern here? oh my god. Anyway.) Maybe I got that personal feeling that I want it to be Fire & Forgive, which is, of course, not possible and would be boring. So i think I'm not even critizing the song but rather the order of the songs.

It feels like a typical powerwolf song; both lyrics and instrumental. Fast, heavy, something about flames and burning - awesome. The two Latin parts (I think it's called the pre-chorus? man, I have no idea and will just throw around these words because my internet connection is too bad to look this up. But if you listen, you'll know which parts I mean.) already give me goosebumps. I also really, really liked the bridge (again?? idk??) aka the "flame, flame, burning wild in heavens name" part. This was the most memorable part for me after the first time listening. Of course, the guitar arrangement throughout the whole song is just... god bless. I must say that using the word "pastor" is dangerous because my stupid brain keeps thinking Attila is singing about "pasta" again... Oh well, moving on!

Beast of Gevaudan

Man, I've been listening almost non-stop since it was released as a single! At first, my head was comparing it somewhat to army of the night but after a few times this feeling was gone and it became an awesome new idea/song. The choir and orchestra part are so well placed and support the rest of the instrumental and Attila's voice perfectly. Again, much fast, very powermetal. I've grown very fond of the guitar solo. The lyrics tell us a little about the story of the beast and I. Love. Storytelling. In. Songs. Glad matthew finally came around to put his idea out there!

This song also has a video, which left me speechless at first. I love Attila's acting so much??? And making this sort of their own story of Jesus was such a cool idea. Production is high quality as well (didn't expect anything less after The Sacrament of Sin MVs) and there were really nice shots in there. I doubt that I will get tired of this song and this video anytime soon!

Dancing with the dead

That choir stuff in the beginning, following by that awesome guitar riff already had me. I couldn't stop listening to this one either. This might be, in my opinion, the most catchy song on the whole album. The intruments are in perfect harmony with Attila's heavenly voice. The transition into the guitar solo is so damn smooth and well done. I'm having a whole crisis about how good this song is.

The lyrics are interesting too! Again, there's a story to be told. As far as I can interpret it, being introduced to some darker powers and growing to enjoy them, despite previously having lots of faith, is what's going on here. It has this slight feeling of... corruption (in a good way of course). This makes me want to go dancing (with the dead)

This one also has a video! Once again, very high quality. Every band member had their "special moments/shots" and just looked stunning. But Attila left them all behind this time. Slow dancing, in a suit, with that smirk on his lips??? Well done, my dude.

Varcolac

This one's dark and heavy. It brings me back to the good ol' times of Lupus Dei and Bible of the Beast. Just with more orchestra, choir and overall harmony. It makes me so happy that Powerwolf is using so many real life legends and figures on this album! And they did such a good job with them as well. If this song was alive, it would be a scary beast.

The typical metal elements and orchestra/choir parts are very well balanced. And the organ throughout the whole song is fitting. It supports the dark and sinister feeling of the whole thing. My favourite part may be the "And as army we bing fire..." parts! Man, I just love werewolves. Also, I think Attila's famous gibberish singing made a return in this one!

Alive or undead

Oh boy,here we go. The piano in this one is incredible. "Here we STAAAAAAND!" Goosebumps and shivers. Everything about this is so emotional andreading the lyrics while listening just makes me want to cry, ok?! T_T Powerwolf has become so flexible, exploring different ways to make music. This could have been some kind of typical powermetal song but it's not and I'm glad about it.

Even if it's a little different, they never stray to far from what makes them special. The few parts, reminding one of typical church music would not have been necessary but are appreciated! They know when to leave out the guitars and go slowly. What bothers me a little, is that it somehow feels like Attila's voice had a tiny bit more potential up to the chorus. It could've been a little bit softer? if i can put it that way. But honestly this song is raw emotion and everything still fits together. If you thought their first ballad was emotional, buckle up, this one kicked me right in the feels.

Blood for blood (Faoladh)

Powerwolf ventures again into the folk metal territory and successfully conquers it! Could be a headline of something. Anyway, this song is a very worthy successor of Incense & Iron! It just makes me happy, its melody is so light - combined with your typical Powerwolf lyrics. Perfect song to start jumping up and down! It radiates motivational energy. Just like Dancing with the dead, this song has a very smooth transition to the guitar parts.

The melody is strong but still easy enough to quickly get into it! I can barely sit still and write this aaaa. Seriously, I am just happy with this song and will go jump and headbang a while to it!

Glaubenskraft

I have returned from jumping and oh no. It's a German song. Bold of them to go all out on that Latin beginning... it works really well though! It might be because I'm German but this song hits hard. Very hard. It's not easy to make this language sound good and ( if you don't happen to know much about German) the lyrics consist of a bunch of old words and grammar you wouldn't normally use anymore. But they made it fucking work!!! The quiet verses only make the pre-chorus and chorus itself heavier and blow me away. And SOMEHOW this super epic song with (made up, at least I'm pretty sure they don't exist like that) Latin words is about.. you know what Powerwolf writes about a lot. And I LOVE that. It's so subtle and only if you read into it, you're like "wait a minute".

This song has a feeling of corruption too. But not in a good way this time. It feels evil and intimidating and - honestly, I can't get enough of it. Everyone of my neighbours will think I'm some kind of weird Christian fanatic because I WILL yell "Glaubenskraft" just as much as I yelled "Stossgebet". Worth it, tho.

Call of the wild

The song with the same title as the album! (or the other way around, whatever.) This song is just catchy from the beginning to the end. Like many other songs its fast and hard. Just how I like it. Don't take that out of context.

The lyrics and instruments go wild (haha get it), with a really neat Latin pre-chorus. It's very fun to listen to. Personally, it makes me feel like I belong to the pack. That we're strong together, that we can say fuck it once in a while and just go crazy. The chanted part near the end of the song reminds me strongly of Sanctified with dynamite (ya know "die, die dynamite" and "call, call, call of the wild") and it's really cool they pick up on old things once again. Be it intentional or not. It's a reminder that they still are who they were back then - and their music is still fucking incredible.

Simply an epic song, strong vocals, strong guitars. I really, really like the intro. Attila has to sing so many words in such little time, does he even need to breathe now and then?

Now I'm wondering what came first; the album title or the track title? Chicken or the egg?

Sermon of swords

First of all: WHAT IS THAT OMINOUS VOICE IN THE BEGINNING. Mark me down as horny and scared. Ahem.

I really like how the verse and the chorus have their own theme and melody going on and yet they're connected. The chorus is super catchy too! And just say it yourself "Sermon of swords", how cool does it sound??? The choir in the beginning is a really neat introduction into the whole song. The lyrics match the whole album, very much a soundtrack to go on a crusade to, like Raise your fist, Evangelist or Christ & Combat. Just... "AAMEEN!" Ok, I'm actually going insane here, calm down, Feb. These might be my favourite lyrics of the whole album I think?? (unless I said that somewhere else already, then i have more than one favourite.)

The whole song has a more "classical" feeling to it, not only in the Powerwolf sense but also in the Heavy Metal sense in general. BUT. Orchestra and choir are prefectly mixed, especially supporting Attila in the chorus. The guitar solo is really cool and sounds very Greywolf-y, if you know what I mean. It's just Matthew's style.

Undress to confess

The name of this song says it all. This is your friendly reminder that no matter how much they preach about Jesus or the Devil, Powerwolf should not be taken too seriously. When I first saw the title I couldn't help but chuckle a little.

The melody is pretty catchy and easy to remember, the organ and general approach reminds me of Demons are a girl's best friend. I absolutely love how the lyrics are on that thin line of somewhat poetic and ridiculous. Let me provide two examples here: "all the world we posess for desire and sin we carress" - man, this sounds pretty.

And there's also "dressed to hide the dark, and obsessed to ride him hard on the.... crucifix." Yeah, I... I don't know what I expected here. Anyway, this is how you describe church sex without actually using explicit words. (why are you booing me, i'm right)

Still really nice to listen to and have a good time!

Reverent of rats

We arrived at the last song of the album! And here we picked up on the speed and power again! The way the organ is played during the verses makes it so... sinister. Again, this piece reminds me of Lupus Dei. The verses keep the sinister feeling while the chorus picks up more... drama? An epic melody mixed with epic words make my soul ascend to heaven.

This guitar solo is also the absolute good shit. It might be my favourite from all the songs of this album?! Additionally, the drums? I don't know why but they really stand out here. Love how fast paced they are.

Aaaaand that's it! If you've read all the way through holy shit, you are actually a badass. Thank you for staying with me, my werewolf friend. Maybe we'll meet where the wild wolves have gone. But always remember: Metal is religion.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

WE ARE A TEAM

Angel Reyes x Reader

Author comments: This work was one of my first requests, and I wrote only two chapters, but I always thought that it needed an ending. So, here it is, two months later. This work wasn't re-edited, so I'm sorry if you find grammar mistakes! I hope you all enjoy. Gif credits: @angels-reyes​.

@ifoundmyhappythought asked: Angel falling for a girl who’s pregnant (father didn’t want anything to do with a baby) and her being hesitant to get involved with him because she couldn’t believe anyone would want to her with all the “baggage” she comes with. Would want her with all the baggage she comes with** but angel doesn’t care he’s so enamored with her and is excited to be a dad 😭🥰

Word Count: 2.7k

Chapter one: here.

Chapter two: here.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @angelxshiba @sesamepancakes​  ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

It's almost break time, when the Principal knocks the door, coming into the classroom. He looks confused, walking towards the teacher to whisper something on her ear. Then, he leaves without any more words.

“Laura”.

The girl with black long hair raises her eyes from the textbook.

“You have a visit. Please, go to the Secretary”.

Surprised, the sixteen years old quickly gets up to run out of the class, jittery thinking that something bad happened. She moves her legs faster than never, crossing the long hallways, dodging other students. She can barely breathe when she reaches it, coming in without calling. There's no Mayan inside, but a middle-aged man sitting on a couch. He stares at the girl, visibly nervous, holding something that looks like a photography.

“Who are you?”

“Hi…” He just says, getting up and taking some steps close to Laura. “I am a… a… friend of your… mother”.

“Is she okay? Something hap—”.

“No, no, no. Keep calm, she's okay”. He raises a hand with the intention to reassure her, before hesitating offering the picture. 

“What's that?” She asks grabbing it to have a look.

Laura can see you being hugged by the man in front of her, but she doesn't understand what is going on. So she just stays quiet, waiting for an explanation.

“I am… I am your father, Laura”.

For a moment, she's about to laugh thinking that it's a joke of a hidden camera, until she realizes that it's not. That he's telling her the truth, by the gesture on his face. Hardly swallowing, she takes a step backward.

“I acted like a coward… I went to see you when you were born, but… those barbarians… those ‘Mayans’ didn't let me see you. And I'm sorry if it took me so long, to come back. I have no excuses. But I'm here and… I want to meet you”.

The world is falling down into pieces. There's a knot inside her chest that doesn't let her breathe as she should doing it. Laura steps out of the Secretary, leaving her stuff there. Leaving the high school. She's running without no destination and her eyes filled with tears. In one second, her life has collapsed. With only one sentence. With only four words. Knowing that everything was a lie hurts more than knowing that her true father abandoned her. Then, who is Angel Reyes?

— Three hours missing —

You stop dead the engine of your car, jumping out of it to cross the front yard of the clubhouse. The crew is reunited inside the Templo and you don't give a fuck about what they're talking about. Your husband looks at you confused, seeing the tears running down your cheeks like an uncontrollably storm. The guys quickly get up from their chair, worried, making questions that you can't answer till your husband holds you.

“Mi amor, what happens? Why are you crying?”

“Laura… La—Laura”.

“What happened, (Y/N)? Please, talk!”

“She has disappeared”.

“What the fuck…?” Ezekiel asks coming closer.

“I went to pick her up from school. And the Principal to—told me that… a man went to… to see her”.

You can't help but break into a loud cry, shaking under Angel's arms. He can't talk. He knows what it means. Everybody in that room know what it means. And they don't need a single word to know what they have to do, leaving the Templo sooner as their legs can run to their bikes.

“Ple—Please, Angel… Find our daughter… Please… I beg you”.

“I will, mi amor. I will… You stay here, okay? Maybe sh—she will come to the club”. He cups your face in his hands, kissing your lips for a second. “Look at me, mi amor, look at me… We will find her. Everything is gonna be okay”.

— Four and a half hours missing —

In less than one hour, the whole Cali is looking for Laura. Mayans, Sons of Anarchy, Hell's Wolves, Galindo Cartel… Even some contacts inside the DEA. There's no place in the coast, nor in the border, nor in Mexico that don't have someone looking for your daughter. But while you're calling all her contacts, and her phone off every two minutes, she's missing.

When Nestor calls Angel to tell him that Miguel has Matt under his possession, the oldest Reyes acts faster than never. He rides, followed by the crew, close to the border with Santa Madre; throwing his bike to the ground without caring about the scratches, running into the house. Miguel stops him with both hands on his chest, or he knows what would happen.

“Hey, hey, brother! Listen!”

“Where is that motherfucker?! I'm gonna fuckin' kill him!”

“Listen to me, Angel! He doesn't know where's Laura. He went to see her and gave her a picture with (Y/N)”.

“Let me go, Miguel! I'm gonna fucking cut him into fucking pieces!”

“ANGEL, FOCUS! Focus on finding Laura. Then, we all will take care of him”. Miguel says, claiming for his attention. “He's going to pay. But now, keep looking for YOUR daughter, okay?”

“Angel, let's go”. EZ places both hands on his shoulders, pulling him away. “Listen to Miguel”.

“Brother, Laura needs us”. Bishop says then, appearing behind him and palming his chest. “C'mon. Let's find the kid”.

“Matthew is not going anywhere, brother. Don't worry about it”.

— Eight hours missing —

Laura isn't stupid. She knows exactly where to go to feel safe of your lies, of everything that it's killing her right now. The sun is going down, plunging the city into the darkness of night. Even if it's not the best place to stay, she knows that no one is going to look for her at the old Coco's house. Grabbing the key under a broken rung, she goes downstairs to open the door. She remember good times in that flat and, even if the place is completely empty, there is a mattress to sleep on. 

She's starting to connect some dots of her past. Angel doesn't have any pictures with you of the first months being pregnant, nor even before of that. She doesn't have the last name of the Reyes. And you have always avoided to talk about how you met your husband. When she wants to realize, she's crying again, feeling unhappy, miserable and lonely. She wishes being with pops, because at least he knows what to say in every damn situation. But she doesn't want anyone to know where she is. So staying there, until see what she can or want to do, is the only option. 

— Twenty hours missing —

When Laura opens her eyes, it takes her some seconds to remember what happened yesterday and where she is. Coughing with dry throat, she sits up on the mattress resting her back against the wall. Grabbing the phone turned off from the floor, she checks that she has some bucks under the case, enough to have some breakfast. After cleaning her face and tie somewhat better her hair, she leaves the flat. Laura doesn't want to think about you, nor about Angel, nor about anything, covering her head with the hoodie sweatshirt walking with her chin down and avoiding main avenues. Today, she has a destination.

— Twenty two hours missing —

Your eyes are empty of tears, you're just in a constant shock. No drinking, no eating, no sleeping. About to finally collapse. Creeper took you to Felipe's house last night, because Angel thought you shouldn't be alone at the clubhouse, with the little hope that Laura went to her abuelo's house.

“Mija, come here”.

The old man sits by your side, holding you between his arms to give you a warm hug.

“We should have told her…” You whisper.

“It's never too late, (Y/N). She will understand that you did it to protect her, and because you love her”.

For first time in hours, you raise your gaze from your feet to his eyes, covered by a pair of glasses.

“We are her family, ella lo entenderá”. (She will understand it).

— One day and four hours missing —

Laura could win a national Hide and Seek. She learned from the crew, over the years. And that's despairing your husband. Angel didn't sleep a single second, riding around Santo Padre and the border once and again to the places he has visited with Laura since she was born. But nothing. It's as if the earth has swallowed her up.

“Baby, please… Call me. Mi dulcecito, I am… I am so sorry”. Angel is crying like never before, resting his body against his motorbike. “I promise I'll te—tell you the truth… Shit, I miss you, mami… Please, I be—I beg you. Call me”.

He has left thousands of voice messages. But he has received no reply.

— One day and seven hours missing —

Laura is reading for third time the documents between her fingers. She has been thinking about it the whole time, trying to understand why you hid it from her. She has been thinking about Angel, about the good moments, about all the love he gave her unconditionally. The travels, the nights at home watching movies, the days learning about mechanic and self-defense. He accept you and took care of you when Matt left you being pregnant. He loved Laura as if he was his true father. No asks, no complains, nothing. 

When she turns on her phone, it collapses for a minute. There are a lot of notifications. Calls, messages, videocalls, even emails. She swallows hardly, typing Angel's number by heart. For a second, she doubts. She could call tío EZ or her abuelo, to ask them first about the decision she has made. But it's been to long. And even if you are her mother, no one loves her more than your husband. Not even you. 

“Laura? LAURA? MI DULCECITO, WHERE ARE YOU? ARE YOU OKAY? ARE YOU HURT?”

“I'm… I'm okay. I'm sorry… Angel”.

His heart stop dead for some seconds, hearing her daughter calling him by his name. The oldest Reyes is surrounded by your family, while you're standing close to him, trying to hear her voice.

“I wanna see you”.

“Of course, mi amor. Tell me where you are… please”.

“I'll send you my location. Come alone”.

— Twenty minutes later —

As soon as Angel spots Laura, your husband parks his bike close to the sidewalk and, taking off the helmet throwing it to the ground, he runs to your daughter sitting on a bench. She gets up at the exact moment that the man's body collides with her. Crying like a child, finally hugging her tightly between his arms.

“Are you okay? Where have you been? Someone has hurt you?” The questions roll out of his mouth, cupping her cheeks in his big hands taking a look of his daughter.

“I'm okay… I'm okay”. She says once and again.

Angel covers her face with kisses, lifting her up and urging her to wrap his waist with her legs, like when she was a little girl. His little girl. Sitting on the bench, your husband rest his forehead on one of her shoulders, unable to stop crying. He was the whole time thinking about the worst things ever, but she's safe now. 

“I want the truth”. Laura finally asks, after some minutes hearing him sobbing.

“Tell me, mi amor. I will not hide anything from you again”.

She knows he's being sincere.

“How you met my mother?”

“I… I went with your tíos to Santa Madre. We were off to the club, and Coco wanted to go to the fair… And… she was there, hanging with her friends and she had a craving. You wanna know of what…?”

Laura simply nods.

“Green cotton candy”.

Your daughter smiles fleetingly. Her favorite. She could be eating it all the time.

“Your mother was wearing a black dress. Estaba preciosa, lo juro por Dios”. (She was beautiful, I swear to God).

“And pregnant”.

“Yeah. Five months. But that was the best day of my life 'cause I met the two loves of my existence”.

“You didn' care?”

“How I could, Laura? I lose my ass for her at first sight. As I did for you the day I took you in my arms… with this… pointed nose and your rosy cheeks”. Clarifying his throat, Angel cleans his tears with the back of both hands. “I know we hid it from you, I know we should have told you… but I was so… fucking terrified… So fucking terrified that I was having nightmares about it”.

“Why you… didn't give me your last name?”

“In the registry didn' let us do'et, mi amor. Not without your permission”.

There's a short silence installed between your husband and your daughter, where she takes the advantage to grab the cardboard folder.

“What… What is that?” Angel asks confused, twisting his neck some inches.

“Tell me… Tell me one last thing”. She said before giving him the papers. “Did you ever consider runni—”.

“Never in my fucking life, Laura. I don' give a shit about the man that got your mother pregnant, I don' give a shit about anything that he told you. And I never gave a shit about what people could think about how crazy I had to be to ask your mother out. I fuckin' love her. I fuckin' love you with all my heart and I will never love anyone like I love you, mi dulcecito. I would kill whoever it was for you, without no doubts. Just… Just tell me, and I'll do it”.

Those words looks enough for your daughter, finally giving him the folder.

“Open it”. 

“What i—”.

Angel can't finish the question when he reads the main title. He can't help but breaking into a loud cry again. Laura places his arms around his neck, hugging him, trying to comfort your husband.

“Take me home, please”.

— Thirty minutes later —

The front yard of the clubhouse isn't empty as your daughter thought. You are there, accompanied by EZ, Felipe, the whole crew and Miguel. Everybody waiting for her. And when you hear your husband's motorbike your heart jumps, crying again running through the yard towards the entrance. You can see them, and even if your husband has a serious gesture, you're happy to have your daughter back.

As soon as Laura gets up from the bike, you hold her into your arms, kissing your face and hugging her close.

“Mamá, I'm sorry… I'm so sorry”. She apologizes, looking at you with reddened eyes.

“I am the one who have to say sorry, mi vida. I should have told you”.

“I just… Let me tell something to the fam', and then we will talk”.

You just nod, looking at Angel for a second. He doesn't look sad, or unhappy anymore. Laura leads you in front of the guys, who are waiting for her to speak.

“Thank you”. She just says, keeping silence for a while. “For taking care de mi mamá, when she was pregnant. It wasn't your responsibility. We weren't your responsability, and you all welcomed her. And me. I'm sorry if I worried you. I know you all love me, as much as I do. As I will do it forever. But it's not easy when you find out your life was half lie. I just… needed to think about it”.

Angel appears from behind you two, giving you a cardboard folder. Taking it confused, you watch him surrounding your daughter from her back, leaving a kiss on her head.

“I want you to sign tha'”.

“What is this?”

“Laura Reyes' adoption papers”. Your husband says proud, resting his chin on Laura's head.

“We need your signature, mamá”.

[oohlovergirl]

Make Believe: Part 4 [Roger Taylor x Reader]

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader [FAKE DATING AU]

Summary: You’re a famous rockstar. Roger Taylor has an image problem. Both of your management teams thought it would be a great idea for you two to fake date. Problem is: you guys hate each other’s guts.

Word count: ~3.1k 

Contains: language and slut-shaming (not from Roger though!) 

A/N: I AM BACK. Here is part 4, I don’t how many people still want to read it, so if you’re on the taglist, and no longer want to be on it, please message me (I will not be offended). And vice versa, if you want to be on the taglist but you aren’t on it, just shoot me a message! I hope you guys enjoy this part and thank you for sticking with me! Love you guys. 

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE 

Previously…

“I’m really tired of fighting. Can we call a truce until this whole thing is over?” he says after he blows out the smoke. You let out a laugh that sounds more like an exhale. 

“Truce,” you say, handing him the bottle of scotch. 

“Okay, well, now that we’re not enemies anymore, we should get to know each other better,” he says after he takes a swig. 

“Okay, shoot,” you ask. 

“What’s your favorite color?” 

“Really?” 

“That’s basic question!” 

“Fine, pink. You?”

“Yellow.” 

“Ok. I wanna ask a question, why are you always wearing those sunglasses? It’s night and we’re––we were––indoors.” 

“These sunglasses are sexy, and you know it,” he says with a nudge of his shoulder to yours. 

And so, you two spend most of the night there––forgetting about the party raging below. Passing the bottle back and forth to one another, you both share stories of childhood memories, being on tour, and everything in between. You talk about your crazy university stories and the time you not so accidentally threw up on a douchebag at a bar. 

Roger talks about the time he got into a bar fight over a pack of peanuts. 

“Did you win?”

“Oh god no, I was absolutely shit-faced, and I think he was a former boxer.” 

You tilt your head back and laugh, and he looks at you with a small smile playing at his lips, a weird feeling warming his chest. 

 –––––

After that night, you and Roger have been trying slowly to create a somewhat functional friendship. 

“Can I get an iced latte with vanilla and two packets of sweetener please?” you ask the waiter taking your order. Roger pulls a face, and you cross your arms. 

“What? I like sweets Mister Plain Black Coffee.” He rolls his eyes and flicks your nose. You swat his hand out of the way but laugh nonetheless. 

Maybe that smile in that picture the paparazzi caught of you and him wasn’t entirely faked.

And maybe after you guys pay for the check and are walking towards the car, Roger leaves his hand wrapped around yours a moment longer than he has to even after you both get are out of the camera’s spotlight. 

 –––––

You sigh as you look around the room. Another night, another party, another evening spending time around drunken fools. 

You stiffen when you hear a voice that makes your skin crawl. Oh no. Looking over, you spot your ex standing by the bar with his arm around another girl’s waist. Roger notices the way your shoulders tense, and he opens his mouth, but he doesn’t get to say anything because before he can turn around, you grab his hand and drag him into the nearest bedroom. 

Shutting the door behind you, you look at a very confused Roger. 

“Give me a love bite.” You’re not thinking this through. Jealousy and pride clouding your logic, but you don’t care. 

He blinks. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Give me a love bite.” 

You almost giggle at how clueless and flustered Roger looks right now, so unlike his usual cocky self. He opens his mouth. 

“Please? I think it’ll really sell our relationship!” He narrows his eyes at you. An inner conflict seems to be resolved when he exhales. 

“Okay…” He walks over carefully, almost as if he’s worried that he’s walking into a trap. 

Thus explains the reason why you’re currently straddling Roger’s lap in the first available bedroom you guys could find in the house. He carefully pushes the front of your dress to the side, the silk easily gliding away with his touch. Goosebumps erupt onto your skin when you feel his rough, calloused fingers graze your collarbones. 

“You sure about this?” he asks you, and you nod. 

He attaches his lips to the side of your throat. Your breath hitches at the feeling of his lips, and you feel his hands tighten on your hips. Your skin is on fire. You reach up, and slowly push up his sunglasses from his nose and to the top of his head. He looks up at you, hooded eyes meet your own. The blue of his eyes are almost swallowed with his black pupils, and you bite your lip at the sight, heat blossoming throughout your body. His eyes flick down at the movement, his mouth opened slightly. 

At a particularly harsh suck, teeth grazing skin, your hips give an involuntary jolt into his, and he lets out a surprised, quiet groan.

“Shit, sorry, sorry,” you stutter. 

The door swings open and before you can even process it, you hear a loud, “Oh shit sorry!” And the slamming of the door. 

You jump, instinctively pushing Roger away from you, but his hands are still attached to your waist. So instead, he takes you down with him. You let out a surprised squeal before your body hits his as his back slams onto the bed beneath him. 

Rolling off of him, you flop onto the bed panting. Heart beating out of your chest. A beat as you both lie on your backs, looking up at the ceiling. 

And then you burst out laughing. Deep, heaving laughs that make you clutch at your stomach. And Roger’s laughing as well. 

“You’re such a little shit!” you wheeze and hit him with one of the pillows. “Why didn’t you lock the door?” 

“I thought I did! And also you were the one who basically jumped my bones out there––you should have been the one who locked the door!” 

You scoff, but a smile pulls at your mouth. Pushing yourself up and off the bed, you walk over to a mirror that’s leaning on one of the walls. Poking and prodding the red mark quickly blossoming on the column of your throat, you deem it an acceptable love bite. 

“Okay, this should be good, thanks––what are you doing?” You ask as you see Roger reaching for the buttons on his shirt.

“Keeping up appearances.” He gives you a wink before unbuttoning his shirt all the way open. 

“Wait––” you say before grabbing a tube of your lipstick from your clutch. Opening the tube, you rub some of the color onto your fingers and proceed to rub it messily around Roger’s mouth. He looks down at you, smiling at the little furrow in your brow as you concentrate. You pull back and admire your handiwork. 

“We are now the perfect sex-crazed couple,” you say with a wink and a flourish of your hand. 

Walking out of the room, Roger pretends to readjust his belt, and you pull your dress down. Plastering a glazed, satisfied look on his face, he gives all the people standing in the hallway in front of the room a lazy smile. 

A couple of whistles, and you just flash them a knowing smirk. 

You’ve been at the party for an hour, and you’ve lost Roger after being swept away by some friends. Tired and ready to make your way back home, you’re in search of Roger and the rest of your friends to say bye. As you make your way through the too big house, you’re not watching in front of you. Instead, looking at what appears to be two people in chicken costumes dancing on top of one of the living room tables when you bump into someone. Strong arms grip your shoulders to steady you. You look up, opening your mouth to apologize. But stop short when you see who it is. 

“Hey, Y/N, I just want to say congrats on your album,” your ex says with a sleazy smile. His hand lingers too long on your shoulder. 

“Oh––uh, thank you.” 

You see his eyes flick down, and then stay there. His brows furrow. And you let the self satisfied smile grow on your face when you know he’s looking at the dark bruise you’re not trying to hide. 

“Who’s this, love,” Roger asks, coming up from behind you, his hands snaking around your waist. And you have to suppress your laughter as you can practically see the gears working in your ex’s head. His eyes rapidly flicking to your lipstick and then to the same color smudged onto Roger’s mouth. Your matching bed-ruffled hair. The way Roger possessively holds onto your waist, his thumbs rubbing lazy circles into the exposed skin of your stomach. 

He blinks a few times before plastering on a slimy grin. 

“Matthew,” he says, “Matthew Paul.”

“No way. You’re the bloke who stole the riff from our album!” he asks with an incredulous laugh. Your ex turns bright red, his eyes going wide. He clears his throat. 

“So, uh, how did, uh, how did the two of you meet?”

“I was already a huge fan of her work. I went to a concert of hers, I think it was last Spring, and then we met at an afterparty where we really hit it off. And from there, I couldn’t think of anything but her,” he says. You blush before leaning in for a quick kiss on the lips. But when you try pulling away, his arm around your waist tightens and he deepens the kiss. When you part, your cheeks are flushed and you bite your swollen lips, slapping Roger on the chest. 

“Just letting you know that you’re dating a fucking whore,” your ex says with a casual sip of his drink. If one wasn’t paying too close attention, they would have almost missed it. Roger stops dead in his tracks. 

“What the fuck did you just say?” 

Oh shit. By now, this little exchange has attracted a decent sized crowd. You see Brian pushing his way to the front, John right behind him. 

“Roger…” you warn, but he’s not even looking at you. It’s actually Brian who steps in between the two men, placing a hand out in front of him. “Walk away,” he says to your ex. 

Michael scoffs. Ignoring him, he looks at you, a fire in his eyes. “Oh so you’re fucking all of the members of Queen? That it? I always knew you were such a little slut.” 

That’s when Roger punches him. You hear a sickening crunch when Roger’s fist slams into Michael’s nose. Blood sprays everywhere, and you shriek when a spatter of blood lands on the side of your face. ROGER TAYLOR ATTACKS MAN AT PARTY is the headline that flashes in your mind. 

“Fuck!” Matthew shrieks, bent over and clutching his face. 

“Say sorry.”

“Mate, I’m sorry––” 

“What the fuc––not to me––say sorry to Y/N.” 

Matthew pauses and turns to look at you. “I’m––I’m sorry,” he gets out, voice thick from the blood clogging his nose. 

“Fucking dick,” Roger mumbles as he grabs his jacket, placing it on your shoulders, so you guys can leave. You guys leave the house, hand in hand, and you don’t look back at the gaping crowd. 

 –––––

“You didn’t have to hit him, you know,” you say quietly, dabbing his raw knuckles with a cotton swab coated with Neosporin. 

“He’s a fucking prick.” You laugh without humor because yeah, you know. You’re in your bathroom in your flat. Roger, sitting on the sink, and you, in between his legs. His hand resting in yours. He looks down at you as you work. Something he doesn’t want to acknowledge pulls at his heart when he sees your tongue poking out of your mouth and the determined furrow in your brow, the way your hair is a little bit messy and the fact that your makeup isn’t all the way off. The way you look in a ratty white tee shirt two sizes too big and how you’re holding his rough hand in between your soft, gentle fingers. The way he secretly wishes that that you were wearing one of his ratty tee shirts. It makes his heart ache. Ache for something he doesn’t want to know. Something he’s too scared to acknowledge––to pursue. 

His hand reaches up before his mind can stop him. He reaches up and gently tries to wipe away the dried blood on your face. His thumb trying to rub it away. 

“Roger you don’t have to do that…” you say, catching his hand in yours. It stills, still on your cheek. 

“I want to,” he whispers. “Let me.” And he grabs the hand towel on the sink, dipping it in the bowl of warm water you brought and wipes your face. the gentleness such in contrast with the way he usually his, banging on his drums, fighting with the paparazzi. It makes your heart ache. Eyes so focused on getting the blood off your cheek, he doesn’t notice that you’re staring. 

“Roger,” you murmur, and he looks up at you and something in his chest clenches. Your eyes a little shiny from the remnants of the alcohol, face flushed, and mouth parted. You look beautiful to him. You both look at each other for a beat too long, but you’re the first one to come to your senses and the spell is broken when you clear your throat.

“I––I didn’t finish with your fist, let me see it again.” 

And so you work in silence for the rest of your time the bathroom, spreading the ointment over his knuckles before wrapping it with white gauze that you had in your first aid kit. When you fold the gauze over one last time, you pat his hand gently before grabbing the wrappers strewn over the sink countertop and throwing them away. 

“All done. You change into those clothes while I make us some tea.” 

“Wait––I can do it––you’ve done enough for me already…”

You give him a soft smile. “You’re in my home. Would be a shitty host if I let you make your own tea the first time you come into my flat,” you say with a wink before padding away into the kitchen. 

Roger sits there for a moment longer, legs dangling off the sink counter. Hand beginning to throb. He hasn’t gotten that angry in a while now. Learned to control his anger. Usually was able to keep somewhat of a level-head around douchebags and critics––he obviously wasn’t unaccustomed to nasty language. But when your ex was spitting in your face, something in him snapped. Maybe because even though you looked calm and collected, he saw your hands––saw how you clenched them into fists to stop them from trembling. 

Maybe because he hasn’t seen that look in your eyes. Hasn’t seen that type of vulnerability even when you He has seen the videos and the pictures––people screaming in your face, calling you the same names (some even worse) than what Michael said––and though you looked a little cautious––he has never seen that look of sadness that he saw when Michael was yelling at you tonight. The way he saw the fire in your eyes that he’s so used to seeing whenever you’re spitting at each other disappear. 

He sighs before hopping down the sink, washing his face and then undressing in order to change into the clothes that you brought him. 

 –––––

“What happened between the two of you?” Roger asks when he walks into the kitchen as you mix cream into your cup of tea. You stop. The spoon clattering loudly against the mug. 

“He cheated on me––slept with a new groupie every night he was on the road.”

“Shit.” 

“That’s why I don’t date guys in the music industry anymore…all of them turned out to be cheaters and liars.” And maybe his heart breaks a little when he sees the light shutter from your eyes. The slump of your shoulders that are usually so defiant and angry and annoyed at him. 

“Don’t worry, you’re too hot to be tied down to one guy anyway,” He says with his signature smirk, and it pulls you back to reality, puts the fire back into your eyes––and in that moment you know what he did, why he said that. And for that, you’re grateful for him. 

“You’re a dick, you know that?” you say with a light push to his shoulders, but a smile pulls at your lips anyway. 

“It’s one of my many star qualities.” 

“Only cream right?” you ask.

“Hmm, maybe add like a spoonful of sugar,” he says, and you look up with a grin. 

“Oh, I thought you were too good for that,” you tease but dump a large scoop into his. He comes up to you, and flicks your nose, smiling at the little scrunch of your nose and the way you swat at his hand. 

–––––

You end up on the couch, watching whatever was on the TV at the time. 

Roger looks over and smiles to himself. You let out a big yawn, glasses perched precariously at the tip of your nose. 

“Hey, Y/N,” he whispers, gently tapping your leg, “I should probably get going…” 

You blink awake. “Oh, you can spend the night––if you want. I have a guest room,” you say. You dont know what possessed you to say it, but it leaves your mouth before you could stop it. He stops––looks at the clock. Looks back at you. A beat. 

“Okay, yeah, that would be better actually. Thanks.” 

After grabbing a few extra blankets, pillows, and placing a glass of water with Advil on the side table, you deem the rarely used guest room acceptable for use. He settles into the bed, thanking you for everything. 

“Goodnight Roger, if you need anything, I’m a door over,” you say before turning to leave the room. 

“Hey, Y/N…” he calls out softly. You stop, waiting for him to continue. “I––I never cheated on those girls––never cheated on anyone in fact. All of them––after I broke up with them––they would run to the media. I guess given my reputation, it wasn’t hard for the general public to believe anyway.” 

You furrow your brows. Furrow your brows because in that moment, you hear a deep sadness in his voice. A deep sadness filling the dark of the room. You hear him turn over, the bed sheets rustling, and before you can respond, he says, “Goodnight Y/N.”

And despite something stirring deep in your chest, you turn around and close the door. 

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[wallyaxiom]

lose you to love me

t a g g i n g → wally axiom, josh axiom, jim hawkins and him

t i m e  f r a m e → present

l o c a t i o n →  wally’s apartment

n o t e s → i guess this is sort of therapy for both wally and i to release a lot ??? that’s been held inside for sometime ??? like actually releasing it into the abyss and letting it stay there forever and stop dwelling on it. idk a tik tok told me to let go of things so here we are. anyways i’m in pain as per usual 

You p r o m i s e d the world and I fell for it I put you first and you adored it Set fires to my forest And y o u let it burn

Wally had been through a lot in his twenty five years of living on this earth. he had lived through wondering why his birth parents had given him up, believing he had never been good enough. He lived through being not good enough for the Axioms and his own parents at time. He lived through the BNL gang and the abuse Runt subjected him to. They had lived through so much pain and heartache that when he showed up Wally believed that he had finally been gifted their happily ever after. But all his dragons weren’t slayed. in fact, more appeared into his life because of said knight in shining armor. 

Wally didn’t allow themselves to think about it. Like most things in life, it was shoved into the back of his mind left there to wilt and eventually fade with everything else they wanted to forget. There was a lot there, perhaps it was too full that this was the reason why these memories in particular kept rearing their ugly head. The night of their fight, their divorce, the day everything he knew for years finally falling apart. Those familiar feelings still lingered within his body, tainting his soul the same way they did back then. Wally felt like he needed to take a bath in that instance or anytime he thought about it but he knew no matter how many times the water washed over skin he couldn’t scrub him out. Wally knew exactly what was spawning these exact thoughts. It was his dreams finally coming true. For the longest time Well felt as though he didn’t deserve to have them. No, he was left to rot in a gilded cage provided by his ex-husband. a cage that was built around false hopes, lies, manipulation and gaslighting. 

Their relationship wasn’t always like this. In the beginning it was actually magical. Wally fell head over heels for him. they were so young, naive and so desperate to be loved. He believed he had found a soulmate in this person - a forever. It felt so right. Everyone believed they were the perfect couple and maybe they were for a while but that public image wasn’t the truth behind close doors. even now people ask what went wrong because to someone on the outside looking in everything seemed so fine. if only they knew. 

currently, wally was sitting outside smoking a cigarette. He stopped smoking them when he was seventeen. They’d like to say it was for their health but it’s actually because he told him to stop because he didn’t like it. He told Wally to stop doing a lot of things they enjoyed because they didn’t coincided with what he liked or what he wanted wally to be. So, Wally was smoking this one out of spite because he could do it now without being reprimanded or deemed a bad person but fuck did this cigarette taste awful. He couldn’t finish the damn thing and ended up chucking it to the ground, stepping on it afterwards to extinguish it. A little too forcefully at that. Watching the smoke float from the ground, wally was reminded of a old friend. a friend who meant everything to them. they used to do things like this together. this friend was someone who was like a brother to wally and maybe he did develop some romantic feelings for them in the long run. maybe because he could be himself around this person when his boyfriend expected him to be this person he wasn’t. maybe he developed feelings for this person because they knew he hated their friendship. Maybe because there was a lack of trsut from the start so why not do what was being perceived? maybe Wally had been doing this out of spite to this person from the start without even knowing it. He was only seventeen at the time. he was a broken mess recovering from a lot. Honestly, Wally was on a path of self destruction at that age so the feelings could have stemmed from that as well. Regardless of where they came from his outlet was ripped away from him. The friendship wasn't ended on his terms. No, it was out of jealousy. But of course the friendship would still live on in gulting words from his husband. A constant reminder that was held over his head despite it happening years ago. A way to guilt him to get wally to things for his husband. and maybe wally would give him that one. They weren’t exactly in the right there but still the pattern of losing friends was something that continued until the once social butterfly had no one but him to turn to. 

❝ You wanna know why I stick around?  Because I thought things would change, how many times have to told you I didn’t like how things were going and you didn’t do a damn thing to change any of it, you go and make it worse. ❞

The biggest loss they probably suffered throughout that relationship was Eve. She had been there long before him but she didn’t get the chance to stay in Wally’s life. she was shoved out once the two had gotten together. Her name that once brought so much joy and love was tainted with anger and bitterness that didn’t necessarily stem from him. They were perfectly placed and soon festeresr into something that didn’t belong to wally but him because he expected wally to feel the same way about eve that he did. 

❝ Well now that you’ve come out and said it, I’m gonna have to agree with you, this relationship is pointless when you think about it.  I want to leave because I just need to get away, I’ve had enough of all the shit that happens here.  Yeah, thanks for telling me about Eve coming back, with me gone you can just go back to her like you’ve been wanting to ever since she left. ❞

❝ No I’m pretty sure you broke up with me, you made that painfully obvious by the way you talk.  Really, I should be asking you those questions, you shouldn’t be asking me them. ❞

❝ Wally, I should be the one who believes you, but I just can’t, the way you are with her, hell even the way you are with Jafar, I just can’t.  If you can remain close friends with an ex you either are still in love with them or never were, and it sure as hell isn’t the second one.  I was willing to die for you and I almost did and you repaid me by trying to kill yourself and this. I love you more than you could possibly imagine but it just feels pointless half the time because I know you’re torn. ❞

Wally was never torn. The moment he picked him his heart was set on him. Eve became an ex and old friend but apparently she couldn’t be anything to Wally so that’s when she became nothing. Someone who had been with him for years soon because nonexistent in his life. As for his attempted suicide? Well, that had nothing to do with him either. it came from life leaving him hollowed and broken but of course everything had to revolve around him. Anything that was remotely wally’s always came back to him. Nothing could ever just be his. The moment they said ‘I do’ suddenly they became this morphed being of just one human. Wally wasn’t allowed to be his own entity. they were his husband’s property and at times that’s what he felt like. an object. Their breath hitched in their throat as the phantom touches of him graced his, waist, his hips and then some. The pulling. The grasps. The glares at others whenever someone would get too close. The overprotectiveness that was perceived as love but really it was possessiveness. The way their relationship became too physical that wally felt like a piece of meat at times. objectified. The way he felt used. Their body used. Their entire being used for him. but when wally tried to express themselves he was labeled a slut. he was shamed. their son was brought into it as another guilting factor to hold over wally’s head and god forbid their son ever seen their parent in the light that he did. 

Josh.

It was the only good thing that came out of their years together. Joshua Matthew Axiom was the light of Wally’s life. Perhaps the rest of the love they had for one another was used for that sweet little boy. It wasn’t just Wally who was affected by the storm he made. Josh was left in the aftermath as well but Wally didn’t allow his son to feel like he wasn’t good enough or it was his fault. He didn’t blame his son for halting his dreams. He allowed his husband’s dreams to blossom while he waited in the wings waiting for his chance to finally make his own dreams come true but that’s impossible when you’re put in the place of a stay at home parent. Wally refused to let Josh be tainted by him the way he had tainted them. Josh was too pure, too perfect, and too good for this world to ever feel the way Wally had felt. He’d be damned if he allowed it to never happen. Josh was Wally’s one perfect thing. The one thing in life he felt he had gotten right. Being a parent gave them purpose. It gave them hope and a light he thought was long extinguished. He wanted to be better for his son. He needed to be better for his son and by doing that he had to finally face the problems he had buried deep within. 

❝ I might always have shit to do, but I’ve always found a way to make time for you, but you never let me do anything that didn’t benefit you outright. ❞

with heavy footsteps, wally led himself back into his apartment

❝ I guess this is all my fault because I tried to spoil my boyfriend and husband.  But none of it is ever enough is it?  You constantly took me away from my schoolwork and yes sometimes I could multitask, but you should’ve understood that sometimes I have other things that are important too, not just you. ❞.

They stood there in the doorway for a minute. Blinking those long lashes of his against his golden skin. He hadn’t realized he had been crying until he felt the dampness coat his lashes. 

❝ We will lose everything if I lose this, but whatever, apparently that’s not important. ❞

In that moment all the pain they had been harboring for a year finally released. he didn’t cry when they fought. he didn’t cry when he filed for divorce. he didn’t cry when he left. but right now a sob wracked through his body that left wally hunching onto the floor, folding into himself as he bawled his eyes out in a way he hadn’t in a long time. For years he believed it was his fault. That all of the problems stemmed from him. Maybe if he had been a better partner things would have been better but it took wally a year to realize there was nothing he could do to change his ex-husband. He needed to fix himself and wally couldn’t do it. Wally wouldn’t do it. He needed to heal himself and that’s what he was doing. Healing. 

Wally was covered in scars he did nothing to earn but maybe there was a lesson to be learned. A lesson of self worth, value and love. A much needed lesson that Wally needed to learn. he couldn’t keep being dependent on people and giving all of themselves to people who didn’t care nor deserve his kindness. As much as he wanted to hate him Wally couldn’t. He resented him, sure, but hate is something his tiny body was incapable of. He was someone who was easy to forgive. This time was different though. His ex wouldn’t get the satisfaction of knowing if he was ever forgiven.

Wally didn’t know how long he had been crying. They were still curled up into themselves when their heard small footsteps pad against the floor in their direction.

“Papa?” the soft, angelic voice called.

Wally’s head lifted instantly, his forearms wiping away any remnants of tears that stained his cheeks. “Hi, honey.” they spoke softly to their son. They opened their arms wide and on cue the five year old ran into their parents arm hugging him tight. Wally buried his nose into the soft tuff of brunette locks before him holding his son close. In that moment it was as if every bad feeling that had erupted from him soon faded into the abyss. He felt lighter holding his son there in his arms. 

“Why are you crying?” the child asked, his voice muffled from wally’s embrace.

“Oh, I was just thinking about somethings but i’m okay now. I promise.” Everything was okay now. it had been for a long time and Wally had to remind himself of that. The hard times were long behind him. A new chapter was waiting to be written but it couldn’t be if he kept dwelling in the past. 

“Why don’t we watch some movies, huh? i’ll make popcorn, a tent and everything.”

“Can we invite Jim?”

their heart stopped. fluttered even.

“yes, baby. we can invite Jim.”

he became even lighter at that. Wally didn’t jump back into dating. In fact, they were fine being on their own. they had to learn to be fine on their own instead of feeling the need to have someone give them love. He had to find it within himself first before he went searching for it in someone else. they he came skating into his life and flipped his entire world upside down. This solar flare that burned so brightly that left him blinded and breathless. Someone respectful, kind and wonderful. He felt too good to be true but Jim restored Wally’s faith. He didn’t fix wally. No, wally did that on his own. But Jim reminded him that he deserved someone who treated him like human. They weren’t together but Wally would be lying if he said he didn’t feel something for him. It wasn’t love just quite yet. There was no rush to fall in love this time. instead, Wally chose to enjoy every little moment and if it happened then it happened if it didn’t, well, he was happy to have Jim in his life to teach him another valuable lesson about self worth. 

They healing wasn’t done. it wouldn’t would end in that moment of release but it was a start. It was a start for Wally to move on and allow themselves to be happy for the opportunity to be given. To feel like they deserved this and so much more. To be happy with themselves in general and look at life with the glass half full again and not empty. The cage that once trapped him was long broken. He felt more integrated with people again. He felt safe to have friends once again and all of it felt all too amazing to even describe. Wally was starting to feel like the person who had stepped foot into Elias seven years ago. A wide-eyed wanderer who, yes, was a little ripped at the edges but still had so much hope and love to give. 

He was becoming Wally Axiom again and no one could take that away from them.

Not again.

[jaouinedcan]

Home is Where the Journey Takes You [NedCan Week: Day 5 - Home/Journey]

I was initially on the fence about Nyotalia, but oh man did I ever fall for Nyo!Netherlands when I read “The Raven’s Call”   👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌there👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my self 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠOOOOOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit

...So yeah I wanted to spread the love a bit and also give props to paladinquen for the inspiration; I also really liked the name they chose for her so I went with it for this fic, too :)

Anneke de Boer had her whole life mapped out by the time she was ten.  She was going to inherit her father's shipping company, manage it from her mother's flower shop, marry the most capable man in sight to take charge of the ships, and have a few children to carry on the family business after she retired.  It was a simple and clear-cut plan.  She didn't even have to be in love with the man she would marry since it was far more important to find someone with smart business sense.  Since her father was one of the most successful men in town, Anneke didn't think she's have much trouble interesting someone, and, indeed, a few young men began making a habit of visiting her and her father once she grew older.  It seemed as though everything was going perfectly as planned, and she continued focusing on her education as she left negotiations to her father, trusting him completely as he weeded out the smooth talkers hoping to simply live off her family's wealth like a parasite instead of contributing to it and ensuring that her family name would carry on in prosperity.

It startled her how easily it all came undone once the Netherlands were invaded in 1940 as she teetered on the cusp of adulthood.  Her father's ships did not return, his warehouses were commandeered by the invading army, and their home was used as a residence by the men assigned to control the city.  Even her suitors disappeared, either having lost interest or their lives through resistance efforts.

Most of their possessions, wealth, and assets gone, they moved into her mother's flower shop.  It was an unfathomable difference between having a private room to herself and sharing a small storeroom with her parents and sister, which shrank further yet when one of her father's most trusted business associates came to them under the cover of night with little Luca in hand and a desperate plea, and then she had a little brother, too.  The townsfolk closed ranks and spoke of little Luca de Boer as if he had been theirs all along, and when the German soldiers asked them why he had no papers, Anneke feigned humiliation at having a son while still so young herself, saying he was raised as her little brother instead to avoid bringing shame upon her family and harming her marriage prospects.  Luca was lucky that his facial features were so miraculously similar to hers, because the soldiers moved on without asking any more questions.  They never saw his father again and no one else would come to collect him, but that was fine.  Little Luca became so precious to them it wasn't long before he was truly considered a de Boer in every way that counted.

Over the course of the next five years, conditions continued to deteriorate, but nothing was quite as terrible as the final winter of their occupation, when all they had left to eat were the tulip bulbs left in the storeroom and Anneke was forced to get creative.  As people succumbed all over the city to hunger and the cold, her family scraped along until liberation, though it came at the price of her father's peace of mind.  She knew that he blamed himself for being unable to provide for his family--he apologized often and spent long hours sitting up awake when he should have been sleeping, going so far as to eat smaller and smaller portions of the food she brought home, insisting that she share the rest of it with her siblings.  Despite her best efforts, he nearly willed himself into an early grave, bedridden for weeks before the Canadians marched through their streets.  While her mother kept a close eye on Emma and Luca, jumping up and down with pieces of chocolate melting all over their hands, she'd dragged her father's moldering mattress all the way to the shop's front door to watch the parade.  It was the first time she saw him cry, and it would not be the last, because instead of passing on he slowly recovered over the next few months and became much less concerned with keeping up appearances.

There was one last blow as the reforming Dutch government sought to punish Germans and their supporters, but Anneke endured it with her head held high.  Her family wasn't able to return home since it had been destroyed in an allied strike, but she didn't mind that so much as the townsfolk silently staring at the back of her suddenly bared neck as she went about her errands, and so limited her time outside as much as possible.  Some of the other girls refused to go outdoors at all, and she could hardly blame them.  She, at least, had been fortunate enough to not fall in love.  There had been some good men in the German army--she'd had the sense to avoid them, but some of the girls in town were so desperate for companionship in such trying times that they'd been drawn in by any hint of affection.

When they'd been gathered in the street to face their punishment, Anneke, repulsed by the whole spectacle, took the scissors from the official stepping up from behind her and cut her hair herself, refusing to give him the satisfaction of shaming her and the other girls for making the best of a bad situation.  Some of the other girls were shocked out of their tears as she threw down the scissors and walked away.  When Emma told their mother as she helped her even out the mess she'd made, Anneke caught her smiling in the mirror's reflection, and remembered what pride felt like.

Even so, Anneke disliked the attention and kept to herself, taking care of the flower shop as money began to pour back into the city.  It was easier to handle than going out into the street since the majority of her customers were Canadian soldiers, the one group of people with a bit of money to spare for non-essentials, though it was the young Dutch girls capturing their hearts who enjoyed the gifts they bought.  It had been the same story over the course of the occupation, though she only sold flowers to the Canadians.

One day, about a week after cutting her hair, a new customer came in.  She'd long since learned the names of the others and their beaus along with their favoured arrangements.  It was all part of being in business, knowing what the customers wanted and ensuring that she kept the most popular items in supply.  This soldier was unfamiliar, though, and she went through a mental checklist of the local girls who were still single, trying to match him with one.  He seemed either shy or nervous, pacing among her displays, so the girl may have approached him, first, but all the more assertive girls were already dating, to her knowledge.

Anneke tried to decide whether to leave him be or greet him.  It was in good business sense to welcome him to the shop, but if he was skittish--and she couldn't fault anyone who fought the Germans for suffering lingering anxieties--it was possible that surprising him would cause him to leave and she'd lose a possible regular customer.  All of a sudden, though, he steeled himself and approached the counter.  "Hallo," she said, having the decision made for her.

"Hello," he replied, standing straight like he was facing his commanding officer.  "Do you speak English, miss?  Au Français?"  He had a quiet way about him, but she had no trouble hearing his voice in the otherwise empty shop.

"My English is better."  There hadn't been many French nationals in the city willing to let her practice, especially once the occupation began and speaking anything but German in public became increasingly dangerous.  "What are you looking for today, sir?"

He seemed relieved; most of the soldiers she'd encountered spoke English, so maybe his French was weak, too.  "I'm afraid I don't have the faintest idea," he admitted.  "It's for a girl, of course--I don't exactly have family nearby--but I don't know what she would like.  Do you have any suggestions, miss?"

"What is her name?" she asked.  "I may know her preferences."

"We haven't yet been introduced," he said, and offered his hand.  "I'm Matthew Williams."

She was a bit taken off guard by the abrupt change of subject, but shook his hand anyway.  "Anneke de Boer."

"On nuh kuh," he repeated carefully, getting a feel for the pronunciation.  "Anneke, if you don't mind me asking, what is your favourite flower?"

She heard that question often; men often assumed women liked certain kinds as a collective.  Well, he was in luck at the moment, because Anneke had plenty of her favourite in stock at the moment.  "For soft feelings of affection, tulips are best.  As with roses, the colour of choice for romance would be red.  If your intention is to pursue a Dutch girl's heart, even if her English is not good, the meaning of a red tulip is clear."

Matthew smiled, pulling out a handful of coins from one of his pockets.  "That sounds perfect; I'd like to buy one, please."

She counted out his change first, then lead him over to the tulips, pulling an attractively shaped one out of the bunch for him.  When she held it out for him to take, though, Matthew enclosed her outstretched hand between both of his, instead.

"Anneke," he said, "I hope to see you tomorrow at the town centre."  Matthew then released her hand and bowed his head slightly toward her before turning and walking back out into the street, leaving the tulip in her hand.  She stared out after him until he stepped out of sight.

She isn't sure how long she stood there, but it couldn't have been long because Emma and Luca tumbled out from behind the counter, obviously having snuck in through the back door.  "Anneke you have to go," Emma insisted, bringing her from English back to Dutch.  "He's the one who always has sweets!"

Indeed, both Emma and Luca held up hands marked with melted chocolate, but Luca looked a bit unsure.  "He wouldn't let me and my friends play in the field by the hospital yesterday, though..."

Emma tugged on his ear.  "That was because they haven't finished clearing out the land mines, Luca!  We really have to work on your English before you get blown up!"

"I'm not going to get blown up!" Luca protested with a pout, holding one hand over his ear and licking the other one clean of chocolate.

"Listen to what the soldiers tell you, Luca," Anneke said, backing up her sister, "and you will not get blown up.  The fields are too dangerous to play in, so you will have to stay in the city for now."

"Okay..." he agreed, though he still looked put out.  "I hope they get all the mines soon.  I want to go out exploring like the boys in books do.  It's not fair."

"It isn't fair," Anneke agreed, helping to placate him by acknowledging the injustice, "but it is better than before and it will continue to get better from here on out.  If business keeps up at this pace, I will be able to buy you a football in time for your birthday."

Luca's eyes opened wide  as saucers.  "Really, Anneke, really?!"  At her nod, he launched himself around her legs, burying his face in her skirt.  "Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!"

Anneke ruffled her little brother's hair with her free hand, and looked over to her sister, who thoughtfully licked her fingers.  Luca was still a boy, but Emma was well on her way to leaving childhood behind her.  Anneke suspected that she even had a good idea how she'd kept them all fed over the last year, though she'd hoped to spare her from the knowledge.  "Anneke," she said, eyes locking on the tulip, "I was just kidding about the sweets.  You know that, right?"

She wanted to find out who told her and tear a strip from their hide.  "I know, Emma."

"Still," she said, lips curling into an encouraging smile, "he's really nice, always asking us how we're doing, and I don't think he even knows we're family so it isn't just to get into your good graces.  You should go see him tomorrow.  I can look after the shop.  Luca can stay here, too, and I can help him with his English in between customers and you can have a day off and have some fun for once."

Anneke considered it.  With their father at the Allied hospital and their mother working to help care for him and the rest of the recovering townsfolk and soldiers, Emma and Luca were mostly left to run free, but maybe it was time to allow them a little more responsibility.  "If you really mean that," she decided, "then I will go."

She brought the tulip to the back room and left it on the table in a cup with sugar water so it would last longer.  When their mother returned from the hospital with their supper, she saw it, took a long breath, slowly exhaled, and once she was done, looked more at ease than she had since the occupation began.  Anneke brought up the football idea before she could ask.

The upper ranks of the Allied military were supposed to discourage romantic relations between their soldiers and the civilians they protected, but such regulations were doomed from the start.  Young people were drawn to excitement no matter what their elders had to say about it, and while Anneke considered herself an exception to the rule, she still liked to see people around her having fun.  In the weeks following liberation, the most exciting thing was to meet the Canadian soldiers, and it was inevitable that romance would result.  She profited from it directly, and swiftly heard about the unsanctioned social gatherings in the town centre.  Someone would bring a radio and everyone in attendance would drink and dance.  The generals could not dictate where the troops spent their off duty hours and forbidding contact with the locals would lower morale, so many of them were in attendance and flirted with the girls who came to see them in open defiance of military policy.  It had only been a few weeks and already there were at least a dozen couples dancing, clearly besotted with one another.  She wished them well.

Matthew found her quickly.  There were not many Dutch girls with short hair willing to walk the streets these days, so she stuck out like a sore thumb.  "Anneke," he said, "I'm glad you're here.  Would you like to dance?"

It would be easier to talk to him in motion rather than awkwardly standing off to the side, leaving them vulnerable to eavesdroppers.  "Yes," she said, raising her arms and inviting him to step toward her, allowing him to take one hand in his, settling the other on her waist while she rested hers on his shoulder.  Up close, she realized they were either the same height or very close to it and his eyes were a very peculiar pale blue that seemed to shine violet in the light.

"Thank you for coming, Anneke," he said, once they'd found their rhythm.  "I've been wanting to meet you for a while now."

That was the thing she was the most curious about.  How did he know her?  She avoided the streets as much as possible and yesterday had been his first time visiting the flower shop, so when had he developed an interest in her?  Well, all she had to do was ask.  "I'm a little confused how I managed to make such a strong impression, given I've been keeping to myself lately."

"Yes, I've noticed," he agreed, smiling faintly.  "I'd have thought I would have run into you before now, but I ended up having to ask around to find you again.  I'm not surprised you didn't notice me back then in the crowd.  I was one of several soldiers assigned to the area to prevent any violence from breaking out."  So that was it.  She really should have guessed, but that still didn't explain his interest in her.  "I have a pretty good idea of what you said back then, but I wanted to know for sure.  Would you be willing to translate it into English for me?"  He made a good effort of repeating the Dutch phrase that must have echoed in his mind for the past week.

Matthew could have asked almost anyone in town.  He could have asked her yesterday, too, if it mattered that much to him, but maybe he had noticed her siblings spying on them.  Or maybe going in such a roundabout way was a Canadian custom.  Whatever the case, she had no reason to not answer.  He'd either like it or hate it and if it disturbed him the worst result would only be her mother's disappointment.  "In English, what I said was 'I will not be shamed for the things I have done to protect my family'."

His eyes closed for a moment as his lips curved further upward, likely focusing on matching the words to his memory.  "Yeah," he said, softly, "that was the feeling I got."  An odd pressure began to form in her chest as he opened his eyes again.  "Anneke, I've yet to meet a woman quite so resilient as you.  You're amazing; I hope you know that."

Anneke wasn't quite sure how to respond, so she didn't, and continued to dance with him.  When she didn't excuse herself as the first song ended and the next one began, Matthew took it as a sign to restart the conversation and they began to introduce more of themselves to each other.  As the afternoon wore on and Matthew's remaining off duty hours ran low, they agreed to meet each other again (and again and again...)

It was months later, after her father returned from the hospital, that the other shoe dropped.  Her mother had told him all about Matthew and he'd pried what information he could from Anneke when she closed the shop on Sundays to take Emma and Luca to see him.  He insisted that she invite him over for dinner at the first opportunity and she indulged him.  Matthew had already met her mother and siblings several times and got along with them well, especially as he insisted upon washing the dishes himself after meals, but he was nervous about meeting her father.  She gently teased him for worrying about nothing, but that was before she learned what they quietly discussed together when her father pulled him outside to talk over a few cigarettes.

"He's going to propose to you, soon," her father explained after Matthew left, knowing how much she hated surprises.  "I think you should accept."

"Father--" she started to protest, but he was having none of it, reaching out to grasp her hand and squeeze it tight.

"Anneke, the sacrifices you have made for this family are far over and beyond what any father would expect from their child.  You see me, here, a mere fraction of the man I used to be, unable to provide for you a future that does not involve you toiling away without a passing thought toward your own happiness.  I did not even have to meet Matthew to see that you care for him more than you would admit, but I did wish to see him and verify that he felt the same.  I'm sure you clearly remember the day that Luca was brought to us, but I never imagined I would understand the depths of his father's desperation and anguish.  He could not provide a life for his child, and so brought him here to us.  I cannot give you the future you deserve, and so I ask you now to go with Matthew and live your life as you wish.  That is all I can do for you, my darling child."

She forced the words out of her throat, tight with emotion.  "Father, I cannot leave you and Mother to raise Emma and Luca alone.  You still need me here.  You can't have me leave you this way.  How am I to help from halfway across the world?"

"Emma is nearly as old as you were at the start of the occupation," her father reasoned with her.  "It is her turn, now, to step into the responsibility you will be leaving behind.  She will spend a few years running the flower shop with your mother and I supporting her in every way we can, and once she reaches your age, she, too, will leave us to pursue her own happiness, and so it will go on with Luca after her.  It is my fondest desire as a father to see my children more successful than I was during the height of my career.   You know this, Anneke."

"Yes," she was forced to admit, eyes beginning to burn.  He'd told her many times over the course of her life.

"You will not be leaving us so soon," he assured her.  "The mission is far from over.  I expect the soldiers to stay for many months to come, but Matthews tour will expire soon enough and when it does, his government will be all but forced to take his wife back with him.  Until then, we will enjoy the time we have left together."

Her father, hunched over his cane, stood shorter than her.  It was the first time an embrace between them had her chin resting atop his head rather than vice versa.

The proposal had been simple, the ceremony had been small, and the honeymoon limited to a one night stay at the nicest hotel in the city, but it suited them both just fine.  Life continued on as before, but Matthew was unable to stay in her company for longer and longer stretches of time until he was finally relieved of his duties and sent back to Canada.  Her own voyage was postponed until much later, all sorts of bureaucratic nonsense to be done as governments worked together to organise the travel details of tens of thousands of war brides.  During their separation, they wrote letters often, the latest of which detailed Matthew's efforts to build a house for them on his parents' property and how he planned to prepare several flower beds out front and back just for her.  She hadn't even had to ask.

The ship was filled to the brim of women and children borne to them over the course of the war.  Most of them boarded in Great Britain because that was where most Canadian servicemen had spent at least a portion of their time in Europe.  She got along with the rest of the women well enough, but after a time, she'd gotten weary of the noise in the larger gathering areas and made her way to a more secluded area on the upper deck, where she would spend the majority of her time aboard.  Something about the open air and sea breeze just felt right.  If people were reborn into new lives after passing on, then she must have been a sailor in a past life.

She found her brother-in-law, Arthur Kirkland, leaning against the railing shortly after the stop in Great Britain.  She wasn't surprised to see him in a surly mood--British men were proud, just like most men everywhere, and he didn't take kindly to being teased as a 'male war bride'.

Anneke leaned on the railing beside him, recognising him on sight from the description Matthew had provided.  Arthur had met and married her husband's sister back in Canada before Matthew had been deployed, as it had been one of the safest places on Earth for Commonwealth airmen to be trained.  She'd been warned about his height but she was still surprised that the British Airforce allowed him to become a pilot.

Arthur glanced over at her and said, "Well, you may as well bloody get it over with," as he retrieved a pack of cigarettes from his jacket, lighting up without another word.

"I'm Anneke," she said instead of teasing him as he expected.  "I'm making the assumption that you're Arthur Kirkland?"

He seemed surprised, nearly dropping his cigarette, obviously having refrained from introducing himself to anyone on board as of yet.  "And how would you know that?" he asked, suspicious, looking as though he half expected an assassination attempt.

"Because I am Matthew's wife?" she asked in confusion.  He was supposed to have known that they would be on the ship together, but clearly, he did not.

"Damn it, Amelia..." Arthur grit out, the pieces falling into place.  "The worst part is that I have no idea if she forgot to mention it or did this on purpose just to vex me."  He took a long drag of his cigarette, then took it out of his mouth and extended his free hand to shake hers.  "Arthur Kirkland at your service.  It'll be good to have some sane company on board; can't see Matthew going for anyone without a lick of sense.  Should have married him myself."

She was surprised enough by the joke to stifle a laugh, and Arthur allowed himself a satisfied smirk as she replied.  "I heard from Matthew that Amelia could be a handful at times.  Best of luck to you," she wished him.

"I'll need all of that I can get," he griped, then sighed, casting his gaze over the side of the ship.  "God, I miss that woman.  Having to go back to England for years without her was almost unbearable, but at least I could be sure she was safe.  My family lost everything in the blitz and were scattered to the four winds; I'm sure you have the general idea, being Dutch.  You know, I had the honour of flying some of the Operation Manna missions.  We had to fly so low I could make out individual people dancing in the street."

So he had placed her accent after all.  "I imagine it was quite different, flying a bomber to save lives rather than take them."

He smiled again.  "I have to say, it was one of just a handful of reasons why I was glad to have chosen the Royal Air Force over the navy."

Ships were as British as tulips were Dutch.  "Why didn't you join the navy, Arthur?"  He seemed to be enjoying himself on the sea.

Arthur used an arm to indicate his entire body.  "They would have taken one look at me before folding me into a suitcase and loading me onto a submarine with the rest of the sardines.  There was no way I was going to risk getting on one of those deathtraps when what I really wanted was, well, this.  The fresh open air, the salty spray, the freedom of an endless expanse of ocean...  Hah, at least piloting a bomber meant a bit of time here and there on aircraft carriers."

She was glad that he mentioned his size first so she could likely escape his ire if anything unwise slipped out of her mouth.  Anneke wasn't used to being around men so much shorter than herself.  "I see," she replied.  She would have felt claustrophobic, too, crammed into small spaces with strangers, though it hadn't been so bad sharing small spaces with family.  "Had I the choice, I may have preferred to spend my life aboard a ship like this one," she said, wistful.

"Why not?" Arthur wondered.  "If the lad liked you enough to ship you across the Atlantic, I doubt he'd be opposed to giving the sea life a shot."

It was Anneke's turn to smile.  "Unfortunately for my sea legs, I fell in love with flowers first."  There was no person on Earth able to get everything they wanted, but she could enjoy this part of the journey while it lasted.  That really was all that anyone could do.

Anneke and Arthur got along so well they were nearly siblings as heart by the time they disembarked, having enjoyed the voyage and explored the ship in mutual interest.  Unfortunately, the train was another story, the jarring motion of the rails putting them both on edge to the point that they could barely stand the sight of each other after a few hours.  Even worse, there were still several hours left to go.  The sheer size of Canada was almost unfathomable to both of them; the whole of Europe could easily be set inside with room to spare.

They were very nearly the last few off the train.  The moment they stepped out onto the platform they instantly began to feel better, and Anneke's eyes locked onto the western horizon in wonder, having never seen anything quite as spectacular as the mountain range in the distance.  "Would you look at that..." she mumbled, amazed.

Arthur was a bit more used to the sight.  "I'll bet you haven't seen much more than gently rolling hills before, back in the lowlands."

"No bet," she replied, since he would win hand's down, and dragged her eyes away.  "Did we arrive on schedule?  I half expected Amelia to tackle you straight out the door from all you've said about her."

He looked down at his pocket watch to check, and therefore completely missed seeing his wife barrel toward him.  "Artie!!!" she called out, and he looked up just in time to yell in outrage as she grabbed him around the middle and raised him over her head.  Even Amelia had a few inches on the poor man and Anneke held back a chuckle for the sake of his pride already under fire as she began scanning the crowd for her husband, who couldn't be far behind.

"Anneke," he said, approaching from the side, and she turned to see him.  He looked just as handsome out of uniform, and just as happy as he had been on their wedding day.  After a long moment of ignoring the loud struggle beside them, they stepped forward to meet in the middle of their stride, reaching forward to lay a hand upon each other's face, drawing themselves in for a long awaited kiss that slowly transformed into a full embrace as they sought to pull each other even closer, their heads tucking into the curves of the other's neck, taking in the familiar scents they'd missed so much.  "How was the trip?"

"Exhausting," she complained without a hint of exasperation.  "Please tell me the farm is a stone's throw away at the most."

"I'm so sorry," Matthew replied, contrite.  "There's still a few hours of driving to get there."  Anneke moaned in horror directly against his shoulder, and he tried to comfort her.  "I'll drive as smoothly as possible so you and Arthur can sleep, I promise."

"I'm in the back seat with Artie!" Amelia declared.

"You'll be up front with me so Arthur can rest," Matthew overruled.

Amelia howled in indignity.  "Mattie, I haven't seen Artie in years!  You can't do this to me!"

Matthew pulled back from Anneke and turned them both to face his sister and Arthur, who had freed himself from his wife's manhandling but looked nearly ready to give up the ghost.  "Anneke, this is my twin sister, Amelia.  Amelia, this is Anneke, my wife."

"Don't just ignore me, Mattie!" Amelia complained, but shook Anneke's hand anyway.  "Hey there, Annie, I'm sure we'll get along great as long as you aren't half the spoilsport my brother is."

"Oh, for God's sake, Amelia," Arthur said, finally at his limit.  "Calm down a tad, would you?  Let me rest a bit now and I'll give you my full attention once we arrive."

"You have a deal, mister!" Amelia accepted, then leaned in close to Anneke.  "I'm not gonna let him leave my room for a week."

"Amelia!" Matthew and Arthur protested in sync.  Her sister-in-law wasn't very good at whispering.

Matthew and Amelia's parents were good, hardworking people; farmers born from farmers.  They grew crops rather than flowers, but they were interested in her expertise.  In time, they might be willing to allow her a portion of the land to grow a few varieties to sell.  It would be wonderful if she could open up a flower shop one day.  She'd been told the winters could be brutal, though, so she'd have to look into building a sturdy greenhouse.  Before that, though, there was something else far more important to put their savings towards.

She was taken for a tour of their home-in-progress.  Until it was finished, they would be using Matthew's old room in his parents' house, but that was fine--it wasn't much smaller than the storeroom back in the Netherlands and didn't have to double as a kitchen.  The new house, on the other hand, would be much bigger--possibly even bigger than the house she'd grown up in.  They would have enough room for both them and Amelia and Arthur to stay until they settled upon their own plan.  There were a few possibilities between moving south to America or living full time at an air base, but the only thing they knew for sure as of yet was that they had no interest in taking over the farm, which was perfect, because she and Matthew would be happy to have it.

"Once Amelia and Arthur move on, your parents can move into the secondary master bedroom--theirs and ours will be on opposite ends of the house for as much privacy as possible.  The kids' bedrooms will all be upstairs; Emma and Luca will have great big windows to see all the way out into the field and plenty of space they can use to store whatever catches their fancy in town.  There'll be a few extra rooms we can use for storage at first; we can clear them out once we decide on when to start trying for kids of our own, but until they're big enough for their own space, we'll have the nursery in the room right next to ours.  I've plotted out the gardens, too, you see there?  It'll be great to see tulips popping up everywhere in spring like they did in the Netherlands."

If there was no such thing as perfection, this was pretty damn close.  Anneke looked over the properly with a smile, squeezing Matthew's hand tight as she turned to regard the vast open field untouched by conventional warfare.  "Luca is going to love it here."

[Notes: I hope I did nyo!Netherlands justice here; I waffled on whether or not to write her smoking, but in the end, I decided the timing didn’t work; tobacco would have been rationed around the time she would be considered old enough to smoke and she would have spent what little money she had on necessities instead.  Once she gets her family all together again, she might get into the habit, but not before.

I felt a little odd about mostly putting the romance on the backburner, but I felt it was more important to visit all aspects of Anneke’s life, journey, and development.  I might write a few drabbles in the future set in this AU to help flesh out their love story a bit more.]