#was looking at timeline and it's pretty likely that darlin was out of town when gabe died and david took over

[pearl-kite]

some fun experimenting and thinking about not noticing red flags

[taelonsamada]

WIP Wednesday - Shaw Ranch AU

This is entirely @dominimoonbeam ’s fault. Not only because of the wonderful Sam/Darlin fic about the mechanical bull, but also due to a lengthy discussion about my experience growing up around horses being put to use writing a western!au for Sam/Darlin about Darlin growing up on a ranch and Sam being a large animal vet for said ranch.

Needless to say it got away from me X3 it’s still very raw and rough, but there’s definitely something good to work with here XD

Tagging @zozo-01 @lovelylonerliterature and @glassbearclock <3

~~~

A deep, relieved sigh came from Sam as he stepped out of the barn into the sun, stretching his back and wincing at the multiple pops it let out. This was why he preferred medicating in small batches. It was a compliment that David Shaw trusted him and him alone to dose his horses, but doing thirty in a day was rough on his back and knees.

Walking a lap around the barn to stretch out his legs, he planted his hands on his hips, twisting carefully to work out the kinks. The last horse he’d worked with had been a biter, and he was pretty sure he’d felt something wrench as he dodged out of the way. Good thing Milo had been there as a second set of hands.

Once the ache eased, he came to a stop, letting out a pleased sound as he inhaled deeply, looking around. It was always a joy, coming to the Shaw ranch. He worked plenty of them as a large animal vet, but so many ranches had that artificial feel to them. So called ranch owners that wanted to parade around and play cowboys, but were nothing more than city folk wearing hats and spurs and bragging to their friends back in town.

This ranch, though… this was a proper home. A generational ranch. Everyone who worked on it was family, and everyone treated it as such. It was like comparing a staged house for sale to a farm house that had been lived in for fifty years.

He’d worked with Gabe for over a decade, and had full faith in David’s ability to carry on his work, which was why when David requested he get as many horses done as he could in a day, he buckled down and did his best. David wouldn’t insist on him pushing himself too far, just that he do as much as he could. Knowing the timeline David was working on with several shows coming up, he couldn’t blame the man for the rush.

Walking up to the aged fence that separated the ranch from the countless acres of field and forest that surrounded it, he linked his fingers together and rested his forearms on the top rail. Studying the mountains that lined the horizons. Taking in another slow, deep breath.

His eyes caught sight of a horse in the middle of a nearby field, and a grin grew across his face as he saw the rider stretched out on said horse’s back. No tack whatsoever.

Ah, that’s where Darlin had gotten to… Seemingly asleep, legs draped over the horse’s neck and arms crossed under their head. Letting the horse wander and graze while said rider napped.

Sam had wondered where they’d gone. Usually they were always in the barn. He couldn’t deny he enjoyed the picture they painted at the moment. Showing impressive balance by remaining perfectly centered atop the horse bareback, staying in place without the use of their hands or legs.

It wasn’t often he got to see them riding. And here he thought it hadn’t been possible to grow more fond of them than he already was...

[dumdumsun]

And Dusk

A/N: I just wrote the penultimate chapter and oh my, is it long

Warnings: racial discrimination

Word Count: 3131

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Chapter 5: The Swedish Job

(Y/N) wheezed as the coral dress she had just slipped into squeezed her ribcage so tight, she was beginning to see stars. Grace nodded in acknowledgement before shaking her head at the tailor. The woman at the girl’s side frowned slightly. “Are you sure, ma’am? I can touch it up so that it wouldn’t squeeze her so much.”

“I’m quite sure. It isn’t a good color for her.” Grace waved her hand in dismissal. Once the dress had been removed, (Y/N) greedily inhaled as much oxygen as she could into her lungs. When the tailor walked away to retrieve another dress from the hanger rack, the girl leaned over, bracing her hands on her knees.

“Mom, this is the… fifth dress now,” She breathed. “How many more of these do I need to try on?”

“Hun, I just want you to look perfect. Preston already has his suit picked out and it’d be nice if you two would match-”

“Wait,” The girl waved her hands in the air. “Preston?”

Grace frowned. “Yes, Preston.”

“But I just went on a date with him! I have to see him all the time?!”

“If you’re gonna marry him, then yes!”

(Y/N) groaned and rubbed her face with both her hands as the tailor returned to her side with a baby blue dress. Grace shook her head in distaste before it could even be tried on and motioned for another one to be picked out. Huffing, (Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest and grumbled to herself, eliciting a soft laugh from her mother. “You’ll be fine, (Y/N), the four of us are arrivin’ at the gala together. Now, doesn’t that sound a little better?”

The girl hesitated at first, but nodded. “Yeah, I guess it does…” She whispered before the tailor was slipping her into another dress. This one was chiffon and orange, flower designs starting from the torso and spreading up the chest, and out to the see-through sleeves. Grace squealed and circled her index finger in the air.

“Go ‘head and twirl for me, darlin’.” She clapped as (Y/N) bashfully smiled and spun in a circle for her mother. “It’s beautiful! Perfect! We’ll have this one!” She vigorously nodded, the tailor visibly sagging in relief. (Y/N) let out a sigh and chuckled at her mother’s excitement. She had to admit, though, it was a beautiful dress. Perhaps not one she would wear if she was in her actual body, but it was fitting for her physical age. Once the tailor packed up and left their home, Grace let (Y/N) change back into her casual clothing before guiding her downstairs. “Time for dancin’ lessons.”

Entering the parlor, (Y/N) was greeted by her dance instructor and Preston. Smiling tightly, she stepped lightly into the middle of the floor with the boy.

“Let’s pick up where we left off, children.” The instructor’s flowy voice sounded as he put on a record for the music. In preparation of the gala, Reginald insisted they practice with Mariachi music, much to Preston’s distaste. The boy rolled his eyes behind their instructor’s back as the music began to flow throughout the house. He slyly slipped his arm around (Y/N)’s waist and took one of her hands in his. With a sigh, the girl placed her free hand on his shoulder. “And… one, two, three, one, two, three, one- No,” The instructor cut himself off and marched up to the two. “Ms Hargreeves, you do not lead. Mr Hildebrand must lead.”

“Sorry.” She whispered as he stepped back. Preston quietly chuckled at her in a mocking manner that had her clenching her jaw. If he had known the first thing about dancing, I wouldn’t need to lead, she thought to herself as their feet began moving again.

“One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two- Mr Hildebrand, focus on your partner! Dance is about the emotion, do not stare at your feet. Are you going to the gala with your feet?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. Diego was a better partner than him…

-------------------------------------------------

“Number Four, on my count!” Reginald clapped his hands, alerting thirteen-year-olds Klaus and (Y/N). The two nearly fell over at the abrupt stop Klaus came to, causing them to snort and hold onto each other for dear life. “If you two will not cooperate, then Number Eight will exchange partners! Again!”

As the music started up again, Klaus led their dance in long strides and animated sways that had them nearly knocking into Allison and Ben. The incorrect footing the two had been using the entire time eventually caught up to them when (Y/N) accidentally stepped on her brother’s toes, the boy yelping out and stumbling to the ground, dragging her down with him. Their laughs filled the room, too loud to hear the scratching stop of the record.

“Number Four! Number Eight! This is unacceptable behavior!”

Their laughter subsided at their father’s scolding. They scrambled to their feet as he stomped over, hands behind his back. “Number Four, to your seat. Number Two, you are now Number Eight’s partner!”

(Y/N) squeezed Klaus’s arm as the boy covered his smile with his hand and did as he was told. She smiled at Diego as he stiffly approached her, fists clenching and unclenching. Once he was close enough, he placed a hand on his sister’s waist and held her hand in his other one, her free hand taking position on his shoulder. The entire time they danced, Diego was rigid. He didn’t flow with the music and always let (Y/N) take the lead, much to Reginald’s annoyance. No matter how many times they were stopped, no matter how many times (Y/N) tried to reassure him that he was fine, the boy was as stiff as a board. Shaking his head, Reginald stopped the music again.

“Number Five, take Number Two’s place.” He demanded. Diego deflated and quickly detached himself from (Y/N) before returning to his seat beside Klaus. Five smirked as he hopped up from his seat, approaching (Y/N) and swiftly bringing her into position, heat rushing to her cheeks at their proximity. Reginald was much more pleased with this partnership, and it was no wonder why. The two moved perfectly, they were on count, and refused to falter for even a second. (Y/N) was easily impressed by Five’s suave manners, the way he smugly smirked at her the entire time. She could only shake her head in amusement at this new demeanor. Five was becoming cockier the older he got.

(Y/N) felt the fire of their dance as they spun, twisted and twirled all around. They were the perfect team gliding past the other two pairs that were Allison and Ben, and Luther and Vanya. They were an unstoppable force, and not just on the dancefloor. To their father, mainly because he couldn’t have imagined it any other way, he assumed the giddy smiles on his children’s faces were due to the excitement of their accomplishment. But their siblings knew all too well that those looks were only reserved for each other. Reginald couldn’t clean his monocle enough to see such a relationship blossoming between them. Not even when Five ended the dance with expertly dipping (Y/N) slowly, their eyes latched onto each other as he slowly brought her back up. They were grinning widely at each other as they separated, feeling their burning cheeks as they tried to catch their breath from the intensity of the dance. When they turned to Reginald, he simply nodded in approval.

-------------------------------------------------

So, as (Y/N) waltzed with Preston, perfectly in time with the music and gliding along the floor with grace, she felt nothing and did not smile in exhilaration.

Once the lesson concluded and the instructor took his leave, Preston turned to (Y/N) and gently lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a wet kiss to her knuckles. Inwardly grimacing, the girl forced a thin-lipped smile that didn’t reach her eyes to stretch across her face. She watched him with a scowl as he swaggered his way out of the parlor and to the front door, just as Grace walked in with a mischievous grin. “My, my, you really don’t like him, do you?”

“Not a whole lot, no…” (Y/N) sighed and crossed her arms. Her mother cooed and gently rubbed her shoulder.

“Well, let’s go shoe shoppin’ to make ya feel better.”

The hustle and bustle of the town as the two walked down the sidewalk was somewhat therapeutic for them. Reginald always advised that they use the car to get any and everywhere to save time, but they didn’t see a need to rush anything. They had all of the time in the world. Or at least they had until the store closed, but it was still early in the afternoon. With linked arms, and Mr Pennycrumb in (Y/N)’s other arm, the two approached the doors to the local shoe store with breezy smiles.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

The look the shopkeeper gave (Y/N) was nothing new for her as he opened the door for them. As they entered, he stared at Grace as if she had grown a head on each of her shoulders and began a trio singing group with them. “Uh… ma’am?”

“Yes?” Grace turned to him with raised brows. The shopkeeper cleared his throat nervously and motioned towards the young girl.

“She isn’t allowed in here. No colored folk in my store.”

(Y/N) was used to this treatment. She was grateful that she had her parents to shelter her when they could, but she knew her place in this timeline. So, to avoid any conflict, she began out the door. But Grace quickly grabbed her by the shoulder, all warmth from her face gone as she stepped forward. “I’m sorry? I didn’t see a ‘Whites Only’ sign on your door.”

“W-Well, yes, but it’s this entire side of the street that doesn’t allow-”

“And we could tell by the signs that so very clearly exclude my daughter simply because of the color of her skin. But you, sir, do not have a ‘Whites Only’ sign. So, I believe my baby girl is allowed to shop for a pretty pair of shoes from your establishment. Am I wrong?”

The man sighed as his expression dropped into a defeated frown. He risked a glance over at (Y/N), who was wearing a shit-eating grin. Rolling his eyes, he shook his head. “No, ma’am, you are not wrong.”

“I thought not. Now if you excuse us, we’re just goin’ to look for some shoes.”

Turning the girl around, Grace guided the two towards the back wall of the store, soothingly rubbing her arms. “I’m so sorry about that, hun…”

“It’s okay, Mom. Thank you for sticking up for me.”

“Of course, sweetheart. We need to fight back or else times will never change.” She squeezed the girl close in a hug, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but immediately latch onto her mother as tears welled up in her eyes.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

After they found the perfect pair of white heels, they were on their way out of the store and back on the sidewalk. They quietly giggled to each other at the memory of the shopkeeper’s glare as they paid for the very expensive shoes. Because of this, (Y/N) didn’t notice the woman walking towards them near the pet shop. When their shoulders came into contact, (Y/N)’s bag fell to the ground due to her iron grip on her puppy, shoes forgotten. “I’m so sorry!” She quickly apologized, her head snapping up to the woman, marveling at her sense of fashion. The woman was decked out in a beautiful blue dress, accompanied by the largest white pearls she had even seen. She wore long, fingerless white gloves and a white hat with a birdcage veil attached to it. Her earrings were to die for and her sunglasses gave the outfit a hint of chic. Her eyes moved past the matching white purse to the brilliantly red heels on her feet. (Y/N) was in total awe.

“Ugh, watch where you’re going!” The woman barked and snapped her head up to the young girl. “Do you have any idea- Oh! Oh… my. Hello, dear.” At the sudden change of tone, both (Y/N) and Grace frowned in confusion. “I’m so sorry, I just… you are a very beautiful young lady…”

“Uh… thank you.” She nodded as Grace stooped to pick up the bag from the ground.

“Even with the scars! Gives you a bit of an edge. What is your name, dear?”

Her slight smile faltered at the mention of her scars. “(Y/N)... (Y/N) Hargreeves.”

“And a beautiful name to match.” She grinned and turned her head to Grace. “Are you Mom?”

“I am.” Grace nodded and tugged her daughter closer.

“Keep her young and beautiful. It doesn’t usually last by the age of thirty,” She placed her cigarette holder between her lips. “Well… Ms (Y/N) Hargreeves… Perhaps I will see you around.”

A tiny growl from the girl’s arms had the woman’s eyeless smile dropping faster than anything (Y/N)’s ever seen. Mr Pennycrumb had been growling at the woman, teeth baring. The woman lifted her sunglasses and sent the dog a blue-eyed glare that had him shying away and whimpering into his owner’s arms. (Y/N) widened her eyes and stared down at her puppy in concern. The woman set her sunglasses back on her face and gained her smile yet again. “Cute dog.” She deadpanned before walking into the store.

“What a strange woman…” Grace muttered as the two watched The Handler stroll about the pet store.

-------------------------------------------------

Five watched in calm delight as the waitress poured him a fresh cup of coffee, filling it to the brim. Just as she was about to walk away, he glanced up at her. “Leave the pot, dear. Thank you.” He smiled. The woman set it down before walking away, muttering a ‘lippy little shit’ to herself. Vanya, who the boy found running from the same three gunmen as before, sat beside him with a lost look on her face.

“You gonna tell me what the hell’s going on?”

Five turned to her and decided to lay it all on her in one go, “When you were a baby, you were bought by an eccentric billionaire. He raised you in an elite academy with seven other siblings with extraordinary powers, but in the year 2019, in order to avoid the apocalypse, we jumped into a vortex and ended up scattered throughout the timeline in Dallas, Texas.” He watched patiently as Vanya slowly looked away in deep thought. “Any questions?”

“What do you mean, ‘the apocalypse’?”

Five inhaled to ready himself for another explanation. “I mean the end of the world as we know it.”

“Yeah, but how?”

His mind jumped back to the day it all happened. With he and his brothers suspended in the air, getting their literal lives sucked out of them. He thought of Vanya, blinded by her rage towards (Y/N) for some reason he didn’t even know, attacking his love directly in the face relentlessly with her bow. How she cried on the ground as her shaking limbs desperately tried to lift her body from the ground. How he could do nothing but watch. He could have turned Vanya away, could have hated her for it. But he knew deep down that he could never hate his siblings, he could never hate Vanya. Not for the life of him. Especially not when (Y/N)’s words rang in his head.

“It’s just that we’ve hurt her so much already…”

“You really don’t remember anything?” He asked instead.

“No, nothing before a month ago.” She shook her head.

“Then what do you remember?”

Vanya’s eyes strayed away from her brother in thought. “I remember… I landed in, like, a… back alley. Got hit by a car. My head was ringing like crazy. I had no idea how I got there, where I came from,” When Five didn’t respond, she asked her question again. “What causes the apocalypse?”

Vanya was unpredictable to Five at his point. She knew of her powers this time and he didn’t want to upset her. Not only because he didn’t like to upset her, but for the obvious reason that her rage ended the world in the first place. So, he lied.

“Asteroid impact. The big kaboom ends everything… Just like the one that got the dinosaurs, except way worse,” He picked up his coffee mug and stared forward. “Bad news is, it followed us here.”

Vanya stared at her brother in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘followed us’?”

“Eight days from now, the world ends in a nuclear doomsday. It’s a different disease, but… same result.” He watched as Vanya’s lips desperately tried to curl into a smile as she tilted her head.

“That can’t be right.”

“I saw it. With my own eyes,” He sighed and stared down at the counter in despair. “You were there. We all were…”

“Shit,” Vanya whispered and jumped out of her chair. “I need to make a phone call.”

“Vanya.” Five softly called as he watched her rush to the phone on the wall, dialing a number. He decided to give her the time she needed and sipped his coffee. But the cup drained faster than he expected and time was running out. Standing from his chair, he walked over to Vanya and hung up the phone. She turned to him with widened eyes.

“What the hell?!” She whispered.

“We don’t have time for this.”

“That’s my friend you just hung up on!”

Grabbing her by the shoulders, Five stared into her frightened eyes. “Listen to me. Those people from the field are coming after us. They are never going to stop. Do you understand me?” He whispered sternly and watched as she swallowed, expression softening. “We need to stick together, find the others, figure out how to stop doomsday. Whoever this person is, they can’t be more important than the end of the world.”

He immediately regretted those words. He knew it the second Vanya’s face tightened again. When she slammed the phone back onto the wall and stormed past him, he knew there were six other people he thought far more important than the end of the world. It’s why he hauled all of them along with him rather than doing the job himself. And he knew there was one of them who mattered in a whole different light. With a heavy sigh, he followed after his sister out of the diner.

—————————————

Taglist: @unfortu-nate-ly @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @bubblegumflamingos @starstormssymphony @meowiemari @magicalgothpandamaker @sm0kingcrack @simping-4-fictional-men @hehehehannahthings @harrystylescherrie @rhain3 @himikaphoo @zerocanonlywriteshit @xxeiraxx @camerondiaz48104 @isawachickeninatree @theyaremorethanjustfictional @that-can-of-fizz

[snarkwrites]

01 & 02 | home; juice ortiz.

Notes:

.... and apparently, my brain yearned to write angsty and kind of tragic things. I really haven’t written much for sons of anarchy beyond a few little short things here and there so.. be warned. I’m gonna loosely follow some of the things that happen on the show timeline, but.. this one might take longer to write / post / update because I’m going to try to watch SOA again as I do this. Try being the operative.

So uh.. buckle up?

Also.. I haven’t made a cover for this yet. or a soundtrack. And this is c

Pairing:

Teller Morrow OFC x Juice Ortiz.

Summary:

“Home is where love resides, memories are created, friends always belong, and laughter never ends.” “A house is made of bricks and beams. A home is made of hopes and dreams.” “Home is not a place…it's a feeling.” 

“Home is wherever I’m with you.” 

Years ago, Hazelynn Teller (Morrow) left Charming behind. She turned her back on everything in search of something.. anything that felt like it fit. But nothing ever did. After a series of events cause her to re-evaluate and she finds herself returning to Charming, can she fix everything she broke when she left?

And again I ask.. why must my summaries suck? I swear this might possibly be better than the summary.

Warnings:

Injury / accident tw - for this chapter only. Mentions of a genetic heart defect / a newborn in NICU. fighting / violence tw - duh, this show was pretty damn violent and there’s no way I can escape having at least some of the major stuff that happened present. slow burn and angst. because people don’t just fall back together and feelings aren’t magically healed. eventual filth. any other triggering  things that arise I’ll warn in those chapters. These are just the ones I can think of, immediately, right now.

Other Stuff:

[ faq - tag list doc ] 

Tagging:

@brithedemonspawn

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@kyleoreillysknee

@rampagewriting 

@sassymox

@twistnet

                                      ONE.

The phone ringing had Jax Teller sitting up in bed. He grimaced at the pounding hangover and he reached for his cellphone, answering.

“Are you family of Hazelynn Teller Morrow?”

“She’s my baby sister, why?” Jax wasn’t getting a good feeling at all. The woman on the other end of the line sounded so formal and her tone was so clipped. Unconcerned. It was his own personal experience that usually, when you got a call like this in the middle of the night, nothing good ever came of it.

What the nurse told him next left him reeling.

“There’s been an accident. She’s been admitted to Santa Monica General. Her daughter is in the NICU.”

“You said Santa Monica General, right?” Jax was sitting up in bed now, trying to get his heart down out of his throat. He was slipping out of bed, grabbing for his jeans on the floor. “Are you sure there isn’t some mistake? My sister, she… She doesn’t have a kid. Not that I’m aware of..” He was hoping against hope that there was a mistake somewhere, but the nurse spoke again.

“Your sister was in labor and on her way here to give birth when the accident occurred. We had to induce labor. Given the state your sister is in, we’re calling the family since we have no way to know who the baby’s father is… Just to err on the side of caution.”

Jax’s stomach rolled. Tara hugged against him from behind. “What’s going on, Jax?”

Jax shushed her, listening to the nurse detail his sister’s injuries and the fact that while they were trying to save his niece she slipped into a coma and had yet to wake up. When he hung up the phone, he swung at a wall.

“Jax?”

“I have to go pick up my mom.” Jax grabbed the keys to his bike and rushed out of the house, firing it up.

The entire drive across town to his mother’s house passed by in a daze. He didn’t even remember what color the stoplight had been when he went through it, only that he was sitting in his mother’s driveway only three and a half minutes later. Rushing to his mom’s front door. Pounding on it to wake her up.

Gemma threw the door open, a brow raised at Jax when she saw him standing on the other side. “Jax?”

“Mom, it’s Hazelynn… The hospital in Santa Monica called me.”

Gemma’s mouth opened only to close again. It was probably one of very few times over the course of his life that Jax Teller had actually seen his mother speechless. Or about to cry.

“What happened? Jax, talk to me. Talk to me now.” Gemma demanded, her voice shaky. Jax took a few deep breaths and put his arms around his mother, explaining what the nurse told him when she’d called. Gemma’s tears started to fall and she bolted back into the house, shaking Clay awake.

Clay grumbled at the early hour but sat up.

Looking as if he’d vomit as Jax repeated everything the nurse told him for a second time that night.

“I’ll drive. Neither of you are in the shape.” Clay was up and getting dressed on auto pilot, stopping at one point to question, “They say whether she had anybody there with her?”

“The whole reason the nurse is calling family is because she was coming to the hospital alone because she’d gone into labor. They can’t track down a father.”

“Oh, I’ll find the bastard.”

“Clay…”

“I’m not kidding Gemma.” Clay’s fists clenched and he took a few deep breaths.

“We’ll just get there and assess the situation. Go from there. She needs us.” Gemma gave Clay a firm look of warning and it seemed to get him reasonably calm.

The next few hours were sitting in silence in a waiting room. Endless pots of shitty break room coffee. Gemma jumping every time someone coded.

And finally, around 9 am, a doctor got around to them.

Hazelynn was awake. And her vitals seemed steady. 

“Can we go back to see her?”

“In an hour. We  want to make sure she’s up to it.”

“What about my niece?”

“One at a time. I’ll send a nurse over to get you prepped to go down to NICU.” The doctor promised, setting off to go and track down a nurse.

The nurse showed up a few minutes later and Gemma stood, the shock starting to subside but only slightly. As they walked back to the NICU nursery, the nurse told Gemma that they’d detected a heart defect and Gemma explained that both herself and her granddaughter’s uncle suffered from similar. 

“We’re not supposed to let anyone back here that isn’t a parent until 8 pm.. But given the circumstance…” 

Gemma thanked her and stepped into the room, taking a seat in the chair in the corner. The nurse brought over her granddaughter and Gemma took her in her arms.

“Oh sweetie. Everything is going to be okay.”

But Gemma was afraid. So very afraid.

XXX

“ You don’t have to leave town, Haze.”

It was the last thing my brother said to me. He’d hugged me. Then my mom hugged me and wiped at her eyes. Made me promise a thousand times to call and come back to visit. I promised her I would, even though I knew deep down I’d be limiting myself to calls only.

If I went home to visit, I might not ever leave again.

And I didn’t want to be like all the other girls I went to school with, settling down and settling for whatever came their way.

I left town with all these big ambitions and plans. And one by one, life knocked them right out from beneath me. Life tried again and again to break me but I was too stubborn to be broken. 

But this last blow.. This last blow was too much.

The nurse came in to check on me and the first thing I demanded was to know if my daughter was alright. The second and a half it took the nurse to tell me that my daughter was alive and currently down in NICU was the longest second and a half of my entire life and the second I heard the nurse tell me that my daughter was alive and I hadn’t lost her, I broke.

Sobbing. Grateful.

If I’d lost her… I shoved the thought out because I just couldn’t.

“Wait.. NICU… What’s wrong with her? What’s wrong with my baby?”

“The doctors detected a heart defect.”

I took a shaky breath. I’d been warned by my mom that there was a possibility that any children I had could end up with the heart defect, even though it managed to skip over me. At my last checkup, my doctor had been concerned about the genetic heart defect present in my brother and my mother. Nothing had shown up in any of the tests they’d been able to do at that point, so I’d been hopeful.

I nodded. Taking a few deep breaths. Moving to sit but wincing when a wave of pain washed over me.

The door to my private room opened and my brother stepped in. My birth father Clay standing behind him.

Jax rushed over to the bed, putting my legs back into it. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m going to see my daughter. I.. She needs me, Jax.”

“She needs you healthy, darlin.” Clay spoke up quietly.

Awkwardly, I let him hug me. Things had always been tense between us. More so when the truth came out that he was my actual father. It had thrown my entire life in a tailspin back then and while I’m not proud to admit it at all, I’d went full on rebellious. Refusing to acknowledge him.

But he’d kept trying.

“I couldn’t even keep myself from crashing a fucking car. I failed already. She could’ve died.” I was full on sobbing now as everything hit me. I looked from Jax to Clay and asked quietly, “Where’s mom?” I.. Need to see her.”

“Your mom’s down in NICU.” Clay explained, doing his best to give me a reassuring look. Wincing at the way my forehead was stitched. “Least you got the Morrow hard head, huh?” he tried to joke. Jax gave him a warning look, but rather than stubbornly refuse to go along with it like I used to in all of Clay’s past attempts to bond with me over the years, all I could do this time was nod. Mutter quietly, “Thank god.”

My brother cleared his throat.

“What about the father?”

“What about him? He’s married. Dropped me like a bad habit when he found out I wasn’t getting rid of the baby. Only after he tried to pay me off.”

Jax’s fist clenched and I shook my head. “I’m better off… I.. I mean I think I am.” my words fell away and I leaned my head back against the pillow behind me gingerly. 

“You didn’t have any friends you could get to drive you?” Clay questioned. I shook my head, not bothering to open my eyes. “I’d just moved here. I was.. Working up the nerve to come home. I didn’t really know anybody.”

“So the kid’s dad is elsewhere?” Clay questioned further. I could just tell by his tone that he was already thinking of the best way to make the situation right. To make the father of my child pay for being an actual piece of shit.

“Clay, whatever you’re thinking, don’t. Leave it alone, sir. Not everybody has to pay for their wrongs your way. The bastard will regret it one day when she grows up and she’s amazing and she didn’t need him. I don’t want the guy near me.”

It didn’t stop the look in his eyes and I sighed. Appealing to the last card I held that I thought might work. “If you care about me at all and you still want to be a part of my life, sir.. You’ll leave this alone. I just… I want to put it behind me.”

I let out a ragged breath and searched his eyes. When he seemed to relax and grumble while shaking his head, I relaxed. It felt as if he were going to let it go as I asked. Maybe going away had changed things just a little.

Jax spoke up quietly. 

“ You scared the fuck out of me.”

“Try being me.” I muttered quietly, letting my brother hug me, holding on just a little tighter.

The door to my room opened again and my mother stepped in. She didn’t look like the same carefully put together woman I remembered. She looked like she was drained. Scared to death.

Suddenly, I wanted to go back in time and punch my younger self in the throat. How could I have ever thought that just because I was a reminder of the affair my mom started with Clay Morrow before Jax’s father passed away that she cared less.. Or that me being around was just painful for her to begin with?

I felt worse than I’ve ever felt before.

Jax stopped my mom, asking if she thought they’d let him go back and sit with my daughter. My mom led him back out in the hallway, probably to go find the NICU nurse on duty and find out the answer, and this left me and my birth father alone together.

“I know we never got along real good, kid.”

“I’m sorry.” I blurted it out before he could say anything else. “I was messed up, okay? The way it came out… The way it made everyone fight… I just.. I don’t know.” I dropped my gaze to the thin white blanket over my legs and Clay sighed.

“If you want to come home… It’d make more sense, I’d think. Gonna be damn hard to help out with my grandkid when you’re all the way in Santa Monica. And I’m not about to let my daughter take all this on by herself. We clear, Red?”

I mulled it over. It wasn’t something I’d already been heavily leaning towards for the better part of a month now. I’d just been too scared to pull the trigger and do it.

“Yes sir.” I answered, managing a smile.

My mom stepped into the room, door shutting behind her quietly.

“I cannot wait until you are away from this hospital. Do you know how fucking difficult it is to get anybody to answer a simple question?” my mom muttered, leaning down, hugging me tight. Fussing over a stitch on my forehead, grumbling “They didn’t even attempt to close this properly. I’ve seen bikers at Sturgis do a better sew up.” and making me laugh. Just a little.

She pulled away from the hug and brushed some hair away from my forehead. “Sweetie, I..” she started to say something but I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Mom. For everything.”

“I’m sorry too. I didn’t know you felt the way you felt until your brother threw it up right after you left. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Don’t start crying.” my mom was reaching for a tissue, gingerly dabbing it at my eyes. “The important thing is it’s behind us. Okay?”

I nodded.

“You’re moving back to Charming.”

Normally, my mother making demands would’ve set me on edge. But I wasn’t that same angry rebellious girl anymore. And deep down, I was starting to realize just how much I loved and needed my family, especially right now.

Warts and all.

“Okay.” I managed a weak smile.

“Was she okay?” I asked quietly after another tight hug that had me wincing just a little and reminding her gently that I was one giant ache. My mom smiled and nodded. “She’s as beautiful as you, sweetie. And despite the family flaw striking again, I think she’s a fighter already. Have you got a name?”

“ Emma Sophia.”

My mom smiled at that. I figured she would because Emma was basically just Gemma, shortened. And Sophia in tribute to all the old movies she used to make me sit through with her when I was younger, after an actress named Sophia Loren.

“I like that, sweetie.”

When she was sure Clay wasn’t actively listening, she whispered quietly, “And the father?”

“Is not an issue. Nor will he ever be one. I got him to sign away paternal rights.”

“You’re sure.” My mom asked again and I nodded. “He was married, mom, I... “ I trailed off, waiting for a lecture. Instead, my mom sighed and nodded. “It’s okay. Everything will be okay.”

And for the first time in years, I really believed she was right. Maybe everything really would be okay now.

The doctor came in to check on me again and check my vitals and after doing that, he turned to address my mother and Clay.

“Mother and baby’s vitals are holding strong and steady. I’d say that if the pattern continues, we can release Mother by the weekend.”

“What about my baby?” I spoke up quickly.

“We want to keep your daughter for observation. I’d say at least another two weeks.”

I took a few deep breaths, starting to panic a little. Wanting to cry. My mom grabbed hold of my hand and repeated calmly, “Everything will be fine. They kept your brother just as long.”

I nodded, even though the thought still scared the hell out of me. 

                                                    TWO.

The Welcome to Charming sign passed by and I smiled a little. Emma was sleeping in the carrier. I was almost home.

And hopeful.

Just as I turned down the road my mom lived on, my cell phone buzzed. I switched the call so that it went through my radio to answer.

“ Exactly how big is too big for a stuffed animal?” Jax asked and I groaned, shaking my head at the question. “What have you done, Jax?”

“There was a unicorn.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.. Remember that one Clay won you when you were twelve? This one makes two of that one.”

“Where the fuck am I putting this?”

My mom spoke up from the background. “We got it in the nursery. Barely. I told your brother he’s not allowed near the stuffed animals anymore.”

“In my defense ma, it’s my niece.”

I parked behind the motorcycles lining my mother’s driveway. Tensing just a little when I recognized Juice’s Dyna Glide parked next to Tig’s motorcycle.

And as soon as I saw him, it was like everything froze. I wasn’t ready to face him. Especially not when I considered that it felt like someone had just knocked the breath right out of me. As I walked past him, I didn’t dare look over.

I couldn’t do it, no matter how badly every part of me wanted to. My brother and Opie came over, arguing about the unicorn, Opie nearly lifting me off the ground in a hug. I reached back into the car, killing the engine and shutting the driver door. Making my way to the backseat and unbuckling the carrier.

“Awww. She’s even got the same chubby little cheeks, man.” Opie chuckled, elbowing Jax who nodded. I smiled and as soon as Emma started to wake up and cry, I dug around in my diaper bag for the bottle I’d pumped for her at a rest stop.

Sitting the carrier on the trunk of the car, I unfastened Emma, pulling her out.

Instantly drawing over at least ten gigantic bikers. Watching them fuss over her had me laughing and smiling a little.

Juice hung back. Leaning against the tree in the yard with a tire swing. Watching. Like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to come over with everyone else.. Near me. Or whether he wanted to just leave.

When he started to make his way over after Chibs stopped to whisper something in his ear, I swallowed hard. The guys had gone back to the grill set up behind the house by now. It pretty much left me sitting in the passenger seat of my car finishing up feeding Emma. Humming softly as I did so.

Humming what used to be the song that Juice and I dubbed ‘our song’.

“Visiting? I’m surprised your man let you come by yourself.”

I glanced up at Juice, taking a deep breath. Bracing myself for all the anger and bitterness I thought I’d find waiting in his gaze. Surprised when all I found instead was concern. Maybe a little hurt.

But deeper down, the same way he always used to look at me.

“Juice..” I started, but I went quiet. I didn’t know what to say. There was so much I wanted to say but it was probably beyond too late for that.

More than anything, I wished I had a rewind button.

What if I hadn’t left town? Ran from the way I felt about everything back then?

“I had a while to get over it.” he muttered, gazing at me. Going quiet. “Jax told me why you had to go. I fuckin hated it, but I had a while to get over it.”

I nodded.

Somehow I got the feeling that he was pretending it didn’t kill him. To save face.

Kind of exactly like I was right now.

“You could’ve said somethin, ya know?”

“Juice..”

He shook his head and took a deep breath. Leaning against my car. Staring up at the bright blue of the sky overhead. “It’s over and done with though.”

My stomach churned. I wasn’t sure if what he was saying was a good or a bad thing. Seeing him again after all this time, I wasn’t even sure I wanted it to be over.

Because when I left it all behind, I hadn’t just left behind a family that actually loved me, I’d left him behind too.

And looking at him now. With a more adult perspective… I suddenly found myself wondering if leaving him behind had been the biggest mistake of my life…

“Do you want to hold her?”

Juice eyed me but nodded, reaching out for her. “Hey pretty girl.” he muttered, smiling a little. After he held her for a few minutes, he placed her back in my arms.

And as he did so, the touch lingered as we locked eyes.

“I missed you.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“I barely survived.” Juice answered, biting his lip as if he wanted to say something else. He turned and walked away and I spent a few minutes trying to pull myself back together again.

It had been harder seeing him again after all this time than I thought.

Harder to resist him. Harder to shove down the surge of emotions. Harder to try not to think about just how much I still loved him and harder to swallow the fact that by now, it was probably too late.

I got the feeling that it was only going to get so much harder.

And I sighed, because every part of me wanted to hold out hope that there was still something there but I had to accept the fact that I’d probably lit a match and set everything on fire when I left town back then. That there wasn’t any hope to be had.

That Juice was done with me.

And that hurt more than I was prepared for.

I shoved it all out of my head, wandering over to where my mom sat. Giving Tara some serious side eye.

“He had to bring her.” my mom was glaring in Tara’s general direction. Rolling her eyes as Tara carried Abel around. Everything Tara Knowles did annoyed my mom. That much hadn’t changed at all.

“In his defense, mom, she’s kind of his old lady.” I pointed out quietly. Taking a sip of the pink lemonade she’d pushed in my direction.

My mom shrugged, grumbling under her breath. Probably something to the effect of she wouldn’t be if my mom had her way about it. I sat down next to her at the picnic table and she peeked in the sling I had Emma strapped into. “Hey sweetie.” she cooed.

Emma grinned up at her, sleepy eyed. After a few seconds, my mom spoke up.

“Speaking of old ladies… If you’re wondering. Juice doesn’t have one.”

“Mom, I.. we both know I ruined everything there when I left.” I sighed, shaking my head no. Trying to cut whatever crazy idea she was formulating out before it took hold. Somehow I got the feeling that it was too late for that. My mom, being the meddling mom she’s known to be at times, she was going to try to shove me right through the ‘healing process’ over the end of my last breakup.

My mom shrugged, shaking her head. Quick to protest, “You never know.”

I didn’t say anything. For one thing, I was trying to get my head around my mom seeming to push me towards Juice. I hadn’t really thought she liked him all that much back then. I know Clay didn’t particularly care for him.

XXX

Juice wasn’t listening to a word Chibs said. Chibs caught sight of the direction he was staring in and he chuckled to himself, nudging Juice in the side, nodding in Hazelynn’s direction. “Go over n’ try t’ talk.”

Juice shook his head. “Every time I think about it, I remember that she’s the one who thought she was too good for any of this and left. Without a good bye. What’s done is done. I wasn’t good enough for her then, why do I wanna be good enough for her now, huh?”

“Maybe it wasn’t that at all.” Chibs butted in. Grumbling as he took a drag of his cigarette. The kid wasn’t listening. He wasn’t stopping to think about everything that unfolded prior to Hazelynn’s decision to leave. Chibs went quiet. He knew better than to try reasoning with the kid. Juice was a hard headed little shit.

“Look at me, Chibs. We both know it was.” Juice insisted, shaking his head sadly. “I tried to be good enough man.. I just fuckin wasn’t.”

Chibs brushed off the statement, putting it down to Juice’s recent downward mood swing and tension. The guy had been down about a lot lately. Like he had a million things on his mind. If Chibs ever tried to bring it up, Juice dismissed it. Stating he didn’t want to talk about it.

Juice bit his lip. Staring at Hazelynn. Sighing as he stubbed out the cigarette he’d been smoking. Every part of him was still drawn to her. If he could, he’d go over. He’d tell her that he still loved her, he’d never stopped.

But there was so much going on right now.

The biggest part of it being the secret he was being forced to keep. Just the thought of the betrayal he was currently being forced to carry out against men he thought of as brothers was enough to have him tensing up all over again. Any second, they’d figure out it was him. None of the guys in Samcro were that stupid. Even the ones who acted like they were.

Sooner or later, everything would come out.

And Juice Ortiz was living with the weight of that dread and his secrets and decision every single day.

,, I just have to stay away. Keepin her at arms length is keepin her safe.” the solemn thought weighed heavily and he tore his eyes off of her.

Somehow, he got the feeling that would be easier said than done.

[thehighlandhealer]

Trick or Treat, Cont. || Charleson, Bronwyn, Lirim, Aedan, Rory, & Cynthia || October, 2020

Lirim: Lirim tossed his phone onto the table, smiling apologetically at his son. Their first outing with Charles. His first, that is. Bronwyn was another story.

"He said five's fine," Lirim called to Bronwyn. Paint was much more manageable than makeup, in his opinion. His son's whiskers, made of his mother's eyeshadow, would survive the next few hours. Aedan wouldn't care or much notice. His ears were free. When was he going to develop a tail?

Bronwyn: “Five it is!” Bronwyn called back. She was deep in her makeup drawer looking for a tube of eyeliner that seemed to have disappeared. “Why didn’t I draw the whiskers on with eyeliner, they’re goin’ to smudge. Oh! Marie and Lydia have asked us to stop by their houses. No one in this city will have better treats.”

Lirim: "You won't go touchin' your face, will ya, Aedan? Some settin' spray and you're ready to hit the town."

Lirim perked, looked over the mass that was his son's curly hair. "Oh really? Haven't seen them in ages." He hadn't seen much of anyone outside of the art gallery, so no surprise.

A thought occurred to him. Shit. "Guess that means I'm seein' Mason again."

Bronwyn: “Aye, darlin’, it does. Ha!” She returned to the room a few moments later with the eyeliner and her setting spray. “But don’t worry, ev’ryone will be on their best behavior. Includin’ him.”

Lirim/Aedan: Xavier's uplifting words rang in his memory as reminder. He didn't have to be afraid of him. Not anymore. Just confounding that anyone spent any amount of time with that demon.

He didn't have room to judge, considering his favorite Atlas, but he would.

Aedan was about having his fill of this face touching. The squirming had begun.

"Patience, puppers!"

Bronwyn: “I’m almost done, lovey.” Bronwyn made quick work of touching up Aedan’s whiskers before telling him to close his eyes for the setting spray. “There, all done!”

Lirim: "Ya know he's gonna have a fit when ya try and take that off." Oh well. It was just one night. His son was certainly no artist, putting up with the smell of makeup was easier than paint, and it was for a good cause. He didn't have whiskers and he wanted them.

"Alright, Toto, all done. Ready to meet Dorothy?"

Bronwyn/Aedan: “It won’t be so bad. Just one wee little makeup wipe and it’ll come right off.”

Aedan gave his mother a skeptical look but the excitement over the candy he would soon have won out.

“Yeah!”

Lirim/Aedan: "I shoulda gone as the Big Bad Wolf, Miss Riding Hood."

"Wolves are good!"

And Aedan wouldn't hear otherwise. "You're absolutely right. He just had an image issue." Bronwyn was given a look.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn smiled and nodded. “Absolutely. An image issue and questionable manners. Daddy should’ve gone as the Big Good Wolf.” That last added with a teasing look.

Lirim/Aedan: His parents were given a look. The look of a child aware but unable to articulate. Instead, going on about how he wanted a candy apple on a stick.

"You got it, Toto."

Bronwyn: “I think—and I’m no’ positive or anythin’—but I’m pretty sure Auntie Lydia is makin’ candy apples with red caramel.”

Lirim/Aedan: Aedan's eyes couldn't have been brighter.

"Oh boy, Toto's gonna need a leash."

And off their son ran across the house screaming.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn laughed. “Oh, aye. I probably shouldn’t tell him there are also goin’ to be cookies.”

Lirim: "Shhh. He'll be in a sugar coma before eight."

Bronwyn: “Eight?” she chuckled. “Aren’t we bein’ optimistic. My money’s on seven.”

Lirim: "That's better than eight. What ya wanna bet?"

Bronwyn: “Hmmm...” She tapped her chin. “Dinner.”

Lirim: "What ya want?"

Bronwyn: “Shrimp and grits with an ungodly amount of cheese.”

Lirim: "Homemade or restaurant?"

Bronwyn: “Homemade. What do ye want if ye win?”

Lirim: "I want... to paint you."

Bronwyn: “Paint me or paint me?”

Lirim: "I mean paint on your body in my studio."

Bronwyn: “It’s a bet. What do ye want to turn me into?”

Lirim: "We'll have to see. Been a long time."

Bronwyn: “Aye, it has.” She smiled and kissed Lirim’s cheek. “Ye can turn me into anythin’ ye like.”

Lirim: "Maybe I've some ideas. In the nude, of course."

Bronwyn: “Well that goes without sayin’. What’s a little nudity after ye’ve impregnated someone.”

Lirim: "Oh?" He laughed. "Speakin' of 'fore I get ahead of myself, how's the Viking?"

Bronwyn: “Still tall, stoic, and handsome. He got a kick out o’ my costume.”

Lirim: "They don't do Halloween in Iceland?"

Bronwyn: “Iceland kind of does a wee, Torsten doesn’t do it at all.”

Lirim: "Makes sense, I guess." Lirim looked in the direction of their son. "And he's good with Aedan?" Hundredth time asking. "He should... be here. He's gonna have a lot more Halloweens."

Bronwyn: She nodded. “Aye, he’s good with Aedan. I asked him to come with us but he’s in Iceland at the moment, takin’ care of some family business.”

Lirim: "Do ya want Aedan to call him dad?"

Bronwyn: “I want Aedan to call him whatever feels right to him.”

Lirim: "Ya'd think I'd be used to it. I mean he already -" He'd stop right there. "Anyway, Charles should be here any minute."

Bronwyn: She kissed his cheek again. “I love ye, Lirim Vivaldi. Ye know that? There’s no timeline on gettin’ used to it.”

Lirim: "Love ya too, Mama B. Ya know he calls ya that when we're alone? Totally picked it up from Lucien I know it."

Bronwyn: “He does?” Bronwyn positively melted at the sweetness of it all. “That’s adorable! And he absolutely did and I’m no’ surprised at all. I love bein’ Mama B.”

Lirim: "He asked about Lucien a few days ago. Didn't realize how often they were together."

Bronwyn: “Aye, the magic of teleportation. I’ve been wantin’ to learn it, I feel bad havin’ Vincent go back and forth so often.”

Lirim: "Can't be easy. I mean, that's why it belongs to familiars, and... demons."

Bronwyn: “Ye’re right. Avalbane is over three hundred and she can’t do it.”

Lirim: "Shit. What's she got over ya, though? Spells wise, I mean."

Lirim turned to the foyer mirror and adjusted his hat.

Bronwyn: “Sheer volume o’ spells. Decade upon decade of experience. That spell she used to help us with Aedan? It’s so obscure she found it on a stone tablet.”

Lirim: His smile softened. "Just had a conversation about that, actually, with Xavier Atlas." He watched for her reaction.

Bronwyn: She didn’t quite frown, but there was a definite tightness to her smile at the mention of that man.

“Were ye indeed,” she said as casually as she could. “Does he get his magic from stone tablets as well?”

Lirim: "I imagine if Xavier Atlas were reborn today, he'd be that bookworm child that turns into a mage. Or a mad professor. Or a politician. Can't really pin which."

Bronwyn: “Or held in a federal prison for tax evasion.”

Lirim: "I mean," he laughed, "they're not saints, but they're hungry, Atlases."

Bronwyn: “That’s definitely one way to put it. Do ye see him often?”

Lirim: "Nah. First time in...years."

Bronwyn: “Was it a good visit?”

Lirim: "I needed it. Been meetin' up with a few people I lost." He gestured to the front door. "Charles included."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn reached for Lirim’s hand and gave it squeeze. “Well for that, I’m glad. It’s nice to see ye returnin’ to yer life, spendin’ time with people ye enjoy. Ye’re like a flower bloomin’ after a long winter.”

Lirim: "Only a druid would say that," he laughed. He felt like he'd been doing more of that lately.

Bronwyn: He had and it had not gone unnoticed. It was such a welcome sound.

“It’s true! Ye’re our angelic flower.”

Lirim: Lirim shook his head, rubbed his cheeks with both hands. "Alright, Ridin' Hood, ya all set to go?"

Bronwyn: “All set. I’ve got ev’rythin’ we can possibly need in my basket.”

Charles/Rory: Charles gave a single nod, indicating that Rory could, indeed, be the one to ring the doorbell. He did so with great enthusiasm, before Charles guided him gently back.

Lirim/Aedan: Of course. The doorbell was piano keys, after all. This didn't have to be a child for someone to go to town on it.

"Someone's playing music!" called his son.

"No, I got it!" his father laughed, opening the door less than a moment later.

"Hey, fam!"

Bronwyn: Bronwyn would appear at Lirim's shoulder almost instantly, greeting their new arrivals with a radiant smile.

"There they are! Come in, come in! Look at ye, ye look great!"

Charles/Rory/Cynthia: Charles was all smiles for his friends, tipping back his pointed hat to more easily press a kiss to each of their cheeks.

Rory and Cynthia both were happy to see Bronwyn, Dorothy and a little Tin Man stepping forward for hugs they knew were coming.

"Hello, hello! Rory, Cee, this is... Mr. Lirim Vivaldi." He'd leave it up to the man himself to decide how he wanted to be addressed.

Lirim: "Hi!" The old saying of loving only your kids was relevant to Lirim; he didn't feel like a natural around other people's children and doubted he ever would. But these were Charles'. He got on a knee to shake their hands. He then called to Aedan to greet them.

Bronwyn: The children already knew her very well; they'd both be kissed and given a good squeeze that stopped just shy of mussing their costumes. Their father would be given equal treatment.

She smiled as Lirim greeted them, taking the opportunity to grab her camera from her basket and start snapping pictures.

"I can't get over those costumes! Ye're all so precious I could eat ye right up. Smile for the camera!"

Charles: Charles was not nearly so averse to being photographed as his husband, but there was no need to capture his ridiculous witch's costume for posterity. With a wry smile, he nudged his children gently toward where Aedan stood. "Let's get one of the kids together. Following the yellow brick road, and all that."

He had a sunny smile for Bronwyn and Lirim's son. After all, he did not share Lirim's opinions on other people's children. He'd certainly have chosen the wrong bloody profession, if he did.

"Nice to see you again, young man. You've gotten so big!"

Lirim/Mason/Aedan Mason lagged behind, still warding and locking down the townhouse just a few feet away. His hooded masked figure cut an intimidating silhouette compared to the others. By design, given the city. This was his city and his people, but this was his family, and a priority. He would be watchdog tonight. No doubt with Charles' ability, danger would not survive twenty yards.

Aedan began explaining his costume, as though it were required. Toto for Dorothy! With a bark as real as his dark brown ears perked tight with excitement.

Lirim adjusted his son's curls and returned to his feet. "He really has." The naphil stilled at the sight of the demon, taking a breath. A nod of acknowledgment.

Bronwyn: There was every need to capture Charles' witch costume for posterity and that was precisely what Bronwyn was going to do.

"Aye, let's! Ev'ryone move in closer and give me a big smile!" She snapped a couple of photos of the kids and a couple more of Lirim and Charles. "Mason!" she called. "Come see the cuteness!"

Charles: Charles was not the least bit concerned about the evening. Nor did he believe himself, Bronwyn, and Lirim incapable of defending against any unlikely danger. But he welcomed his husband's presence, all the same. He smiled fondly as Aedan went into the details of his costume. They really were an adorable trio.

"Are we ready to begin? We're following your lead, here."

Lirim/Mason/Rory: "Little terrors in disguise!"

Rory looked back to his father. "Nah uh!"

Lirim locked the door behind them with a flick of his hand. No one around to notice. "Start here and go counter-clockwise, then Coverdale?" he looked to Bronwyn for confirmation.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn mapped the proposed route in her head and nodded. "Sounds good to me! Ev'ryone stay together now, and if ye hear a verra cranky poodle, just walk on by. She only barks if ye give her attention and if ye give her attention she tries to bite ye."

Charles: Charles laughed openly, adjusting his hat as it slipped. "She sounds delightful. I'll keep a wary eye. Do you lot want to leave a bowl of candy out for any kids that come by?"

Lirim: "Last time I did the whole cauldron was gone!" Lirim laughed.

Bronwyn: "I'm convinced that kid who thinks he's James Dean and his mates took the lot."

Charles: "There's always one."

Lirim/Mason: "Should I?"

Mason was already off with the children to the nearest house on their side of the street.

Bronwyn: "We can, if ye like. It's still early, there's a chance bargain bin James Dean won't show up for another couple of hours."

Charles: "I like to, when no one's around to answer the door, but it's your bowl."

Lirim: "Out of that giant school? Not even a maid?"

Lirim unlocked the door with another flick, glanced at his son and ran inside for a jack-o'-lantern bucket, filling it with tiny bags of Reese's Pieces.

Charles: "In Cameron, or wherever else. There's always someone at the school."

Lirim: "Cameron?" The bucket placed. Lirim picked up the pace to join his son.

Charles: Charles followed closely behind, catching a speeding Rory as he returned from the door with chocolate in his once-empty bucket.

"Careful! Mhm. My husband has a house there." For now, anyway.

Lirim: Charles was given a quick glance. "Do you see it as a home, despite being a school?"

Charles: "I do. It's been my home for a long time, now. Well, our home. It'd just be an old house, without everyone else."

Lirim: "Funny, what we put stock in." He flicked his wrist back at the townhouse behind them. "Raised there. Was in stasis after my folks; lived with my Mema. Then it was mine again. Thought about gettin' rid of it, but there's too much in it. Don't have it in me."

Charles: He nodded, glancing at the house briefly, before turning back to watch his children sprint off to the next house. He buried the impulse to ask them to slow down. "I understand that. I might've sold the old place, if we hadn't needed it. And then the idea for the school took root in my head and I couldn't dislodge it. I'd never part with it, now. Means too much. And not only to me. I'll likely pass it on, though. When the time comes. To someone I trust who shares my vision."

Lirim: Lirim nodded, watched his son, his son's mother, the demon.

"Someone like that exist, or still lookin' around?"

Charles: "I imagine it'll be one of my staff. Possibly one of my students, when they're old enough and experienced enough. I'm not opposed to passing my legacy along to my children, but I suspect they'll forge their own paths." He snorted softly, mostly to himself. "Perhaps we need one more."

Lirim: A statement which put a smile on the naphil's face. They were indeed different.

"Got the parental itch for more, huh?"

Charles: Charles lifted a shoulder. "I wouldn't call it an itch, but I'm certainly open to the concept."

Lirim: "Do they all feel like your children?"

Charles: "Yes and no. I love them. And I feel deeply responsible for their wellbeing, of course. I am. But it's... different."

It seemed a poor word to describe the depth of devotion he felt toward his own children, but he couldn't think of a better one, presently.

Lirim: "Never taught anyone anything until Aedan. Can't relate." He adjusted his coat, face contorting with thought. "I take that back. I mean, I walk people through what I do in the studio, but that's -" he waved away his words.

"Anyway."

Charles: "I think I've always wanted to be academic. Teaching or learning. Teaching feels more useful." Less selfish. "Would you ever consider teaching art?"

Lirim: "People gotta learn, someone's gotta teach." But that being said, he scoffed. "Hell no. Probably hang myself bein' asked the same questions all the time. But! That's why people like you exist."

Charles: Charles laughed, a bright sound that carried on the early evening air. "It's not so awful. But, perhaps you're right. 'Those who can't do,' and all that. We should catch up with the children."

Lirim: Such sound paired well with Charles' emotion.

"I get the sayin', but I don't get how that applies to someone like you."

Charles: "Someone like me?" He raised an eyebrow, casting a half-smile at Lirim as he began walking just a bit quicker, slowly narrowing the distance between himself and his family.

Lirim: Bronwyn had gone ahead, probably for his old neighbor. Still, he didn't want her to feel alienated from the conversation. Not that he'd felt anything of the sort; he was thinking too much.

"Ya know. A genius."

Charles: Charles gave a soft little snort and shook his head. "I know geniuses; I'm not one. I'm merely studious. I've spent more than half of my life in a classroom. More than that, I suppose, if you count being on the opposite side of things."

Lirim/Mason: "Just didn't wanna leave the classroom?"

Mason glanced back at that statement, expression well hidden behind his mask.

Charles: He gave a soft laugh, head tilting ever so slightly at his husband. "I suppose not."

Mason: "Why him?" Mason whispered to Bronwyn.

Bronwyn: “Why him what?” Bronwyn whispered back, snapping another picture of the children. “Also which him?”

Mason: "Your him. Why him as the father?"

Bronwyn: "The real question should be why me as the mother."

Mason: "Not even the fuckin' question. Of course you."

Bronwyn: "I was originally a surrogate, remember? He picked me."

Mason: A growl of response. He hadn't appreciated that, either, but such was in the past.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn nudged him. "Hey now, why the growlin'?"

Mason: "I don't like the idea of ya bein' used."

Bronwyn: “Mason.”

Mason: "I know."

Bronwyn: She squeezed his arm. "No one used me. I offered o' my own free will and I'd do it again."

Mason: "Does he remember the other one?"

Bronwyn: "We both do," she said softly. "And fuck him right to hell."

Mason: "The kid remembers the wolf?"

Bronwyn: “Oh, never mind I thought ye were talkin’ about Lirim.” She shook her head. “No, we don’t think so.”

Mason: "Has he asked why y'all don't have ears?"

Bronwyn: Another head shake. “No’ yet. He thinks ev’ryone has them.”

Mason: Mason looked back to Charles. With no expression to give with a mask, his arm opened, offering warmth instead.

Charles: Words weren't necessary, and in this instance facial expressions were superfluous as well. Charles understood the offer for what it was and hurried to accept, closing the distance between them more swiftly and pressing himself against his husband's side. There was no skin available to kiss, so he settled for grabbing the hand that wrapped around him.

"Looks like they're getting on well."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn couldn't help but smile at them. They looked so happy; she didn't need to be able to see Mason's expression to see that.

"Aren't they just? They're so sweet," she said, snapping another photo of the kids. "This is a good bondin' activity for them."

Lirim/Mason: "Really glad he's able to have this. Sooner rather than later he's going to be with more of his people. Just need to set a date."

"Away with the druids?" Mason's question directed to Bronwyn. Charles' hand given a squeeze.

Charles: "It is," he agreed, with a nod. "They ought to spend more time together. It'll be good for all of them."

Charles turned his attention toward Lirim, still keeping pace with his husband. "Oh?"

Bronwyn: She nodded. "Yes to both. No' away as in away, but away as in goin' across the pond to learn with some other wee Druids."

Lirim: "Not like there's an angel academy. I want him with his people. He just happens to have more than one set of people."

Charles: "That's wonderful. I'm sure he'll enjoy himself. You'll both be going with him?"

Bronwyn: "It'll definitely give us an excuse to drop in on my family in Scotland more often. My grandda Owen loves Lirim's art."

Lirim/Mason: "Definitely goin' with him. I wanna see everything."

"They aware of everything he is?" Mason asked.

Charles: "Mm. That'll be lovely for both of you." He glanced to his husband, though the face he loved was hidden by that mask. "We should visit Scotland, after the house is built."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn nodded. "Mostly, aye. They know he's a Druid and they also know he's no' only a Druid, but I figured it was best that they hear the specifics from both of us in person."

Mason: "Your gran'mama gonna be there?" Of all those in her family, that woman he could trust. He didn't think highly of the half-angel among them, but that little boy running about with his son was a part of Bronwyn. Under his gray wing of protection.

Charles: "Mm. Such conversations are best had face-to-face. I'm glad you'll be seeing your family, soon." He only wished he had more family for his own kids to know.

Bronwyn: Another nod. "Aye, she never misses a chance to see Aedan or Lirim. Always asks about ye," she added with a smile over at Mason.

"I am, too. I always enjoy visitin' home."

Lirim/Mason: Lirim simply listened. What he felt from Mason was palpable like a humid summer afternoon. Forced trust through others was never real trust. This they could both agree.

"Next time, call me," Mason said, adjusting the hard plastic mask. Too long since he'd laid eyes on the woman that harbored his secret.

Bronwyn: "Aye, I'll do that, and I'll also remind ye to get her some flowers for deprivin' her of yer company for so long."

Lirim/Mason: "She tell ya s'what she wanted?"

"I didn't know he'd met your family," Lirim laughed politely.

Mason quickly brushed his fingers over Charles and Bronwyn's arm, walking ahead to check on the children. Rory and Aedan standing still, negotiating over some undesirable candy.

Charles: Charles kept pace with the remaining adults, but his gaze did skate frequently toward the children.

Bronwyn: "Years ago," Bronwyn said with another nod, smiling after Mason. "Back before I adopted Lucien, when I was...goin' through a wee patch."

Lirim: Lirim cast her a quick look, one of mild confusion, before nodding. "Mm. Feels like yesterday we all met."

Charles: "Does it?" Charles laughed softly. "Feels like it's been a century. I suppose that happens when everything you think you know about the world gets turned on its head." It was as though he could divide his life into two clean hemispheres.

Bronwyn: "I'm with Lirim. It feels like Aedan was still a baby five seconds ago. Feels like I was meetin' Lirim ten seconds ago. Time is a right old bastard."

Lirim: "When I'm with y'all it goes by like that," he snapped his fingers. "When I'm alone time stands still. Great for paintin'," he chuckled.

Charles: Charles pulled Lirim into a brief half-hug. "We should do this more often. Not Halloween, obviously, but the rest."

Bronwyn: "The kids would love it if Halloween came more often," Bronwyn laughed. "But, aye, we should. It'll be good for them and good for us."

Lirim: Lirim was pleasantly caught off guard by the random bit of affection. His smile blossomed.

"Absolutely. I'd love to get some paint on both of ya."

Charles: He lifted an eyebrow, chuckling. "On? As in a living canvas? Or do you want to see me struggle to form a decent stick figure?"

Bronwyn: "I personally would love that."

Lirim: "Now I wanna see the stick figure, but I mean literally on ya."

Charles: "Trust me, you don't. But my skin is at your disposal, sir. I've never been painted on."

Lirim: "I dunno what's stopped me, but it won't stop me now."

Charles: "Good. I'm looking forward to it."

Bronwyn: "It's settled then. Lirim will paint ye and then ye can wow us with yer stick figure paintin'."

Lirim: "What'll ya be doin' while I'm paintin' and he's stick figurin'?"

Charles: "An excellent question. I don't want to be alone in my artistic pursuits."

Bronwyn: "Bakin' probably."

Lirim: "So we get the smell of fresh baked bread mixed with acrylic and oil? Tasty."

Charles: "Sounds like a party. I've never been able to resist baked goods."

Bronwyn: "I've been wantin' to make some potato bread. Found a recipe that looks promisin'."

Lirim: "I'm gonna end up usin' brown and yellow paint and forget everything else."

Charles: "I love potato bread. Now, I'm starving." He was going to have to enact a dad tax on those sweets. "Rory! Cee! Have you gotten any Paydays?"

Mason: Mason looked back, wriggling a small PayDay - all sweets were small these days, weren't they? - before tossing in Charles' direction.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn laughed. "I'd be curious to see what magic ye can create usin' only yellow and brown."

Charles: He made a valiant effort to catch the candy, but it tumbled out of his grasp. With a sigh, he bent to retrieve it. Still good. "Thanks, love."

Lirim/Mason: 'Ya didn't play catch as a child,' his husband guessed, smiling through his mask as he turned back to the children.

"Challenge accepted," Lirim grinned. His pride as an artist on the line, he must! Already had ideas.

Bronwyn: "Oh yay!" she chuckled. "I'm definitely makin' potato bread while ye paint in hopes that ye turn Charles into a really beautiful artistic potato."

Charles: 'I did not,' he confessed, popping the little candy into his mouth and tucking the wrapper into his pocket to dispose of, later. He flashed a quick smile. 'I was more of a tree-climbing, bug-catching boy.'

With a snort, he shook his head. "Oh, yes. I've always wanted to be a potato. Dreams do come true."

Lirim/Mason: 'Of course you were. For science.'

"Not a potato! Maybe a uh... maybe a glorious sunrise," Lirim smiled.

Bronwyn: She just could not stop laughing. The mental image she'd conjured of Charles painted like a potato was tickling her pink.

"Aye, that would be lovely. Really anything ye do will be lovely."

Charles: 'For science,' he chuckled at their private conversation.

Charles pressed a kiss to the side of her head. A potato, indeed. "Perhaps not the dream, but I'm willing to be a sunrise as well."

Lirim: "Could paint ya both. Sunrise and sunset. Maybe a full moon. Yellows, browns, blue, black and white..." Annnnd he was going off on his own tangent.

Bronwyn: "And I'm more than willin' to be a sunset. Go crazy, darlin', we'll be yer muses. Won't we, Charles?"

Charles: He nodded, thoughtful. "I've always wanted to be an artist's muse."

Lirim/Mason: "No one’s ever drawn ya? Written a poem? Love letter?"

Mason picked up the pace to his children.

Charles: Charles lifted his shoulder. He wasn't heartbroken. "I've received very touching text messages?"

Bronwyn: "With that face? I'm sure there have been people who've drawn ye and written ye letters, even if they never sent them."

Lirim: "I can see that. Takes guts to give that up. Easy to make em, though."

Charles: He gave a soft laugh. "It's a flattering thought. I suppose we'll never know."

Bronwyn: "Aye, it does. I remember writin' a few letters myself when I was young and shovin' them away in a drawer somewhere."

Lirim: "Still around, maybe? My Mema had this book, had all sorts of love letters - and break up letters - from history. Went back two hundred years, I think."

Charles: "Oh, that's fascinating! Your own little piece of history!" He was delighted.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn nodded. "Aye, they should still be in my old bedroom somewhere. My mama didn't really move anythin' around."

Her face lit. "That's lovely! Does she still collect them?"

Lirim: "Probably. Some of em got published in a book about the same thing. Y'all want a copy?"

Charles: "I'd love one!"

Bronwyn: "Absolutely, I would, too. And ye're both welcome to my letters if I ever find them."

Mason/Rory: The children kept their energy for only four blocks before becoming distracted with their sugary treasures, talking to each other, and complaining of the cold. Despite the chilly wind, Rory, for the first time, refused a piggy-back ride from his father. Not in front of company! But he would ask to make smores, and for hot chocolate with pumpkin marshmallows.

Charles: Charles gently tugged on one of Cynthia's braids, holding out a hand for Rory's empty wrappers. "Done with trick-or-treating already? We can head back, if you'd like. Or home?"

Bronwyn: "I'm with Rory, smores and hot chocolate sound really good right now."

Bronwyn bent to pin back Aedan's hair to keep it out of his eyes. The wind was wreaking havoc with those curls.

"What do ye want, lovey?"

Mason/Aedan/Cynthia/Rory: "Can I have hot chocolate?" Aedan looked to his mother hopefully.

Cynthia was ready for warmth; Rory was ready for a chocolaty feast, which also translated to home.

Mason turned his son around, patted his back. "March."

Charles: "Back it is, then." Charles would not raise protest. He was always ready for warmth, but more importantly, this evening was about the children. "Did you enjoy yourselves?"

Bronwyn: She smiled and nodded. "Aye, but ye have to promise me to drink all the tonic I make ye first, okay?" Being part werewolf, Aedan's sensitivity to chocolate was always something they had to be aware of. Luckily, it was mild enough that with the right magical precautions, it didn't hinder him from enjoying it completely.

"Did ye get a good candy haul?"

Lirim/Mason: Mason watched in mild amusement as the children spoke at once, bedding down the urge to correct what was quickly becoming rising voices as they compared candy and bargained chocolate versus everything else.

"Gimmie a Twix before ya give em all away, child," said Lirim.

Charles: Charles slipped his hand into his husband's, similarly allowing the children to enjoy themselves without scolding, on such an evening. "Are we going to the party, or turning in for the night? If not, I'll ring Ro and let her know."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn laughed at the chorus of excited voices. Oh yes, it had definitely been a good haul this year. "Aye, a Twix for daddy and a cherry Jolly Rancher for yer mama."

Lirim/Mason: "We'll go t'the Moon if ya want," Mason said. The mask was removed once reaching their street. Placed on Rory's head, grinning at his son's scowl.

Lirim unwrapped his candy and stuffed the wrapper in his pocket. A quick cheers with Bronwyn before popping the whole thing into his mouth.

Charles: That face! He turned to kiss it, briefly. "Oh, yes. A trip to the moon is definitely in order. Perhaps for Christmas."

He spotted the empty cauldron that told of their arrival and laughed. "Gone, already! I hope at least some of the little kids got candy." Charles had a bag stashed at Mason's, just in case they were around if trick-or-treaters dropped by.

Bronwyn: She cheers-ed Lirim back with her Jolly Rancher and took Aedan's hand, continuing to discuss his candy and how cherry was clearly the superior fruity candy flavor.

The empty cauldron had her grinning from ear to ear. "That didn't take long at all!" she chuckled. "If that James Dean kid took his chance, it'll be the only one he gets. Candy's bein' handed out personally now that we're back. But first, tonic and hot chocolate. Ev'ryone take yer wrappers to the trash."

Lirim/Mason: "Make yourselves at home," Lirim smiled, dropped his hat as soon as they were in the door. Easily made a mess again with a quick swipe of his hand. "Pretty much a mirror image, right?" More colorful than the sharp white and neutral palette next door.

Something paused Mason in the doorway.

"Gonna have'ta get rid of that," he hummed, "'less ya wanna take my head off."

Lirim seemed dumbfounded for a moment before it clicked, eyes widening. "Right. Two sec." The many wards placed by - no matter. He'd assumed they'd faded, and then forgotten them completely.

"Bronnie, ya remember which board it was?"

Charles: His eyebrows vanished behind chestnut fringe for a moment. "No, we can't have that. I do prefer you with your head attached, dearest." And he'd stick by his husband's side until the wards were lifted.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn had forgotten them as well, mostly because she'd placed so many of her own.

"It's the one with the scuff mark from my high heel. Three boards to the right o' the bookshelf."

Lirim: "Got it." He'd almost got up for the kitchen, for a butter knife, before remembering his own damn abilities and pulling up the board with gentle coaxing from his hovering hand.

"There it is," he sighed. An unassuming brown bag no bigger than his palm.

"Is this really a ward, or a charm? I forget the damn lingo."

Charles: Charles gave Mason's hand a gentle squeeze. "Head safe? And the rest of your bits?"

Bronwyn: "It's a hex bag, they can be multipurpose. Let's put it somewhere out o' the way for now. I'll dispose of it properly later."

Lirim/Mason: "I'll put in the backyard." Seemed far enough, since being in the floorboard hadn't taken the demon's head living one wall away.

The children had already taken to the kitchen. Mason could hear gasps. A moment later seeing a fluffy white cat flee upstairs in a panic.

He held his hand out. A lack of static as Lirim excused himself to the back door. Fucking angels.

"Head's safe," he confirmed, stepping inside.

Bronwyn: "Don't scare Pancakes, lovies!" Well, one of them would be receiving a swipe at the ankle at some point this evening. Pancakes would require some soothing.

"Aye, verra much so. Sit, sit. What would ye like, what can I get ye?"

Charles: "Remember how it was with Frankie, in the beginning," he called to his children. "Be patient and don't harass the cat!"

He shook his head, fond, and took the offered seat. "I'm quite all right, darling. Thank you."

Lirim/Mason/Aedan: Lirim was laughing at the sight of Jude. The patient older tabby, accepting his fate in Aedan's arms, carried about with dangling legs.

"Y'all gonna say no t'some wine? What about some," what the hell was this, "pumpkin liqueur? When'd I get this? Was this you?" he asked Bronwyn.

Mason stood beside Charles for a beat, hand firm on the back of his neck, massaging. He separated long enough to find the children.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn looked at the label on the bottle. "Oh! Aye, it was me. I wanted to make an adult pumpkin spice latte. It was bloody good too. I want to try it in pumpkin pie."

Charles: "I'll never say no to wine." A statement that was perhaps a little too true. "Or pie."

Lirim/Aedan: "I do have a chocolate... mud... pie... thing. S'got some cake crumbled on top like dirt and -"

"GUMMIES!" Aedan shouted. "Mama! Can I - Can we have some?"

Bronwyn: "Let me make yer tonic first, then ye can have some. It won't take long, promise." She didn't want an upset stomach ruining his Halloween.

Luckily, she kept all the ingredients on hand and was able to get it going fairly quickly. "Do ye want me to mix it in water or in juice?"

Charles: "Sounds interesting. I can't say I've ever tried that before." But chocolate was chocolate. He reached out for the minds of his family. Where had they gotten off to?

Mason/Aedan: "Apple juice, please." Better manners around company, Lirim noted to self. That was usually the case.

The children had surrounded the cat tower and released Jude, who took to cleaning himself just out of reach at the top. The children were bored within moments.

"Put y'all's candy on the table. We'll go through em," said Mason, casting a quick glance to Lirim. Chocolate pie and red wine. This was turning into an absolute gem of an evening, Lirim thought.

Bronwyn: "Okay, I'll mix it with apple." She kissed the top of his head and got a jar. Time was she would've gotten a bowl and whisked everything together but shaking it until it was mixed was easier. And faster.

Speed was of the essence today.

A few herbs, a few mysterious liquids, and a little magic later, Bronwyn was pouring her concoction into a cup of juice and handing it to Aedan. The tonic made it take on a curiously orange color but the taste wouldn't be altered too much. It would be as if some strong, unsweetened tea had been added to it.

Charles: Charles smirked, but left them to their piles of sweets. Lectures about cavities and thorough tooth-brushing could wait until bedtime. "Can I help with anything?" he asked their host.

Lirim: "If ya wanna help me cut up some pie?" offered between grunts of effort as he argued with a corkscrew and a rather large bottle of zinfandel. Last time he tried to pull a cork via telekinesis had resulted in both a broken cork and bottle. His patience was not made for such delicate work.

Charles: "I think I may be better suited to opening wine," he offered, laughing, and stood to lend a hand.

Lirim/Mason: "He has a gift," said Mason. "If there's alcohol, he can open it. No safe too secure, no lock too strong."

"In the case," Lirim offered the bottle. Corkscrew far too deeply embedded.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn left them to the wine while she got the hot chocolate going, keeping one eye on Aedan to make sure he drank all the juice.

"If that is indeed the case, then Charles, there's a bottle o' scotch in my pantry that seems to have been welded shut. Yer help would be appreciated."

Charles: "Hilarious." He fixed his husband with a very dry expression before turning his attention to the lodged corkscrew. "Goodness." It took a bit of coaxing, but Charles really was a magician of bottle-opening. With a triumphant grin, he set bottle and cork on the table a minute later. "I'd be happy to help, Bronwyn darling."

Lirim/Mason/Aedan: "Lucien been gone that long ya gettin' your whiskey stuck?" Lirim laughed. There were only two Fera in existence which didn't frighten him to his core. Lucien was family, as much as he had fought tooth and nail.

Aedan handed his cup to his father, ready for his hot chocolate.

Mason settled between his children at the glass table, stealing another PayDay for Charles, and a swirly lollipop to bite like a heathen for himself.

Bronwyn: "It hasn't been stuck as long as that," Bronwyn chuckled, putting all her tonic ingredients away. "I was makin' somethin' with it and I'm pretty sure some caramel got stuck in the threads o' the bottle that I forgot to wipe off." That was her theory anyway.

Charles: He had to wince. Could a demon chip a tooth? He didn't know, but it just wasn't right. 'Heinous.' He smirked at his husband before plucking the candy from his hand. "Thank you." He fiddled with the wrapper.

"Bit of warm water should do the trick, then," he said to Bronwyn. "At least, that's how I get syrup bottles open." He thought idly of how perfect a stack of pancakes would be.

Lirim/Mason: Lirim glanced Charles' way, wondering what it was he was borderline yearning for. Maybe he didn't want to know. Sexual desire seemed to just exude from the two of them. Inspiring, but he was grateful to not be telepathic.

Mason watched his husband with challenging eyes, taking another slow performative bite.

'Should see me with jawbreakers.'

"Ffffriggin' hungry," Lirim sighed, catching that particular word split second. "Who wanted pie?" A few small plates had been filled. Ones for the children half size.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn grinned at Lirim. Nice save, she mouthed to him.

"I'm pretty sure we all wanted pie. I definitely do, and that hot chocolate. Is there such a thing as too much chocolate in one sittin'?" Probably, but it was Halloween! It was a day for treats.

Speaking of.

"I need to go refill the cauldron for any more kids we get."

Charles: 'You're a madman.' He shuddered at the very thought, but the lightning flash of a grin gave away his amusement. He popped the little candy into his mouth and bent to give his husband the briefest of kisses. They were guests, after all. Manners make the man.

"Not in my opinion, but I'm hardly an authority. I can fill it, if you'd like. Or start on the hot chocolate?"

Lirim/Mason: "You'll have chocolate every day, but hell hath no fury if it's spicy."

Lirim looked up at the couple, impatiently chewing and swallowing before speaking. "For serious? What about a chocolate martini? Or a mudslide?"

Bronwyn: "No no, it's fine. I'll get the candy."

She went to get the bag, only to poke her head back in a few seconds later. "Are chocolate martinis bein' made? If so I want one!"

Charles: His nose wrinkled in undisguised distaste. "Of course not. Spicy chocolate is an abomination." Charles lifted a shoulder. "I don't mind a splash of bourbon in my hot chocolate."

Bronwyn: "What's this spicy chocolate ye keep mentionin'?" Bronwyn asked the room at large. "Spicy like chilies or spiced like mulled wine?"

Lirim/Mason/Rory: "I mean I want chile-chocolate melted n'put in my mouth," said Mason. "With cinnamon."

Rory's eyes lit up. That was exactly what he wanted.

"I got a habanero in the fridge?"

Charles: Ugh. Corrupting the children. "I'll settle for whipped cream, if you have it."

Bronwyn: "There's a sweet shop near my store that has all kinds of chocolate. I'll bet they have chile chocolate."

Lirim/Mason: "Still open?" Another PayDay was swiped from the pile, now divided into three among the children. Cynthia had traded most chocolate for bubble gum.

"That pastry shop?" Lirim asked. "Oh! I got uh, Cool Whip?"

Charles: "That'll do," he nodded. All this talk of peppers had him needing a balm.

Bronwyn: "No, no' that one, although I have been meanin' to go into that pastry shop. The sweets shop is in the opposite direction, next to that maternity store I shopped at when I was pregnant with Aedan."

Lirim/Mason: Oh fuck, the memories. Both Lirim and Mason were staring, and both looked away almost simultaneously.

"Hot chocolate with cinnamon, then. Chocolate dipped peppers when home." To the delight of their son.

Plates were each given forks, and a cabinet opened of its own accord, so it seemed. A pot floating to the stove.

Charles: Charles lifted an eyebrow at that little exchange but said nothing. He finally claimed a seat and a plate to go along with it.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn noticed it as well, and though she had a clue as to the cause, she filed it away to ask later.

And there was the doorbell.

"Candy time!" Off she went to hand out treats.

Lirim/Aedan: Aedan ran off to help his mama, and Lirim only glanced over his shoulder before looking back at the cocoa powder, milk, and small jar of cinnamon. As though he'd never made this before in his life.

"Thinkin' hot chocolate and a chocolate martini."

Charles: "Do--" He chewed and swallowed a mouthful of pie before making another attempt. "Do you need a hand?"

Lirim/Mason: Lirim slowly looked back with apologetic eyes. "Aedan drinks Ghirardelli with peppermint because God only knows why. I dunno how to do it up fancy."

Bronwyn: "He knows it's the superior combination," Bronwyn said as she returned with Aedan in tow. "Don't ye, lovely? Chocolate and peppermint all the way."

Charles: Charles stood, pushing his plate closer to his family in case any of them wanted to finish his barely-touched dessert. "It's hot chocolate, my friend. It hardly needs to be fancy." He took a place beside his host at the stove. He was no cook, but warm drinks were a skill he'd mastered. Enough milk for everyone was tipped into the saucepan to heat.

Lirim/Mason: Peppermint? Rory was making a face. One Aedan had made at the idea of spicy chocolate. Mason was smiling at Bronwyn.

"I don't do fancy, but I didn't figure y'all'd want the Aedan special," Lirim chuckled.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn just chuckled, returning Mason's smile as she bent to kiss his head.

"One of us wants the Aedan special," she said, taking a seat at the table. She'd probably end up standing to get the door many many times before the night was out but in between she wanted all the time she could get with everyone.

Charles: "Oh, well, no peppermint for me, thanks. I'm a cocoa purist." He leaned against the counter while he waited for the milk to heat.

Lirim: "Purists go first, then." He looked around the room. At this blend of two families. He never would have imagined something like this years ago. Couldn't even imagine his son. Sometimes he still couldn't get over it.

"Happy Halloween, y'all."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn caught Lirim looking around and smiled. She wondered what was going through his head but judging from his expression, it was only lovely things. As it should be at moments like this one.

"Happy Halloween indeed!" she said brightly as the doorbell summoned her once more.

Charles: "Fair enough." He lifted his head in the following silence. Charles, too, was curious, but not enough to go digging. His mouth curled into a smile and he nodded. "Hear, hear!"

[reddeadmort]

Hello could I please request something with the reader being Hosea’s daughter where she and Arthur fall for each other and he’s real nervous about coming clean to Hosea & Dutch about it

So I’ve *tried* to fit this into the established timeline, luckily there’s not much canon around Hosea/Bessie background! I was originally intending on making this quite angsty, but as I wrote it got fluffier and fluffier - I had no idea I would ever write like this! I hope you enjoy :) 

 Arthur Morgan x F Reader | “So….Dad….”

Guidance: Don’t let the first paragraph fool you, this shit’s fluffy AF. You’re Hosea’s adult daughter.

Words: 2.1k

You had known something was wrong when your father had appeared with no warning at the Doctor’s office where you worked. You hadn’t seen him and your mother for a few years, but they sent letters regularly, and always a small package on your birthday. You’d received one such package for your 20th, just a few months prior to your father arriving to give you the bad news. Your mother, Bessie, was dead. Hosea was in a bad way, and you had insisted it on coming with him to look after him. After all, while you had a job, you had no close friends in that town. You’d always struggled there, since your parents had insisted you go live with your cousin at 13; you never really felt like you fit in.

Arriving at the Van der Linde gang camp had been a shock, and the next year or so was a struggle as your father nearly drank himself to death. But everyone was so kind, and helpful; Dutch was always there for you when you needed to cry after spending another evening trying to make sure your father didn’t die in his sleep. 

You and John were very close in age, and he felt like your brother. You had some good laughs, admittedly most at John’s expense. Intellectually, you could run rings around him; but he definitely had skills you didn’t and typically got his own back whenever you attempted to shoot a gun. You were learning, but he had years of experience and loved showing off. After living with the gang for a while, you started to understand why your parents had sent you away; it gave you stability, the chance for an education. But you still wished you’d had more time with your mother.

Arthur was older, wiser, different to John; he’d experienced more pain. You expected him to not really pay much attention to you, but he was more than willing to spend time with you, teaching you the skills you needed to make yourself useful. He especially enjoyed any teaching you anything that helped you in your long-running one-upmanship with John. As soon as you mastered one skill, there he was, ready with his next idea; as time went on, you slowly realised what he was doing. He was desperate to spend time with you, and you were more than happy to oblige. 

It had all come to a head on a hunting trip out on the plains. You’d had a rough day; you had tried to break one of the wild horses you saw, as you really needed one of your own. Arthur had been brilliant, showing you how to slowly move towards the horse, calming it as you did. It had been going so well, right up until you were thrown onto that cactus. 

Luckily, you only caught it with your arm, but it still took Arthur a while to carefully pull the spikes out. It was almost worth it though when he gently rubbed ointment into your sore skin. As you lay on the blanket, head nestled on Arthur’s shoulder, allowing your sore arm to rest, Arthur had kissed you. And you had kissed him back. 

In the months since then, you’d spent as much time as you could together. You’d only told Abigail and Mary-Beth; you needed their help if you were able to keep your relationship from Dutch and Hosea as long as possible. Your dad had been getting more and more protective recently; you suspected he was trying to make up for the failures in that year after your mother died. Ever since that year, Dutch had been like your second parent. He treated you differently from John, always choosing his words more carefully, being slightly kinder; you were sure he’d asked Miss Grimshaw to be easier on you too. 

That morning, you and Arthur had almost been caught. Dawn was barely breaking when Mary-Beth had practically thrown herself into Arthur’s tent. You were still half asleep, blissfully comfortable in Arthur’s arms. Grabbing you roughly by the wrist, she yanked you out of the back of the tent and behind the wagon. Still groggy, wearing only your nightdress, you were about to question her when you heard Bill and Dutch’s voices the other side. 

“Arthur, get up! Micah’s got a tip, and we’ve got a train to catch.” 

You and Mary-Beth had stayed perfectly still, waiting for the voices to fade into the distance. You only relaxed when Arthur’s confused face appeared from the back of the tent. After that, you’d crept back carefully to your and Mary-Beth’s tent; you owed her big, you knew it.

Late that afternoon, as soon as Arthur returned with the others, you went to speak to him in his tent. He was tired, but happy; the job had gone well, with not a single shot fired. You hugged him quickly, then sat on the corner of his bed. Arthur turned his back on you, fists on the table, looking down.

“Arthur…. we have to tell them.” He didn’t need to ask what you were talking about; it was the only thing that had been on his mind all day as well. 

“I know, (Y/N), I know. But I can’t….. I don’t know what to say.” Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Arthur, they are going to find out whether we want them to or not. And it would be much better for both of us if they found out on our terms, not with our legs tangled together.” You were going to tell your dad whether Arthur liked it or not, but you really wanted him by your side when you did. You understood his reluctance; recently, Hosea had been vocalising his displeasure at you being in the gang, rather than leading a ‘proper’ life, more frequently. And Dutch had been so angry when Sean, after a few whiskeys, had pulled you onto his lap and joked about wanting to ‘get to know you better’.

“Dammit, (Y/N), how many times! I know that! It’s just…..I……. they…..” His anger subsided as his voice trailed off. 

“Arthur, sweetheart, it’s okay to be scared. Of their reaction, of the future, of everything.” 

Arthur finally stopped pacing around his tent, though you weren’t sure that it really counted as pacing when he cleared the length of it in 2 or 3 strides.

“Darlin’, you’re right. You’re always right” he said as he leaned against the wagon that supported the tent. Rubbing the back of his neck, he gave you that cute one-sided smile that always made your heart melt. “Best I tell ‘em alone I reckon. That way, if they ain’t happy, it’ll be me that gets the heat.”

“You sure Arthur?” You stood up, glancing around before quickly, delicately, kissing him. 

“Yeh darlin’. I’ve antagonized Hosea and Dutch plenty before, ain’t got me killed yet. It’ll be okay, I promise.” 

Arthur gently kissed you on the forehead before setting off towards Dutch’s tent. You smiled, watching him go, before quickly going to help the others with the chores. Anything to keep your mind busy. 

———

Arthur had a plan. He’d been thinking about it for a while, but it had only been formed in those last few moments in his tent, and he was praying that Hosea and Dutch didn’t mess up the first part by not being able to see the relationship for what it was. But, while he was worried, he knew that he would fight anyone and anything he had to keep you by his side. Taking a deep breath, relieved to see Hosea and Dutch were already alone, he stepped into Dutch’s tent and closed the flap.

——–

Arthur had been gone a while, and your feelings about this were mixed. On the one hand, you hadn’t heard any yelling, no shots, and you were pretty sure he hadn’t been chased out of the camp. On the other hand, how long a conversation did this need to be?! You wished you’d gone with him. 

You were alone, hanging the last of the washing on the trees at the edge of camp; everyone seemed to be gathering around the fire, so it looked like it was that time in the evening where you got to relax and unwind. You just hoped that, this evening, maybe you could curl up to Arthur while Javier sang. 

You’d just finished hanging the last of the dresses up when Arthur finally appeared by your side. You turned towards him, a mixture of fear and excitement welling up inside you. Your face fell when you saw his frown.

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry. We’ve got a problem. You need to come talk to ‘em.” You’d never seen him look so serious.

“Arthur, sweetheart…..what happened?” You could feel tears uncharacteristically welling up at the corner of your eyes.

“I’ll explain soon darlin’. But we need to go to them now.” 

You could have sworn the whole camp was staring at you as you and Arthur walked hand in hand to Dutch’s tent. You were sniffing, barely holding it together; but as you approached, you started to feel angry. How dare they object? They had no right to, you were a person with your own opinions.

As the tent flap opened, you stormed in, ready to give your Dad and Dutch your full wrath. You got to the centre of the tent before realising that no-one was in there. The tent was filled with soft music from Dutch’s phonograph, and as you looked you realised that every surface was covered with candles. You turned, ready to ask Arthur what the hell was going on, only to see him on one knee in front of you. 

Arthur reached into his pocket and slowly brought out the ring. He’d been carrying it around for weeks; he’d had one of the Jewellers in Saint-Denis attach a sliver of the meteorite he found onto a delicate platinum band that he’d bought from them. 

He reached out, taking one of your hands in his. Your free hand went to your mouth; of all the scenarios you’d run through your head in the hours you’d been separated, this was not one that had even occurred to you. 

“Darlin’, I’ve been actin’ like a fool. I never should have waited this long to tell the others, and I certainly shouldn’t have waited this long to ask you. Ever since that first kiss, as you lay by my side on the plain, staring up at the stars, I knew I wanted…needed….you by my side forever. You’re my shootin’ star darlin’.”

You could feel the tears rising again as you kept your hand pressed to your mouth, still slightly unable to process what was happening.

“Darlin’, will you be my wife?” 

With that, you burst into tears. You weren’t really sure why; you’d been on such a roller-coaster of emotion in the last few hours, you couldn’t help yourself. 

“Errr….darlin’…. the suspense is killin’ me.”

“YES Arthur, a thousand times yes” you practically yelled as you finally pulled yourself together and launched at him, arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

Arthur stood up, gently lifting you in his thick arms, as you kissed hard. Grinning like a man possessed, he gently slipped the ring on your finger and took your hand. 

“Come on then, we best be havin’ some dinner.” He winked as he lifted the tent flap and led you outside. 

You left the tent, staring at the beutiful ring on your finger, then froze as you were met with cheers and whoops. Everyone, including Hosea and Dutch, were gathered around the front of Dutch’s tent, drinks in hand. Arthur moved behind you, wrapping his arms around you and resting them on your stomach. 

“See darlin’, I told you it would be okay” he leaned down and whispered in your ear. 

Your dad and Dutch were the first to come to speak to you. 

“Well I guess you’re definitely not returning to that other life or yours now eh, Y/N?” Dutch chuckled as he patted your arm. 

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere Dutch, but yeh I guess this is a pretty good reason to stay” you laughed, as Arthur gently squeezed you into his chest. 

“My precious daughter, you’ve made an old man very happy” Hosea said as he stepped forward and hugged you and Arthur. “And you, my boy, thank you for asking my permission. It was a nice touch”. 

You half turned, so you could look up at Arthur. “You did what?” 

Arthur quickly broke your gaze, grinning as he looked up and away.

“I warned you Arthur, I warned you!” Dutch laughed. “You know perfectly well she’s her own woman, not Hosea’s to give away!”

You jokingly elbowed Arthur in the ribs, mock scowling at him.

“Dammit, what’ve got myself into” he said, smiling, as he kissed your ear, gently squeezing you tight again.

“Wait, what would you have done if I had said no?” you asked.

“Well, either way I needed a drink, so I guess…. not much different! Would’ve killed the mood a bit though.” You chuckled, and turned to face him. As you did so, a familiar voice rang out across the gathering….

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I do believe we are celebrating! Who wants champagne?!”

“Where in the hell did Trelawny come from?!” Arthur exclaimed, frowning. 

“It’s a party sweetheart, of course he’s going to appear. It’s his version of a summoning!” Laughing, you and Arthur moved to relax and celebrate with the others. This life was unconventional, it was hard, but with family old and new at your side, you had never felt more at home.  

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Breaking The Curse: Part 1

Pairings: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff

Word Count: 1,640

A/N: For the sake of this story, the reader is the actress that played in all of Jennifer Lawrence’s movies. So basically she’s the southern Jennifer Lawrence. And I changed timelines around to fit the story because I can. First time writing Tom Hiddleston so be nice, please. 

Aesthetic by @sorenmarie87

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I seriously hate these dang heels.” You grumbled as you fiddled with the black strappy things your stylist had insisted you wear. You glanced up at your assistant and life long best friend who you basically considered your sister, Chelsea and sighed. “Why’d she have ta pick these ones?”

“Because they make your legs look good.” She responded without looking up from her phone. “Please stop fidgeting, (Y/N).” You growled and sat back against the chair.

“So I shouldn’t leave the damn things in the car?” Chelsea looked up at you with a smirk.

“Why do you have to make my life more difficult?”

“Because that’s my job. You keep me in line an’ I make it as hard as possible.” She exited out of the app she was in and stowed her phone beside yours in her bag.

“Well let’s get this over with. Behave, you hear me?” You mock saluted her as your town car pulled up at the end of the red carpet.

“So I shouldn’t strip naked on the red carpet at the Golden Globes in protest of the damned shoes?” Before she could answer you, your door was opened for you and the small car was filled with shouts of fans that lined the start of the walk. You plastered a smile on your face as the train of your light blue Versace dress landed on the ground behind you. 

You took half a second to steady yourself on the heels that you despised more than life itself before making your way down the line with the rest of the celebrities and ‘cattle wranglers’ as you liked to call them. Photos were taken, interviews were given, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous every time someone told you that you good luck on being nominated for best actress in a drama for your role in ‘Joy’. But you didn’t let it show on your face once. 

“Ms. (Y/L/N), right this way.” A young usher said as you walked inside the building. You smiled at him and took his offered arm so he could lead you to your table. It was the same song and dance each time you went to an award show but this time, it was different.

“Well ‘ide the whiskey, trouble’s ‘ere!” You scoffed and looked over at your close friend and past co-star from when you played Mystique years ago, James McAvoy with a sarcastic eye roll.

“You’re still salty that the southern girl can drink a Scot under the table.” You teased as you went over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Y’all ready for tonight?” He shrugged as he pulled out your chair for you as your assistant dropped off your phone for you before finding her own spot in the back of the room where she much preferred to be.

“Well we all know ye’ve got yer award in the bag.” You playfully hit his arm as he sat down on your left beside you with a shrug. “But I’m up against this tosser.” You turned to your right to where James was pointing as handsome man sat down beside you with a smile on his face.

“No hard feelings when I win, right James?” Tom Hiddleston asked with a laugh.

“Oh, those are fightin’ words here.” You giggled as you turned toward him and offered your hand to him. “(Y/N).”

“Tom. It’s a pleasure.” He said as he politely kissed your hand.

“Way to try to get in ‘er knickers, Hiddleston.” James teased as he signaled to the waiter to order a round of drinks.

“Oh, sweetheart. Bless your heart.” You chided as you put your hand on your friend’s arm with a playfully evil smile. “Look at you insinuating that I actually wear panties.”

“So, that’s the kind of night it’s going to be then.” Tom said with a laugh as he grabbed his glass of water off the table. “Well cheers to the brilliant minds that though putting the three of us together was a good idea, then.”

“Hell, I’ll drink to that.” You said as you grabbed your water and tapped the glass against his. You met his blue eyes as you both took a sip and you slowly lowered your glass when they appeared to slightly change shades as he moved. “Wow. Your eyes are amazin’.” He huffed a laugh as a slight blush rose to his cheeks.

“It’s funny, I was just thinking the same about yours.” With a smile, you looked away and set your water down as the waiter brought over your Jack Daniels and Coke.

“Well thank you, darlin’.” You looked back over at him and held up your drink. “Toooo… pretty eyes and winnin’ awards.” He bowed his head the slightest bit in agreement as he took his own Jameson from the waiter.

“To fun.”

——

“God why did I go ta that aft’a party?” You groaned as you pulled your ball cap down further over your sunglasses in the bright airport lounge the morning after the Globes.

“Because you were celebrating.” Chelsea said simply as she continued to organize your life with you while updating her own social media and personal life like a one woman show. “You said it would be worth it.”

“Chelsea, I love you… but I need ya ta shut the hell up right now.” Your best friend chuckled as your phone buzzed in your hand. You huffed as you glanced at the screen at a text message from an unfamiliar, London area code phone number. Curiosity got the better of you and you unlocked your phone and pulled up your messages.

Hello (Y/N), this is Tom… Hiddleston... from last night. I hope you don’t mind but I acquired your phone number from James after you left. I meant to ask you but we parted ways before I was able too.

You couldn’t help but smirk at the formality of the statement as you tapped the response bar.

Mornin’ sunshine. Forgive me for not believing you off hand but I actually recently had someone leak my phone number and had to change it twice. Got any proof for me?

You adjusted the brightness of your screen and shifted slightly in your seat as the three little dots appeared on the screen. They scrolled through a couple times before disappearing, reappearing again and were replaced by a response.

I apologize that this will be blunt… but you said James insinuated that you had no knickers on. That was the first conversation we exchanged.

Your face flushed red behind your shades and you quickly hit respond.

OK! I believe you! LOL Can we just let the record show that I did have panties on… and can we never, ever have this conversation again so I don’t have to continually die of embarrassment?

You didn’t have to wait long at all for the three dots to appear again.

Consider it noted and forgotten. Congratulations on your win last night, you deserved it.

You smiled to yourself as your flight to North Carolina was called to start boarding. You knew that gave you about twenty minutes before the final call was made when you would board.

Same to you. I have to admit that I haven’t had a chance to finish the series yet but I loved what I’ve seen so far.

“What’s got you all smily?” You looked over at Chelsea, who was smiling at you over her phone as your phone buzzed in your hand again. 

“Not a damn thang, thank you Miss nosey butt.” Your assistant laughed as you looked back down at your screen with an even bigger smile.

All is forgiven, darling. I must also admit that I myself didn’t see your film until late last night, myself. You were spectacular! Did you enjoy filming in Paris? It’s one of my personal favorites.

Thank you. I actually loved Paris! I wished I could have stayed longer but it just wasn’t in the cards. I’ll go back one day hopefully.

Well, if you ever want or need a Paris tour guide, please feel free to let me know. I’d be honored to show you the city. There’s this restaurant I go to every time I’m in town that has the most stunning view over looking the city. It’s simply magical.

“Hey, pack it up, it’s time to go.” You scowled up at Chelsea between the bill of your hat and the top of your sunglasses as you hit the respond bar.

“Rude.” You said as you looked back down at your phone and slowly stood up.

Sounds like a date. But hey, I��m fixin’ to jump on a plane to head to my home town for a couple days. Can I give you a call later tonight? Maybe work out the details of this date?

You didn’t realize you were actually partially holding your breath for his response as you gathered your bags to catch the final boarding for your flight. You weren’t able to actually check your phone again until you had yourself tucked into your first class window seat. You took a deep breath and looked at your phone as the flight attendant made the announcement that the doors were closing.

Sounds wonderful. Enjoy your flight, darling. I look forward to your call.

Your smile grew impossibly larger as you sent a fast ‘Thanks’ back to him and turned your phone on airplane mode for the flight. You looked over at Chelsea, who was staring at you expectantly with a smile of her own.

“Alright, I’ll tell ya.” You said as you turned on your seat in your seatbelt toward her. She mimicked your move and crossed her legs as you put your sunglasses on top of your head and told her everything.

Part 2

[snarkwrites]

FFT: a visit from the sugarplum fairy; daryl dixon

Notes:

So this kinda.. turned weird. Like a vision / dream type thing in some parts. Pretty sure this would fall in either the timeline where Daryl and Evie arrive at quarry camp married or in their non apocalypse au, maybe both. Anyway, here tis.

Summary:

Daryl has an accident while hunting, that leads to a vision. That kind of comes true to an extent when years later, he meets Evie at a bar his brother Merle frequents and they wind up dating..

Warnings:

uhh, supernatural element - visions, injury mention, vague hints of Shane past and fluff.

Pairing:

Daryl Dixon x OFC, Evie

Everything went black and for a few seconds, Daryl Dixon found himself sort of just lingering, floating somewhere between conscious and unconscious. As he slipped between the two, everything around him outside of his mind carried on.

Daryl shielded his eyes at the blinding pure white light. “What th’ fuckin hell?” he muttered. His stomach churned. He couldn’t be dead. The anger bubbled forth, he was supposed to go out fighting, not be thrown from a damn horse. He was too young to die.

He didn’t particularly want to, either.

Maybe that’s why he called out, “Hey, yo, JC.. There’s a mistake, man. I ain’t dyin today. Not like this. Me n Merle, we’re gonna start our own garage when he gets outta th’ pen.”

His voice echoed.

The light seemed to flicker and pulsate and laughter bubbled out from within. Daryl’s brow raised and he stepped forward, hand raised. Into the light he went, despite everything in him knowing it might not be a good idea.

The lanky 16 year old stood there, watching a leggy blonde move around a kitchen, a little boy who looked like he did when he was a younger kid hot on her heels.

“Momma?”

“Yeah, Daryl?”

For a minute, Daryl thought he was seeing what could’ve been. What life might have been like if his mother bothered to sober up and his daddy was outta the picture. If she hadn’t nearly lit the whole damn house on fire and burned to death in her sleep because of her one last cigarette.

But things were… Off.

The house was too clean. There were things inside it that Daryl had only seen on commericals prior to that point. And his momma wasn’t blonde. She had light brown hair like his. The leggy blonde standing in front of the stove at the moment looked like she’d been ripped out of one of his wildest dreams.

He found himself drawn to her, unable to stop himself from moving closer.

The little boy spoke up again.

“When daddy gets home, think he’ll take me out to shoot my new bow?”

Daryl’s mouth curved upward in a smile and he chuckled. He noticed the calendar and he gaped at the date “December 21st 2009”, blinking and rubbing his eyes.

The little girl with her momma’s blonde hair raced into the room, genuinely excited. Like someone had given her all the dolls in the world, a fairy wing flapping crooked and dirty bare feet.

“Momma! Daddy’s motorcycle’s comin! I’ll get him a plate. I bet he’s real hungry.”

The blonde knelt down to the little girl “It is, huh, praline? Well then, I guess you better go get those hands washed. You let Momma worry about the table, m’kay?” and then she turned to the slightly older child. “You too, son. And I mean wash those hands. Don’t just go in and run water.”

“Momma, c’mon. My hands ain’t dirty.” the boy argued, pouting when his mother gave a firm shake of her head and pointed down the hallway. Daryl’s eyes followed her finger’s direction and he turned his attention back to the blonde and the boy, swallowing hard, waiting. Suddenly, he felt like he was standing on pins and needles. Hot ones at that. Her next words had him nearly choking.

“Daryl Jr, you get to that bathroom and wash those hands, sir.”

The boy slunk away, muttering to himself and making Daryl laugh as he observed it. And then, the strangest thing happened.

The little girl looked dead at him and took off at a run towards his denim clad legs, hugging them. Hazel eyes darted around the room and she motioned for Daryl to bend down, whispering into his ear in a rush, “We don’t have much time.. But I know who you are. And you’re not supposed ta be here, you’re supposed to grow up big and meet momma.”

Daryl swallowed hard as the reality of what was happening hit him like a speeding car. “That’s… I’m… We’re married?” he scoffed about it, a little more than shocked. For one thing, he didn’t really see himself married. For another, he didn’t see someone like her, marrying him.

… ain’t no way a woman like her gon’ marry trash like me… she looks like a fuckin angel… the thought came and Daryl found himself just staring at the blonde, watching the way she laughed, hugging what were apparently their kids. He looked from little girl to little girl and scratched his head, confused. She was there, and yet she stood right in front of him also.

… I gotta be dead, there ain’t no other explanation…

The little girl cleared her throat, making Daryl look at her again. “You gotta remember the name Evie. Cos that’s my momma and she loves you. You love her too.You gotta protect each other, okay? Promise me. Keep her away from a man named Shane.”

The little girl hugged him and Daryl, despite his not being a very affectionate guy, hugged the little girl back.  He couldn’t be the same man his own father had been, refusing to show any form of affection to his own kid.

As the scene around him began to fade away and the little girl began to fade, he asked her one more thing. “What if she don’t want the likes of me?”

“She will. Please, you… have to believe me…” the girl was gone, leaving Daryl standing alone in the darkness to puzzle over what he’d just witnessed.

“Hey, kid! Yo! You alive?” the voice kept repeating, poking and prodding. Daryl shrank away, throwing his arms up as a defense before finally opening his eyes and sitting up. He eyed the other teenage boy suspiciously, there was just something totally off about the guy, from the way he stared down at Daryl like he thought he was better or something to the way he held the hunting rifle over his shoulder.

“Shane, is he good? We need to get my daddy out here?” Another teenage male called from the distance.

The name that the little girl had given him came rushing back and Daryl sprang up to his feet, glaring up at the taller teenager. “ I’m good. Don’t need no goddamn help. From either of y’. Fuck off cos yer scarin off th’ deer I was chasin.”

Shane scoffed at the lanky kid, squaring up and Rick grumbled, moving to step between the two, fixing his gaze on his best friend. “Hey, Shane. Calm the hell down, buddy. Let’s just go… Leave this kid to it. He’s obviously fine, despite us findin’ him on the forest floor.”

Shane glared at Daryl and Daryl glared right back.

As the two teenagers wandered off, Daryl stood there scratching at his head, trying to process, remembering what the little girl dressed as a sugarplum fairy from his dream said in vivid detail.

He shook his head and turned away, taking the opposite direction in the forest, heading back for home…

That whole thing had to be a coincidence. Or a concussion, Daryl thought solemnly as he shook his head and wandered through the door of his father’s old trailer.

XXX

Evie eyed the biker bar and took a deep breath, steeling herself. The biggest step to being independent, to standing on her own two feet was a job. And she needed money. Shivering in the December wind, she made her way inside the bar, trying her best not to stare at any of the men present for too long as she made her way to the back, behind the bar.

One of them, a regular named Merle called out, “Hey! Sugartits! Give daddy a beer, yeah?”

“Dixon, I have a name.” one of the female bartenders called out with an annoyed look at the man. Evie tapped the bartender who’d just spoken on the shoulder.

“Hey, I’m… I’m real sorry to bother but I was supposed to be interviewin for a job?”

The brunette eyed her up and down and smirked, shoving a uniform at her. “You’ve got it, congratulations. Go on back and change, darlin because it’s about to get real hectic out here.”

Before Evie could ask where she needed to go, the brunette bartender had turned away and was pouring a round of shots for a local branch of Hell’s Angels, leaving Evie to her own devices. She hurried towards the general direction the other woman had bothered pointing in and in the process, she collided with a man wearing a sleeveless plaid shirt.

“Shit. I’m.. I’m sorry.” she stammered as the man turned, swearing and on the verge of snarling. Something in his eyes changed and he steadied her, staring at her a few long seconds, almost as if he’d seen a ghost.

“You new round these parts, hon?” the man asked and Evie managed to pull herself out of the depths of his eyes to nod. “I am, yeah.. Tonight’s my first night.”

He chuckled and my god, the sound. Deep and husky. Evie bit her lip and tried to focus anywhere but on his lips. But that lead her eyes straight to his biceps. She felt her cheeks heating up and she cleared her throat. “I don’t suppose you could tell me where a girl needs to go change, right?”

“Ladies room is down ‘at hall and to yer left.” the man stepped a little closer, almost as if to shield her when the group he was shooting pool with started to make little comments. He leaned in a little. “Ignore these fuckin assholes. I’ll keep my brother outta yer hair, he’s always had a thing for blondes and he’s the biggest asshole of us all.”

Evie could only nod… and of course stare like a complete idiot.

“Daryl, it’s yer shot, brother.” Merle staggered over, eyeing the blonde up and down and smirking as soon as he bothered to make eye contact. Evie gulped, backing further away from Merle and as a result, closer to Daryl.

“Merle, go on. Leave ‘er alone. Poor kid’s nervous enough without you runnin ‘er off.”

“What’s yer name, sugartits?”

“It’s Evie. Evie Grimes.”

“You new in town? I never seen you round these parts before.” Merle was inching closer. Daryl’s fists clenched at his side and his jaw tightened. “Goddamn it, Merle.”

“Shoot yer shot, brother.”

“Ain’t shootin shit til ya leave ‘er alone.” Daryl stood up straighter, eye level with his older brother and Merle chuckled, glancing from his brother to the blonde with the killer curves. “I see how it is. Well then, I’ll leave y’all to it.”

Evie let out a ragged breath and Daryl told her in a firm tone, “Best get movin, darlin. He’ll come back in about five seconds, he’s fuckin dumb like that.”

As Evie walked away, vanishing into the women’s room in back, Daryl let out a breath he’d been holding as a December afternoon years ago came flooding back. A dream about a little blonde girl in a sugarplum fairy costume her momma made for her and what she’d told Daryl during that dream.

He scoffed about it, chuckling to himself as he turned his attention back to the pool table.

It was just a coincidence, that was all.. It had to be.

XXX

Shane sat on the couch in his living room, watching the ball drop for New Years. The six pack he’d bought on his way in was long finished and the half a bottle of Jameson was on it’s way to being gone and all he wanted to do was drive to Atlanta and find her.

She had to miss him.

He missed her so much sometimes he almost couldn’t breathe.

… but it was yer own fault, you let ‘er go… you let ‘er think there wasn’t no future for y’all…

He stood and pocketed his keys. Maybe a drive would help clear his head. As he rode backroads and sobered up, all he kept thinking about was Evie and what she was doing in Atlanta. How much he missed her and how badly he messed it all up.

As he got closer to the interstate, rather than turning around and going back home, he kept going. By 2 am, he was sitting in the parking lot of the apartment complex she lived in. He saw a motorcycle zip past, stopping in front of her building. Evie got off the back of it, and Shane felt his stomach sink.

“Well. There went that, reckon.” he mumbled to himself, even though every part of him wanted to say something, let her know he was there and he was sorry.

The urge to do so took hold and before he could stop himself, he was getting out of his Bronco, hurrying towards the two.

“Hey! Evie, darlin.” he called out.

Evie tensed and bit her lip, eyes flitting between Daryl, who she’d just had a nice time with and considered a friend to Shane… Her ex. The one she’d hoped would be her happy ending. She sighed when she saw the look in his eyes because she knew then and there that Shane was only there to be all hot headed and cause chaos.

If he said he was sorry for anything, he wasn’t going to mean it. He hadn’t learned, hadn’t changed a damn thing.. And meeting Daryl had been a real eye opener for her in that she’d started to realize there were several varying degrees of love and sometimes, once you leave something behind in the past, it was best if it just stayed in the past.

“Shane, don’t. You need to leave.”

“I drove all a’ this way to see you, darlin.”

Daryl looked from Evie to the familiar looking dark haired man and the man glared right back at him before turning his attention back to Evie. “C’mon, hon.. Come home. You won’t have to do nothin, okay? I just… I need you.”

Evie swallowed hard. She’d been putting off driving that final nail in the coffin for a while now, but she was starting to see that the longer she just didn’t say anything about their relationship either way, the longer Shane would hold onto hope.

….just like he let you do for so long…. The thought came to her and she tilted her head, looking up at him. “We’re over, Shane. I can’t go back there with you and just pretend you won’t change your mind about us… About me… Every single time something better comes along. I’m not gonna spend my life waitin on you to grow up.”

“Evie, it ain’t like that.” Shane reached out for her and Daryl stood, moving closer, glaring at him as he stood taller and made it a point to put Evie behind him. He didn’t like the look of desperation in the man’s eyes. “She said it’s over. Have some fuckin respect for yerself and git.”

Shane eyed him dismissively. “Who the fuck are you?”

Daryl chuckled, “Gonna be yer worst fuckin nightmare if y’ don’t git gone like Evie here wants y’ to do.” as he stepped even more in front of Evie. He wasn’t sure why but something in the guy’s demeanor felt a little off. He could smell the alcohol on the guy and it made him think back to all the times his dad got out of the way with his mother just because he was drinking and she happened to be there. Evie was a close friend -and maybe he felt a little something more, so he wasn’t about to let her get hurt.

Evie looked from man to man and after a few seconds, she leaned against Daryl’s back and answered the question Shane asked.

“Daryl is my boyfriend, okay? Now will you please just go? Don’t keep at this, Shane. I’ve made up my mind.”

Shane felt like he’d been punched in the gut and he glanced at Evie, who was mostly hidden from his view by the other guy. “Darlin..”

“Go.”

“Get goin, man. She said she don’t want you startin nothin.” Daryl tensed, senses going into high alert as he squared up, ready and anticipating a fight.

Shane looked at them and shook his head, walking back towards his Bronco. “You get tired of playin house with that fuckin guy, just come home. I’ll be waitin.” - and even as he said it, he got this strong feeling that Evie wouldn’t be coming back to him. He got into the Bronco and drove away, the shock wearing off about halfway back to King County and becoming this overwhelming numbness instead.. Like someone who’d just lost a limb and wasn’t used to it yet.

He felt emptier now.

If he had to be alone, so be it. He’d go it alone. Because if he couldn’t have her back, he didn’t honestly want anyone.

Daryl turned to face Evie, staring down at her as he chuckled. “Yer man, huh? That really all you could come up with, darlin?”

Evie swallowed hard, her heart about to beat right out of her chest. Before she could stop herself, it was all pouring out. She stepped closer, her arms going around his neck as she pulled him down to her level, mumbling into his mouth, “Maybe that’s all I wanted to come up with, Daryl. What’s so wrong with that, huh?”

Daryl’s hands slowly moved down from her hips to her ass, fingertips digging into her jeans as he pulled her even closer, bringing her mouth into the kiss deeper answering quietly, “Nothin, darlin. Nothin at all. Just shocked I guess.”

“Happy New Year, Daryl.”

“Happy New Year, darlin.”

After a few more lingering kisses, Daryl nodded towards her apartment building and gave a smirk. “Wouldn’t be yer man if I didn’t walk y’ up.” he held out his arm to her and Evie slipped her arm through his, smiling up at him. “You still wanna go ridin again tomorrow? I really like ridin the motorcycle with you.”

“Anytime you wanna, hon.” Daryl answered, giving her a teasing wink as they walked up the stairs leading to her floor…