#and now we’re on a road trip to Florida

[swamplatibule]

RAAAAGH apologies for taking Literally Forever on that ask game - I am workin on it I prommy BUT! unfortunately life has been um. incredibly difficult lately. i’m fine and staying silly I am just also going insane at the same time. I need to either rip apart drywall with my teeth or lie facedown in the mud during a thunderstorm and I unfortunately can’t do either of those things in the foreseeable future

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 9: Some Days He Feels Like Dying]

A/N: Below are your guesses...let's see how you did!!! 🥰😘

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Extraordinary Girl” by Green Day.

Word count: 8.3k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

Let’s go back to the beginning of the end of the world.

On the big-screen tv in the Liberty Center at Saratoga Springs, Wolf Blitzer is saying: ��We are receiving confirmation of additional outbreaks of the so-called Florida Fever, the first cases of which here in the U.S. were reported in Miami a little over one week ago. Concern is now growing nationally, especially as the modes of transmission, symptoms, and treatment options remain unclear. Let’s go across the country to Natasha Chen for the latest information. Natasha?”

“Hi, Wolf. I’m here outside the UC San Diego Medical Center where early this morning, two individuals suspected to be suffering from the illness were admitted. I’ve been informed by hospital staff that both patients are currently in stable condition, but there is still so much confusion and conflicting information regarding this ‘Florida Fever,’ and of course that uncertainty is leading to fear, rumors, and honestly a bit of hysteria. Even how to refer to the sickness is controversial, with no official name having been decided upon by scientists. Cases in Australia are known as Ragepox, the U.K. has dubbed it the 21st Century Sweat after a mysterious disease from the 1500s, and Russia is calling it the Ukrainian Flu while Ukraine has opted for the Russian Red Rot, inspired by the skin lesions that some patients experience.”

“Can you tell us what we do know, Natasha? Are doctors classifying this illness as a virus, or as a bacterial infection more akin to tuberculosis or meningitis?”

“At this time, what I’m hearing is that doctors are fairly certain it’s a virus, as patients do not seem to respond to antibiotics when they’ve been explored as a potential treatment. But there’s truly very little information at this early stage, and I think we’re all being reminded of those first days of the Covid-19 pandemic, when no one really knew how to best to avoid contracting the virus or what the long-term effects would be both nationally and globally.”

“There are absolutely some similarities, Natasha, which I’m sure is contributing to the unease surrounding the situation. What precautions are doctors currently recommending?”

“Wolf, doctors are urging the public not to panic, and to exercise common sense measures like avoiding crowded spaces, sanitizing surfaces, and staying home if they’re feeling unwell. Suspected cases of the illness should be reported to primary physicians or local hospitals. Typical symptoms appear to include headaches, fever, gastrointestinal upset, skin discoloration and blistering, and unusual bleeding, as well as behavioral changes, particularly disorientation, aggression, and even violence in some patients…”

“That ain’t what it is,” Rio says. He jabs his index finger at the tv from where he sits on the couch beside you. “Snowflake wasn’t sick, he was dead. He was motherfucking dead, flatline, code blue, crossed the rainbow bridge, he was gone. He was dead and then he woke back up, and he wasn’t a person anymore. He was…something else.”

“Dumbass, people don’t come back from the dead,” Mike says from the ping pong table. People are milling around pretending to play pool, darts, chess, poker, Monopoly, Uno, Parcheesi, but really you’re all here for the same reason. You want to know what’s happening.

Rio turns to you. “Wasn’t Snowflake dead?”

“He definitely seemed dead,” you reply, knees tucked to your chest and still watching the tv. Wolf Blitzer’s voice is calm, but his pale blue eyes have a manic sort of light to them, too large and too rattled.

“Man, fuck Florida,” says Desmond, a utilitiesman born and raised Trenton, New Jersey. “Nothing but psychos and alligators. Saw them off of Georgia and just let them float away.”

“What was that?” Tyler replies combatively. He’s from a trailer park in Tallahassee.

“Ty, why do you care? You’d be fine. You’re already up here. You can stay.”

“They’re lying,” Rio mutters, meaning Wolf and Natasha on CNN. “When the corpsmen called the hospital, they said to be prepared to restrain Snowflake and that he might try to bite us. Why aren’t they warning people about that?!”

Kayleigh, a steelworker from Oklahoma City, looses a frenetic sort of laugh. “Because there’s no non-panic-inducing way to say: Hey, go buy some duct tape and bungee cords to tie up your loved ones, because they might try to fucking eat you.”

Rio doesn’t frown often, but he is now; he slips his phone out of the pocket of his camo pants and types out a WhatsApp message to Sophie. You only know her from photos and quick hellos via video chat, a sweet diminutive woman with white-blonde hair and blue eyes that seem to fill up half her face, as fragile as Rio is overwhelming. She likes baking and romance novels and elephants; whenever Rio finds elephant-themed souveners, he ships them home to Oregon for her, refrigerator magnets and wallets and scarves and snow globes. Sophie wears a lot of long flowing skirts and hand-knit sweaters, and offers strange suggestions when she and Rio discuss baby names: Sage, Fox, Laurel, Coral, Juniper, Karma, Rune, Otter. Otter?! Rio had exclaimed. Babe, if you name our kid Otter, even I’M gonna have to bully them.

“I’m telling Sophie to stay with my parents,” Rio says to you. “They’ve gotten super weird with all the off-the-grid stuff, but they have years’ worth of supplies and grow most of their own food now, and they’re thirty miles from the nearest town. And no one knows how to defend themselves like doomsday preppers.”

“Good idea,” you reply, watching the tv. Now Wolf Blitzer is talking about tornadoes in the Midwest, and you could almost believe the world is normal again.

A few days later all major social media platforms begin censoring content related to the so-called Florida Fever, and then the internet goes down completely, and then the power turns off and on and off again, and finally quits like a car driven to its last mile. The combat units are moved out of Saratoga Springs—never to be heard from again—and the construction projects paused indefinitely, and one of the master-at-arms that Rio is friends with (Rio has a lot of friends, surely you aren’t so remarkable) relays information that he shouldn’t: tales of planned missions, impossible plagues, overrun cities, innumerable deserters in every branch of the U.S. military.

“Hey,” Rio whispers, shaking you awake one night, moonlight streaming through the windows and the pops of distant gunfire you aren’t supposed to ask about. “If I leave, will you come with me?”

It’s a big commitment; it could be a lifetime. You fear he might just be trying not to hurt your feelings. “I don’t want to slow you down.”

“No, you don’t get it,” Rio says. “I’m not leaving without you. Are you going to Oregon by choice, or should I tie you up and throw you in the back of the Humvee?”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s a young one, maybe a teenager, little buds for horns and only weighing a few hundred pounds. This is good; if it was any heavier, Cregan and Rio wouldn’t be able to drag it back to the ranch. You’re still in Red Desert, Wyoming, and the bison are grazing just off I-80, an asphalt artery that cuts through an endless steppe of sand-colored rocks and tall grass. They gaze lazily in your direction with bulbous dark eyes, perpetually chewing, not terribly intelligent. The Colt pistols of the men who found you at the RV had been loaded with 9mm bullets, the same caliber your Berettas take; there weren’t many, but enough to fill both of your clips, something that feels like winning the lottery. You are lying on the rocky, dusty soil and lining up the shot. If you miss, the herd will scatter, and you’ll watch dinner vanish beneath a blue sky—pale like Aemond’s eye, a weak shallow blue—and rough white scars of cirrostratus clouds.

“Feels kind of wrong to kill a baby,” you murmur. Daeron, Luke, Baela, Helaena, and Ice are back at the house. Aemond, Rio, Cregan, Rhaena, and Aegon are here on the ground with you; Aegon insisted upon being brought along, and Rio agreed to carry him. Aegon had never seen American bison outside of the Oregon Trail computer game, those pixelated brown blobs migrating across the screen no more material than unicorns or faeries or basilisks.

“If the baby didn’t want to get killed, it shouldn’t be made of steak,” Aegon points out. He’s on a lot of Vicodin, the only narcotic Aemond could find back in Ogallala, Nebraska.

“No pressure, Chips,” Rio says, chewing on a long blade of little bluestem grass. “If you miss we’re just going to have to eat each other like the Donner Party.”

Aegon wrinkles his nose in confusion. “The what?”

“She won’t miss,” Aemond says, and Rio snickers to himself and gives you a quick wink that no one else notices.

“I don’t think one 9mm bullet will do it,” Cregan mutters. “Cows got thick skulls, I figure bison are the same way. You’ll have to hit it a few times, and before it can take off and disappear on us.”

Aemond casts him a patronizing glance. “And you’ve killed a lot of cows?”

“Oh yeah. Worked in a slaughterhouse for a while before I got hired by the power company. Hated it, went home and could still smell the blood and brains on myself no matter how many times I showered. Couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”

Aemond looks like he regrets asking. Rhaena frowns worriedly at the bison. “Will they charge if someone shoots at them?”

Cregan shrugs. “Probably not.”

“Probably?!”

You squeeze the trigger five times in quick succession, hit the calf thrice, tiny puffs of scarlet mist that spring from its woolly head. It flops over as the rest of the herd jolts into a gallop, kicking up dust and fleeing across the steppe.

“Yes!” Rio booms as everyone applauds. “We’re in business! We’re having ribeyes tonight! Cregan, my good sir, I take mine medium rare.”

“You’re getting well done,” Aemond tells him. “Everyone is. Just in case the bison has parasites.”

Rio groans. “You’re ruining my life, man.” Then he and Cregan trot over to grab the baby bison, each of them taking one of its back hooves.

“So,” Aegon says dreamily. “Now that Rio is preoccupied, who would like to assist me in returning my disgusting, debilitated body to the ranch? Anyone? Anyone?”

Rhaena turns to you. “When we have more bullets, could you give me shooting lessons?”

“Sure,” you reply, a bit startled. “Really? You’re interested?”

“Well…” Rhaena hesitates. “Baela’s always been the brave one. At home, at school, when we were shopping, even when restaurants would mess up my order, Baela would do the talking and make sure I was alright…and I would literally hide behind her waiting for her to solve all my problems. And now…with the baby, with Jace…it’s been really different being the one to help her for a change, and I don’t think I’m very good at it yet. But Baela deserves to have people to lean on, just like I’ve always had her. And…when I stabbed that guy in the RV…I kind of liked it.” She titters nervously when she sees the shock on your face. “No, not like that! Not the killing part, or the gushing blood, that was all super gross. But the fact that I helped protect Baela and Luke? The fact that I wasn’t useless in that situation? That was a good feeling. Baela is clever, and she’s courageous and caring and funny, and she’s always been better than me at everything, and I never minded because she…she was like my own personal superhero, you know? But now I feel like I need to start learning how to do things myself so I can help her. Even if Baela is still better at everything, and probably always will be.”

Aegon grins toothily and pushes his neon green plastic sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. “I know how you feel. It’s pretty impossible to look heroic next to Aemond.”

“Stop,” Aemond says, but he’s smiling, and a bloom of bashful pink blood appears in his cheeks.

“You already took over the driving,” you tell Rhaena encouragingly. “That was a big help.”

“Yeah,” Rhaena replies, a bit pensive. “Let’s hope I can keep that going.” Between the gas Aemond found in Ogallala and what was siphoned from the would-be attackers’ GMC Yukon, you got enough fuel in the Tahoe to take it halfway across Wyoming; but now the gauge is not just at but venturing below the E, and it can’t have more than five or ten miles left. That might not even get you to the next ranch, let alone a proper town. You need a working vehicle. There are nearly a thousand miles between here and Odessa, Oregon.

Aegon is pawing at Aemond like a cat. “Come on, hero. Help me up.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“This is why we’re friends,” Rio tells you as he shovels forkfuls of bison steak into his mouth, juice dribbling down his chin. Cregan gutted the bison and butchered it, then you helped him cook the steaks—not very uniform in size and shape, yet no one is complaining—on a pan heated in the woodstove. You fed the fire with books you found in the house, mostly religious in nature. “You convince me not to commit suicide when we’re stranded on a transmission tower, you share your Cheddar Whales, you’re good at shooting things…”

“How did you two become friends?” Baela asks. You are all arranged around the dining room table; there are just enough chairs for everyone. Ice lies beneath it mauling on bison bones that Cregan set aside for her. The room is illuminated by flashlights. Baela looks great: in good spirits, glowing, alert, wearing a loose cotton dress that Helaena found in an upstairs closet for her. Baela napped most of the day, something she rarely allows herself to indulge in, and the benefits are evident.

Rio says nonchalantly: “I talked to everybody and she barely talked at all. So of course I had to investigate and figure out what that was about. Turns out she’s kind of cool. You know the Wheel of Fortune game at arcades where there’s like a hundred little lights in a circle you have to press the button when the one that says Spin Zone lights up? She’s a freak, she can hit it almost every time. Can’t sink a basketball or sing karaoke to save her life, but you know, we all have flaws.”

Aegon looks up from his map, which he is scrutinizing as he eats his bison steak. “Do you realize that if we could just stop at gas stations like back when everything was normal, we’d be in Odessa or the Bay Area in fifteen hours? Literally less than one day. Fucking unreal. And yet here we are trapped in yee-haw country, freaky giant animals, no civilization but Jesus billboards everywhere, hell on earth.” He holds up a palm. “No offense, Cregan. You’re okay.”

Cregan smiles mildly. “None taken, Fried Foot. You know you’re a little well done yourself these days.”

“That’s ableist,” Aegon replies.

“We’ll find gas tomorrow,” Aemond says. He sounds confident because he has to; he’s not allowed to panic, to give up. He’s seated at the head of the table like a patriarch. His steak is the smallest and the most ragged. He wouldn’t accept any of the others.

You ask Baela: “Have you decided what to name the baby?”

“Kind of.” She rests both hands on her belly, a globe like a full moon. Helaena glances over at Baela, frowning and preoccupied. “If it’s a boy, I’m going to name it after Jace. We had already picked out Theodore…and Teddy for short, isn’t that cute? But now…I’d want him to have that connection to his father. The baby won’t have any pictures of him, or videos, or memories, or papers he wrote in school, or ties or rings or cufflinks, or…anything. But he could have Jace’s name.”

The rest of you nod, eyes downcast and feeling terribly sorry for her. “I really like that idea,” Luke says quietly.

Now Baela is thinking, her gaze traveling around the room as she chews on a cube of streak. “I’m not sure what I’d call a girl. Maybe something naturey like Violet, Rosemary, Ivy, Indigo, Fern…”

“You should name it Otter,” you say, and you and Rio erupt into raucous laughter. Aemond smiles as he watches you.

Baela is grinning uncertainly, trying not to be insensitive. Perhaps people named their kids stuff like Otter where you came from. “Um, sorry, what?!”

“That was one of the baby names on Sophie’s list,” Rio clarifies. “I vetoed it. Or at least…I think she agreed to cross it off…? Oh my God, imagine I finally get to Odessa only to find out my firstborn child has been named Otter.”

“You’d have to turn right back around,” you say. “Total abandonment would be the only honorable choice. We’d have to start over someplace else. I’ve heard Texas is nice.”

Aegon snorts. “You can’t live in Texas. They don’t even have legal weed there.”

Rhaena squints at him. “I don’t really think that’s a concern anymore, Aegon.”

Aegon smacks his forehead theatrically. “Oh no, I forgot about the apocalypse again!”

“So Cregan,” Baela says. “You were planning to vote for Trump.”

Everyone at the table groans. “No politics,” Aemond says.

“They’re all dead now, so it doesn’t matter,” Rhaena adds. “Biden, Kamala, that insane Kennedy brain worm dude, Trump…”

Aegon says: “If I was a zombie, I wouldn’t eat Trump.”

“I just found that interesting,” Baela continues, looking at Cregan like she’s expecting him to explain himself. Rhaena and Luke exchange a nervous glance. Daeron reaches under the table to pet Ice; you can hear her tail thumping cheerfully against the hardwood floor.

“I was a Trump voter, yeah,” Cregan replies between bites of steak. Aemond is studying him uneasily, but Cregan’s baritone voice is calm. “That doesn’t mean I approved of a lot of the things he did and said. I’m not a monster, I don’t believe in mocking people or all that January 6th stuff. But he was good for the economy. Back when Trump was president, groceries were more affordable, and houses were cheaper, and more companies were hiring. If I had tried to move out of my parents’ place in 2023 instead of 2019, there’s no way I could have done it. And I really needed to get out of there. A lot of people feel that they don’t have the luxury of voting for the nicest candidate, or the candidate they agree with on social issues. Something abstract like climate change isn’t even on the radar. They have to vote for their basic necessities.”

You and Rio understand what he means, you’ve both met plenty of people with the same perspective; everybody else seems shellshocked.

“But I don’t want y’all to think that I’m…” Cregan looks around the table, his eyes catching—interestingly—on Helaena, who observes him with a fully present attentiveness that you’ve learned is rare for her. “You know, like a sexist or a racist or that I hate foreigners or anything. Because I’ve never felt that way, and now I’m very happy to have found you guys, and I respect the hell out of you. And I want to be allowed to stay.”

“You can stay, Cregan,” Helaena reassures him.

“Yeah,” Rio says. “Especially since we’d probably starve without you.”

Cregan beams, clearly grateful, and there are chuckles and the tension breaks; and Baela is placidly skating her palm over the arc of her belly, and now that you’ve eaten all you can, Rio is spearing the remaining chunks of your steak with his fork and gobbling them down. He doesn’t ask before he does this; he knows you don’t mind. You’ve never understood why he’s given you so much over the past nearly five years. You are eternally offering him atonement.

Suddenly, Baela asks you: “What would you name a baby girl?”

You have to think about this before you answer. “Well, if you’re looking for something related to plants…I had a friend when I was growing up named Briar, and I always thought that was pretty.”

“Briar,” Baela echoes, intrigued.

“It means bramble, like a thorny shrub where blackberries grow. I remember her telling me that her mama wanted it to be a reminder that people go through rough patches and that life gets hard sometimes, but you have to keep going, and eventually you’ll find your way out.”

“Briar,” Baela repeats. “Yeah, that’s kind of neat. I’ll add it to the list!”

“And you’d have the same first initial,” Rhaena says. “Baela and Briar. Isn’t that adorable?”

Baela smiles. “And a few Rs thrown in there too. For Rhaena.”

Rio turns to Aegon. “Hey Honey Bun, if you had to name your kid after a plant, what would you name it?”

Aegon says without hesitation: “Marijuana.”

Now it’s an hour later, and Aemond is examining Aegon’s burned leg on the living room floor, Helaena holding a flashlight and you and Rio standing by for moral support. Underneath the bandages is a wasteland of red, weeping flesh…and yet there are spots where the skin seems to be hardening into white islands of scar tissue. Rhaena and Luke are keeping watch by the windows, Baela is passed out in one of the bedrooms, Cregan is showing Daeron how to put his wavy blonde hair up in a man bun.

Aemond points to a blackish patch on the top of Aegon’s foot, only a few inches from his ankle. “I have to debride this part here,” he says like an apology.

Aegon is afraid to ask. “What does debride mean?”

“It means I have to cut it out.”

“Cut it?!”

“It’s getting infected. I have to remove it or it will spread to the rest of the foot and you could get sepsis. I might even have to amputate the whole leg.”

“Okay, cut the dead stuff off,” Aegon swiftly agrees.

Aemond doesn’t have any more injectable morphine. He gives Aegon as much Vicodin as he dares and then begins working, carving away layers of dark disease with his scalpel and scrubbing the area with disinfectant. Aegon clutches your hand, squeezing so hard it feels like your bones might crunch, shrapnel-like splinters of marrow-stained organic glass beneath your skin. Rio has Aegon’s pink Sony Walkman—once owned by Ava—and takes one earbud while giving Aegon the other. They sing along to Sean Paul songs together, laughing as tears stream down Aegon’s sunburned cheeks:

“Well, woman, the way the time cold, I wanna be keepin’ you warm

I got the right temperature fi shelter you from the storm

Oh Lord, gal, I got the right tactics to turn you on

And girl, I wanna be the papa, you can be the mom…”

Now you’re curled up in bed, your arms crossed over your belly as you struggle to fall asleep. Aemond comes to bed late now; each night he waits until Baela is sleeping and then teaches Rhaena about childbirth and recovery: what to expect, what could go wrong. She is a good student, borrowing Helaena’s spider notebook to take notes and asking detailed questions. She wants to know everything she can so she can help when Baela goes into labor.

At last, the bedroom door opens. Out in the living room you can hear Rio asking: “Do you have Wagon Wheel? I love that song.”

Aegon scoffs. “No, of course I don’t have Wagon Wheel. Shut up and listen to your Enrique Iglesias.”

“You are so racist, man…”

Aemond sees that you’re in agony, rummages around in his medical kit, and gives you an oval-shaped white pill to wash down with the can of orange Sunkist on the nightstand; Helaena found a case of it in the pantry. “Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?”

“I didn’t want to take any Vicodin from Aegon or Baela. They’ll need it more than me.”

“Your pain is as real as anyone else’s.” Aemond’s weight shifts the mattress as he crawls into bed beside you, his arm settling protectively around your waist, his hand covering yours where it rests on your lower belly. “If the Tahoe runs out of gas, will you be okay to walk tomorrow?”

“Don’t worry about me. I had three periods during basic training, I honestly thought I might die. After that I can power through just about anything.”

“I’ve noticed.” You feel the soft smile on Aemond’s lips as he kisses your temple. “Do you want quiet, or do you want to talk?”

“Talking would be a nice distraction.”

Aemond wastes no time. “Do you like kids?”

“Well, since birth control doesn’t exist anymore, I’d hope everybody does.”

Again, he is smiling; you can hear it in his voice. “Okay, but do you intend to have your own?”

“Yeah, I always envisioned myself having kids. I wanted a normal family and figured I’d have to make one myself, DIY it, you know? I don’t think the plan has changed. Gotta repopulate the earth somehow.”

“I wouldn’t try to sway your decision one way or the other. It’s a burden you should only have to endure if you actively choose it. But if you want to have children one day, I’d help you.”

You giggle in the dim orange glow of a single flashlight. “How self-sacrificial.”

“No,” Aemond says, laughing. “Not like, the making them. I mean, I’d help with that too, that aspect would be fun. But I was talking about the delivery, and recovery, and taking care of a newborn. I don’t know everything, but I know a lot. I could help you get through it. So that’s an option I want you to be aware of, if…you know.” Now he pauses. “If you trust me.”

“I trust you.”

“Sometimes I don’t know if you should,” Aemond murmurs; or at least that’s what you think he says as you lose consciousness, plummeting into sleep as if falling from a great height.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Tahoe runs out of gas just east of Tipton—not a city, not a town, just a collection of service roads linking sprawling ranches to I-80, the only continuous route across southern Wyoming—and Rhaena guides the SUV as it coasts to a halt on the shoulder of the highway. You hike about a mile to the nearest ranch house: Luke carrying the siphoning hose and empty gas can in case you can find fuel, Rio carrying Aegon on his back, Baela walking slowly and with great effort, Ice panting as she lopes across the dusty earth. You can’t spot any cattle or horses behind the endless strings of barbed wire fencing. Perhaps they are in a different pasture, or escaped or were stolen, or died of thirst without being tended to, or were consumed by a wandering hoard of zombies, never sleeping and always hungry. The house at the end of the dirt driveway is modest, old, and painted white. The front door is open; the screen door bangs in the wind.

“Rock Springs is the next real town,” Aegon says when Rio drops him to the ground, reading his map.

“And how far is that?” Rio asks.

Aegon deflates. “About fifty miles.”

“Great,” Rhaena says. “What’s the plan, to fly there?”

“Yeah, start flapping your wings, little bird. You’re light enough, you can make it.”

“No car in the driveway,” you tell Aemond. “Nobody home, maybe?”

He’s scrutinizing the house, his blue eye narrow. “Maybe.”

A thought occurs to Aegon. “Do you think ranchers have golf clubs?” he asks hopefully.

“No,” Aemond snaps. Rio is now on the front porch and pounding the butt of his unloaded Remington shotgun against the doorframe to see if anyone appears. Daeron is nocking one of his makeshift arrows as he trots around the perimeter with his compound bow.

Luke, peering through his binoculars, points to a large cylindrical aluminum structure about a hundred yards from the house, by a small red barn. “What’s that thing?”

“It’s a grain bin,” Cregan says. “Full of feed for cattle.” Ice whimpers at his feet, and he twirls his axe in his large, calloused hands. “Are we clearing the house or not? Something’s in there.”

“We are,” Aemond answers tonelessly. “Luke, Rhaena, stay out here with Aegon and watch for trouble. Daeron, you too.”

“Got it.”

“Baela—”

“Can I go inside?” she asks. “Please, Aemond. I’m so sick of sitting around feeling useless and exhausted. I want to help. I want to do something, I’m going insane.”

“Fine,” Aemond agrees. “It should be an easy one.”

It is easy, but it’s not pleasant. The house smells like dark, sickening decay. In the living room are the skeletal remains of two bodies, both children judging by the size; the maroon-stained bones are notched with indents from gnashing teeth. Cregan shadows Helaena as she searches through closets and drawers. She takes no clothing—it would have absorbed the stench of death—but fills her burlap messenger bag with matches, lighters, batteries, pills. She gives you a bottle of Advil before you can ask her for it.

“Thanks,” you say, a bit startled, as you tuck it away in your backpack.

It is not until Ice leads you to the final room, the bedroom at the rear of the house, that you hear the familiar, blood-chilling hissing and moaning of a zombie. It is in the closet, and emerges one limb at a time: one arm and then another, one leg long like a spider’s, streaked with a thick soup of rotting organs that spills from a gaping hole in her belly like the mouth of a mineshaft. Something has happened to its other leg; it is missing, and the corpse that was once a thirties-something woman—a soccer mom, perhaps, with a minivan and propensity to make meatloaf and fish sticks—drags itself across the fawn-colored carpet towards you, slow and pathetic. Ice growls and barks. Rio raises his Remington.

“Wait,” Baela says. Her hammer is in her right hand. “Can I do it?”

“Of course, be my guest,” Rio says; though you can tell he’s slightly disappointed. He loves clubbing things.

Baela approaches the yowling zombie—jaws snapping, claws swiping—and grimaces down at it, this one of millions of monsters that ended the world, that killed Jace and stole all the rest of her life from her too, all those normal things she was supposed to have, all those strings of fate that the plague cut through like a razor and sent floating aimlessly out into the void of the universe. Then with a scream, Baela swings her hammer and a catastrophic impact crater appears in the side of the zombie’s skull, and it crumples to the floor, its mindless brains spilling out onto the carpet.

“Nothing good?” Aegon asks when you reappear in the driveway, popping a Vicodin into his mouth.

“No,” Aemond replies grimly. “No gas, no bullets, no food, nothing to drink.”

“I knew it would be lean pickings once we got out here,” Cregan says, and Aemond looks like he could kill him.

“Well, fortunately, Luke might have some good news for us,” Aegon says with a grin.

Aemond perks up. “Really? What?”

“I saw a truck out there,” Luke says, using his binoculars to gesture to the grain bin. “It’s parked between the barn and the grain thing, I can just see the very front of it sticking out. And if there’s a truck, there might be gas.”

Aemond ruffles Luke’s fluffy dark hair. “Good job, kid.” And Luke lights up like how cities used to look at night, back when the power was on: Washington D.C., Key West, Corpus Christi, Chinhae. Rio stoops down so Aegon can hop on his back, and all of you trek together across the field.

“Nothing,” Cregan announces as he squeezes the little pump on the siphoning hose after opening the gas cap of the ancient Chevy Silverado and threading the hose inside. “Not a drop.”

“Fucking fantastic,” Aegon sighs from where he’s slumped on the ground. His eyes are glazed; he’s pretty stoned. He gazes pitifully up at you; you pat his shoulder sympathetically. You and Rio have already checked the barn, dilapidated but perfectly devoid of zombies. The roof has caved in; one of the two front doors are missing. “What now?!”

“We can go back to the interstate and walk until we find the next ranch,” you say, looking absentmindedly at the grain bin. It’s much larger up close, and rusty in spots. A ladder runs up one side to allow access to the roof. Ice isn’t whining or nudging anyone’s hands, but she’s sniffing the air as if she’s detected something interesting, unfamiliar.

“Yeah,” Luke replies miserably. “We can walk another five or ten miles and then maybe find a safe place to spend the night.”

Rhaena shades her eyes as she peers up at the sky. “It’s past noon already. Maybe we should just stay here.”

Rio barks out a sardonic laugh. “In a house with no supplies and that reeks of dead people?”

“Cregan, go kill us something to eat,” Aegon commands.

He chuckles in his deep, gruff voice. “It’s Miss Chips who is good at the killing, I’m just the authority on butchering at the moment.”

Aemond is watching Ice, his forehead furrowed. “What’s she doing?”

Cregan whistles. “Hey, princess, you okay?” Ice ignores him, still sniffing, her grey ears straight up in the air. Then it appears from behind the barn: a tiny brown creature, a baby bear.

“Aww, it’s so fuzzy!” Aegon squeals, stretching his arm out to pet it. Rio yanks him away; everyone else is backing up towards the grain bin. A second bear cub has now arrived, padding clumsily along, large cartoonish eyes and a little pink tongue poking out from its muzzle.

“Don’t touch them!” Aemond shouts to everyone. “Get away from them! If there are cubs, there’s probably—”

And around the barn comes the mother, a grizzly bear of 400 pounds. She bares her teeth and snarls, saliva dripping in long gluey strings. Ice is barking viciously; Aegon is shrieking and scrambling onto Rio’s back.

“Baela!” Aemond says because she’s closest to him, urging her towards the ladder of the grain bin. She gets the idea and begins climbing. Then Aemond reaches for you. “Come on, you next!”

“Rhaena, go,” you say instead, and she clambers up the ladder after Baela. Cregan is brandishing his axe; Rio has his Remington in his hands, Aegon still clinging to his back like a baby opossum to its mother. Now Helaena is climbing up the ladder, and Daeron nocks an arrow. You whip one of your M9s out of its holster, aim for the bear’s head, and pull the trigger.

Your bullet hits its skull, Daeron’s arrow pierces its chest; and the mother bear does not die but roars and rises up onto her back feet—taller than Rio, taller than Cregan—and then drops back down and charges towards you and the grain bin. Cregan blocks the way, swinging his axe. The bear reluctantly pauses, testing him with swipes of her claws that he evades. Rio is just a few steps behind Cregan, waving his Remington around hostilely. Aegon is screaming and holding on for dear life.

“Don’t shoot!” Cregan yells. “9mm isn’t big enough, you’ll just make her more angry!”

Aemond finally gets a grip on your wrist and drags you to the ladder. You obey and climb until your feet are several rungs off the ground, then you turn to see what’s going on below. Aemond, Luke, and Daeron are at the bottom of the ladder, their backs to you. Cregan is still wielding his axe.

“Fuck off, Mama Bear!” he bellows, standing as tall as possible and swinging his axe above his head. Rio follows Cregan’s lead and holds his Remington aloft. Ice is barking; the baby bears are fleeing in terror. Aegon is sobbing hysterically and saying he’s going to die. “You don’t want us and we don’t want you! Go on! Go get your babies! I’ll put this blade right between your eyes if you don’t change your stupid mind right quick!”

The bear pounds the earth with her front feet and growls, a beastly subterranean rumble, but she seems to be losing her nerve. The rungs of the ladder creak and groan; you see rust like blood-hued moss around the bolts.

“Get out of here!” Cregan shouts. “Go, you hairy old bitch! Go back to your babies!”

The bear glances back to see her cubs vanish behind the barn. Her mouth is open and panting, spittle gleaming on her pointed teeth; her black eyes are uncertain. As you hold onto the ladder with one hand, you have your M9 aimed at the bear’s left eye, just in case. Aemond is watching Cregan; on his scarred face a sharp severity, fascination and resentment and fear.

“Go on,” Cregan says firmly. “Leave us alone. You belong in the mountains, not down here. Go eat something that’s already dead, a nice easy dinner. You don’t want us. We’ll fight you.”

The grizzly bear shakes her head—flopping ears, shaggy fur filthy with dust and pieces of grass—and whirls, lumbering off to find her cubs. When she rounds the barn, Cregan waits a few long, tense, silent minutes and then turns to the grain bin.

“Alright y’all, we oughta hurry up and leave. I don’t think she’ll come back, but she might.”

From the top of the ladder, approximately forty feet off the ground, Baela begins to laugh. “Did that really just happen?! That was insane! Cregan, buddy, you can vote for whoever you want to. You and I are cool forever.”

He smiles up at her, wincing in the bright afternoon light. “I’m very glad to hear it, ma’am.”

Rio sets Aegon down on the ground and stretches his back; it must be hurting him. Aemond is taking your hand and helping you off the ladder, and you are reminded of the transmission tower where he found you in Catawissa, Pennsylvania, one of those middle-of-nowhere places like Tipton, Wyoming. As Helaena climbs down, you go to Rio and—with as much force as you can manage—knead the small of his back with the heel of your hand like you know helps him.

“You okay?”

He sighs loudly, relieved. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Oh, wow, that’s good. Harder…oh yeah…”

There is a snapping sound, metal squealing as it breaks, and by the time you turn to look she’s already falling: her cotton dress billowing around her, her arms wheeling helplessly. It happens too quickly for her to scream—for her to understand what is going on and what it means—but there is a stunned gasp and then she hits the ground, and you hear a muffled crunch of bone—skull?? spine??—and she is completely, unnaturally still as she lies on her back, no pain, no words, nothing.

“Baela!” Rhaena shrieks, and she rushes down the ladder and runs to her sister. You are all gathering around Baela, petrified to move her—to make it worse—but pleading for her to wake up, examining her with terrified eyes. Baela’s own eyes, dark and glassy and serene, are open only a sliver like obsidian crescent moons. Aemond is asking Helaena for a flashlight and then prying them wide, checking Baela’s pupils.

“There’s no reflex,” he says numbly.

“What does that mean?!” Rhaena cries. “Aemond? Aemond?!”

“She’s…she’s…” He’s in denial; he’s in shock. He’s feeling for a pulse on her carotid, he’s digging his fingernails into her forearm to try to get her to respond to pain.

“Aemond?” you say softly.

“She’s gone,” he tells you, like he doesn’t believe it, like he’s waiting to wake up.

“The baby,” Rhaena says. “Try to save the baby.” And then, when Aemond doesn’t immediately understand, she grabs his backpack and begins ripping it off so he can get the medical kit inside. “The baby, Aemond!”

Now he knows what he has to do. He pulls the scalpel out of his kit as Rhaena moves Baela’s sundress to expose her belly. She was wearing biker shorts beneath, lavender, cute, something you might have picked out in a store. In less than a minute they will be soaked with blood. Cregan leads Daeron away, and he’s telling him that they need to keep watch in case the grizzly bear returns, but you think it is an act of mercy more than anything else. Ice goes with them. Helaena, her face pale and grave, is shining the flashlight on Baela’s belly, just beneath her navel.

“Aegon?” Aemond says.

“What? What do you need?”

“I need people to help hold open the incision once I make it. I have to be able to see the amniotic sac so I can cut the membrane without harming the baby.”

“I get it, I’m here, I’ll help.”

Aemond presses the blade of the scalpel to Baela’s skin and draws a semicircle from the top of one hip to the other. There is blood, but it is slow-moving and thick and dark; it is the blood of a dead woman, not a living one. Immediately, Aegon hooks his fingers under layers of fat, skin, and muscle, and opens the wound as much as he can. You and Rio reach in too, and you do this without thinking, without allowing yourself to feel the horror of it until the work is done.

“I can’t see,” Aemond is murmuring. Rhaena gets another flashlight and helps Helaena illuminate the area. Luke is on his knees with both hands clamped over his mouth, his eyes glistening with dread and disbelief. Aemond is slicing, pausing to probe around with his fingers, cutting again. Then his arm plunges into Baela’s abdomen up to his elbow and, with some difficulty, pulls out the gore-covered baby by its feet, a girl, large and limp and silent.

Rhaena sobs, equal parts grief and joy, a smile appearing on her face. “Is she okay? Aemond? Is she…why isn’t she crying? Aemond?!”

Rio yanks off his shirt and uses it to wipe blood and gelatinous clumps away from the baby’s eyes, mouth, and nostrils. Then Aemond takes the shirt and wraps the baby in it, warming her, rubbing her lifeless little limbs. When she does not stir, Aemond lays her on the earth and begins CPR: compressions with two fingers on her tiny heart, two breaths down the airway she’s never used. There are no sounds except his efforts. There is no crying when the baby wakes, because she never does.

Enough, you are thinking, as if from very far away: an island in the Indian Ocean, the Appalachian mountains in eastern Kentucky. Enough, enough, enough.

Aemond stops trying to revive the baby. He picks her up and holds her against him, and no one says anything. There is only the barrenness of the Wyoming steppe, an anemic blue sky, tall dry grass that bows in the breeze, black vultures that are landing atop the barn and the grain bin.

Aegon jolts out of his paralysis and reaches for his brother with bloodied hands. “Aemond, hey, Aemond, listen to me, it wasn’t your fault. Okay? Are you listening? Aemond, man, you did everything you could. You gave them a chance. You didn’t give up.”

But Aemond doesn’t respond; he only kneels there beside Baela’s butchered body, her dead baby girl in his arms.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Alys?” he calls, seeing that she never came back to bed. He is lying on his stomach, tangled in red sheets damp with sweat. It’s hot, too hot, and there is no humming of the air conditioning. When Aemond picks up his iPhone from the nightstand, it’s still plugged in but only at 87% battery. The power must have gone out.

He gets up, rubs the damp skin by his temple—headache, dehydration—and lifts open the nearest window. It’s odd: there is shouting, distant and indistinct, like the sound of a carnival or a concert. There are car alarms too, and sirens, and horns blaring, all too far away for him to see. It must be because of the power outage, traffic signals thrown into chaos, neighbors relaying the latest information back and forth. That’s the only logical explanation.

“Alys?” Aemond says again, groggy but with increasing curiosity, concern, guilt.

She started to feel sick last night, a pulsing in her skull and chills and powerful nausea. The possibility of it being the so-called Florida Fever barely registered in his mind. Alys gets migraines, and tofu is a migraine trigger, and he took her to a Thai restaurant (maybe he should have known better) and the curry Alys ordered ended up having tofu in it, and by the time she paid the check (as Alys always did) she was swallowing an Imitrex from the box in her snakeskin purse. She said she was going to lie down in the guest bedroom for a while so she wouldn’t wake him if she spent the next few hours dashing to and from the bathroom, a likely outcome, and if he was honest with himself about it, Aemond would admit he was relieved.

He shuffles to the bedroom door—black boxers, bare feet, century-old hardwood floors—and opens it. Now he can hear thudding, like someone tenderizing meat with a mallet. “Alys? Baby, you feeling okay?” There is no answer, only that rhythmic hammering. He realizes that it is coming from the guest bedroom, a door at the end of a long hallway still fuzzy through his half-awake eyes.

It had never felt right, but it had felt good: good in the body when she touched him, good in the soul when she told him he did something right. But lately—especially here, in the vast creaking historic house she shares with her husband and her children, who are presently sailing in Cape Cod—Aemond cannot shake the feeling that this entanglement is a surrender rather than an aspiration, something he fell into and now rests at the bottom of like a swimming pool or the sea, the cold weight of it threatening to pour into his lungs and drown him.

“Alys?” Aemond says, now with profound and inexplicable dread. Outside an ambulance or police car zooms by, sirens blaring. The pounding on the door of the guest bedroom grows faster.

I want to go home, Aemond thinks suddenly. At home, in the Federal-style townhouse his parents rented for him (Criston picked it out, a safe and quiet neighborhood in Beacon Hill, and Viserys paid), Daeron is visiting from California and watching golf tournaments with Aegon on the living room couch, pretending to be interested when Aegon describes the different types of clubs. Helaena, pursuing an Entomology PhD, is researching the Mediterranean mantis, clicking around on her MacBook Pro from the garden in the backyard. Jace and Luke live there too, and so Baela and Rhaena have all but officially moved in, keeping their apartment in Seaport only to have somewhere to retreat to when the Targaryen chaos becomes too much…and so the baby can have its own room. Baela bought a crib, a changing table, a rocking chair, a dresser, and about a million unisex onesies, mostly space-themed. Baela is studying Aeronautics and Astronautics, after all. Maybe one day she’ll work for NASA and fly rockets to the moon.

The door is rattling on its hinges. Aemond’s hand closes around the knob. On the other side is something terrible, and he knows this. But he cannot just leave her. Aemond is not someone who abandons people; he is not someone who turns away from responsibilities.

He opens the door of the guest bedroom, and immediately she is staggering towards him, limp dripping hair and naked like she was interrupted mid-shower: blood bubbling from her gaping mouth and the whites of teeth peeking through the crimson, necrotic skin hanging in strips from her fingers, eyes misty like steam on a mirror.

“Alys, stop! Alys! What’s wrong with you?!”

She’s alive but she’s dead. She’s yowling and clawing at him, but her flesh is the rotting swampland of a corpse. He’s pushing her away; his palms sink into her, places he once noticed and then fantasized about and then at last—euphorically, ashamedly—touched, held, borrowed but never kept. She’s trying to bite him. She’s trying to kill him. None of this is possible, and yet it’s true.

Aemond flings her away, and the woman who was once Alys stumbles backwards and down the staircase, sick wet thumps all the way to the ground floor, bones splitting through dissolving grey skin, organs sloshing around until they spill out. He can hear her still hissing, flailing, trying to get up again.

Without thinking—slipping seamlessly into what he learned during his psych rotation is called automatic action—Aemond races down the steps and grabs her by the skull, cracks it against the antique hardwood floor she once extoled the value of as he fucked her on it: shipped east from Oregon and laid in 1912, the year the Titanic sank. When she lurches up to try to bite him, he slams her head against the floor again and again until she is still.

Then Aemond kneels there alone for a long time, sirens shrieking outside, far-off strangers screaming for help, putrid black blood clotting on his hands.

[mjolnirswriststrap]

SCARED

Neighbor!Bucky Barnes X F!Reader

Word Count: 2,519 ⭐️Masterlist⭐️

Summary: I loosely based this off of a real life event of mine, so if things don’t make sense, ask God 🤣🤣

Warnings: Agegap, neighbor!bucky, adultery, 18+ not quite smut but I don’t want childen reading anything I write 🤷🏻‍♀️ suggestive or not.

Spending the summer with your aunt wasnt something you planned for when school ended. It meant church every Sunday, and Wednesday night. It meant no wifi and being stranded in a strange town on the border of Georgia and Alabama.

You’d never been to Georgia and the possibility of driving to Florida to go to the beach was enough to convince you 5 weeks wasn’t that long. The 10 hour drive there lasted longer than the summer escape.

The first few weeks were exactly what you expected. Church, shopping, eating your aunts famous fried chicken livers, talking on the porch late into the night. On the third Sunday, after church, she informs you that you’re taking a trip to Alabama. Her grandson is coming to spend the week. You both needed to go pick him up from her daughter.

It took 4 hours to get there, napping made it feel like 30 minutes. Your aunt pulled up to a trailer park, and you scan your surroundings. You were even further in the middle of nowhere, then what you were at your aunts house. You always wanted to know the way out. But here, a 2 mile dirt road separates you from the highway you turned off of. You take notice of the neighbors, one had a pool out front, some older ladies floating on pool noodles waved at your aunt, they must know her. The neighbors on the other side of your cousins house weren’t so inviting.

You saw a toddler sitting in the dirt crying. Watching up at his parents flinging spit in each others faces. You avert your gaze when the man flicks his eyes over to you. You know men like that, they’re terrifying and unpredictable. He could walk over to you and start on you just for glancing in his direction. Your aunt ushers you into her daughters house, not wanting you to see the altercation.

You hadn’t seen your cousin since you were a little girl. Now she has a little boy. It was weird. Your family was so large, it was impossible to keep up with everyone. You had many cousins you hadn’t seen since Christmas of ‘06. After a ham sandwich and barbecue chips you were ready to leave, it was more boring here, and your cousin even had cable. You aunt must’ve noticed your boredom, offering a swim in her friends pool out front.

“But I didn’t bring a bathing suit?” You say grinning, knowing you’d go naked if it meant you could swim. “Just wear your bra and I’ll go ask the neighbor if she has some shorts that will fit you.” Your aunt says, swinging open the screen door. You nod your head, quickly braiding your hair to keep it out of your face. You almost lose your spot, twisting knots into your hair when the blonde woman from next door walks in, smiling. “Hey, your aunt said you needed some shorts?”.

You hop up from the couch. “Yes, thank you, I don’t know if we’re even close to the same size but what can it hurt to try?” You give her a soft smile. She looked like a wounded animal. She was way too nice to be getting yelled at like that. You wonder what set him off. But you know better than to ask. “Tanya, your kids crying.” You both look behind her to the open door. The dark haired man was standing there, looking thoroughly disgusted. When his eyes find you again, you have nowhere to hide. “Your aunt says you guys are staying the night.” He informs you, walking away. You furrow your eyebrows, why wouldn’t your aunt tell you that herself?

“She did, James needs a ride into town tomorrow and your aunt couldn’t say no.” She gives you a tight lipped smile. She knows a young girl would rather be spending her summer somewhere else. Once you squeezed into the shorts, you bolted to the pool, with a quick introduction to Sherry and Barb, sisters who owned the park. They were nice, asked you questions and treated you like family. Your aunt must really know them, you had no clue how.

Tanya and your aunt walked across the grass and climbed into the pool. Tanya tightly held onto a bottle of Budweiser, letting you know the night was already starting. You dunk your head, wanting to wash away the sweat from your forehead. When you resurface you see James stomping towards the pool, his shirt missing and motor oil smeared on his chest. “Drinking beer but not watching your kid I wish I could be surprised.” That’s when you notice a little boy in his hands, floaties tightly wrapped around his arms and body. He snatched the brown bottle from her hands, tossing the boy into the pool. “I got shit to do.” He walked away, finishing the beer and throwing the empty bottle to the ground.

After two more hours in the pool, your cousin came out looking for your aunt, leaving you alone with the Tanya and the baby. “Are you happy?” You finally ask, only because you’re truly alone with her. Her eyes well with tears, she shakes her head no. You move across the pool grabbing the boy you’d become acquainted with. You pulled yourself out of the water, not bothering to dry off, but you wrapped the boy in a towel. The sun was setting and it wasn’t warm enough for him to be out here wet. “I’ll be right back.” You give her a firm nod, carrying him in the direction of her house. She just watched helplessly as you turn the corner out of site.

Your heart started beating faster as you walked up to the trailer, knocking on the door. You try to think of what to say as you wait for him to open the door. You hear cursing from the other side before it’s swung open. He stands there for a minute, holding the door open before you realize he’s inviting you in. You step up, still holding onto the toddler. You don’t move from the doormat, afraid of tracking water through the house. “You can lay him down on the couch.” He says, pointing toward the corner of the room. You nod, padding your feet across the cold linoleum. You didn’t even notice the boy fell asleep in your arms, swimming always tuckers out kids. You straighten your back when you feel water droplets sliding down the inside of your thigh, pooling water at your feet.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even dry off before bringing him.” You look at the ground, wondering how you could fix the wet footprints that painted his floor. “I’m not.” He says but you barely catch it. “Huh?” You ask.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s just water honey.” You look up at him, not believing his sincerity. His blue eyes are piercing into yours. “Okay, well I better get back to the pool.” He watches you as you walk out of the door, he doesn’t make room for you to slip past him, causing you to turn your body towards him, he smelled good, you don’t know how. He was covered in black dirt from under the car, and sweat. He still wasn’t wearing a shirt and his tanned skin was so smooth, save for the happy trail growing up his stomach.

He was a lot older than you, more than 15 years, you’d guess. But you couldn’t tell standing this close to him. Your brain forces you out of the door. If you stood there in the tension for a second longer you don’t know what stupid thing would come out of your mouth. When you got back to the pool everyone had rejoined Tanya, even your aunt and cousin were drinking. You escape to your cousins house, changing back into your leggings and putting on your t-shirt. You check on your baby cousin, he’s sleeping in his room, not a worry in the world. You take the chance to spend a minute alone and turn on the tv.

You don’t even care to change the channel, SpongeBob played, lulling you to sleep. You’re awoken by your aunt, handing you the neighbor boy. “Will you watch him for a minute?” You just nod, and she’s out of the house. You peak through the curtain to see blue lights out front. Why are the cops here? You rock the boy to sleep, laying him down beside your cousin in his bed. When you walk outside everyone’s gone. The cops, your aunt, the neighbors. “What the hell.” You say out loud. You go knock on Sherrys door, hoping your aunt was there. But no one answered. Walking across the grass field someone caught your attention. It’s James, yelling at his trailer. “You don’t love me anyways, bitch.” He throws another beer bottle, this one smashes against the siding of the house. “I should’ve never fucked you and let you have my kid.” You stop in your tracks when he turns around, obviously drunk. “Hey.” He says, slowly walking towards you. “Are you okay?” You ask naïve as ever.

“I’m a good person, right?” He asks. You don’t know what to say, not wanting to tip him off that you were shitting your pants right now.

“Yes, you seem like a really good dad.” You’re trying to deescalate. “I am.” His voice is a little louder than it should be. “I don’t doubt it.” You’re still standing in the same spot, too afraid to move. “You’re nice.” He says, smiling widely. You give him one back, he hadn’t done anything to you yet, you weren’t going to give him a reason to.

It was no secret that you were nervous. Your breathing was fast and your eyes kept darting past him. “You don’t have to be scared. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” He throws his hands in the air. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He says, stepping closer to you again. “Everyone hurts me. Treats me like I’m not worth anything.” He lets his head hang, and you start to feel guilt building inside of you, this man just needed someone to lean on. “I’m not worthless, right?” He looks up at you with tears in his eyes. You know he’s drunk, but this pain was real.

“You’re worth more than you know.” It was cliche, but a true blanket statement, no one knows their true worth. “Thank you.” He says, wiping his eyes. “I just need someone to hold me for once.” You felt that, you knew exactly what he meant. “Wanna hug?” You offer, knowing that sometimes that’s all people need, church the last three weeks had taught you that. Sometimes a smile and a handshake is all the human contact people get all week.

He just looks at you, expecting you to close the gap between you. So you do, you walk towards him, fear in the form of sweat, still dripping from you. You give him a warm smile as you lay your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around his middle. His hands quickly found your hips, pulling you even closer to him. He squeezed you tightly, and you swear you hear him smell your hair. You try to pull away after an awkward silence falls over the two of you, but he won’t let you go.

“I’m sorry you’re going through stuff man, I am.” You say, patting his shoulder to tell him to let go. You feel his body go rigid against yours so you think he’s crying again. Drunk tears are never ending. “It’s okay.” You wrap your arms around him again, rubbing up and down his bare back. You try to pull away again, this time saying something “Don’t want Tanya to come out here and catch you hugging a stranger, probably best we let go now.”

His silence was a thousand words. Then he spoke, “You can’t do that.” He says lowly. You pull away and try to look at his face. “What are you talking about?” You ask, fear filling you again. He looks into your eyes, letting one of his hands slide down to the curve of your ass. You instantly put your hands on his chest and try to push him away. “You can’t be sweet to me and expect me not to like it.” His voice was different now, desperate. He presses his face into your neck, sloppily kissing up to your jaw.

Your heart is beating out of your chest now, and you stop fighting, not wanting to anger him. “You don’t want to cheat on your wife, you’re just drunk.” You try to break through to him. “You don’t know me.” He says, pulling you towards the back yard. “No I don’t, but you seem like a good man, don’t let a drunken mistake ruin what you’ve built for yourself.” You keep trying to persuade him.

“I wasn’t drunk earlier, when I watched you bend over in my living room, dripping wet. I wanted you then, just didn’t say anything.” He says, pressing you against your cousins house. He breathes in your face, and you smell more than beer on his breath, whiskey was pungently invading your nose. “So what? You like me or something?” You ask, confused on where this was going.

“Something like that.” He says, pressing his lips to yours. You’re shocked, you thought you were gonna be able to talk your way out of it. “This isn’t right.” You stop the kiss, nodding towards his trailer. You look between his eyes and try to find some common sense. “Then why does it feel right?” He grabs your hand, forcing you to cup the hard mass in his pants.

You gasp, you’d never felt one before, your virginity not up for debate, you’d never even had a boyfriend. “See, you like it too.” It’s like he’s trying to convince you. You look between him and the houses, searching for a witness. When you couldn’t find a soul, you stop fighting all together. He feels your body relax and takes it as permission to pull your leggings down. “Hey!” You say, but you guess it was too loud for his liking because he covers your mouth with his hand, looking you dead in the eye while his fingers push past your panties and dip inside of you. “You like being scared little girl?” He pulls his hand away from you, licking his fingers and tasting you.

Him reading you like a book was also a turn on. You stay silent, telling him everything he needs to know. He twist your body, pressing your face into the plastic. “Maybe you like it rough too, huh?” He slaps your bare ass, rubbing the raised red welt to soothe it.

You whimper, you’re going to let him have his way with you. If this was the only eventful thing that happens this summer, then what the hell. Tanya wasn’t happy and neither was he, who were you to interfere with destiny?

[honeytama]

Take Me There

Nick Folio x Fem!Reader

A/N: Have been in such a Folio mood lately and could not stop thinking about this scenario. Enjoy!

Summary: Your boyfriend, Nick, is riding to Florida with his friends while you’re stuck at home. While you’re missing your sexy biker, maybe bringing up a fantasy to him while he’s alone will cheer you up?

Content and Warnings: Established relationship, smut 18+, switch Folio, masturbation, JOI (jerk off instructions)/phone sex, the helmet stays on…

Word Count: 3k

Tag List (for all works): @thisbicc

“Baby, call me whenever you need me,” Nick wraps an arm around your waist and presses a quick kiss to your cheek before stepping toward the door with his helmet in hand. “I promise I’ll answer wherever I am.”

“I will. I love you,” you say sweetly as he steps out of your shared place.

“I love you!” He yells, his voice muffling as he pulls the front door closed behind him.

It’s early, the sun not having come up yet, and you stand alone in your house with sleepy eyes and pajamas. Nick’s gone and you’re already missing him.

Heading back to bed, you splay out on both his and your sides soaking in the warmth he’s left behind and stuffing your nose in his pillow. The scent of his leftover hair product and shampoo makes you melt away.

Nick would be gone for a few days on a motorcycle trip with a couple of guys from his motorcycle club riding down to Florida. You’re used to him being away, but this time it feels different. You wanted so badly to ask him if you could tag along and make it a vacation for the two of you, however you knew how much he missed having his freedom. He’s constantly talking about the trips he wants to take with his buddies and as his girlfriend, you don’t have the heart to ever take him away from those; especially when he gets so giddy and talks so dreamily. 

Also, Nick’s promise to pick up the phone isn’t a new one, you’re constantly texting him and talking to him while he’s on tour or at festivals. You really can’t bear to go one day without hearing his voice.

—

Your phone buzzes while you relax on the couch that afternoon with a book. Pulling it from the cushion, you eagerly anticipate a message from him. Your face lights up at his name on your screen.

Folio ♡: We’re at a gas station. Over halfway there, can’t wait to send you pics from the beach tomorrow.

Now knowing he’ll have some time to talk, you press the call button. He answers almost immediately.

“Hey, baby! I just filled up… Just waiting for the guys,” you can hear his toothy smile through the call. “How’s your day so far? Missing me?”

Nick has a system in his helmet that allows him to answer your call without taking it off. No one can hear the sounds coming from it, whether it’s music or voice calls from his friends on the road. However, if he’s too loud, the helmet can’t muffle his voice enough allowing everyone around him to hear what he’s saying. 

“It’s going well. I’m just reading on the couch waiting for the day you come home,” you giggle. “But, don’t worry about me, Nick, have fun, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” he sighs. “You’re on my mind, still. I hope you know that.”

“I do. I’m thinking about you, too,” your empty hand finds itself on your lower stomach. Lazy, yet sensual circles are traced on your skin over the thin material of your top. Nick is probably thinking innocently, but you can’t help but imagine how he looks in his riding gear. Flannel, leather vest, boots… “By the way, how are the leather pants I got you working out?”

He looks down at his legs as he sits on his bike, reminded of when you shared with him your intrigue over sports biker’s leather. You got him a pair of leather sports pants with knee pads telling him it was for his safety, but secretly, he knew it was because you wanted to see what he would like in them. 

He smirks before answering, “I like how they look, but my junk is being destroyed. I think it’s because it’s my first time wearing them. I’m gonna go into the gas station to change into jeans after you hang up.” He chuckles. 

You cross your legs, squeezing your thighs together for purchase. Why did he have to bring his junk to mind? Now, you’re really thinking about him.

“Well, maybe before you change,” you say slowly. “You could readjust yourself? Maybe it’ll help?”

Little do you know, he’s half-hard beneath the fabric of his pants just from the sweet sound of your voice, his cock straining against his zipper eager to be released.

Nick takes a peak over his shoulder, to the left and right, before grabbing his groin and massaging the velvety black leather hoping the movement will be enough to readjust his cock to the side of his thigh. 

“Fuck,” he hisses in your ear. “Baby, I can’t believe you have me touching myself in public.”

You hold the phone away from your face, giggling into your hand. Teasingly talking into your phone again, “Do you feel better, Folio?”

“Still hurts,” he groans into his microphone. “I bet you’re just imagining my hand wrapping around myself, huh?” He laughs softly.

“Mhm,” you hum in his ear. “Go change into your jeans, baby,” you coo. “Can’t have the new pants wrecking you before you get back to me.” 

You hear Nick say something under his breath, “Oh, my God.”

“You can try breaking the pants in more on your ride back,” you suggest.

“Are you teasing me because I left you behind, Y/N?” Nick asks curiously, you can hear a sly smile creeping behind his question.

“Nuh-uh,” you giggle. “Just having fun with you. I’ll call you later tonight when you’re finally at your hotel.”

“I’ll be expecting it,” he huffs, already exhausted with your little game. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” you hang up and stuff your phone back into the cushion to return your book.

Nick will do whatever you ask him to in the bedroom. Anything you want, you get; whether it’s to have his hands around your throat and to spank you until you scream or to let you ride him until he’s a puddle of a man, whimpering with each grind of your hips.

He makes you feel like the only girl in the world, and you plan to show him just how special he is too.

—

Nick has settled into his hotel room alone. The plush, king-sized bed calls to him as he’s dressed down to deep gray cotton shorts, crew socks, and a Bad Omens merch tee. 

You’re also in bed having eaten dinner and winding down for the night in your pajamas. Propped up against your pillows, you text him eagerly, hoping he’s in the mood to play some more of your game.

You: Hey, baby. Did you make it safe? Are you settled in?

Folio ♡: Yeah, I’m in bed. Gonna go to sleep soon and then to the beach in the morning

Folio ♡: Still thinking about the little stunt you pulled earlier today

The message makes you squirm on your sheets. You want to indulge yourself and stuff your hand into your bottoms, but tonight is about him. 

You: Can you do something for me?

Folio ♡: Anything

You return his message with a sly smile.

You: Put your helmet on

Folio ♡: Y/N

You: Please!

You: And take your shirt off if you’re wearing one

You wait a few minutes before he texts back.

Folio ♡: 1 Attachment

He sends a photo of himself under the soft, yellow light of his bedside lamp leaning against the quilted headboard of his hotel bed. His matte black helmet adorns his head and even with the reflection of his phone and pristine hotel room in the tinted visor, you can see his dark eyes staring you down. 

You giddily bite your finger at the sight of cheeks slightly squished inside and neck tattoo peeking through the bottom. 

Folio ♡: For my little freak

You press the call button and he answers through his helmet after a couple of seconds.

“Nick?” You coo through your phone mic.

In bed, he tilts his head, leaning into your voice as if you’re there singing his name in his ear. He ignores how the speakers of his helmet warp your voice just a bit. It’s just you.

“Y/N,” he replies breathily. “What are you up to?”

“I’m just in bed—,” you start.

“No, baby, what are you up to? Why am I wearing my helmet?” His tone urges you to confess assuming your plans are nefarious.

Wiggling your feet on the soft sheets, you smile against the phone pressed to your cheek. “Oh, I just think you look so good in it,” you spit out quickly. “No other reason… By the way, are you comfortable?” 

“I knew it!” His voice comes through your ear excitedly. “I knew you had a thing for my riding gear... And, yes, I’m comfortable?” His tone changes back to inquisitorial.

“Good.” Time to begin, you think. “I should have told you sooner, but yeah, I like the idea of you in your riding gear. I have a fantasy I want to tell you about.”

“I already assumed after you begged me to wear the leather pants for this trip and me in my gear on my last trip is your lock screen…,” he crosses his arms over his chest, listening to you intently. “Go ahead and tell me. What’s going on in the freaky little head of yours?”

“So you know what it does to me, then, huh?” You sigh softly. “Imagine it with me,” you coo. “We’re on the road together. Just you and me on your back as we ride through the middle of nowhere. I have my arms wrapped around your waist and maybe I get bored because we’ve been riding for so long, so my hands start inching lower, down your stomach, towards your groin—,”

“You’re gonna make us crash,” he interrupts you, chuckling through your speaker. 

You roll your eyes. “Patience, baby, it’s called a fantasy for a reason,” you smile and continue. “Your cock hardens as I fondle you over your jeans as we’re going 80mph alone down a country road. Your hands caress my thighs at your side and your bulge presses against your leather seat, but it just isn’t enough to get you off. You can’t keep riding with me safely while you’re turned on and distracted, right?”

“No, I can’t,” Nick sighs dreamily before clearing his throat. “How do you come up with things like this?” His voice is soft now as he submits to your fantasy.

“I like daydreaming about things I want you to do to me. Are you getting hard, baby?” You ask, tilting your head teasingly as if he can see you.

“Yeah,” Nick doesn’t even realize that his breathing has got heavy; his heart rate speeding up at the crude thoughts you're inserting into his mind.

“Tell me how hard you are,” you push him. Your empty hand soothingly brushes over the tops of your thighs anticipating his response.

“Hard as a rock,” he groans. “Keep going, baby.” Nick curls his toes anxiously wanting to pull his shorts past his hips, but he suspects you’ll be the one to let know when he’s allowed to.

“Good. You pull over to the side of the road and ask me to get on my knees in the dirt—,” 

“What are you wearing while on our ride?” Nick's hands roam over his chest and lower stomach searching for something to do before he can fuck his fist.

“Whatever you want me to wear, baby,” you coo. A relishing grin grows on your face as he feeds his own imagination. You fidget with the hem of your pajamas happily.

His breath catches as if he’s thinking through his favorite pieces of your wardrobe. He hums satisfyingly before answering, “You’re wearing some of those see-through tights and a little, black leather skirt.”

“Mhm,” you agree with his addition to your story. “I’m on my knees unzipping your jeans. I’m pulling them and the band of your underwear down just enough for me to hold your hard cock in my hand,” you pause. “Do you want to touch yourself?”

“Please,” he begs into your ear. “Tell me what to do.”

“Glide your hands down your stomach until you reach your waistband. I want you to feel how soft you are to me,” you instruct. “Then, pull your shorts down your thighs, okay? Don’t put a hand on yourself just yet.”

Nick follows your instructions to a tee. Guiding his fingers over his bare, tattooed stomach, he brushes his palm lightly over the hardened print in his shorts before pulling them down his toned thighs. 

“Lift your helmet and spit into your hand, baby,” you tell him and he follows suit.

Pulling up the bottom of his helmet, you hear him spit into his palm before placing it back on. 

“Imagine me taking you into my mouth,” you say in a low tone. “Slowly, wrap your fingers around your tip.”

Nick brings his forefinger and thumb over his tip gently pushing the two down slowly over his cock while imagining your soft, plush lips taking him in. He sighs in contentment at his first real touch of himself all day since you taunted him at the gas station that afternoon. 

“Do you want me to take you all into my mouth? I’ll let you fuck it,” you talk sweetly into your phone. 

Your words seem to flip a switch in his demeanor. “If I had you on your knees, baby, then there’s no way we’re getting home without me grabbing the back of your head and thrusting my hips into your face,” he’s hissing into your ear rabidly now.

“Do it, Animal,” you taunt him.

“You little—,” he scoffs at your use of his club nickname. Nick eagerly wraps his hand around his shaft, coating himself in his fluids imagining it’s the deep wetness of your mouth around him. 

“I wish I could see how much pre-cum you’ve leaked. Love the way it beads out of you, baby. It tastes so sweet too. My favorite part about being on my knees for you,” you sing into his helmet.

Nick rolls his thumb over himself gathering the clear, dripping liquid from his tip, and mixes it with his saliva. His eyes roll back into his skull as he strokes himself quickly.

“Are you gagging on my cock, Y/N?” He asks, still stuck in the fantasy you’ve described for him. “Need your spit dripping down your chin for me. Need to see your pretty eyes filled with tears.”

“Yes,” you melt to his words and clench your thighs together. He wouldn’t mind if you brought your hand down your pajama bottoms, too, right? You set the call to speaker and place it next to you before beginning to rub satiating circles over your clothed clit imagining him pleasuring himself alone. “Keep going.”

He grunts through the speakerphone. “So close, gonna cum in your mouth,” he announces. “Swallow it.”

You hum slyly at his words, “Don’t you want to cum in my pussy?”

“Fuck, yes,” he moans while slowing his hand, edging himself off his orgasm.

“You pull my lips off of your cock and ask me to stand. You're such a sweetie for rubbing the dirt off my knees,” you giggle.

“You’re welcome,” he chokes out with a laugh. “Then what?”

“Then, you’re not so sweet. You push my hips first into the seat of your bike, folding me over it until my pussy is right at the height you like,” you describe.

“Gonna rip your tights open around your cunt and pull your skirt up over your hips,” he asserts, continuing the fantasy for you. “I’ve always wanted to fuck you over the side of my bike.”

“You’re doing so good, Nick,” you praise. “Now, slide in and fuck me.” 

His gruff moans come through your phone disgustingly as he thrusts his hips into his curled fist. You’re glad you and him don’t live in an apartment or else your neighbors would hear the filthy things spewing from his lips. 

“Take my cock. Take it all.”

“Feels so good. Love you wrapped around me.”

“Your pussy was made for me.”

“Do you want to cum, Animal?” You ask him sultrily.

“Yes, fuck, yes, please,” he whines. “Gonna coat your insides.”

“Cum for me, then,” you instruct.

“Oh, shit,” he moans loudly and bucks his hips into his slick fist as he comes undone. Ropes of his cum coat his stomach until he's spent and the rest spills over the thumb wrapped around his tip. Your name continuously falls off his lips in different tones: dreamily and roughly.

As he comes down, he shakily breathes through your speaker and his breaths gradually turn into soft laughter in disbelief at the experience you’ve put him through. “That was amazing. Did you get off, too?” He asks hopefully. 

“Thank you for entertaining me,” you smile while picking the phone back up to your ear. “I was touching myself a bit,” you admit to him. “But, I’m going to use my toys once you nod off to sleep.”

“Now, that’s payback for me leaving you behind,” he scoffs with a laugh. “You have no idea the things I’m gonna do to you when I get back.”

“Can’t wait for it,” you say slyly as your fingers brush over the wet spot you’ve made through the material of your pajamas. 

“I’m never leaving you at home again.”

[lambtotheslaughterr]

Rise - Part Two

A Rafe Cameron Series

Chapter Two

WC: 6.4k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

PART ONE | MASTERLIST | PART THREE

            No one said anything for a long time. What could be said? Your own questions raced. All answers led back to the same thing. This was really happening.

            The side roads proved to be easier to navigate but were like the highway; filled with abandoned cars. Every now & then, you would see a body or bodies. You winced every time. There was a never-ending sickening sensation in the pit of your stomach.

            In the backseat, Micah stared out the window hard eyed, a fist covering his mouth. Millie sat still beside him, staring blankly into her lap. Nuha was crying quietly, calling the attention of Sayyed every now & then. He would often go back & forth between placing a comforting hand on your thigh to placing the same hand on Nuha’s knee.

            Time passed as the wrangler moved forward. Sayyed was able to keep a constant speed of 50 mph along the back roads, traversing through smaller towns. It wasn’t long before you began to see signs for Atlanta. There would still be almost four hours until you all returned to the Florida border. At some point though, Sayyed began to slow down, his eyes narrowing at the rearview mirror.

            “What’s wrong?” You questioned, peeking over your shoulder to see what he could possibly be looking at. Rafe was flashing his lights.

            The two vehicles pulled over, & everyone piled out, stretching their legs as if they were all on a normal road trip.

            “What?” Sayyed asked, his tone clipped.

            Rafe ignored the tone, gesturing back to his truck, “We’re gonna need gas. We won’t make it back at this rate.”

            Sayyed inhaled sharply, understanding the problem. You stood by his side, while your friends spoke quietly to one another.

            “Then I guess that’s what we look for.”

            “Maybe we’ll find a phone.” Millie commented, “A landline. You never know.”

            Rafe rolled his eyes, but Sayyed nodded, offering a small smile, “Maybe.”

            Less than five minutes later you rolled into a gas station. There were cars blocking all pumps, but they would be useless anyway. If cell phones weren’t working, why would a pump? Everything these days was computerized.

            “Great idea.” Micah deadpanned, staring at the pumps.

            “Shut up, dude.” Rafe crossed his arms, “You never siphon gas before?”

            “Not a delinquent fuck-up, so no.”

            “Dude.” Rafe’s nostrils flared.

            “Guys. Quit.” Millie stared between the two.

            Sayyed began walking towards the store connected to the station, “We can get stuff here for gas, stock up.”

            Nuha, Kai, & Luka stayed behind with the cars while the rest of you moved forward. The store was unlocked. But that was the end of your good fortune. The shelves had been ransacked. Products littered the floor, broken glass crunched under the weight of everyone walking through.

            Ignoring everyone else, you slid behind the counter, eyeing the few packs of cigarettes left behind. You weren’t a heavy smoker, only partaking in the habit socially when alcohol was involved, but desperate times…

            You gathered the few you came across, all unpopular brands but you didn’t care. If this was the reality of the world right now then cigarettes would be few & far between. You had to get them where you could.

            “Good idea.” You jumped, dropping a few packs.

            Rafe stood behind you. Your eyes met but you quickly lowered yours. Instead you bent to pick up the packs; Rafe helped you.

            “Are you okay?” He asked. You snorted, far from.

            “Kind of a stupid question, Rafe.”

            “I know but…” He sighed, cocking his head toward the rest of the store, “Your boyfriend is very gung-ho right now & I doubt he’s been checking in on you.”

            The comment didn’t sit well with you. No one was reacting normally for the situation. This was unreal. Rafe’s subtle jab about your boyfriend upset you but you brushed it aside. Emotions were high, people were confused. Before you all discovered the state of the world, they had gotten into a tiff, the reason you still didn’t know why. But you wouldn’t feed into whatever it was Rafe was getting at.

            “I’m fine, Rafe.” You stood, forcing a smile as you found a plastic bag for the packs, “Thanks.”

            You felt him watching you as you grabbed a couple others random items from behind the counter.

            “You guys find everything we need for gas?” You asked, not wanting him staring at you much longer.

            “Yeah, guess when people ran through here in a panic they didn’t think this far ahead.”

            Side-stepping Rafe, you were about to return to your friends when Rafe gently grabbed your elbow, “_____, seriously though. You know I’m here for you.”

            Your eyes searched his. He was being genuine. Rafe was a lot of problematic things, things that you also happened to be, but he could also be a good friend when needed. You nodded, “I know. Let’s just get to where we need & hopefully things will begin to look up.”

            “Yeah.” He let you go, “Hopefully.”

            Sayyed & Rafe filled their tanks with gas from other cars in the parking lot & managed to get four or so gallons worth left over before hitting the road again. You were relieved that sleep claimed you not long after.

            Sleep was fitful. But you slept through until Sayyed gently shook you awake. You wiped the sleep from your eyes, glancing at him worriedly.

            “We’re outside Gainesville.” He informed you.

            Your heart faltered. Had that day been a normal day, had the world you returned to been the same one you left, you would have been excited to go back home to your apartment & crawl into bed after showering off the four days of camping filth. But now, you only felt apprehensive.

            “Are we going?” Sayyed was silent for a beat before he nodded, “I think it’d be good for us to get some things from our places. We can’t stay, we’ll be quick. But I think the others need it.”

            “But the report said to avoid populated areas. Returning to campus…”

            “I know.” He agreed, his voice low. It was then you noted that the three in the back were sleeping as well, “But if it’s a virus then we can get our masks, other stuff. Stores will be eviscerated to the likelihood of finding what we need is less likely. We have better luck getting what we need from what we already have.”

            “I just don’t…” You stopped, pressing your lips together.

            “I won’t let anything happen to you.” With one hand on the wheel, he gripped your thigh firmly, protectively.

            “Don’t make any promises you can’t keep.”

            You weren’t the only one against the idea of stopping in Gainesville. Adrianna fought tooth & nail until the cars rolled up outside the frat house. She remained in Rafe’s truck, condemning you all for getting out, claiming one, if not all, of you would bring back the virus.

            She wasn’t wrong, & her claim spiked your fear. It was the same reason you didn’t want to return. But you were never the go against the grain type. So you followed behind the others as they walked up the steps of the frat.

            It looked like time had frozen. Red solo cups were still spotted here & there like a game of I Spy. The lawn had random objects fitting of a party that had been thrown the night prior. But the party had been almost a week ago. As you drove through campus, it was eerie. It wasn’t as unsettling as the highways had been but knowing that your small college town had become a ghost town still gave you a ghastly feeling.

            You clung to Sayyed’s arm as Rafe & Bear stood by the double front doors, gently pushing them open.

            “Boys!” Rafe hollered, his voice echoing back to him. You watched as Rafe & Bear traded wary looks.

            “Maybe that’s a good sign.” Nuha noted, looking to her brother for confirmation.

            “Nuha, you should go back to the car.” Sayyed said, “In case it’s… bad.”

            “I’ve seen ‘bad’ plenty of times within this house.” You could see she was trying to steel herself.

            “C’mon, Nuha.” You reached for her, “He’s right. There’s nothing for us in there anyway.”

            She didn’t resist as you pulled her back to the car. Micah & Millie followed, realizing they too had no reason to go inside. But a morbid part of you wanted to, felt the need to. To see the worst of it. However, you knew, deep down, the worst would not be coming for a long while.

            Back at the cars, you watched as Nuha, Micah, & Millie climbed into the wrangler. In Rafe’s truck, you could see Adrianna glaring heatedly at the frat house. You decided to try to see what was on her mind.

            “I think it’s risky, too.” You began.

            “Risky?” She spit the word, “It’s fucking moronic. It’s a goddamn virus that takes out mass populations. And they want to go walking into a mansion that housed over thirty of the school’s filthiest boys.”

            “Yeah.” You sighed, “Maybe it’s where it originated from.”

            Your attempt to lighten the mood is met with a contemptuous look.

            “Great time for jokes, _____. Our classmates are dead, our families…”

            “We don’t know that.” You bit out, surprised at your own resistance.

            Adrianna finally softened, shaking her head, “I know. But… the chances. They are low, you know that.”

            You shook your head, not wanting or needing to think on it. You were an only child & your parents weren’t as involved in your life as you would’ve liked, but they were still your parents. You thought about your mother sitting around her bedroom all alone, staring out the window, waiting for your dad to come home. And you imagined your dead flying some private jet over the Maldives. Perhaps their lifestyle & career saved them from the virus. You still had a reason to hope.

            Muffled conversation sounded behind you & you spun around, watching as the boys came out one by one, a few bags in each of their hands.

            “Essentials.” Sayyed raised a duffel as he approached you. One by one, he handed everyone a CDC approved mask. Rafe & Bear reluctantly took a couple for themselves after pushback from the group but didn’t wear them.

            “This isn’t fucking COVID.” Adrianna reprimanded them from behind her mask, “It’s worse.”

            “I believe in my genes.” Rafe countered.

            You rolled your eyes, walking away. You were not a politically outspoken person, but even you felt the urge to ridicule his idiocy. Adrianna was right. It was obvious that whatever was ravaging the world was wholly & entirely worse.

            There was no plan set after leaving Gainesville. You, Micah, & Millie stopped by your apartment, gathering a few items. For you it was a bag of clothes, toiletries (namely menstrual products), & a picture of your parents from before you were born. Back in the car, the loose plan was to drive to the coast towards Jacksonville. Adrianna said there would be a military base somewhere along the way.

            But nearly thirty minutes on the road, Rafe flashed his lights for Sayyed to pull over.

            “We’re not gonna get anywhere if you keep making us stop.” You heard Sayyed say as he hopped out of the SUV to talk to Rafe. Luka was with them.

            Their conversation was muffled & fast, unable to make anything out. Sayyed eventually got back in the car, an annoyed expression across his face.

            “What now?”

            “We’re making another stop.”

            “What?” You asked wide-eyed as he pulled back onto the road. Rafe overtook him, leading the way. “Where?”

            Sayyed said nothing, only shaking his head.

            You & Millie traded worried looks.

            A few minutes later, after pulling into a quiet neighborhood outside Keystone Heights, Rafe’s truck pulled in front of a Mediterranean style home. You were in the middle of unbuckling yourself when you saw Luke bolt out of the truck, running towards the house.

            “Hey!” Sayyed yelled, quickly following him.

            You didn’t know what was happening, but you couldn’t deny being scared. What the hell was going on?!

            “Luka!” Sayyed tried to catch up to him, but Luka disappeared as he dived into the front door of the house.

            “Oh, shit.” Nuha breathed, hopping out.

            “What? What is it?” You rushed out behind her, the others quickly joining. Sayyed was at the mouth of the door to the house, peering inside as he called out for Luka. Rafe rested against his truck, pulling out a cigarette from his own pack. He lit it, looking equally as bothered as Sayyed had.

            “What the hell is going on?” You stepped towards him.

            He shook his head, blowing out a cloud of smoke, “Luka’s parents.”

            The fire you had felt brewing inside you quickly extinguished. You turned back to the house, your heart pounding. Oh, Luka…

            Luka was not one of the people in your friend group you were very close to, but you knew well-enough that he was proud of where he came from. He was a family guy & was eager to become the next literary star to pay off his parent’s debt. All you really knew about his family is that his parent’s went bankrupt & were unable to pay for his college.

            Sayyed eventually went inside the house after not hearing from Luka, Kai close behind. Kai & Luka were best friends after all. The rest of you stayed outside. You mimicked Rafe, picking a pack at random from the bag of smokes you took outside Atlanta. Rafe lit your cigarette as your fingers shook.

            The group was silent, morbidly so. It was like waiting in the lobby of a hospital, wondering if a loved one made it through the 50/50 surgery or not. But considering the circumstances of the world then, the chances were violently lower.

            You were about to light another cigarette when Sayyed & Kai finally appeared, Luka between them. They were dead, his parents. You didn’t need to ask or see for yourself. Luka’s vacant, red-eyed face said it all. He collapsed on the front lawn, his head in his knees. Kai stayed with him, his own eyes watering as he placed a comforting hand on his best friend’s back. Sayyed approached you, his eyes momentarily glancing at the cigarette between your fingers.

            “So?” Rafe questioned. You elbowed him, “Rafe.”

            Sayyed ignored him, gently grabbing you by the wrist to lead you away. You tossed one more glare at Rafe. He held up his hands, a cigarette dangling from between his lips.

            “Asshole.” Sayyed grumbled once you two were a few feet away.

            “They’re dead, I know.” You began, not needing to hear it.

            “Yeah, but…” Sayyed inhaled sharply, casting his eyes at Luka. At this point, Nuha was hugging him as he cried.

            “It wasn’t the virus.” Your eyes rounded.

            “What do you mean it wasn’t the virus?” You kept your voice low, but it was difficult.

            “There was a note.”

            Oh, my god. You covered your mouth.

            “We think it happened before.” Sayyed continued.

            “Sayyed.” You croaked.

            “There’s no way of actually knowing. It hasn’t been long, that much is obvious. But their note, it only says that they are sorry & that they love him.”

            “What the fuck?” You couldn’t keep yourself from crying out just a little. “They were just gonna leave him…”

            “We don’t know that, for sure.”

            “Oh, please, Sayyed. Quit being so diplomatic.” You sneered, tearing your eyes to stare at Luka. You wanted to hold him.

            “What matters is that we’re here for him.”

            “His parents sure fucking wouldn’t be.”

            “_____!” Sayyed tightened his voice.

            You forced yourself to reign in your anger & pain for Luka. The world was fucking dying, yes, but one of your friends’ parents just left their bodies to be found by their son, whether or not they knew the world was falling apart.

            “So, what now?”

            Sayyed ran a hand through his unkept hair, “We bury them.”

            You would have much rather been outside in the disease riddled word than curled up on the floor of Luka’s living room. The house was his grandpa’s. It was the only thing his parents managed to keep after losing all their money.

            It was dark outside, as much as it was inside. The energy was depressing, reasonably so. Adrianna, being the only one with any medical background, was able to roughly determine when Luka’s parents passed. It was before. Their bodies maybe a week old.

            Your heart crumbled for Luka all over again with the information.

            But it was also with Adrianna’s recommendation that they don’t bury the bodies.

            “With the virus, & with no way of testing, their bodies could still be carriers of the virus.” She told the group at the dining table. Luka was in the other room, laying on the couch, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. “We shouldn’t risk moving them. Any of us.” She had repeatedly firmly before Sayyed could argue.

            “I’m not being a pragmatic bitch, Sayyed.” You could tell Sayyed wanted to counter that that’s not what he was thinking, but she continued, “It’s for all of us. We don’t know anything about this virus. How it gets transferred, the obvious symptoms, how long before said symptoms show, fucking nothing.”

            “We cannot risk it.” She ended, “Not even for Luka’s peace of mind.”

            Sayyed sat back, shaking his head, “It’s fucked up.”

            Many of you nodded in agreement. It was silent for a while, as everyone likely thought of what you all could do. It was inhumane to leave their bodies up there, rotting. Luka would never get the image out of his head.

            “We burn it down.” Your head shot up at Rafe’s suggestion.

            Everyone turned to stare at him incredulously. He had his back to everyone as he ransacked the kitchen, pulling out any bottles of alcohol he could find. As much as you hated yourself for it, you wanted to be right there with him, desperate to swallow a fifth.

            “You’re such an asshole…” Millie replied exasperated.

            Rafe half scoffed, half laughed in return, shaking his head, “I don’t hear any of you coming up with anything.”

            Adrianna nodded, “He’s right.”

            Everyone looked at her, “When the details of a virus are unknown the next step is to contain it. Quarantine. Obviously it’s too late for that. But for the sake of Luka, we can’t leave his parents up there like that.”

            “So, we burn the house down?” You shook your head.

            “Yes.” She blinked, “We can’t go near them, more than we already have. Sayyed, you said Luka was the only one to touch them?”

            “Yeah. Kai & I didn’t even enter the room.”

            “That doesn’t make you guys safe but still.” Adrianna shrugged her shoulders, “We burn the house down, his parents with it. It’s the closest Luka will get to a burial & the best we can do to contain any potential exposure.”

            “Aren’t we already fucked just by sitting here?” Micah asked next.

            “Not exactly. I mean, it’s not ideal, obviously. But if his parents did pass before the virus reached this area, then we’re likely fine. But absolutely no one goes back up there. Not even Luka.”

            “Guys.” It was Kai. He was standing in the threshold between the living room & dining room, “Keep it down. We can hear you out here.”

            A cacophony of apologies sounded.

            With that, everyone quieted down. Rafe brought over a handful of glasses & a couple bottles, placing them at the center of the table. Millie glared up at him, ready to share her thoughts when you hurried to grab a bottle, raising it, “To Luka’s parents.”

            Rafe caught your eyes. You knew that wasn’t what he intended but you didn’t care. There was enough pain to be had that day.

            Unshed tears blanketed your vision as the house in flames grew smaller in your side view mirror. It was the morning & the group would be moving forward. Luka didn’t say a word or put up a fight when Sayyed & Adrianna told him about their plans to burn the house down. He simply walked outside & got into Rafe’s truck.

            Sayyed wore a mask & gloves as he took a gallon of gasoline into the house & began dispersing it throughout. By the time he made it outside, he had emptied what was left on the porch, tossing the gallon to Bear to catch. It was Rafe who lit the match.

            No words were said as the last three climbed into the cars. A moment of silence passed as everyone watched the house go up in flames. Then Sayyed shifted into drive & drove away.

            The world was truly ending.

            “You grabbed the wrong fucking map.” Micah jabbed, “Perfect, Adrianna.”

            Everyone was pulled over again, somewhere on Highway 100.

            “It’s either Starke or Hampton, alright?” Adrianna returned sharply, “So get off my back.”

            “Both of you, calm down.” Sayyed said exhaustedly, “We’re tired. It’s been a lot in less than 48 hours.”

            “It’s Starke, I’m sure of it.” Adrianna turned her back on Micah to face Sayyed.

            “Then we go there first.” Sayyed said, “If not, we move to Hampton. Not like it’s out of the way, huh?” Sayyed stared at Micah, challengingly.

            “Whatever, man.”

            “Mills.” You eyed her tiredly.

            She raised her hand, knowing, “I got it.” She quickly gathered Micah & walked him back to the rear of the car.

            “We make a decision yet?” Rafe hollered, his arm hanging out of the window of his truck. From where you stood, it was obvious he was shirtless. It was going to be a hot one that day & it wasn’t even noon.

            “Starke.” Sayyed yelled back.

            Adrianna huffed, stomping back towards the truck while Sayyed rolled up the map.

            “What if it’s not there?” You paused to ask while no one was near.

            “Like I said—”

            “No, I mean what if the base is there, but no one is.”

            He furrowed his brows, understanding what you were saying. “We’ll stay there for a while, it oughta be safer there than anywhere else right now, right?”

            You shrugged in response. “I just want us to be safe.”

            “We will be.” He cupped your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin, “But the more answers we have the safer we’ll be.”

            Pressing your lips together, you nodded, “Okay.”

            “You okay?” He brought his other hand up, now holding your face gently in his hands.

            “No.” But you mustered a smile, “But if I’m with you, I’m okay as I’ll ever be.”

            The military base was in Starke like Adrianna recalled. She gave Micah a triumphant smile when everyone piled out of the car. There was no one manning the gate & as you clung to the chain-link fence, peering into the compound, you couldn’t make out any movement.

            “Looks real active, Anna.” Rafe commented sarcastically.

            Adrianna sneered at him. She hated being called Anna.

            “Only one way to find out.” Micah began climbing the fence.

            “Micah!” Millie called out, racing forward, “Don’t you move another fucking inch.”

            “Calm down, mom. If anyone was here I’d be dead by now.”

            A shot rang out & everyone scrambled. Micah fell from the fence, landing on his back. Sayyed gathered you & Nuha & pushed you two inside the wrangler. Millie tried to run back for Micah, but you grabbed her arm, yanking her back.

            From where you crouched in the backseat, Micah was breathing. Just not moving. There was no blood.

            “Don’t shoot!” Adrianna ran over to Micah, standing over him with her arms up. “Please, don’t shoot!”

            You peered around, looking for any sign of a gunman but you wouldn’t even know what to look for. But after a minute, from the far left, two men appeared in full tactical gear, their guns pointed at the ten of you hidden behind or inside the cars. One man approached the fence, his gun pointed directly at Adrianna.

            “You’re trespassing on government property. Turn back now or we shoot.”

            “No, wait, wait.” She crouched down, on her knees, “We just need some help.”

            “There’s no help here.” The other man spoke. You could see neither of their faces behind the headgear they wore.

            “But the radio—”

            “I don’t care what the radio says, I’m telling you, there’s nothing for you here!” The first man shouted.

            “Okay, okay, look.” Adrianna began, but before she could, you felt something rustle behind you. Before you could stop him, Sayyed stepped out from behind the wrangler, his hands up. Both men turned their guns onto him.

            “We’re not sick.”

            “We don’t care.”

            “He’s right! We’re not!” Adrianna backed him up as Sayyed stepped forward.

            “Move one more step, kid, & I’ll blow your brains out.” The threat made you cry out. Nuha clung to you, her teeth sinking into her lip.

            “Look. I’m gonna stop moving, okay? I’m not moving.” Sayyed copied Adrianna, positioning himself on his knees, “But I’m going to talk & you’re going to hear what we have to say & if you still decide you can’t help us then we’ll leave. No fighting back. Promise.”

            The men said nothing but kept their guns trained.

            “We,” Sayyed gestured to the whole group, “have been off grid since last week. We’ve been camping at Cloudland’s National Park in Georgia. When we left to go camping, we left the world we knew. But when we came back—which was yesterday—” Sayyed stopped to swallow, “We don’t know what’s going on. Alright, we’re scared, we’re confused, we don’t know what the fuck to do!” Sayyed raised his voice, his frustration coming out.

            “So, if you can’t help us like the radio said you could then at least point us in the direction where we can get some.” Sayyed huffed, catching his breath, “That’s all. We’re just looking for some answers. Trying to survive.”

            Silence dragged on, making your nerves skyrocket. Any second you expected more shots to ring out & for your boyfriend & two of your friends to be lying dead at the gate to what was supposed to be salvation. But no shots came.

            Then, finally, one of the men lowered his gun. He gestured to the other to do the same.

            “Are any of you showing symptoms?”

            “We don’t even know what the symptoms are.” Adrianna collapsed to her butt. You felt your muscles release but didn’t dare move from the wrangler.

            “Coughing, trouble breathing, watery eyes, bodily pain, fits of anger.”

            “I think we’re all pretty fucking angry.” Micah finally coughed out, “Knocked the fuckin’ wind out of me.” Adrianna helped him to a sitting position as he massaged his back.

            “Uncontrollable anger. Especially when you don’t have a reason to be angry.”

            “Think that’ll be hard to judge now.” You spun your head around to see Rafe. When had he snuck into the wrangler?

            “You alright?” He asked. You frowned but nodded, turning your attention back to the scene before you.

            “No, okay, no symptoms. Is there a test we can take?” Sayyed asked, “We’ll take it now.”

            “No test exists.” The second man responded, “The virus came too quick for anyone of importance to get one made.”

            It went without saying that hope for finding out what was causing this & why plummeted.

            “So, what do we do?” Sayyed shook his head, “Just wait to die?”

            “No.” The first soldier swung his gun back onto his back before crossing to the guard station just inside the gate. In mere seconds, a motorized drill sounded just before the gate began to jostle itself open.

            “You come with us.”

            A shower never felt so good. You could’ve stayed under the cool water for hours, basking in the relief you finally felt. Anything to avoid stepping back out into reality. But reality must be had whether you want to face it or not.

            All the girls were roomed together in one bunker, the boys in another. The two soldiers—Corporal Tobias & Staff Sergeant Severson—allowed the ten of you into the compound after a procedural check of symptoms. You, like most of your friends, were hesitant to go with them after they pointed their guns at you & threatened a violent death. More so, they had said there was no help there. But still, you all went with them.

            And you couldn’t deny that you were happy you had. The shower, having a hot meal, wearing a clean set of clothes with fresh underwear almost made you forget about the world outside.

            Once everyone was cleared, the soldiers had you all de-contaminate before leading you to your respective bunkers.

            After getting dressed, you & Millie walked to the mess hall that was at the center of the building. Everyone was already there, except for Kai & Luka. You didn’t need to ask why they weren’t present. No one told the soldiers about Luka’s family, & you weren’t sure that was a good idea—to lie—but didn’t say anything.

            Tobias & Severson weren’t much older than you all. Tobias in his late 20’s, Severson in his early 30’s. But they didn’t look it. They had bags under their eyes, their skin paler than their natural shades. It had only been a week since the world ended but they looked as if they had lived through the end of the world over a hundred times. But you could tell that they were reluctantly pleased to have others nearby.

            After pleasantries & small talk over lunch, someone finally asked one of the important questions.

            “So, how many people in a room is considered deadly?” Bear’s questioned silenced the table.

            You gripped Sayyed’s hand, scared of the answer.

            Severson, the higher ranking of the two, cleared his throat before answering, “As far as we know, it doesn’t exactly work like that?”

            “How do you mean?” Adrianna, who sat closest to them, clasped her hands together atop the table.

            “Like any virus, it travels from person to person, so logically speaking even two people in a room is deadly to either person.” Severson clicked his tongue, “But of course, that’s only if one is a carrier. This virus works similarly, obviously, but differently, too.”

            “What we know, at least the information we were fed at this base, is for the virus to be truly deadly, there must be multiple carriers in a room compared to those who are not. So, say one of us here is a carrier, has the symptoms, it isn’t guaranteed any one of us will catch it. Of course, nothing is 100% without the science to back it up. But this virus in particular is more deadly in numbers. The more carriers the more deadly. If half of us in this room are carriers, has the symptoms, then we’re already dead. You have to terminate the carrier, regardless. But if the carriers are gathered together, their viral contraction, the infection becomes impossible to beat.”

            You sat quietly, absorbing the information. It made clear sense why places of high population were deadly; why the virus spread rapidly. But what did that mean for places of low population.

            As if reading your mind, Rafe spoke next, “So why is Starke completely void of life?”

            “Panic.” Tobias responded this time, “Everyone rushed to get away from populated areas, even the smaller ones. Then everyone got caught on the highways, a viral playing ground for the disease. And one by one, they began to drop. The less people the better. But it’s important to note that like any virus in our world’s history, they progress, they adapt, new strains are born. It wouldn’t come as a surprise if one day just two people being in a room together will be deadly to both.”

            The thought discomforted you. A world where to survive you had to be entirely alone.

            “Well.” Rafe cut the silence, “That sounds depressing as hell so I’m breaking out the good shit.”

            Reaching into a backpack at his feet, Rafe produced two bottles of liquor.

            “We got scotch whiskey & tequila.” Rafe smirked proudly.

            At that, Severson grinned, laughing jovially. It was an odd yet welcoming sound considering the circumstances of the world.

            “I sure am glad I let you kids in.” He stood, clapping his hands together, “Tobias, get the glasses. We got a long night ahead of us!”

            Time was nonexistent inside the mess hall. Severson & Tobias were surprisingly excellent hosts as drinks got poured. It felt like it had been ages since you relaxed with the warmth of alcohol swimming through your bloodstream. Sayyed was smiling a wide smile you felt like you hadn’t seen in years. All your friends were in higher spirits thanks to Rafe’s alcoholic tendencies. It was a special night in a horrible world. And you wanted to bask in it for as long as you could. Especially since it was unknown when a night like this would come next.

            At some point during the evening, Adrianna had gotten so drunk she was beginning to get handsy with Tobias, who was welcoming of her advances. You had nearly stepped in, though you were heavily inebriated yourself, but Millie beat you to it.

            “Hey, let’s go lay down.” Millie moved to sit next to Adrianna. You watched with a swaying vision as Millie tried to coax Adrianna back to the girl’s bunk. It looked to be unsuccessful so far. But then a conversation between Sayyed & Severson caught your attention.

            “If you don’t mind me asking, realistically, how long could you guys live here for?” No one else at the table heard the question Sayyed asked, which meant no one saw the sudden change in mood from Severson as he lowered his drink & narrowed his eyes at your boyfriend.

            Immediately, you wanted to get between them, not that there was really any physical means to, but the look Severson was throwing at Sayyed made your protective instincts kick in.

            “I’m going to say this now & say this once while your friends are drunk in their own worlds, but you will not be staying here.” Severson finished the rest of what was in his glass, setting it down none-so-gently. “There is no government, no military, no safety net. It is every man for himself. Now, we’ve taken you in, we’re sharing what we know, we’re having a decent night, but don’t mistake our hospitality as a homestay. We’ll give you enough to get started out there, but after tomorrow night, you & your friends.” He leaned forward, his voice lowering, “You’re on your own.”

            Sayyed said nothing but you could feel the boiling resentment beneath his cool façade. You placed your hand on his thigh, attempting to distract him. Severson just promised to put you & your friends back out on the streets to fend for themselves, drinks are flowing, temperaments would skyrocket if they got wind of all that just then. You needed to stomp out the flames before they set everything ablaze.

            To your thanks, though, Severson dropped the steely, hard gaze & grinned widely. He slapped Sayyed on the shoulder, but you didn’t miss how his fingers dug into your boyfriend’s shoulder.

            “It’s been a wonderful night, kids.” He stood, addressing the group, “But I’m retiring for the evening. Thank you for the drinks. We’ll see you at oh eight-hundred.”

            “No, you won’t.” Rafe threw back, his face singed with red from the alcohol, but he was laughing as he did.

            Most cheered along with him, looking forward to a night of forgetting & a morning of sleeping away the nightmares of the day. Severson returned a tight smile but nodded, taking one glance at Tobias before leaving.

            Once Severson was far enough away, you leaned into Sayyed, “We’ll be okay.”

            He looked at you as if he was shocked you were there. He must’ve not expected anyone to be paying attention to what he & Severson spoke about.

            You took his hand in yours, holding them tightly, “We will be okay, Sayyed. We don’t need them. We’ll take what they give us & find somewhere else. The less people the better, remember?”

            “Just thinking about the future.” You understood but you wanted him for one night, before embarking into a new world, to be present.

            “I love you.” You kissed his jaw, just below his ear.

            He smiled, though it was small, “You.”

You felt like crying as someone shook you. You weren’t dreaming but wherever you were in your sleep was far better than anywhere else awake. But the shaking wouldn’t stop. Slowly, you felt yourself returning to the waking world.

“Five more minutes, please.” You grumbled, wrestling the sheet of the twin bed higher up & over your face.

“_____.” It was Sayyed’s voice, & more, it was full of concern, “Wake up. It’s important.”

You sat up immediately, your dream world long forgotten. You grasped his arms, “What’s wrong?”

Over his shoulder, you noticed Adrianna, Nuha, & Millie were all gone.

“Where are—”

“Come with me.” He spoke quietly, like he was sneaking around. Your nerves shot through the rough as you stumbled behind him, your motor function not yet fully awake. But you managed to cling to him as he sped-walk the two of you down the hall, into & across the mess hall & to the bunker where the boys stayed.

“It’s Luka.”

You were about to ask what about Luka when Sayyed slipped inside a cracked door halfway down the hall. You were stunned to see all your friends already there. You felt your lips part in confusion until you took in all their facial expressions. From Rafe’s empty but hardened stare at the concrete floor to Adrianna’s angry pacing at the edge of the room, you knew something bad happened.

As Sayyed led you through your friends, you felt yourself gasp as you finally saw the cause of everyone’s distress.

On a bed like your own on the other end of the compound, lied Luka. Shaking, graying skin, crusted eyes. His nails dug into the skin at his sides, as if he was trying to peel his skin off.

“He’s sick.” Kai’s voice shook, but he stared heart-brokenly down at his best friend who looked on the brink of death.

“He’s more than sick.” Adrianna whispered harshly from across the room. Her next words sent a spike of fear straight through your heart.

“He has it.”

sorry it took so long to get part two out. been a busy adulting bee.

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Mine Ch. 1: Homecoming

Chapter Rating: E (18+) Minors DNI, mention of alcohol, substance abuse, suggestive language, abandonment.

Word Count: 4K

A/N: Ahh the day is here and Chapter 1 is finally posted! I apologize for the delay. I had originally planned for this to be up sooner but life happened and my week became more busy than expected. You guys, this first chapter is kind of massive as I am introducing characters and setting up the plot. As I mentioned in my previous post, this is my very first fic so please be kind and bear with me. My asks are open to suggestions, questions, comments, etc. I definitely want to grow and improve as a writer <3

Again, special thanks to @ssuperficialspacecadett, your advice on fic writing was truly helpful! <3 Please, please, please be sure to check out her writing! She is SO very talented!

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Mine Masterlist

Mine Chapter 1: Homecoming

It felt like the billionth-mile marker you had passed on the way to your new apartment. “Almost home, just three more hours to go.” you quietly encouraged your tired self after 18 hrs on the road. You miss the warm kiss of the Florida sun and the palm trees gently swaying in the cool breeze of the beach. The open road ahead was brimming with new possibilities but the closer you came to home, the more daunting it all became. Your hands nervously gripped the steering wheel as you took a deep breath in and slowly out. “It’s the right choice, new job, new era, just with familiar people...It was the right call.” You muttered to yourself, doing your best to quiet the insecure thoughts with your favorite podcast.

You had loved Seattle- absolutely adored it. Your job was amazing, and your apartment beautiful, but tainted. So you pushed through an extra six months after calling off the engagement in an attempt to make the city your own, only to realize you had outgrown it. You had outgrown that relationship too, gave him so many damn chances to fess up about his dubious behavior but drew the line when you serendipitously found a red lacey thong under his bed.

*RINGGG* your phone blared through your train of thought, consequently yanking you back to earth. “Hey, girl! How’s the road?” Michele had been ecstatic at the recent news of your return and proud that you had split with Sam. He was what she often referred to as a “pinche cabron” (fucking idiot). After all, Michele was not the type of person to keep her thoughts to herself. She was always intuitive and strong. Her shoulder being the one you’d lean on time and time again.

“It’s…long” you laughed nervously, “Can’t wait to get my hands on a Cubano and some Tostones.”

“Oh my god! That’s right, you’ve been deprived! I’ll pick some up for us and swing by your new place. Just send me your new address and ETA.”

“You’re an angel! Thank you!” you chirped, your voice betraying your efforts to mask the anxiety boiling up in your chest.

“Hey… you okay?” 

Nothing gets past this woman.

A deep sigh relieves the tension in your body while you shift in your seat, stretching your aching back. “Yeah, just getting in my head. Coming home is the right call…right?”. You almost felt defeated, like you moved across the country and came back with nothing to show for it.

“Absolutely! Honestly, after everything that happened. I don’t blame you. I would’ve done the same thing. You know what? I know just what you need. We’re going out.” 

The next few days were a blur. The moving boxes in your living room were now nearly gone thanks to Michele and a couple of other friends and family that had stopped by to welcome you back home. Thank goodness for their help, your body was so tired from the trip, it didn’t dawn on you until last night that you’d start your new Speech Language Pathologist Assistant (SLPA) job at the speech clinic the next day. 

The clinic had more Speech Language Pathologists (SLPs) and SLPAs than you were used to but that was a blessing honestly. After a day of orientation and introductions, you really felt like you had landed on your feet. The sense of familiarity eased your new job jitters. The lead therapist showed you to your office and you began setting your room up with materials and games for the patients you’d be seeing that day. Lindsay, the sweet SLPA whose office was across from yours, briefly introduced herself and gave you a heads-up about the patients on your schedule. She passed along her notes on the patients who she had seen previously. Their preferences in toys, games, and their progress toward their goals.

“Thank you so much, Lindsay. This is a huge help!” 

“No problem, who’s first on your schedule?”

Your hands scrambled through your notes. “Umm…Camila Morales. Have you done therapy with her before?”

“Nope, must be an initial visit. She’s a little one too, says she’s only 3 years old on her evaluation.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks!” You said as you turned on your heel and continued preparing for the session.

Should be fine. Just interviewing the parent, going over goals, letting the patient get to know me… I got this.

You grabbed your patient’s chart at the front desk as the 9 o’clock patients signed in. Lindsay nudged your side and nodded in the direction of the reception desk as a handsome man in a cap grabbed a pen and a clipboard. “I think that’s your patient being signed in”. With a slight nod, you made your way to meet your first patient of the day. 

“Camila Morales” you called into the waiting room.

Camila slowly and carefully climbed off the waiting room chair as she heard her name. Her dark chocolate curls gathered into two ponytails bouncing as she made her way to greet you.

 “You must be Camila! I’m your speech teacher, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m so excited to show you all the toys we will use for your therapy session today.” You chirped sweetly as you crouched down to her eye level. The corners of her lips slightly curved into a sheepish smile as she held her father’s hand and a light blue stuffed bunny in the other.  

“Morning, Miss. Sorry about Bunzy, she refuses to go just about anywhere without him” he explained. 

Your gaze met the deep brown eyes of the man in the cap. His gaze was strong but warm, his smile immediately charming. “Good morning! Oh please don’t worry, it won’t be a bother.” You give him your name and stretch out your hand “You must be Mr. Morales.” 

“Oh, no. I’m not, uh… I’m Santiago…Santiago Garcia, Cami’s godfather. Fish asked me to bring Cami to her first appointment. He got caught up at work but he’ll be here for the next session.” He breathed. He settled in the chair in your office, watching as Cami eagerly darted to the Dollhouse you brought out for her, already making herself comfortable much to his content.

It took you a moment to register what Santiago said. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I assumed you were her father. Um…did you say Fish?” You said as you grinned at the odd pet name and looked over Camila’s file.

He let out a slight chuckle “I did… My apologies, I meant Mr. Morales...old habits, I guess” he shrugged in awe at himself using a prefix before his best friend’s last name. The way it rolled off his tongue, was unnatural, like a fish out of water.

“Ah,” you smiled, “Got it. Well, today is going to be a pretty easygoing session. I just want to get to know her, let her get to know me, and we will go over her speech goals” You took a packet of speech delay information that you usually handed out to parents and handed them to Santiago. “Please pass along this information to Mr. Morales.. Can you tell me more about Camila?”

Santiago filled you in on Cami’s favorite games, songs, books, and toys. He knew her first words and how frustrated she would get when she could not communicate her wants and needs. He knew Cami quite well and talked about her as if she was his own. She was so comfortable with him, it was easy to see that they had a strong bond. As predicted, the session was a breeze and soon enough Cami was waving goodbye to you as Santiago carried a giggling Cami down the hall, praising her for earning a glittery unicorn sticker. You swear you could hear his smile as he said “Te portaste muy bien preciosa” (You behaved so well, lovely girl).

It was the 5th attempt at coming up with an outfit tonight. The clock was ticking and you knew you were behind schedule. Michele was on her way and she was never one to be late. The room was a mess and your clothes were everywhere. You glanced at your phone which read 8:50 pm. The time pressuring you to settle on a pair of black distressed wide-leg jeans, block-heeled sandals, and a cowl neck camisole. 

Oh my god! Michele is going to kill me. I haven't even done my makeup!

You went for an easy look, foundation, blush, mascara, light shadow, and eyeliner. Not trying to impress anyone tonight, It was a girl's night after all. As you applied the finishing touches to your make-up, you heard the front door that you had left unlocked anticipating Michele’s arrival, creak open. Soon after, her steps echoed down the hall leading to your bathroom.

Shit, out of time. 

“G’damn, mujer, you’re not ready?” She leaned, arms crossed against the door frame.

Your makeup brush hit the vanity and your hands swung up at the sound of her voice, “I’m ready, I swear... I’m ready” You giggled.

“Okay, Slothy McSlothson. I hope you stocked up your fridge with Pedialite cause we’re probably gonna need it later” she chided “I’ll put in the Lyft request and let the other girls know we’ll be heading out soon”

“You sneaky girl! I’ve been rushing thinking it was pre-scheduled!” a playful scoff leaving your mouth.

“What? I know you! I knew you were gonna run late, so I figured I’d get the Lyft when I got to your place.” She shrugged and reached for the bottle of Gin she brought for you and mixed it with mango juice. 

“Here, I thought we’d pregame before the Lyft gets here. I know you can get a little nervous going out sometimes.”

A small gasp left you, “My little Cuban hero, thanks!” eagerly taking the cup and taking a sip, “Where are we going anyway?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

You heard excited squeals as you walked into the lively Cuban bar, the upbeat Salsa filling the space, almost drowning out their enthusiastic embraces. The friends you hadn’t seen in a few years, Crystal, Lexi, and Naomi, ran up to hug you and Michele. After ordering your drinks you sat at a table near the folding window of the bar. They caught you up on their love lives, work, and family. You tried hard to keep the attention on them and not on your failed engagement but it was only a matter of time before it came up.

“Wait, why are we the only ones talking… what happened with Sam?” Crystal asked.

In an instant Michele looked up at you after taking a sip of her drink, attempting to read your expression to know if she needed to change the subject or not. She could read you like a book. 

Your gaze met hers, “It’s fine” you waived her off “Things with Sam are done, turns out he wasn’t as committed to me or the idea of spending the rest of his life with one person.” 

“Awe shit” Lexi added, “so that means..”

“Yep, found a little souvenir his girl left behind” They all groaned, almost in unison.

“It’s okay, I think I’m better off. I’m relieved I found out before I gave up my apartment or started making any deposits on venues.”

“And you’re back now… who knows, maybe you were meant to course correct and come back home.” Crystal chimed in.

“Either way, you seem like you’re doing great. We’re glad to have you back” Michele smiled and squeezed your hand to reassure you.

The night continued as your group bar hopped from place to place. The warm summer breeze enveloped you as you walked arm linked with your friends. Michele led your group to the last stop of the night. You all but stopped in your tracks when you saw the buzzing neon Live Karaoke sign. 

Well, this is going to be fun.

Frankie couldn’t help his fidgeting tonight, consistently checking his phone for updates on Cami. He wondered if she finished her dinner if she struggled during bath time, or if she gave his mom trouble when it was time to go to bed. He leaned on his mom for support if he absolutely needed to. Only letting her babysit when he was at work or when he ran errands. He was so hell-bent on being a good father and staying out of trouble that he hardly let himself relax. He reasoned he owed Cami that much, especially after Ashley decided to leave. After her frustration with his decision to go on that mission, after he came back distraught by the loss of Tom and the wreck of a mission that he was part of, only to fall into the familiar comfort of his vice. Fed up and devastated, Ashley decided to take Cami to Frankie’s mother’s house after saying she was going out for groceries only to never return. That was the day that changed everything. It was that moment that snapped him back into reality. He needed to do better, be better, for Cami. That was all that mattered.

There was no way in hell Santiago would let him cancel. Not after he, Ben, and Will had planned this night for weeks. It had only been a couple of days since Santiago’s return from traveling around the world. This night was a big deal, it was the first time in a long time they were finally all in one place. Frankie would not hear the end of it if he bailed, especially since Pope was currently staying at Frankie’s until he found a place of his own. Frankie loved his daughter but It did sound nice to let loose with the boys. He had worked so hard to be who he was now.

“Fish, you good?” Santi asked, as he gave him a solid pat on the back “Seemed like you were somewhere else for a sec.”

“Just worried about Cami” he breathed before raising his glass to his lips.

“She’s in safe hands, it’s your mom. She raised YOU, she can handle Cami” Will chimed in and took a sip of his beer.

“You guys have been going on about how you’ve been planning this for weeks and you settled… on a karaoke bar?” Frankie chuckled.

“It was Ben’s idea,” Will and Santiago said in unison.

Ben rolled his eyes, “What? It was an honest mistake, we failed to notice one little detail.” 

“The bar we wanted to go to turns into a club on Saturday nights, and we all know clubbing is not your scene or mine” Will added.

“...and remind me what was wrong with our usual spot?” Frankie pressed.

“C’mon man, It’s a great bar! Brought a date out here last week. Just give it a chance. The live band is great!” 

“As long as you don’t sign me up” Ben gave Frankie a devilish grin and stood up “Ben...Benny…don’t you fucking dare!” Frankie’s grip became tighter around the beer he was nursing.

“C’mon old man, it’s all in good fun! You boys make sure he gets a couple more drinks in him, I’ll be right back” Ben winked as he walked away.

Santiago laughed as Frankie dragged his hands over his face “Tranquilo, I’m sure he just went to the bathroom or somethin’ he’s just busting your balls.” Frankie sighs “He’s right though, you gotta chill... I’ll get us another round”

A group of girls walked by and caught Santiago’s eye as he made it to the bar. Particularly one of the girls. She was pretty- very pretty. He could’ve sworn he’d seen her somewhere. It bothered Santiago for all of two minutes until he decided he’d let it go and focus on the boys. He rounded up the beers he ordered and turned to walk back to the group when he heard you. He recognized your voice. He hardly recognized you without your scrubs on. “Oh shit! That’s Cami’s speech teacher!” he muttered under his breath. He thought it best to keep this to himself, for that moment at least. He returned to the table when his mouth dropped. “No.. way! Is that-”

“Ben. Fucking. Miller…who knew he had it in him!?” Frankie interrupted. His suspicions were half correct. Ben had made his way to sign someone up to the karaoke list- himself. 

Ben taps the mic half haphazardly and clears his throat “Is everyone having a good time!?” the crowd cheers “I said.. Is everyone having a good time!!?” the crowd cheers even louder, “M’names Ben…Ben Miller and I’m about to make it even better.” he chuckled to himself “Alright ‘nuff talk, this one’s for my boys!” he turned to the band drink in hand as they continued the chord progressions to The Boys are Back In Town by Thin Lizzy. 

“That boy…always loved the limelight. He’s eating this shit up” Will chuckled as he shook his head.

“Holy shit” Santiago nodded to the music “not bad either”. He laughed and turned to see a more relaxed Frankie who had his sight set somewhere other than the stage. It seemed that Santiago wasn’t the only one who had noticed you.

The live karaoke bar had the feel of a big theatre with two levels. Each table had a great view of the stage that had a full live band that had an expansive repertoire of songs available for those brave enough to sign up. The stage was impressive and lively, the stage lights changed colors and moved depending on the song of choice.

After getting your drinks, you and the girls decided on a table close to the stage when a guy named Ben went up to sing. He was really into the song- holding on to the mic stand and swinging it around while he sang. The lights turned blue and yellow around him, highlighting his strong features. 

“Wooo Ben!” Lexi cheered,“he’s hot.. definitely your type, Michele”

“Ooh, she’s not wrong Meesh, he’s right up your alley” you added “Wha- oh… okay” you laughed as you realized you and Lexi hadn’t even noticed that Michele had left the table. “Could’ve sworn she was right next to me” you shrugged.

Ben’s song came to a close and the crowd cheered. He definitely was a crowd favorite, from what you had seen, at least. There was a lull for a few minutes while the live band played an 80’s song in the background when the lights turned down and the stage lights turned red. You heard what you thought was the intro to a Queen song and you knew immediately who’d be up there. A sweet and slightly buzzed Michele appeared on stage. “Hi, I’m Michele and this song goes out to my best friend who just moved back to Florida- put your hands together for her!” the spotlight shone on you and the crowd cheered. Your eyes went wide, and your body stiffened. You tried your best not to cower in the heat of the light. All you could manage was a shy smile and wave. After what felt like an eternity, the spotlight shifted back to the stage, as you heard Michele start to sing and dance to the melody of Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen. The stress of being the center of attention left your mouth dry. You needed a drink- desperately. 

Frankie’s gaze followed you as you walked to the bar. He was almost mesmerized, maybe this could be a good night but there was no way he could talk to you. He couldn’t even remember the last time he flirted. His whole world had been consumed by NA meetings, work, and taking care of his little girl. 

“Wow, Fish, she’s gorgeous! At least go buy her a drink. If you don’t, I will, and we both know I’ll go home with more than just her number” Ben breathed.

*smack!* Without hesitation Will slapped Benny upside the head

“Shut up Ben!” Santiago retorted, pausing to look at Frankie. “He’s right, you gotta get back out there. It’s been a while since…just…let yourself have some fun. I’ve seen how you've been gawking at her for the last 5 minutes. If you don’t go, I’ll beat Benny to the bar and we all know. it will be over for you then” he winks.

Frankie turns to Will, who had consistently been the voice of reason. “Pope’s right, at least go talk to her. What have you got to lose?”

“I’ll give you a head start” Benny started counting down with a shit-eating grin “Three…two”

Frankie jerked up and out of his seat, beer in hand almost spilling some on his shirt from the sheer force of the movement “You know what?...Fuck all of you!” he said with a wide smirk and middle finger in the air. He started toward the bar, the men’s laughter fading in the background.

His pace slowed down when he saw you sitting at the bar. He could tell you were kind by the way your eyes sparkled and smiled along with your curving lips when you talked to the bartender. You looked so pretty, so sweet, so…unattainable. There was no way he could talk to you. Frankie started to panic. His mind started to race and think of the many ways he would ruin it. What was the point of even trying to talk to someone new? He had ruined his previous relationship and basically tore his family apart. Why run the risk of going through something like that again? He was more than halfway to the bar when you caught him looking at you.

Fuck, there’s no turning back now. 

Frankie groaned at the thought of the plaguing questions he’d receive from Ben and Pope. He thought it best to bring back a round of beers to ease the embarrassment. 

“I’ll have four Blue Moons,” He said, his body tense as he took a seat on the red stool. 

“You wanna close the tab or leave it open?” 

“You can go ahead and close it..thanks.” He said as he shifted in his seat, reaching for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. The bartender placed the beers on the bar and placed the customer's receipt and a pen in front of him. Frankie was about to sign when he noticed something.

Tequila Sunrise………$6.45

His gaze lifted to look for the bartender, “Uh.. this isn’t my-”

“I think he mixed up our receipts” a kind voice sweetly interrupted. 

“I couldn’t toss back four bottles in one sitting if I tried” You shrugged, and smiled at the handsome stranger, “Do you mind?” 

“Not at all” he motioned to the seat next to him.

“Rough night, I take it?”

“Oh uh…nah these aren’t all for me but if I was having a rough night, this would be the part where it starts to get better” he flashed you a half smile before taking a sip of his beer. That was the moment when you really noticed his features. The hook of his nose, how his locks curled and peaked under his hat, the small target tattoo on the hand that held his beer.

God, he’s gorgeous.

“So.. tequila, huh,” he said as he handed you your receipts.

“Yeah... I uh, needed something a bit stronger after my friend’s shout-out. It was sweet, but If I’m being honest don’t like being the center of attention.”

“I get that. Well..welcome back. I’m Frankie by the way” he stretched out his hand and shook yours. Your heartbeat reacted to the way his touch felt on your skin. 

You both watched the following performances, giggling as you created silly backstories for each person and why they selected the song they were belting out on stage. This was nice, definitely a breath of fresh air in comparison to the handful of dates you had recently been on- your attempt at getting “back out there”. This wasn’t even a date but you couldn’t help but notice how effortless and natural it felt. You talked about your childhood and your favorite beaches to visit. How you used to love stargazing while listening to the sound of the crashing waves, it was your favorite thing to do especially on a bad day. Frankie shared what brought him to Florida, how he enlisted with his best friend, and what prompted him to begin his career as a pilot. His eyes lit up when he talked about flying, his passion and pride on full display. The beers he had ordered stood forgotten, highlighting the time that had passed.

“Oh wow, I uh.. should get back to my group, and by the looks of it your friends might be needing their beers chilled” you chuckled “But it was really nice talking to you, Frankie,” You said hopping off the barstool.

“I had a great time talking to you too, Hermosa. I hope you have a great rest of your night” His deep chocolate-brown eyes scanned yours. “You too,” You said as you smiled and turned, ready to head back to your group.

“Wait!” he reached out, his fingers gently curling around your wrist, “I didn’t get your name”. The pen the bartender left out came in handy as you reached for it with one hand and held his with the other. Frankie couldn’t help but stare as you bit your lip while you wrote down your name and number on his palm, carefully drawing a small heart next to your name. 

“Call me sometime.”

  “Aaand he’s back! Pope and I thought we were gonna have to go over there and remind you that tonight was for the boys!” Ben teased as Frankie shook his head as he handed the beers to the men.

“So, how’d it go?” Santi prodded.

“She’s great, we hit it off..” 

“You get her number or is my beer dangerously close to being lukewarm for nothin’?” Will chided with a sly grin.

“Awe shit..” Frankie’s brows furrowed at the sight of ink smeared on his palm, “the fuckin beers” His eyes desperately searched the venue, but you were nowhere in sight.

“The hell happened Fish…OH, damn that sucks.” Ben rubbed the back of his neck “Well.. uh..did ya at least get her name?” 

Frankie dragged his hand against his face cursing himself for not being more careful.

Pope padded him on the back “Well who knows.. if it’s fate” he shrugged with a half smile, “you’ll see her again”.

You had spent part of your weekend awaiting a text or a call from Frankie. To your dismay, the only notifications causing your screen to glow were Instagram notifications, promotion e-mails, and texts from Michele, who had been eagerly awaiting an update on your situation. By the time Monday rolled around you had given up hope that the brown-eyed pilot you had met that weekend had any interest. You chalked up your connection to him being overly friendly. It wasn’t like he really initiated. Maybe he wouldn’t have talked to you at all had it not been for the bartender’s mistake. You shrugged and shook it off, there wasn’t much you could do about it.

Monday morning’s alarm came a lot faster than you had hoped. You put on your scrubs and grabbed a piece of toast and a cup of coffee before rushing out the door. You were determined to have a great morning. Listened to your upbeat playlist in the car singing your little heart all the way to work. 

You made your way down the clinic hall, excited to meet your first patient of the day. Opening the door to see a sweet little curly-haired girl swaying her legs in her seat.

“Cam- Oof!” Little Cami crashed into you as her little arms wrapped around your legs, “Hello to you too Cami!” you smiled at her as you heard footsteps approaching.

“Hermosa?” Your eyes went wide at the sound of the voice, his voice.

Chapter 2

Taglist:

@ssuperficialspacecadett @spookyjamie333

[autistic-writer-angel]

OCtober Day 1

Prompt: Voyage

Words: 455

Canon to my other stories: Yes

Additional notes: This one takes place before Angel meets the Octonauts.

Credit to @apromptingwewillgo for the prompts.

The Voyage of the Damned.

The phrase sprang into Angel’s mind randomly. Where had she heard it before?

Oh, that was right! It was the name of a Doctor Who episode. Her dad and older siblings watched Doctor Who all the time. She’d watched it too for a little while, but she hadn’t seen this particular episode. She just remembered the title.

The phrase sure was appropriate, though.

*****

The boat pulled away from the dock, in the suburbs of Melbourne, Australia.

“We’re off, guys!” Angel’s mother, Sally, announced. “To the South Pacific!”

Angel and her three siblings watched as the dock and the town behind it get smaller and smaller. They smiled and waved to the people on land, even though they didn’t know any of them. Some people returned the gesture.

“Just smile and wave, boys”, Angel’s eleven-year-old brother, Benji, quoted Madagascar. “Smile and wave!”

“Are we there yet?” Angel joked the second they were out of the dock.

Sally laughed. “It’s going to be a long trip, but we’ll see some amazing things. In Australia and maybe a few other countries too.”

That sounded very cool to Angel. She had always wanted to travel the world. So far, she’d only been to England, Australia and the United States (Florida, to be specific).

In fact, she’d done the least travelling of any member of her family: Grace had also been to France and Portugal; Benji had had an additional trip to America (to Texas) and Skylar had also been to Germany. Although, her dad had made it up to her by taking her to London for the day (and at least she remembered that; Benji didn’t remember Texas and Skylar didn’t remember Germany). She was excited to add some more countries to her tally.

Just two days ago, she had opened up a fortune cookie that had told her she would go on a long trip to exotic places. That sounded promising! (She’d already known about this trip, but took that fortune as a sign that they would definitely cross international borders!)

“I can’t wait, Mum!” the ten-year-old declared sincerely.

Sally beamed, thinking that this was a refreshing change. Angel had been less than enthusiastic about their previous family holiday: a road trip to Sydney and Canberra.

Angel had wondered why they couldn’t fly to Sydney, instead of drive, but her parents had wanted the chance to see Australia.

Now, she still would have preferred to fly, but the boat would be almost as good. Plus, this way, she didn’t have to miss her home and her bed.

This is going to be the best holiday ever! the ten-year-old thought excitedly as they set out on their voyage.

But oh, how wrong she was!

[deannagrey]

A Mendell Christmas: Part Two

A/N: I meant to have this up so much sooner! The end of the year was far busier than I expected. And because I had to take care of some personal things, my writing became a low priority. Thankfully, I finally have time to sit down again.

This Christmas project became far longer than I expected (I still have one more part to post). When I finished this part, I hesitated to share it because it didn't feel exciting or interesting. It felt too cheesy. But then I remembered how much I used to write when I was younger. And how much I used to just want to have fun. So, I've decided that's what all my posts on this Tumblr will be: simple fun. The characters might be all over the place, the dialogue might sound weird, and there probably won't be any real plot. But I want a space to have fun again. Writing as a job has been a blessing but it's not my escape anymore. I miss it being my escape.

So, for the year ahead I want to post random writing on this blog! Stories, shorts, and snapshots of characters that may or may not be in my published books. This is my sandbox. My place for quiet moments with the characters I love. I hope you enjoy this quiet moment with Finn and Sam. I had so much fun being back in their heads and spending more time with them.

Happy New Year! I hope 2024 brings you everything you desire. I hope you enjoy these small moments too.

(Also apologies for any inaccuracies! I'm Florida-born & raised, I don't know how frozen lake fishing works and didn't want to do research for such a small piece of writing lol)

Finn 

“We’re going on a road trip,” Sam said as he joined me in the kitchen.

“When?” I stirred sugar into Naomi’s morning tea.

“As soon as you get your shoes on,” he said. 

I looked up, noting how he was already dressed. “Are we in a hurry?”

“Oh yeah.” Sam glanced at the time on his phone. “Should have left here an hour ago.”

“You’re not going to get everyone else ready on such a tight schedule. You know Henrik’s going to need at least an hour to make food to pack.”

“Well it’s a good thing they’re not invited, isn’t it?” 

I raised my brow at Sam’s smile. It’s the first time I’ve seen his smile reach his eyes since Aderyn asked for space and time. There’s a lightness to his energy. An excitement I’ve been trying to draw out of him for weeks. I kept failing over and over until disappointment became an all too familiar feeling. 

Being there for Naomi felt like putting on custom-made skates with the blades perfectly sharpened for a smoothed rink surface. When trying to comfort the guys, I was in secondhand skates, trying to stay upright on an uneven, frozen lake. 

Maybe today could be different. Sam was already primed for a good time. All I had to do was lean in and try to summon a bit of old Finn energy. Some part of me must remember how to be a good friend to him. If not, I'd learn. I'd already learned how to talk to people again…kind of.

“What’s the destination?” I asked while topping off Naomi’s drink with oat milk. 

“A trip down memory lane,” Sam said. “It’s my not-so-secret Santa gift.”

My stomach jumped, curiosity making me more alert. I’d been vehemently against learning about my past earlier this semester. But after finding my own rhythm and becoming more confident in the person I was now, I couldn’t help but harbor a bit of wonder about what I’d left behind. What memories I’d once shared now only belonged to one person. 

“That cool with you?” Sam asked just in case. “It’s fine if not. I know you’ve been hesitant but figured—or maybe hoped—you were more comfortable with it now that things seem to be better for you. You're more settled.”

“Umm…” My mind was trying to catch up to everything. 

“I got a far more traditional gift option as a plan B,” Sam offered. 

“No, I mean, yeah, I’m cool with that. With the memory lane,” I said quickly. My curiosity evolved into nerves. What if I didn’t like it and that fucked up his mood again? I wasn’t good at faking happiness. Hell, I was barely good at expressing happiness even when it was genuine. 

“Relax,” Sam said gently. “If you hate it we’ll come right back, no questions asked.”

The muscles in my shoulders loosened a bit. 

“Sound good?” he asked.

“Sounds great,” I assured.

Sam

Whenever Finn was keeping something to himself, he became an excessive throat clearer. Even after his accident that hadn’t changed. On the ride out of town, I listened to his symphony of nerves. And let him go on until I decided to throw him a line.

“It’s a good memory,” I promised and smiled over at him. “If that does anything to help your anxiety.” 

Finn grunted, pretending to be more interested in whatever he was doing on his phone. 

“A memory that'll make you feel all fuzzy and warm,” I teased. "Like the teddy bear, you truly are thanks to Naomi."  

He rolled his eyes. “That so?”

“Yup.” I put on my turning signal, pulling off of the busy highway. 

Finn and I used to be inseparable when we were in middle school. As we got older we were far less codependent but still close. Close enough for it to sting like hell when I realized he wasn’t going to remember most of what we’d been through. 

Sometimes, when I looked at Finn, I saw the guy who used to sneak me an extra Jello in the lunch room because he knew how rough the first half of my day was. Sometimes I saw the hothead who’d threaten anyone who hurt me even though most of the time he was far outnumbered. Sometimes I saw the guy who told me I’d be the best choice for captain despite my then doubts. Those parts of him were still there and alive. So even if the parts of him we shared were forever gone, I found comfort in those memories. 

“It’s not my goal to try and spark something,” I said gently. “Today is just for fun. We really loved this place. I still do and I figured you should see it and maybe…I don’t know, you might find some joy here too. What was that thing you told me about muscle memory?” 

“I can always count on it.”

“Exactly. I wanted you to feel that this year. Remember you can have something to count on and a place to go if you need.” 

It was quiet for a minute as I made our final turn. Finn cleared his throat once more before saying, “Thanks…for letting me know you’re not trying to trigger a memory. I like the idea of just being here…with you.” 

“Look at us, a couple of assholes with hearts. What have Naomi and Aderyn done to us…?” My mood shifted slightly at my mention of Aderyn. I chewed on my bottom lip, hoping Finn didn’t sense my brief dip in energy. Unfortunately, he’s getting better at reading between the lines. 

“I don’t know how to get you to talk about it,” Finn confessed. “I’m sure there was a method I used before.”

“It’s fine,” I said quickly. “I usually mope around until one of you guys gets pissed enough to drag it out of me. You weren’t the only one to try and help.” 

“I know but…I was your person, right? Your main person.”

My main person. That’d shifted over the years. I bounced between all the guys. And now, Aderyn was in that mix. She could have probably been at the center of it if things hadn’t gotten so twisted. 

“You still are.” I pulled into a parking spot that faced the river. 

“I just have to figure out how to make you talk,” he said. 

“Don't stress about it too much. I'm good. Or, will be good eventually." 

Finn followed my lead out of the car. He watched as I unloaded a gym bag and a couple of folding chairs from the trunk. He was quiet until he saw me check the bag for my ice pick. 

“We’re not secretly murderers, are we?” he asked when he saw my stash. 

I snorted. I'm sure he was joking but Finn’s deadpan delivery often left me with some uncertainty. 

“Nope. Just two fishermen are about to waste their time while the sun comes up.” 

Finn frowned when I tossed him the extra bag of supplies. “We’re going out there?” 

His finger pointed toward the frozen lake. Snowfall had been sparse this morning. The lake would be picturesque once the sun leaked over the horizon. We were already getting a sneak peek of what the morning would have to offer, so I decided to hurry Finn up. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong but we don’t feel like people who fish,” Finn called after me. 

I laughed as I continued our trek forward. The snow crunched underneath my boots. “We weren’t until we met Mr. Meyers."

 Finn paused for a second. "Mr. Meyers?" 

I froze too, my stomach jumping with excitement. "You remember?" 

"Not at all."

It was hard to mask my slight disappointment. Sometimes – when I least expected – it hurts to hold memories on my own.

 "Meyers was an old guy who spent all his free time over there during the summer." I pointed to the boardwalk about a half mile away. "And around here in the winter." 

I gestured to the middle of the lake. At our backs was the parking lot and to our front a dark, thick tree line that was covered in frost. It smelled like sixth grade out here, all pine needles and frozen earth. 

"We met him out here when we decided we would become Boy Scouts." I unfolded the chairs and pulled out our Thermos. Henrik had enough time to force me into packing something warm to drink. I was grateful for his persistence now that the cold wind was biting at our skin. Finn let out an agreeing sigh when I offered him the Thermos. 

"We were Boy Scouts?" Finn asked. 

"No, not officially." I chuckled at his look of confusion. "We wanted to be but your folks couldn't afford the annual membership at the time and wouldn't accept the money from my dad."

He nodded. "I suppose I wouldn't have either. At least not now…it doesn't feel right."

"You're stubborn. Always have been, always will be," I agreed. "But I would have convinced you to take it if your parents didn't have the final say. But, anyway, we decided we'd be Boy Scouts on our own. And that meant earning badges on our own. Of course, our first attempt couldn't be something simple like learning to tie a knot. No, we wanted to fish in the dead of winter. Like someone in a post-apocalyptic Arctic landscape, as you put it – you were really into post-apocalyptic books back then." 

"Was I?" Finn nodded and undoubtedly tucked that information away for later like he always did with tidbits I shared. 

"Hardcore. So you had me out here hammering away at the ice with a screwdriver." I laughed at the memory of us on our hands and knees, trying to chip away the ice with runny noses and burning ears. "Mr. Meyers saw and got on us until he was blue in the face. When we finally got a word in, we let him know that we weren't trying to crack through the lake and drown. But we were trying to be resourceful members of society. He folded then and decided as a former boy scout himself, it was his job to teach us everything he knew." 

Finn smiled and I motioned for him to come closer. I talked him through how Mr. Meyers showed us the way to create a clean circle in the ice. I explained how we were supposed to pick a spot where the ice was thickest and the cracks were little to non-existent. 

"He made us badges," I said when we settled into our seats. "Whenever we learned something new and proved ourselves to him, he'd have these incredibly unique badges that'd he designed from scratch. The guys at school got so jealous that some of them quit the Boy Scouts and wanted to be taught under Meyers." 

"Did they?" 

I shook my head and pulled out our fishing rods. "Meyers wouldn't teach anyone but me and you. Said he only had enough time and energy for two pupils. And he only had enough extra cash for two sets of badges. For a moment, we were the cool kids…until people decided Boy Scouts were dorky and gaming was everything." 

"Sounds like we had a lot of fun." Finn smiled. Maybe he was playing the spoken memory over in his head, trying to fill in details to construct something he'd be able to recall. Or maybe he was simply smiling because I hadn't stopped. I felt good today. Better than I had in a while and that's because I enjoyed being outside. I enjoyed the open sky, the chilled air, and being able to sit across from Finn. I loved my friends but these quiet moments with Finn were few and far between. After almost losing him, I cherished this. 

"I'm sorry," I said, my smile fading when I realized what I'd done. 

"Huh?" Finn frowned. 

"I…I brought you here as a gift but just realized–" I sighed and ran my hand over my head. "This was more of a gift for me than you. I was being selfish bringing you here. I thought it'd be nice to get away and be like we used to but this doesn't mean much to you." 

"Sam, this is good. This is fun," Finn said firmly. "I'm having fun." 

The tightness in my chest loosened. "Really?"

"I'm not a good liar just yet," he reminded me with a smile. 

"True." I laughed in agreement and leaned over to bait my hook. Finn did the same, listening to my instructions on how to do it. He watched me toss the line in before mimicking my motion. 

"I have something else for you," I announced once our hooks had sunk. "You didn't get to earn your last badges because, like the other guys at school, you thought Boy Scouts were dorky." 

"Really?" Finn's forehead furrowed as if he was disappointed in himself. 

"Yeah, but I kept coming to hang out with Meyers," I said. "Got a couple more badges until he got sick." 

"Is he…" Finn paused, not sure how to finish. 

"He's fine," I quickly confirmed. "Lives in Florida now with his granddaughter." 

Finn nodded, relieved for a man he didn't remember but would forever be tied to through me. 

"I got him to send over the badges you didn't get to earn." I dug through my bag and pulled them out. I'd wrapped each one in green and red striped paper. They were misshaped and poorly taped up presents but Finn accepted them like they were precious pieces of gold. 

"You can't open them yet," I reminded him. Lincoln wanted all of us to open them together. Since a fishing trip couldn't be wrapped, I figured it was best to do it before Christmas. But, the tangible gifts were to be kept for later. 

"But you when do–" I shrugged and laughed, feeling silly all of a sudden. "--we could finish earning them together. Like, gradually, throughout the year when we have time. I already have mine so I could make sure to teach you how to do it. Teach you in a way I'm sure Meyers will be proud–at least, I hope. You could finally fill up your sash–even though it's probably collecting dust in your family's basement and you don't care like that. But lately, you've been really into renovating the house and you look like you used to when we were kids." 

"That's why I like doing it," Finn said as he took a deep breath. "I think the muscle memory part of me liked figuring out the practical." 

I smiled. "I think so too. It's a part of you." 

"This was perfect, Sam. I…thank you." Finn looked back down at his badges, which now felt like pieces of himself he didn't know were missing. "I can't wait to earn these with you." 

"Not too dorky anymore, is it?" I teased. 

He shook his head. "Not in the slightest." 

We were quiet for a moment, enjoying the sun's heat as it crawled up in the sky and the warm tea that I'd accidentally put too much sugar in. The fish never bit. Finn never remembered Meyers on his own. But none of that mattered. We were happy. We were once again on track to earn badges. Once again trying to figure shit out together. 

[emeraldiis]

Cross Country Love Affair // Montana (10)

A/N: fuck it 2 chapters in 2 days

CCLA Masterlist

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary:  Bucky makes your blood boil like no other man can. In a twisted turn of events, the two of you are stuck on a road trip from hell. This fic follows Bucky and the reader from Florida all the way to Washington state. Nothing like being trapped in a car for fifty hours to break the ice. Distance makes the heart grow fonder. Or something like that.

Warnings:  canon typical violence, enemies to lovers, eventual smut, recreational drug use

It was nearly midnight when you finally pulled off the road in Montana. Sam’s new rule meant no motels, so you had to settle for some abandoned campsite just a few miles from the highway. It had everything you needed: a bathroom, cover from the road, and…well, that was pretty much it. The rocky ground bounced the van to and fro and you eased it to the back of the clearing, until finally throwing it in park and leaning back in your seat with a sigh.

Bucky was the first one out of the van, stretching his legs and wandering around the site. You waited a moment before following him, making a beeline to the bathroom. You didn’t have to pee that bad, really, but you needed a bit of space from Bucky and his piercing stare. Your mind was still in shambles from what he’d said hours ago, reeling from the unexpected confession. It wasn’t a confession, you reminded yourself again. He wasn’t being serious, it was more an off handed comment if anything. 

The bathroom was little more than a toilet seat over a hole in the ground, and you let your disgust distract you from your swirling emotions. There was no mirror, either, so you settled for using your phone camera to brush your hair through your fingers and rub your eyes. You’d been driving so long that your vision was swimming. Bucky had offered to switch a few times, but you’d declined under the guise of needing something to keep you occupied. It wasn’t exactly far from the truth; being alone with your thoughts right now wouldn’t do you any good.

When you emerged from the bathroom, Bucky was still pacing the clearing. “Stretching my legs,” he mumbled when you gave him a questioning glance. 

You nodded and let him be, walking over to the back of the van and pulling open the double doors. You grimaced at the slight musty smell and climbed in, then delicately picked up one of the blankets and gave it a sniff. To your relief, it actually smelled alright, and you couldn’t see any suspicious stains anywhere. 

“The back isn’t actually that gross,” you called out to Bucky. He paused and walked back, peering in.

“We’re going to catch so many diseases sleeping back here,” he said, eyeing the old blankets with distaste.

You shrugged and moved aside so he could hop in. You’d had worse. It wasn’t as cramped as it seemed, thankfully. You were able to sit down against one of the side walls and stretch your legs out. Bucky slumped down across from you, his legs parallel to yours.

“I wish we could turn the fairy lights on,” you said, casting a wistful glance at the string of lights crisscrossing the walls. The moonlight shining through the back window was more than enough to keep your bearings, but you had to squint to see Bucky’s face across the van.

Bucky shook his head at you. “It’d drain the battery, not a good idea.” He sounded exhausted, a rough growl to his voice that made your stomach flip. 

You grabbed a blanket to stretch it out beneath you, but something small caught your eye as it tumbled out of the blanket and to the ground. Hands reaching out, you bent low and narrowed your eyes, searching for the mystery object. Your fingers closed around a thin white tube. Oh, fucking jackpot.

With a mock cheer, you held your prize up, eyeing it with delight. “This is the best day ever.”

Bucky eyed the joint in your hand and twisted his mouth in disapproval. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on,” you whined, sounding like a spoiled child and not caring at all. “What’s the harm? This place is way safer than the motel.” You knew he was right, it was a bad idea. But you needed some stress relief, lest you turn back into the grumpy sourpuss that came out when you were tired.

He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. “I’m not saving you if we get jumped and you’re too high to fight.” A beat. “And you don’t even know what’s in th—ugh!”

You had shoved the joint directly under his nose, catching him off guard. “Go on,” you goaded with a small laugh. “Use your super soldier nose, what’s in this joint? Anything sketchy?”

Bucky’s eyes flew open and he glared at you, eyes glinting in the dark. “I’m not a drug dog,” he trailed off, then sighed after taking a small sniff. “God dammit. It’s actually fine, there’s only weed in there. Bit stale, though.”

With a shout of glee, you tore the joint away from Bucky’s face and shoved your hand into your jacket pocket. “Come on, I know I have a lighter here somewhere,” you mumbled to yourself. Finally feeling your fingers close around cold plastic, you whipped out the lighter and angled it in front of the joint. “Don’t tell Sam.”

“Whatever.” Bucky watched as you brought the joint to your lips, lighting it and taking a long drag. His face screwed up when you purposefully blew the smoke at him. 

The satisfying pull of smoke into your lungs felt almost orgasmic. You didn’t even cough, just sighed long and low and relaxed back onto the wall. “You want some?” You asked. Even if Bucky wasn’t capable of getting high, you figured it’d be rude not to offer.

He looked torn. His eyes flickered back and forth between the joint and your lips, until finally he groaned. “Fuck it, give it here.” You smiled giddily as you passed it over. Bucky closed his eyes and took a drag, letting the smoke billow out of his mouth before inhaling it through his nose.

“Who taught you how to French inhale?” Your mouth was open in a dumb look of surprise. It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, but here you were, blood rushing between your legs as you reached for the joint again.

Bucky shrugged and smirked at you, like he was completely aware of what he was doing to you.. “I’ve been alive over a hundred years, I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“No kidding,” you mumbled, taking another hit before passing it back.

When the joint grew too small to hold and your vision grew hazy, you snuffed it out on the van floor and tossed it to the side. “Holy fuck,” you said, dragging your hands across your face. Your tongue felt heavy. “I’m so high.”

Bucky snickered. “Weak ass.”

You tried to glare at him, but it was like you were moving through thick soup. Every movement was slow. And it felt amazing. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel anything.” 

With an exasperated huff, Bucky thought for a moment before finally admitting, “Okay, maybe a little.” He grinned and tilted his head back, closing his eyes again. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

You took a moment to admire him, his skin almost glowing in the low moonlight. He looked more relaxed than you’d see him in days, legs splayed out in front of him and neck stretched in a way that made you want to bite it. A blush rose to your cheeks as you tried and failed to turn your eyes away from him. Was it just the high, or did his lap always look so comfortable? 

Bucky snapped his head up to look at you. Ah, shit. You must’ve said that out loud. “You’re fuckin’ high,” he said, then snorted out a laugh. 

“It’s true, though,” you tried to defend yourself. “You got these, these huge ass super soldier thighs, and they look a hell of a lot more comfortable than the van floor.” You set your jaw, refusing to let yourself speak anymore. Turned out you couldn’t trust yourself not to ramble when you smoked, noted.

As your eyes adjusted more and more to the low light, you could see the red ring around Bucky’s irises. His eyelids had sunken down until he was staring at you from under his lashes, and fuck if that didn’t do things to you. “C’mere, then.”

Wait. Had he actually invited you to sit on his lap, or had you imagined it? You were convinced you were going to make an ass out of yourself before the night was over, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when Bucky was looking at you expectantly and crooking a finger, beckoning you closer.

Swallowing hard, you crawled the short distance until you were kneeling in front of him. “I’m too high for you to fuck with me right now, Barnes,” you warned. Part of you buzzed with anxiety at the thought that this could end up as a repeat of the earlier incident, but the way Bucky’s tongue flicked out to drag across his bottom lip told you otherwise.

“I said, come here,” he drawled as he took hold of your hips and pulled until you were straddling his lap. 

You were stunned into silence. Your heart raced and you desperately searched for something to say, anything to break the tension. It would’ve been so much easier if Bucky would stop staring at you like that. Like he wanted so much more than just your weight on his legs. 

He grinned lazily and eased his grip on your waist, fingers playing idly with the fabric of your shirt. “You’re so cute when you’re not insulting me,” he murmured.

“You’re high,” you said dumbly. It was the only thing you could think to say. You needed to take back control of the situation somehow, but you had no idea how. He had you wrapped around his finger like some sort of blushing virgin.

His voice was barely more than a breath when he replied. “So are you.” Slowly, his hands left your hips to trail over your thighs, the touch sending sparks up your skin. You watched suspiciously as his eyes flickered down to your lips, then back up, then down again. “Fuck,” he cursed softly. “This is a bad idea.”

You couldn’t keep up. “What’s a bad id—mm.” You were cut off as Bucky sat up to press his lips into yours. Your brain short circuited as you froze, mouth still against his as your head spun. Feeling your hesitation, he began to pull away, but your hands flying up to his hair held him in place. You decided to throw caution and feelings to the wind as you finally melded your lips to his and kissed him back with fervor.

Bucky groaned softly and leaned in closer, fingers digging into the fabric of your jeans as you kissed each other breathless.

It was all too much. The slick glide of his mouth, the strands of his hair tangled in your fingers, the daze of the high still amplifying your senses. You broke away and gasped for air, eyes wide and wild. As good as it felt, you knew that if the two of you were sober, this would never be happening. “We should stop.” It pained you to say, but it was the responsible decision.

“I don’t want to stop,” Bucky murmured as he ducked his head to nuzzle beneath your jaw. “Feels good.” 

You wanted to give in. You wanted so badly to forget everything from the past few days, but you couldn’t. Not when neither of you were in your right mind, when you’d be back at each other’s throats as soon as the smoke faded from your head. 

But it was more than that. Kissing Bucky had felt so right, and you knew that going any further would send you reeling into a hole that you weren’t sure you could climb out of. You couldn’t just be one of Bucky’s hookups, you couldn’t go back to normal if this didn’t stop right the hell now.

Heart aching, you untangled your hands from his hair and placed a hand on his chest, gently pushing him back. “Bucky.” you said softly but insistently. “No.”

He pulled away instantly, blue eyes wide and confused and hurt. It made your chest tighten, but you steeled your resolve. “But I thought,” he bit his lip and furrowed his eyebrows. “Did I read this wrong?”

With a heavy sigh, you clambered off of his lap and back to your side of the van. Now that you weren’t pressed against him, it was easier to think clearly, to arrange your thoughts in a way that made almost-sense. “I-it’s nice, but I can’t. We’re both high. Tomorrow we’ll go back to hating each other and, and I don’t want to make things worse. This just isn’t right.” You took a deep breath before dealing the final blow. “I don’t want this.”

“Yeah.” Bucky looked down at the floor, jaw clenched and face set in a stony expression. “Yeah, okay.” He grabbed a blanket from the pile and pulled it up, leaning back against the wall for a final time. “‘Night.”

The van fell silent. You knew he was upset. You were, too. But it was easier to pretend like your body wasn’t aching for his, easier to keep things the way they were. Slowly but oh so surely, you were falling for Bucky. It was entirely against your will, but all the feelings of hate and anger were dissolving into something far more intense, and that terrified you. You wouldn’t give him the chance to hurt you. You couldn’t.

Feeling empty and cold as you pulled your own blanket tight around you, you closed your eyes and let the heavy silence and lingering exhausting pull you into a dreamless sleep.

[romanarose]

"Take Your Time" Chapter 1 sneak peak.

Frankie Morales X Fem!Oc

HEAD WARNINGS like all my fics it gets dark.

Intro: Hello everyone! As promised to my Leather and Lace readers, here is the start to Frankie's story. This takes place in the same universe as Leather and Lace, but IT IS NOT NECCECARY TO READ BEFORE THIS ONE! Any OC's will be properly introduced, and you will know anything you need to know within THIS STORY. I would say it's better if you read LaL, but all 4 stories that will be within my "TF Romanaverse" will be able to be read on their own or together. So if only one or two stories interest you, or maybe one stories content is too triggering, you can just read what you want! However, all together, they will form a cohesive storyline. Consider it like Bridgerton or AHS.

Summary: Jana, Frankie's ex and baby momma, gets a call from Frankie late at night.

WARNINGS: Drinking, mentions of cocaine, addiction recovery, worries about relapse, blood, self-harm.

**************

Answering the phone at midnight, Jana already swung both legs over the bed and began pulling socks on. “Frankie? What’s going on?”

“M’sorry. Woke you.” Frankie’s slurred voice replied.

“No, you didn’t, the shelter had me on overnights last week, remember?” Frankie had Rosie, their daughter, most of the week, albeit they stayed with Santi and Laci. While Frankie’s recovery was going well, Jana was still nervous with overnights and several days in a row, worried it might overwhelm him. Laci watched Rosie when Frankie worked, and if both were busy, Santi had taken her, impressing Laci very much with his skills with the toddler.

“Sorry” Frankie repeated. “Everyone else is gone. Didn’t know who else to call.”

 “You can always call me, Francisco. What did you take?”

“Jus’ whiskey right now, but that’s why m’callin’ you” 

Phone to her ear, she carefully bundled up a sleeping Rosa in a few blankets, the mild Florida winter making for less of a need for a full coat, especially when she’d have to take it off to buckle her into the car seat anyway. “Whiskey we can work with, honey.” Quickly, Jana back tracked as she headed out the door. “We can work if you relapse too, okay? Never be afraid to call me or the guys, we’re always here for you.”

 Jana had gone back and forth with her feelings on Santi for a number of years, mostly when she was still dating Frankie. Frankies would follow that man to the end of the earth, and pretty much had. That trip to Columbia had been the nail in the coffin for a relationship already strained from addiction, and Jana held it against Santiago for a long time. In more recent times, however, she’s come to see him as an ally for Frankie, Santi and his girl, Laci, as well as Will and Benny had all pulled together this last year as Francisco tried to sober up for perhaps the first real time. Although Jana was not with Frankie anymore, she would always love him. They hadn’t broken up for lack of love, or even for lack of trying, but for the things coke can do to a person, especially a person who recently came into a shit ton of money and nothing to do when his daughter is gone but get high.

“I’m waking Rosa” He sounded sleepy.

“No,” Jana couldn’t help but laugh, looking at her curly-haired daughter, out cold in the car seat. “That girl started sleeping through the night at one month old, she’s a miracle child”

“Yeah. Yeah she is. She deserves someone better.”

She got in the car, hooking up the phone to the speaker. “You’re a good dad, Frankie, a great dad. I’ve never seen a man play dolls with a kid for 2 hours straight, she adores you. You just need a little help”

“Yeah” It was quiet.

“Frank, hey, don’t fucking go to sleep, we’ll be right there.”

“Don’t wan’ her t’see me like this”

“She won’t, I promise. What room are you in?”

“Bathroom”

“Okay, I’ll lay her down in her crib before I even come to the bathroom alright?

“Promise?”

“As long as you stay awake, yes.”

“Fine”

“Fine”

Wanting to make sure she paid attention to the road, her nighttime eyesight not the best, Jana didn’t talk much, only when she thought he was falling asleep. She parked on the wrong side of the road, quickly grabbing Rose (how did this child sleep so much?), calling to Frankie she was here, and laid her down in the crib as promised. Her room at her uncle Santi’s had a toddler bed, as she was quickly growing, taking after her dad, but this would do fine in a pinch. With her heart about to burst out of her chest, she ran into the bathroom, expecting to find him puking or passed out on the floor. Instead, to her horror, she found him in his underwear, slumped up against the tub and the wall, blood on his arms and legs.

“Frank!”

****************

I'm going to try and finish Sunshine, Starlight, Sweetheart, Brightside this week, then get more of Take Your Time done, hopefully out this weekend, unless I can pick up some shifts. In the mean time, maybe check out Leather and Lace if it interests you. Not to brag, but although my readership is small, the readers are v passionate and I'm v proud of my work!

If not, here is a playlist I've started working on for this series! check it out to start to get the vibes, and if you have any songs that give you frankie morales energy, or for readers of LaL, give you Jana Fernandez energy, let me know!

Comment if you'd like to join the taglist!

[courtofmuses]

@shatterxdsouls​​  →  ✉ [ TRIP ] for our muses to take a road trip

ੈ✩‧₊˚   ---   THEY   WERE   ONLY   A   FEW   HOURS   INTO   THEIR   ROADTRIP   and   Eddie   was   already   itching   for   one   of   the   snacks   that   were   in   a   bag   in   the   back   of   the   van.   Steve   was   in   the   passenger   seat   next   to   him   and   Billy   was   sat   on   the   floor   between   both   of   their   seats.   This   wasn't   a   trip   they'd   spent   too   much   time   planning,   really.   They'd   been   chatting   one   night   and   a   couple   of   days   later   they   were   packing   up   their   clothes   and   other   essentials   into   Eddie's   van   and   they   were   off.   They   had   a   map   of   the   continent   with   places   they   wanted   to   visit   circled   in   red   marker.   They   were   basically   relying   on   Steve's   parents'   money   (and   their   lack   of   paying   any   attention   to   their   son)   to   fund   this   trip.   They   were   going   from   Indiana   to   Florida   to   California.   They   had   places   they   wanted   to   see,   and   things   they   wanted   to   do   together.   The   nicest   thing   was   the   fact   it   was   only   going   to   be   them.   No   other   people,   no   distractions,   no   bullshit   stuff   with   Henry   Creel.   He'd   never   been   more   excited   for   something   in   his   life.   

❝   Can   you   dig   out   the   Twizzlers?   ❞   he   asked,   glancing   up   ino   the   rearview   mirror   so   he   could   make   eye   contact   with   Billy.   ❝   And   grab   a   Coke   out   of   the   cooler?   ❞   He   grinned   as   the   other   man   rolled   his   eyes   but   then   began   to   dig   through   the   bag   for   the   candy   he'd   asked   for.   ❝   Where   are   we   going   first?   Which   state?   Which   landmark?   Can't   remmeber.   ❞

❝   It's   because   you   were   half   asleep   last   night   when   we   made   these   plans,   ❞   Billy   retorted,   passing   the   now   opened   pack   of   Twizzlers   over   the   back   of   the   seat   for   Eddie.   ❝   We're   going   to   Tennessee   first,   remember?   ❞   A   vaguely   annoyed   sigh   left   him   and   his   glance   turned   to   Steve.   ❝   We're   seriously   going   to   let   him   drive   and   he   doesn't   even   know   where   the   fuck   we're   going?   ❞   He   wasn't   actually   mad,   even   if   he   did   think   one   of   his   boyfriends   was   a   complete   dunce   at   times.   ❝   You   better   be   a   good   navigator,   Harrington.   ❞   

The   plan   was   for   the   three   of   them   to   take   turns   driving   and   navigating,   and   when   it   got   late   or   they   got   tired,   they'd   crash   in   the   back   of   the   van.   They'd   gotten   a   later   start   than   they'd   wanted   but   Billy   was   pretty   sure   they   would   at   least   make   it   to   the   Tennessee   state   line   before   it   got   too   late.   Once   they   made   it   to   I-75   it   would   be   smooth   sailing.   

[huntsvillehq]

Someone is missing! MIRANA DIAZ (ana de armas) is looking for their BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND. Please, if you see them, you must contact @ofenigmas. We’re all extremely worried.

Name: UTP

Age: 33-40

Town/Commune: UTP

Resident/Visitor: VISITOR

Faceclaim Suggestions: REGE JEAN PAGE, DANIEL SHARMAN, SAM CLAFLIN, CHARLES MICHAEL DAVIS, UTP

Further Information (required): He wasn't even invited on Mirana's beach road trip from NYC to Florida (something she reminded him of constantly on the trip), but her brother Julian was his closest friend, and had somehow managed to convince him. Unfortunately, a weeklong trip has turned into, well, hell. Not only has he been trapped in Huntsville since 2019, but he lost Julian in 2020. Now he's left with no one but his best friend's sister and two people he barely knows. The worst part? She seems content to pretend he doesn't exist! He could be glad of this, blaming her for their misfortune, feel like he has to keep her out of danger for Julian's sake, or maybe he's forced his way into living with them because he knows no one else. Anything goes!

[beingbethunes]

We are on the road again where to now?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZMjypnJm7Wc In today's Vlog we are on the road again! This is the our last summer road trip. We are departing Taos, New Mexico, and making the 5 hour drive north to Denver, Colorado! Ben ended up staying an extra week in Florida, so we had to make one last drive to Denver International Airport to pick him up! 🔔 Want to see what bus life is really like? Subscribe for travel vlogs, family fun, tips on full-time bus life, and the challenges & rewards of nomadic living! https://www.youtube.com/@Beingbethunes/?sub_confirmation=1 🔗 Stay Connected With Us. 👉 Facebook: https://ift.tt/MZgRBbJ 👉 Instagram: https://ift.tt/L8CxIrg 👉 Website: https://ift.tt/T1W0Qvy 📩 For Business Inquiries: jenn@redwhiteandbethune.com ============================= 🎬 Recommended Playlists 👉 Red White and Bethune Video Collection https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLbsa419fPMaUDRazUO42e5qP7MzRzNt6T 👉 Shorts- Red, White, and Bethune https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLbsa419fPMaVlPa60lmj59dc5Dmf5mMoz 🎬 WATCH OUR OTHER VIDEOS: 👉 Homestead Projects, New Deli Lunch & Jenn's Big Fall - Family Vlog | BeingBethunes.com https://youtu.be/cmdpwi_6uv0?si=YIhV0Lb4bCTJxviR 👉 Daily Life In Our Bus: Taos Errands & Dining Room Makeover - Family Vlog | BeingBethunes.com https://youtu.be/8iH81YWwujg?si=KAOePsTrtSqBSCeq 👉 Our Longest Road Trip Ever: Final Day Of Van Life - Family Vlog | BeingBethunes.com https://youtu.be/-Vjiv_B63dU?si=L0BbSCBwIGEw9V4M 👉 Living In A Van With PTSD: Our Toughest Day On The Road | BeingBethunes.com https://youtu.be/cO7sZ00Mdk4?si=WgSI9uiyGPaUIteh 👉 Escape The Heat In Leadville, Colorado: Best Van Life Camping & Hidden Gems | BeingBethunes.com https://youtu.be/BBrxfgTsaus?si=tCe6f7U0Fl7e8niZ ============================= ✅ About Being Bethunes. Welcome to Being Bethunes! We’re a family of 5 with 4 dogs, living our dream on the road in our vintage bus, Blue Betty. In August 2019, we sold our Florida dream home to embrace full-time travel across the U.S. The pandemic sped up our plans, and we quickly adapted to life on the road. Four years later, we’re still exploring the country as full-time nomads, sharing adventures, challenges, and the joy of living free through travel vlogs. From discovering new places and spending quality time together to simple living in New Mexico, we’re all about making memories. Join us for tips on bus living, travel experiences, and the ups and downs of nomadic life! For Collaboration and Business inquiries, please use the contact information below: 📩 Email: jenn@redwhiteandbethune.com 🔔 Curious about nomadic life in a vintage bus? Subscribe for family fun travel vlogs and tips on full-time bus living, challenges, and making lasting memories! https://www.youtube.com/@Beingbethunes/?sub_confirmation=1 ================================= #denver #Travelfamily #fulltimervfamily ⚠️ DISCLAIMER: We do not accept any liability for any loss or damage incurred from you acting or not acting as a result of watching any of our publications. You acknowledge that you use the information we provide at your own risk. Do your research. Copyright Notice: This video and our YouTube channel contain dialogue, music, and images that are the property of Being Bethunes. You are authorized to share the video link and channel and embed this video in your website or others as long as a link back to our YouTube channel is provided. © Being Bethunes via Being Bethunes https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCcpfi5cDAJ23oJ7nkwx9FXQ September 08, 2024 at 06:00PM

[j-graysonlibrary]

Heartbeats; Paradise XVIII

Title: Heartbeats; Paradise

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 112K

Genres: Psychological thriller, drama, sci-fi, LGBT+

Available on: Kobo and my website

Synopsis: Melvin Hardy and Kade Axel appear to be a match made in heaven. After a meet-cute in the rain, the two quickly find themselves in a burgeoning, wholesome relationship.

Yet, things feel…off. It isn’t the ghosts of their pasts that resurface to test the strength of their partnership—no—it’s something nebulous. Something indescribable. Melvin can’t put his finger on it but, the more time he spends with Kade, the more he starts to wonder what’s real and what’s pure fiction. 

XVIII:

Cameron is away at college and I suppose it’s something like empty nest syndrome that rears its head. But, before Gavin and I swing by the local animal shelter to make a life altering decision, we decide to have a road trip the likes of which we always talked about but never committed to.

We may be old now (especially according to our son and his hip, young peers) but we aren’t dead. And a lot of items still remain on that bucket list we drafted during our first year of dating—back in ye old high school days.

Our goal is to drive all the way down the east coast, stopping in Florida to see some tourist spots, and then come back. We have some other interesting stops along the way ranging from a bigfoot museum in Georgia to a hotel on the ocean in North Carolina.

I’m looking forward to a lot of our stops, even as I struggle to stay awake in the passenger seat.

It’s still early but at least the sun is starting to come out. We have the radio playing softly and, as I flutter my eyes closed occasionally, I hone in on the music. An oldies station is playing. It’s some rock band from the early two thousands. I remember my uncle really being into them back in the day.

“Getting to be about time to stop,” I hear Gavin mumble to himself.

I crack open an eye and peer over. The tank is almost empty and we’ve barely gone far from home. We’re in the next state, sure, but considering how much farther there is to go and how long it’s scheduled to take us to get to our first stop, it’s not an impressive distance.

But, I suppose, that’s also what we get for breaking out the old gas guzzler from the back of our garage.

Cameron has one of our electric cars and the other is too nice to take for a road trip—Gavin spent years saving up for it. Plus there’s a more plain, aesthetic reason in that the gas car just looks like the type of car one should road trip in.

We’ve got to be one of the few people who even still own a gas car, I think as Gavin cranes his head at the next exit sign, looking for gas stations nearby. I know they still exist—I see them sometimes in town. They’re always empty, yes, but they’re there.

“Ah ha,” Gavin keeps his voice down as he finds one. He must think I’m still asleep so he’s just talking to himself. “Now, to see if they’re open…”

I smile to myself and lazily watch the scenery pass me by.

The sun may be out but everything is a pale gray color. Many of the trees remain barren but some have the first signs of spring nestled in little buds and bright green leaves dotting their branches. I feel cold just by looking outside.

There is no one at the gas station, as expected, but there hadn’t really been anyone on the road either. It’s about time most people are headed to work so I’m surprised to see so little traffic.

Gavin mentions it as he pulls in as well. “Empty, huh?”

I finally rise, letting him know I’m awake but I stretch my arms up as if I’ve just emerged from a restful slumber. I can feel his eyes on me as he parks by a pump.

“Sleep well?” He asks with a smirk.

“Just a little nap.” I shrug.

Gavin nods and turns the key, shutting off the car. He glances from me to the building. “Should we grab some snacks? Coffee?”

That doesn’t sound too bad—especially the coffee. I nod and already start thinking about what I want. “I wonder if they’ll have those big cookies.”

“I can check,” my husband offers, his grin growing in size.

“I’ll pump gas then,” I say.

We accept our assignments and I, begrudgingly, leave the warmth of the car. It’s actually not as cold as I had thought but my cheeks are hit by a brisk wind and I shiver. I check behind me, out of instinct, to watch Gavin head into the shop.

It’s just us out here so there’s nothing to be concerned about, I remind myself. I keep my head down, blocking out as much of the wind as I can while I get the pump set up.

I lock in the lever and then promptly tuck my hands into my jacket. The screen on the gas pump plays some movie from early 2020 and I smile in fond remembrance. I actually recall seeing it with my mother when I was in middle school.

The nozzle clicks, letting me know I’m done so I risk the chilly air to put it up and close the tank on the car. I give the old girl a little pat in appreciation and then stare over the top of her to see if I can spot Gavin inside the store.

The glass is too dark to tell and I let out a sigh before allowing my eyes to wander. The area we stopped in is pretty barren—a few shops are down the street but, directly behind the gas station there is a grassy knoll and, seemingly, endless woods. I’m sure there’s a road through the other side of the trees but it gives the illusion of wilderness.

At the top of the hill, I catch sight of what I think is a bird at first. My eyes narrow as it barely moves, suspended in the air. If it is a bird, I think, it’s, for one, huge, and two, in trouble. But as I continue to stare, I get less and less convinced it’s anything living.

I get more curious, however.

Gavin is taking his sweet time getting us snacks and coffee and I’m already outside in the cold, I may as well have an adventure of my own. It’s not that far anyway—if I can easily see it from the car then Gavin will be able to easily see me when he comes out.

I step onto the grass, hearing a satisfying crunch under my boot. A few real birds fly from a nearby tree to one in the distance and I guess I disturbed them. “Sorry,” I mumble under my breath as I carry on.

The hill is much steeper than it looks and my thighs burn by the time I make it to the top. I’m really out of shape. All those jokes Gavin and I keep making about needing gym memberships are starting to seem less funny now.

I take a deep inhale, the cold air burning my lungs.

“Geez,” I huff and take a few more breaths to try and calm my heart down, “At least going back will be easier…”

I let out a final, loud exhale and then train my eyes on the phenomenon that brought me over in the first place. The strange object floating in midair.

It’s still bird shaped—kind of—or at least I can see how I mistook it from a distance. The actual shape, now that I’m in front of it, is impossible to say. It’s got a lot of edges and nothing looks like anything I’ve seen before and, when I move from side to side, it goes from looking dark to light and, sometimes, metallic.

I’m tempted to call it alien.

“Liam?!” Gavin’s voice reaches me and I look back toward the car. He’s holding a bag of snacks and a travel tray of coffee.

I wave him over dramatically and I can tell he’s laughing by how he moves. But he sets everything on the roof of the car and starts to head my way.

“It’s a steep hill!” I shout out as he begins the climb.

About halfway I can already see him regretting his decision. “No kidding…”

I chuckle and help him up when he gets close enough. I let him catch his breath, knowing how tough the climb is myself. And, when he’s better, I point to the strange, floating object. “Do you see this?”

Gavin scrunches his face as he leans forward to get a better view. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly before reaching my hand out. “Should I touch it?”

My husband snickers. “Why not?”

I grin and press my index finger to it’s surface. Only, there is no surface.

As I begin to pass through the object, I try to pull my hand back but it’s already too late. Gavin must see the look of concern flash over my face because he grabs me almost immediately.

And, in the next instant, we’re somewhere new entirely.

It’s not cold anymore, I notice that, and it’s much brighter and more colorful. I’m also sitting rather than standing and, under my palm, there is greener grass that’s a little wet but I think that’s due to how much moisture is in the air.

I look to my side to see my husband, throwing his head back and forth, taking in the strange scenery. “What in the..?”

“Did you not see what happened?” I guess based off of his reaction.

His head snaps to me. “Did you?”

I shake my head. “No…”

We stand up and start to walk slowly around this place. A bird flies in front of my face, squawking as it goes and my heart starts beating like crazy in my chest. I rub my hand over my sternum and frown. If this is some weird hallucination, it’s lasting too long for my liking.

“Did we get…teleported…somewhere?” Gavin asks as we part the huge, tropical leaves that hang down and block our path.

I frown. “That’s not possible.”

“Well…?” He gestures around at our surroundings. I see his point but I know there must be some, more reasonable, explanation.

We were just at a gas station, topping off for our road trip—this doesn’t fit.

I hang my head and don’t respond. I don’t have anything to say and I keep hoping that I’ll wake up and be back in the car. That would make sense.

Gavin pushes past the last bit of foliage and we are met with a wide open space. I can see a rock formation far into the distance and I hear the flow of water but I can’t find the source. A few more birds fly overhead and there is a faint rainbow in the sky.

The strangest thing, however, is the humongous plant in the center of the field. The roots of it stretch out in all directions and are as thick around as my torso while the stem is as wide as our car. An even larger, red blossom rests at the top and, because of it’s massive weight (I’m guessing), it rests on the ground.

I look toward Gavin and see a very complex combination of expressions on his face ranging from confusion to wonder and, finally, to horror. More than likely, I would guess my face looks the same.

“What…in the hell?” he mutters under his breath.

As if activated by sound, the flower begins to move. I stumble backward, nearly tripping and falling due to the roots all around us. I throw my arms out and catch myself but I have no time to celebrate the small victories—not when such a monstrosity is rising up in front of us.

The blossom points down toward us as if looking at us. As illogical as it is, I get the feeling that’s exactly what’s going on.

“You do not have permission to be here,” a voice booms from the plant.

If logic wasn’t out the window before, it is now.

I feel my body begin to tremble as I stare up at this red bud that’s now, inexplicably, talking. I have no idea how to respond—if I’m even capable of doing so.

This must be a dream.

It has to be.

As real as this fear feels, I can’t wrap my mind around the possibility of this actually happening.

“You…talk?” Gavin finally manages to squeak out.

The flower ignores my husband and asks, “How did you come upon this place?”

I try to answer—I want to—but nothing comes out. Thankfully, Gavin is able to talk for the both of us.

“We found this weird floating object and touched it. Next thing we knew, we were here.”

The flower makes a low rumbling sound as it moves about again. I feel the ground shift under me and I glance down, only for a second, to see some of the roots twitching and pulling.

I fear this thing is irate with us for some reason.

“A tear in the reality…?” The plant’s “voice” lowers as if it’s thinking aloud.

“Look, we don’t want to be here,” Gavin has a tremor in his words. I look at him and see how stiff his body has become. He’s terrified. “If you could show us the way out…”

That rumbling sound grows louder and I’m nearly thrown off balance again. “You have committed a great sin by coming here. It cannot go without punishment.”

My heart stops and I can’t make myself move even though I’m screaming at my body to start running. Whatever this thing is…it’s dangerous. But no matter how much I acknowledge that, I’m glued to my spot.

Gavin isn’t though.

He runs over and throws his arms out, using himself as a shield in front of me. “You won’t hurt, Liam! Just send us back!”

“You wish to fight me?” The flower asks and rises higher into the sky. The stem looks almost serpentine as it winds upward and, as I think that, I’m reminded of the roots around us.

Finally, I’m able to move and I lift my feet up as the roots attempt to circle around my ankles. “Gavin! Watch out!” I shout as I leap to the side.

He turns around to look at me, his mouth parted to respond to me but no words come out.

Blood does though.

My eyes widen and a scream sticks in my throat but doesn’t leave me. I trail down his body and see a bright green tendril protruding from my husband’s stomach.

Gavin winces and, slowly, reaches out for me.

I throw my hand out to try to grab him and our fingers touch but the flower doesn’t allow us more than that. Gavin is flung across the field—his body bouncing up from impact and rolling even farther away.

I watch him, mortified.

This can’t be real, I keep chanting in my mind, hoping to force myself to wake up.

That low rumbling is the only thing that gets my attention back on the flower. I don’t really want to look at it but my instincts are screaming at me to keep fighting despite my will leaving my body.

I stare up at the blood red petals, closed into a bulb, and I see a glint of light shining from within. It’s all I have time to notice before a vine screams through the air and I’m on the ground.

Red floods all around me and I zero in on my legs which are a shocking distance away from me.

I can no longer deny this as reality—it definitely hurts enough to be real.

And that’s the last thought I have.

[pashterlengkap]

Marine scientist leads shark expeditions in drag & performs shows on research boats

A drag queen who loves marine science has found a creative way to combine her two passions through a conservation project called “Drag ‘n Tag.” Miss Toto’s annual Drag ‘n Tag boat expeditions involve shark-tagging, fundraising, and drag performances. She conceived of the idea with her friend Jake, a scientist, and the Miami marine organization Field School helped make their dream a reality. Related: LGBTQ+ bar turns to GoFundMe to keep doors open & gets an outpouring of support They faced issues with permits, but the community pulled through for them.  “In the morning, we’ll go out to whatever destination that we’re going to, and it usually is me and two or three other drag performers, drag kings, drag queens, whoever I’m able to ask,” Miss Toto told Attitude. She explained that the team then briefs guests on “the science behind all the research that we’re doing, because the data collection aspect actually is being used for science.” Never Miss a Beat Subscribe to our daily newsletter to stay ahead of the latest LGBTQ+ political news and insights. Then, while waiting for sharks, it’s time for the drag shows. And if it wasn’t enough to combine drag and marine research, the money from the trips also goes to Florida’s Pride Lines organization to benefit LGBTQ+ youth. Miss Toto hopes her love of the sea can inspire other marginalized folks with similar interests. “Since I was a kid, I always wanted to be a marine scientist, but I just never saw Black people in this space. And I never saw out queer people in this space. So, I was like, ‘This is not for me.’ But if you can see me and then find something relatable in that hopefully can inspire you to keep pushing in science, keep being loud and being yourself, and being expressive about who you are.” In an Instagram post celebrating 2023’s Drag ‘n Tag, Miss Toto called it her “favorite event to ever exist.” View this post on Instagram A post shared by MISS TOTO CLERMONT DION ♡ (@themisstoto) Now living in Chicago, Miss Toto can’t go on as many boating expeditions as she wishes she could, but she still dreams of a future in which drag and marine science go hand in hand. “Maybe one day down the road I will fall back on my science career and my master’s, but my ultimate goal is to be able to do a Steve Irwin-type show with wildlife and sharks, but with me as a drag queen.” Her goal is to continue to infuse queerness into the space. “It can be hard for queer people in this field,” Catherine Macdonald, Field School director, told Scientific American last year. “Plenty of them are very quiet about it. We want to create welcoming spaces for visual queerness.” Miss Toto added, “Marine science, and especially shark science, is a very white male path. So showing that there are people of color, there are women [and] there are queer people is important.” http://dlvr.it/T3CX12

[lucygraysboy]

billy doesn’t want to put his heart on the line and confess his feelings again, afraid if he did so, it would only put unnecessary pressure on lucy gray. but if he doesn’t intend to be honest then why is he even here? he wants to find the middle ground, a compromise between all the conflicting feelings that are brewing inside his chest. “i’ll always be yours,” he says shyly, averting his gaze because if he continues to watch her, he might get too emotional. his lips brushing her forehead one more time, his arm curling tighter around her shoulders. “i still think ‘bout what i said to you after graduation, how we didn’t belong to each other, and not a day goes by that i don’t regret being so… brusque. i was upset an’… i’ll always care for you and you’ll always mean the world to me.” even if she doesn’t love him as more than a friend. “too bad i didn’t bring any wing-warmers,” mittens, “i was hopin’ virginia didn’t get this cold in january.” or rather he was too occupied daydreaming about seeing her again to properly prepare for this trip. “right, the disguise is what saved my life. now that you know what i look like, i better be on my best behavior.” ocean hues flickering to her olive features, cheeks heating up because it’s plain to see that he’s underdressed. she did her make up and hair, put on high heels and what looks like a very nice dress under the black jacket… meanwhile he’s wearing a black-gray sweatshirt, blue jeans and a pair of worn adidas shoes. the puffer jacket and beanie only making him look more casual. he hasn’t even brought any fancy clothes with him, not that he owns many. “you look like a princess,” he blurts out without even realizing that he’s actually saying the words out loud instead of just thinking them. her arm around his waist causing butterflies to swarm his lower belly. “nothin’ wrong ‘bout granny speed. better granny speed than sorry. but hey, of course, you made it in one piece. your guardian angel never sleeps and besides you learned how to drive from the best.” bragging playfully, he doesn’t even want to think about what could have happened had she been a bit less careful. a shiver races up his spine. it only takes a second for an accident to happen. 

“next time, we’re meeting in florida,” he declares jokingly, shaking his head when she tells him about the big trucks speeding past her. “some people aren’t capable of rational thinkin’ and should be put in mental institutions.” and truck drivers are the worst of the worst. it’s all because they’re sitting so high up and have big, heavy cars that make them feel invincible on the road. “it’s fine. i don’t really smoke i was just — i was worried about my army wife. i couldn’t reach you on the phone. i was losin’ my mind here,” he sheepishly admits, only letting go of her as she begins to fumble with the lock. “do you have any other shoes? i don’t think room service is a thing here. i mean, unless we want to eat grilled rat or roadkill stew?” and if she has to go out into the storm again, he worries her feet might not handle it well. “what are you talkin’ ‘bout, lucy gray? seein’ you is always worth it, and you always look amazing, even when you’re not trying to. you could have put on an old sweater and pajama bottoms, and i’d still think you’re the next miss universe, alright?” he sighs, quickly closing the door behind them to keep the cold out. not that it would make a big difference. he rubs his hands together. it’s not much warmer on the inside. “the rainbow princess gets to pick the bed, you want the one closer to the window or the one next to the bathroom?” he stands awkwardly between the two twin beds, both looking equally as lithe and horribly uncomfortable, the purple duffel still hanging from his arm. “hm, i done some research before comin’ here and our options are limited to say the least. waffle house or walmart or animal crackers. everythin’ else’s either closed for the night or questionable, and i mean might-poison-you kind of questionable.” they should have picked a big city as their destination or at least a town with over two hundred residents. 

“i just worried you wasn’t ever gonna be mine anymore.” after what he said…lucy gray, i’m not yours and you’re not mine when she’d been tugging and tugging on him and he had pulled her away from him. he seemed so sincere about it, she’s in disbelief he’s changed his mind. it seems too good to be true, it actually has her nervous as a soft expression crossed her features at seeing the emotions well in his eyes. watching close, because if any tears drop she’ll quickly wipe them away for him. “but it’s written in the stars, so ‘course you’re mine and i’m yours.” she concludes, and that’s that. finding him stuffing her hands into the warmer confines of his jacket, of course she was smiling until her cheeks hurt, “thanks for lookin’ out for my little wings,” she laughed at the way he put it, missed having someone humorous and adorable like him unlike billy taupe who’d never had any personality to play or be adorable like this. “they sure appreciate it.” since her own mittens were in the inside pockets of her jacket, she didn’t think to get them out first after realizing she had missed his calls and felt she needed to get out of the car to reassure she made it as soon as possible. “i didn’t recognize you long enough to run you over. for all i knew, i was runnin’ over a strange innocent guy.” she playfully smiled with glossy red lips, feeling difficult to let go of him even for a second, she had to force herself to peel away from his chest which is why she’s lighting back up in gratefulness he pulls her into him after taking her bag. lucy gray beamed up at him for carrying it for her and wrapped her arm around his waist, taking the key and carefully stepping across the pavement until they reach the crooked number four room. “ohh, after goin’ granny speed and a million prayers later…i did make it in one piece. at one point, the entire road wasn’t even visible. big trucks were barrelin’ through, the service was hardly available half the way. that was the scariest thing i’ve ever had to do. but sorry for cutting your smoke break short, solider.” the cigarette smoking would bother her more if she wasn’t distracted laughing at no curls sticking out from his hat after she looked back up at him after twisting the key in and shoving the door open. and remembering their conversation a few nights ago. “i couldn’t think about the heels for the semi trucks. even though my feet’s definitely feelin’ it now, but beauty is pain. and i wanted to look dressed up today so it’s all worth it.” she reassured with a happy smile, not even the outdated room that definitely hadn’t been updated probably way before both of them had been born with barely any heat could ruin her mood. until she sat and started thinking of the snow that was becoming a serious issue. “i only brought so many animal crackers. what are we gonna do for food?” now she kind of did start to panic, automatically going into that mode because she didn’t even look to see IF there’s any restaurants. god, she hopes or they’re going to turn into sticks. what if the power goes out too? does this place even have generators to keep the lights going?