#it took several years just to not cry every single trip behind the wheel and so to be okay enough to sing a little was huge for me :3

[good-beans]

🚗‼️

[blu-joons]

The Night Before Enlistment ~ Kim Youngbin

“You’re not crying, are you Youngbin?”

His hands quickly wiped underneath his eyes before turning away from the car window and across to where you sat behind the wheel. His cheeks were dark, eyes watery as he took several shaky breaths before shaking his head back across at you.

His composure was long gone, struggling to believe that he had said his final goodbyes to several members of his family before he had to enlist. Around his parents, he had held it together, but now that they were gone, the nerves were creeping in.

“It feels a little real now,” he hummed, waiting until he was composed before speaking to you. “I thought my mum was going to start crying when we said goodbye, I’ve not seen her that quiet around me for a long time.”

You smiled weakly back across to him, “I’m impressed that you didn’t start crying, I thought you were going to go when your dad handed you that care package to take with you.”

Your car boot was loaded up with items not just for Youngbin, but for you too. His parents had bought you plenty of things so that you were well taken care of without Youngbin by your side, with several bags of food being the highlight for you to enjoy.

“I was close,” Youngbin gently laughed, keeping his eyes on you as you stared forwards, “as we left, my sister whispered into my ear that she’d make sure that you were looked after.”

“Did she?” You grinned, touched by her gesture. The two of you had always been close, which Youngbin adored, with her constantly showing up to spend time with you, forgetting Youngbin.

“I might lose you when I discharge, not only are my family willing to help you out, but all of the boys have also offered to check in on you every single day too, not to mention your family organising trips out too,” Youngbin proudly smiled, glad that you had the support.

You too were confident that you’d be just fine with Youngbin, even if none of your helpers could replace the role that he had in your life. “They very kindly told me that I could stay in your room at the dorm, despite me telling them that you’d already told me that I could stay.”

“I dread to think how that dorm will look whilst I’m gone,” he sniggered, glancing back out of the window again, “I’m relying on you to keep those boys in check, you’re the honourable sidekick beside Jaeyoon when it comes to the dorm.

As much as you were going to rely on the boys with Youngbin gone, they were always relying on you too. You took almost as much care of them as you did Youngbin, filling in the gaps that Youngbin left when leading the boys.

As you continued to drive, you could hear a shaky sigh come from behind you as Youngbin began to think again in the silence. “Talk to me Bin, tell me what you’re wondering.”

Truthfully, even Youngbin wasn’t too sure what exactly he was thinking about. There were thousands of thoughts filling his mind, from the group, family, enlistment, friends, changes, not to mention plenty about you too.

“I know that you’re nervous, no matter how strong you might want to seem around me,” you commented, trying your best to get Youngbin to look across to you again.

Slowly his head turned as he felt your hand reach across and rest against the top of his leg. “Saying goodbye always felt like the moment when enlistment would feel real, and now it’s happening, and worst of all tomorrow I have to say goodbye to you.”

“It’s not goodbye, it’s more of a see you later,” you tried to encourage, feeling Youngbin’s hand rest down over yours, “we’re not being separated from one another forever.”

Even though it was only a year and a bit, it sure felt like a long time for Youngbin. You’d been separated before thanks to his tours, but at least then you could still talk when you wanted to, without having to be controlled.

“I know that you’re going to be just fine too, but there’s still a small part of me that’s fretting,” Youngbin then added, feeling his voice falter once again, “you can look after yourself, but I prefer to be the one that’s looking after you instead.”

“You can still look after me from afar,” you tried to comfort him, “I mean you’ve left enough of your shirts lying around the house for me to wear when I want.”

Youngbin’s eyes went wide at your bold comment, “you mean to say that you keep taking them out of my suitcase when you think that I’m not paying attention, hiding them from me and keeping them for yourself? Did you think that I wouldn’t realise how the number of shirts in my bag decreases every time that I open it?”

“I kind of hoped you would just think that you were going crazy,” you shyly admitted.

Youngbin’s head shook at the innocent expression that was on your face, “I guess seeing as you find so much comfort in my shirts, it would be rude of me to take them away.”

Straight away your head nodded back at Youngbin, “you’re going to get given all of your military tops anyway to where, there’s no point taking all of the ones in your wardrobe when they’ll stay in your case. Instead, I should have them because I’ll make use of all of them.”

A wry smile crept onto Youngbin’s face, “I’m finding it increasingly difficult to argue with your logic, how long have you thought about making that point?”

“Not too long,” you laughed, flickering your eyes between the road and Youngbin, “it wasn’t even me that came up with it, your brother was helping me come up with excuses so that I could make sure that I got everything that I wanted from you before you enlist.”

“I should have known that he’d help you out, he’s got too many stories from his own enlistment,” Youngbin scoffed.

“I quite like how helpful he’s been,” you argued, continuing to widen the smile that was on Youngbin’s face, “without him I wouldn’t have also been able to hide your shower gel so that you have no choice but to take mine with you.”

Youngbin couldn’t believe what he was hearing as yet another mystery that he’d been experiencing had been solved right under his nose.

“I’ve got plenty of little bits of yours to remind me of you whilst you’re gone now,” you encouraged, continuing to laugh to yourself, “it’ll be like you’re still with me.”

“You won’t have time to miss me using my shirts and shower gel,” Youngbin joked.

“There’s a few things that they won’t be able to give me.”

“I know you’ll miss me during those times.”

“Of course,” you grinned, feeling your cheeks darken slightly, “but I know that there will be a time when you come home, I can look forward to that.”

Youngbin nodded in agreement with you, “I’ll make sure to work hard and get home to you as soon as possible, it’ll be like I’ve never even been away.”

“You’ll smash it, like you always do.”

---

Masterlist

[apocalypseornaw]

Keep Me From You

For the square "Temporary amnesia" on @girl-next-door-writes make me feel bingo

Warnings: mention of injury,cursing

Word Count: 10,201

Smidge of angst but lots of fluff

“Dean I’m fine. A few scratches but I’ll be home soon and you’re more than welcome to play nurse” You’d left a few days before to help Claire out on a hunt and had called him to say you were only about an hour out from Lebanon. “So you want me to wear the uniform and all?” he teased and heard you laugh. That was a sound that he’d always loved. “Of course I want the uniform, why would you even ask?” A smile slipped onto his face as hearing just how truly happy you sounded to be coming home to him. He’d never imagined getting this. Someone who really did love him and not only understood the life but lived it as well. “I’ll see you soon sweetheart” “Better be waiting for me at the door….” Your sentence was cut short by the sound of tires squealing then a hard hit. 

Dean knew a wreck when he heard one and his heart fell to his feet “Y/N!” when you didn’t reply he screamed your name again which brought Sam running into the room. “What’s wrong?” Dean was already on his feet grabbing the keys to the impala “Y/N’s been in a wreck. We gotta get to her”

By the time Dean and Sam rolled on scene a passerby had called 911. Multiple cop cars, a couple ambulances and even a fire truck had the night lit brightly. Dean barely stopped the car from rolling before he was jumping out. Your car was on it’s side, the driver door crumpled in. “Y/N!” before he could get close Sam grabbed him along with three of the firemen on scene “Sir! We already got her out! She’s in the ambulance!”

Dean looked to see the ambulance in question pulling away “Is she alive?” The firemen nodded solemnly “She’s in critical condition but she’s alive”  Sam pulled him back towards the impala “C’mon we’ll beat them to the hospital. We know her Dean she’s strong” Sam nodded to the firemen that he had Dean so they headed to finish cleaning up the scene. Dean looked at your car once more before following Sam “If the other driver isn’t in bad shape..I’ll kill em”

------

Sam took the lead to speak with the doctors because by the time they got to the hospital he didn’t really trust Dean to not throw a punch. “Mr Evanson..your sister in law is in critical condition as you were told at the scene. She was hit by a drunk driver that ran a red light. She’s got multiple contusions, a fractured skull and a dislocated shoulder” the fake names had you as Dean’s wife should something like this happen and Eileen as Sam’s. Helped to have insurance and provided a cover story so all of you could get updates on each other should injuries ever occur severe enough to warrant a hospital trip.

Before Sam could open his mouth to ask any questions further about your condition Dean spoke up “Let me guess the bastard that hit her is just fine right?” Sam couldn’t really blame Dean. You were one of his best friends and knowing you made it out of a hunt just fine to turn around and get hurt this severely by an idiot who drank too much and chose to get behind the wheel was more than upsetting. “Mr Evanson I know you’re upset but I assure you we’re doing everything for your wife we can” Sam could tell Dean was doing what he did best which was to lean into anger more than any other emotion so before he could fire off threats to a doctor or worse Sam grabbed his arm then looked back at the doctor “When can we see her?” “As soon as she’s settled into the room I’ll send a nurse out to get both of you”

The moment the doctor stepped away Dean spun around and hit the wall hard enough his fist left a hole in the plaster. “She was talking to me Sam. What if I distracted her? What if she would’ve seen him sooner if she hadn’t been on the phone?” “Dean, don't do that to yourself. This isn’t your fault” It shocked Sam more than anything to see Dean wasn’t trying to hide the tears in his eyes when he faced him “I can’t lose her Sammy” “You won’t. I’m gonna call Eileen and Jody to let them know. She’ll be ok. Let the doctors do what they can then if need be we’ll find other means to help her. She’s strong, she’s a fighter and honestly I think it would take a lot more than a wreck to keep her from your side” “Let’s hope you’re right”

------

A little over an hour passed with Sam and Dean pacing across the waiting room. The other inhabitants of it and staff alike were giving both men a wide berth, Dean even moreso. The air around him was thick with the mixture of anger at you being in this shape and fear at the possibility of losing you.

When a nurse finally walked in and asked “Mr Evanson and brother?” Dean snatched his head up “Over here” she smiled warmly at him “Your wife is out of surgery and stable. Would you and your brother like to see her?” “Please” Dean managed trying to remember it wasn’t this woman’s fault you were hurt.

------

The walk to your room felt longer than anything Dean had even endured. When he walked in to see your still form he could feel his hands ball into fists. You were the single most important person on the face of the earth to him besides Sam. Your head was bandaged, your left shoulder was in a sling and both arms had gauze nearly covering every surface. “When’s she gonna wake up?” Sam asked knowing Dean needed an answer but also knowing his brother wouldn’t be very good at communicating at the moment. 

“That’s a tricky question. It’s really up to her. She’s in stable condition, there’s no bleeding on her brain. Now it’s just up to her body” “Thank you. Can we stay with her a while?” “You both can stay an hour but only one can stay overnight” “Thank you” the nurse walked away and Sam turned back to see Dean was motionless at the foot of your bed.

“Dean?” Sam called jarring him out of his thoughts. “She’s a hunter. I’ve seen her hurt and I’ve known that there was always a possibility of something happening to one of us but she was fine, she was headed home and laughing” Dean had walked up next to your bed and left his fingers barely brush against the leather bracelet tied around your wrist. It was a gris-gris gifted to you by a witch in New Orleans three years before, just a couple months before you and Dean had gotten together actually. 

You’d helped her out and it was supposed to protect you from evil. You hadn’t taken it off since citing that it was a lucky charm too considering you hadn’t gotten seriously injured on a hunt in quite a while. Turned out it only worked on supernatural beings not human actions.  “She’s gonna be ok Dean” Sam repeated as Dean gently took your hand in both of his and sat down in the chair next to the bed before looking up at his little brother “How can you be so sure?” “I’ve seen her fight and I’ve seen how much she loves you. She’s not leaving us like this”

------

The two of them stayed like that for the next hour barely talking, simply watching you breathe. When the hour passed Sam headed back to the bunker while Dean stayed rooted in the chair holding your hand. “Remember when we first met? God I thought you hated me because of my dad..he had a habit of turning people into enemies. I’ve never seen Bobby laugh as hard as talking about the time you backed dad down on a hunt by calling him a washed out jarhead that didn’t know a vampire from a rugaru. Baby you’ve survived so much..you’re stronger than anyone I know” he didn’t even realize he was crying before the droplet hit your hand.

“Please come back to me. I don’t want to do this without you. I love you” he nearly whispered the last part willing you to hear him and open your eyes. 

------

For three days Dean sat at your side. Sam would bring food and clothes. Eileen had of course headed back to Lebanon when she heard what happened and Jody along with all the girls had been in near constant contact. You had so many people behind you but the horrifying reality was it didn’t matter how much backup you had this time. This fight was a solo one.

The nurses and doctors assured him that you were healing. Your body was simply mending itself and keeping you asleep to save energy to do so. He didn’t care about anything they said he needed you awake to see for himself that you were ok.

It was during visitor hours so Eileen was sitting across the room flipping through a magazine while Sam had gone after coffee. The hardest thing for any of them was simply being forced to sit around and wait to see if you’d wake up on your own. Of course Rowena was digging around to see about some spells to help speed up healing but those were a bit fragile and out of her usual wheelhouse which was to cause damage to someone instead of healing them.

“Dean they were out of sugar so I had to put artificial sweetener in yours” Sam spoke from the doorway as he walked into the room. Dean shrugged “I don’t care” Sam shared a look with Eileen when he handed her coffee over. She signed “I’m worried about him” so Sam nodded and mouthed “Me too” before walking over to hold Dean’s coffee out to him. 

Dean took it then looked back at the bed “Why isn’t she awake yet Sammy?” “Head injuries take a little more to heal Dean” Sam offered but knew it was of little solace. All of them wanted nothing more than for you to wake up. Sam walked back over to stand next to Eileen but a movement of your hand had all of them on their feet and next to the bed “Y/N?” Dean spoke first and when you opened your eyes they all shared a sigh of relief “Thank god baby” Dean breathed moving to press a kiss to your lips but you snatched your head away “Dean, what the hell?” 

------

Your head felt like it’d been run over by a truck. You felt like you were drunk and there wasn’t a body part that didn’t hurt.  When you finally forced your eyes open you realized you were in a hospital room. Sam, Dean and Eileen was next to your bed meaning you must have gotten hurt on a hunt but you couldn’t remember how.

“Thank god baby” baby? Did Dean just call you baby? Before you could ask he leaned forward as if to kiss you so you snatched your head away not missing the look on his face as you said “Dean, what the hell?” 

“Y/N? What's the last thing you remember?” Eileen asked stepping closer to the bed while Dean backed away obviously hurt but you weren’t sure why he’d called you baby or tried to kiss you. You were friends yeah but he’d never acted like he had those feelings for you. You realized your head hurt even worse when you tried to think of why he would be hurt but a memory finally came to you of you and Eileen working a shifter case in Austin. “The shifter?” you asked hesitantly and saw her eyes widened.

“Eileen? What’s wrong?” you asked grimacing when you tried to sit up further only to realize your left arm was in a sling. Sam moved to help you and you noticed Dean looking rather lost standing off to the side of the room. She looked over at him sympathetically before finally saying “Y/N that case was over three years ago”

------

 Three years? You’d lost three years worth of memories. Dean had slipped out the room after alerting the Doctor Rhodes you were awake and once Eileen assured Sam she’d stay at your side he went after his brother. You were only half listening to the doctors as they gave a run down of the wreck you’d been in and the injuries you’d received. “Well if you’re saying my brain is fine why the hell do I have a three year gap in my memory?” you knew you were being a bit blunt but given the circumstances you felt it was warranted.

“Mrs Evanson this is common in an injury like yours” the nurse nearest you spoke so you cut your eyes at Eileen silently questioning the name they’d called you. She smiled and touched Doctor Rhodes on the shoulder. When he turned to look at her she motioned to you “Can I have a few moments alone with her before you take her for tests?” he looked back at you then nodded. After he and the nurses finally exited your room giving a warning that transport would be there in twenty to take you down for a cat scan Eileen came over and sat gently on the side of your bed facing you “Ask” You looked around the room eyes settling on Dean’s jacket that he’d left draped over the back of one of the chairs “What have I missed?” she followed your line of sight over her shoulder then smiled sadly before looking back at you “The shifter case was only a month before you and Dean got together” “We’ve been together three years?” you asked making sure you were facing her fully as you spoke. “Yeah. For the insurance he’s listed as your husband and Sam’s listed as mine since me and him have been together two and a half years” 

You felt tears sting your eyes as the realization of why Dean had looked so hurt when you pulled away from him hit you at once “Why don’t I remember? God he must hate me” She covered your right hand with hers lacing your fingers together and the familiarity of that small action bought a smile to your face as she leaned down to look you in the eye before saying “Believe me when I say there is nothing on earth you could do to make that man hate you sweetie. Now I’ll be here when they get you back from the tests but I’m gonna go find him and Sam in the meantime ok?” you nodded not trusting your voice at the moment so she kissed your forehead then nodded to the nurse that had just just stepped into the door before walking out.

------

Eileen found Sam and Dean outside in the parking lot. They were leaned against the side of the impala staring at the entrance of the hospital. When they saw her they both pushed off the car Sam getting to her side first while Dean was a little slower to approach “How is she?” Sam asked and Eileen shrugged “She found out she’s missing three years. How would you be?” Then her eyes drifted over to Dean “She’s afraid you’re gonna hate her because she doesn’t remember being with you” “I could never hate her especially for something that’s not her fault” he quickly replied and she nodded “That’s what I told her but I think you need to be in the room too when she gets back from having her scans done” 

------

You were in short terrified. The scans showed that your skull was healing quite well actually and as far as structural wise your brain was in good shape and according to Doctor Rhodes your memory loss was more than likely temporary. The bad news? In cases like yours those memories could return in a matter of weeks or a matter of years. There was no way to estimate the amount of time it would take from one person to the next.

“When can I go home?” you asked adding in your head the fact that you weren’t exactly sure where home was these days. “In a couple days at this rate and I’d say within two to four weeks you can return to normal life” There was a knock on the door and one of the nurses peeked her head in “Her husband, brother in law and sister in law want to come in” Doctor Rhodes looked back at you so you nodded with a small smile “Do you remind going back over what you’ve told me?”

“Of course” he nodded to the nurse so she stepped back out and a moment later Eileen walked in trailed by Sam then finally Dean “Mr Evanson your wife asked me to go over the findings from her test with the three of you” you barely met Dean’s eyes while he listened to Doctor Rhodes despite the fact that his gaze never left your face. When the doctor mentioned you’d be going home in a couple days if you stayed healing at this rate Dean shared a look with Eileen that you didn’t miss before the three of them thanked the doctor then he excused himself.

“So turns out I was right Dean, you do have the harder head” you tried to tease but heard your voice fall flat at the end. You wanted nothing more to remember the last three years of your life. The three people standing in front of you meant the most to you yet you could only remember so much and apparently now shared your life with one of them but couldn’t so much as remember ever sharing a kiss with him. 

“Y/N..Eileen told me what you said” Dean spoke, stepping closer to the bed. He tapped the bed close to your leg but didn’t touch you “Sweetheart there’s nothing that could make me hate you. I was on the phone with you when the wreck happened. I’ve never been more afraid in my life and just seeing you awake? That’s a win for me” “I want to remember if that helps any Dean.I wish I did because it seems we’re happy” “I’d like to think we are” he replied with a small smile. You moved your leg closer to his hand so he took the hint to gently touch you near your ankle.

“While we’re all here talking..can someone tell me where is home for me?” you asked embarrassed over not being able to remember such a small detail “Um you live at the bunker” Sam answered cutting his eyes at Dean who nodded “You’ve been living there for about two years full time” “Oh then I guess we’re really serious then huh?” your voice was low enough you weren’t exactly sure Dean had heard you until he said “Yeah” meeting your eyes for a second before clearing his throat “Um visitation is over in an hour. I was gonna stay but if that’s weird for you I’m sure Eileen or Sam would” 

“Of course” they both spoke over each other then shared a small smile. Your heart ached seeing the look on Dean’s face at the two of them so in sync while you didn’t remember him. “Maybe Eileen could stay? She can help fill in some blanks since I remember hunting with her last?” you offered and Dean nodded “Of course sweet..Y/N” you noticed how he stopped himself from calling you sweetheart. Christ you’d been friends with Dean for so long. He was the best man you’d ever known but you also knew he had the self worth of a grape and you could only imagine what this was doing to him. “Thank you Dean” you whispered and he smiled slightly “Of course”

------

Dean didn’t really talk much before him and Sam left for the night but he did ask if you wanted him to bring you a change of clothes since the nurse said you could shower with assistance the next morning. “Please” you told him and with a sharp nod he was out of the room. Sam left a quick kiss on Eileen’s lips then one on your forehead before quickly following after him.

You watched the door where they’d disappeared for several seconds before Eileen touched your arm gently and you jumped which pulled a small smile to her face “Are you ok?” she asked so you nodded then turned your head to look at her fully “I was in love with him wasn’t I?” she slowly nodded. You let out a breath then leaned your head back against the pillows before asking “How did that shifter case turn out anyways?” she laughed then went into the story talking and signing what had happened trying to catch you up to speed without overwhelming you.

------

Sam found Dean sitting in the library at one of the long tables around three in the morning. There was a bottle of bourbon in front of him and a glass with a piece of ice watering down what of the brown liquid was in it. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, pulling the chair out across from Dean after grabbing himself a glass. Dean cut his eyes up at him “Would you be able to if it was Eileen?” “No” Sam wasn’t even going to attempt to lie, Dean knew him too well. “I don’t want to put any stress on her because she doesn’t remember” 

“You’re not. She knows now that you’re not mad that she doesn’t remember. Give Eileen a little time to ease her into the last few years besides Doctor Rhodes said her memory could be fully back within a couple weeks” “Or a couple years” Dean interrupted which earned him a glare from Sam “If you’ve ever had faith in anything..have faith in Y/N” “What if this is nature’s way of a course correction? She deserves better than me and maybe this is the universe trying to say that” 

Sam reached over and pulled the glass out of Dean’s grip then moved the bottle for good measure before saying “The only thing this says is that assholes shouldn’t drink and drive. She’s coming home in a couple days Dean and the familiar setting may help her memory..Rowena is getting there with the spells especially now that she knows to tweak it to memory wise. We’re gonna get her memory back Dean..we will”  “I hope you’re right Sam, I really do”

------

Today was a big step in the right direction. You were finally checking out the hospital to head home. Eileen had mentioned Cas would be at the bunker when you got there so that meant at least for your physical wounds you could get healed, who knows maybe angel mojo would effect your memory as well? Not likely but it didn’t hurt to hope did it?

When the nurse knocked on the door she smiled to see you were tying your sneakers onto your feet. Eileen had stayed in the room with you while Dean went to pull the impala around to the exit you’d be coming out of. “Must I ride in the wheelchair? I mean I think I’m capable of walking” you asked and she grimaced “Sorry Mrs Evanson it’s hospital policy” Eileen winked at you then teased “Besides you get to ride in style out” riding in style was the collection of get well soon items that had found their way to your room from your friends. The one you liked the best was the little stuffed wolves that Garth and Bess had sent by Donna. The nurses didn’t quite understand the significance of them but you’d seen even a small smile work it’s way onto Dean’s face. Over the next few days though it was only supposed to be the four of you at the bunker well plus Cas. You weren’t being anti-social but you could also only bare so much guilt at a time from not remembering certain things.

Eileen bumped your arm and when you glanced her way she signed “Stop it” “You don’t read minds” you replied and she winked “No but you I can read” you sighed and climbed into the wheelchair while Eileen grabbed the bag carrying your presents. Sam was back at the bunker apparently switching your belongings to a different room. Eileen had let it slip that he offered to do it so Dean wouldn’t have to.

“Take me away” you told the nurse who smiled “I can say you have remained in good spirits the entire time you’ve been here and that bodes quite well for your recovery” you shrugged your good shoulder as she pushed you out the door “I can wallow or deal. I always work better by gritting my teeth and doing what I gotta do regardless”

------

The sun was bright in the sky when you finally were wheeled out of the exit. When Dean saw the three of you he quickly came around to open the passenger door and moved to help you but stopped just sigh of touching you then looked at your face for the ok. When you reached for his hand his whole body seemed to relax slightly “Mrs Evanson you have a follow up for a scan in three weeks but if any new symptoms occur such as headaches, blurry vision, dizziness feel free to come in before and if any pain outside the expected occurs feel free to come back in” 

“She will” Dean and Eileen answered in unison so you shot the nurse a smile “I have a lot of people looking after me. I’ll be fine”

After you were in the passenger seat the nurse waved then headed back inside. Eileen climbed in the backseat behind you and reached up to pat your shoulder reassuringly while Dean walked around to climb in the driver’s seat. “Ready to go?” he asked and you nodded “Let’s get home”

------

You vaguely remembered the internal set up of the bunker. You’d been there a time or two and even stayed the night once but as far as knowing it as well as you should considering how long you’d apparently been calling the bat cave home? You were far from it.

Eileen headed down the stairs first followed by Dean then you walking slowly down. Everything in the map room was pretty much how you remembered it including the angel sitting at the table talking to Sam who smiled when he saw the three of you “Y/N” you pulled him into a hug as best as you could “You’re a sight for sore eyes there Cas” he ducked his head and started to explain “I couldn’t exactly come to the hospital to heal you” “I understand Cas. Just saying it’s good to see you” he nodded then looked to your left arm “Can I?” “Please” you replied with an excited smile.

Cas had healed you before but it was always a bit surreal. He laid his hand palm down on your forehead and you felt the warmth spread throughout your body. You closed your eyes and felt your shoulder stitch itself back and the tender spot in your head from the fractured skull fade to a dull ache then disappeared all together.

When you opened your eyes everyone in the room was staring at you expectantly. You tried to force memories of being with Dean into your mind but they refused to come. You shook your head sadly “Healed me physically” “I’m sorry Y/N. Memory is something different than physical injuries” Cas apologized but you shook your head “No Cas. Thank you. Since the physical part is no longer an issue I can start trying to concentrate on my memory”

You didn’t miss the disappointed look in Dean’s eyes and apparently neither did Eileen because she touched your arm “Y/N why don’t I show you your room?” you smiled appreciatively at her “Sounds good. Cas are you staying?” he shook his head “No I’ve got to get back” you hugged him again “In that case be careful out there and thank you again” 

------

You heard the three guys talking while you let Eileen direct you down the hall and tried to block it out. One worry at a time. She pointed to one door “That’s mine and Sam’s room” then pointed to the next door “This one is empty” the door a little further down the hall she pointed to “Um this is Dean’s room” you swallowed hard at the unadded words which were “Until a few days ago this was your room as well” and followed her down to the room right to Dean’s “This one is yours”

You walked in behind her and looked around the room. You recognized the weapons laid about as your own. That was definitely your jacket tossed across the chair in the corner. A black blanket with red swirls was folded on the foot of the bed. When you touched it she smiled “That’s your blanket you usually want. Dean’s been using it but he got me to wash it and fold it for you” you nodded feeling very much overwhelmed “Um Eileen is it ok if I say I want to be alone?” she nodded “Of course. I’ll be in the library with the boys, your phone is on the charger so if you need me cause you know hollering for me won’t work” you managed a small laugh at that and signed “Thank you” since you know had use of both hands again.

She walked out and shut the door gently behind her. You sat on the edge of the bed and looked around the room. There was a since of familiarity tugging at you being in the bunker but you weren’t sure if it was true or just the fact of your own desire to remember. After a while you started feeling tired so you laid down across the bed pulling your blanket over you. A small nap wouldn’t hurt then maybe you could wander around a bit after everyone else went to bed.

------

You weren’t sure how long you’d been asleep when you heard a small knock at your door. You sat up smoothing a hand over your head “Yeah?” then kicked yourself when you realized it could be Eileen but the door opened before you could cross over to it and it was Sam standing in your doorway instead “Dean and Eileen ran into town to grab some food and a few other things we needed. I had to convince them both I would check on you” you smiled at that then stepped back so he could come into the room.

He sat down on the chair that your jacket was draped across so you sat down on the foot of the bed right across from him “How is he?” you asked and Sam raised an eyebrow “How are you?”

You sighed “Apparently I am in a stable relationship and can’t remember past being friends. At least Cas could get the wounds on the outside healed?” he nodded then glanced around before rubbing at the back of his neck “He’s ok” “Sam” you warned so he half smiled “He’s blaming himself of course. You were on the phone with him when the wreck happened” “Christ could it get any worse?” you groaned and Sam leaned up to gently touch your leg “Yeah. You could’ve died. We can deal with this. I know we can” you nodded and laid your hand on top of his “Thanks Sam” he smiled “So do you want to check out the rest of the bunker while it’s just the two of us or go back to sleep?”

“Can I sneek a peek in Dean’s room?” he shrugged “Hell why not?” You followed him out into the hall and stopped him right as he put his hand on the door leading into Dean’s room “Are you sure I should?” He nodded “Yeah. It may help” you took a breath and followed him in. The room didn’t look that much different then the one they had moved your things into at first then on second glance the differences popped out to you.

There was your shotgun on the wall underneath Dean’s. A photo of you, him, Eileen and Sam was on the nightstand. A few albums that were clearly your taste in music was next to his radio and there were two sets of headphones instead of one. You walked over slowly and picked up the photo. The boys were sitting on Jody’s couch and from the looks of it had pulled you and Eileen down into their lap probably seconds before the photo was snapped considering you and her were both laughing. “It was the day Alex got into nursing school” Sam explained coming to stand next to you looking over your shoulder at the photo. 

“We all look so happy” you whispered running your fingertips across Dean’s face. “You’ll get your memory back just give it time” he replied and you sighed then sat the photo down “I know. Let’s check out the rest of the bunker so maybe I can have my nerve enough to face Dean by the time they get back”

------

You had made your way into the library by the time Dean and Eileen came back from town. The few times you could remember coming here you’d been impressed by the extensive collection of lore this place held. You trailed your fingers along the spines of the books reading different titles. “I think you’ve read most of the books in here at least once” you heard from behind you and turned to see Dean leaned against the doorway watching you with a small smile on his face.

You sighed and said “Hopefully I’ll actually remember reading them sooner rather than later...well and other things too” the last part you added in a whisper but you saw the way his expression changed “Y/N I don’t care how long it takes I’m not going anywhere. You may not remember the last few years right now but I do, I know this is worth fighting for” “So you don’t blame yourself then?” you asked crossing your arms over your chest and saw the barest hint of a grin pulling at his lips again “Ok that look is too familiar and I’m guessing by you asking me that you’ve talked to Sam while we were gone?”

You nodded “Dean they said a drunk driver hit me. It wasn’t your fault hell if I hadn’t been on the phone with you it could've been a lot before all of you knew what had happened to me.” He nodded slowly “Not like you have always had a habit of kicking my ass if I’m too hard on myself” that made you laugh lightly “Ok that I do remember and yes someone needs to!” 

He nodded back towards the kitchen “We got some food. Eileen tried to remember what your favorite was but couldn’t quite remember so we got a few different things” You smiled “I’m sure I’ll like whatever I’ve never really been picky” the two of you stood there after that staring at each other for a few heartbeats before you heard Sam call yours and Dean’s names “Guessing that’s our cue to come eat?” “Guessing so” 

------

You sat next to Eileen at the table turned halfway towards her so if you said anything she wouldn’t have to turn to read your lips. Sam was sitting across from her and Dean was across from you. You always loved california rolls but now you were simply pushing them around in the little tray. “Not hungry?” Sam asked motioning to your plate. You shrugged “Guess not. Want them?” Eileen reached over before Sam could move “I’ll take them” you laughed at the look on Sam’s face “Snooze ya lose Winchester”

You glanced over at Dean’s plate to see the burger in front of him was barely touched as well “Dean you’re not gonna eat?” he shrugged “Not that hungry” you sighed and drank the last little bit of your lemonade then stood up “I think I’m gonna grab a shower and call it an early night” “If you need anything” Eileen started and you nodded then signed “I know”  Dean glanced up so you smiled “Night Dean” “Night Y/N” “Night Sam” you called over your shoulder before you walked out the kitchen and heard him say “Night” as you stepped into the hall.

------

Everything felt wrong. The bed felt wrong, your clothes felt wrong. There was a gaping hole craving the memories of the last three years and there was nothing you could do. You tossed and turned most of the night until finally calling it.

You dug around and found a thicker pair of socks so you pulled them onto your feet then grabbed the black and red blanket to wrap around your shoulders before stepping out into the hallway. You weren’t sure what part of the bunker you were headed to but you hoped maybe to clear the confusion in your head. The library called to you so you let your feet carry you in that direction.

You walked aimlessly around the rows of books letting your fingers graze some of them. God there was everything from classic literature that book collectors around the world would sell their souls for all the way to books describing just how bad of an idea that would be and why. You ended up not picking a book and instead just pulled out one of the chairs at the table and sat down.

You smiled when you saw Sam and Dean’s initials carved into the tabletop. It matched where they’d carved their names in the impala back when they were kids. You traced Dean’s initials and seriously considered waking him up to talk but decided against it. Just like you needed time to adjust you were quite certain he needed some time too. One moment he’d been with a woman for three years the next that woman didn’t even have a memory of a shared kiss.

You sighed and pushed away from the table. You had seen a laptop in your room hopefully it wasn’t password protected,maybe you could watch a movie or something.

Within a week and a half of being released from the hospital you were going absolutely stir crazy and what was even worse you knew everyone was sitting out of cases to be there with you.

You walked out of your room after grabbing a shower and headed towards the kitchen. Sam and Eileen were normally up before Dean you’d learned so you were hoping it was just the two of them again. When you walked around the corner you nearly froze in your tracks to see Dean pouring a cup of coffee. He cut his eyes up and almost smiled when he saw you then motioned with the coffee in his hand “Want a cup?” You mentally kicked yourself as a reminder to speak and forced a small smile onto your face “Please” 

He nodded and turned to grab another cup. You stood there not missing the looks Sam and Eileen were sharing while Dean poured the coffee and held the cup out to you. You took it from him letting your fingers barely touch his hand “Thanks Dean” “Sugar’s on the counter and creamer’s in the fridge” he replied with a tight smile then walked over to sit next to Sam.

You couldn’t help but over the conversation between the three of them which consisted of the fact that Donna apparently needed help and that Garth had asked Sam if him and Dean could check in on some strange occurrences. “Why don’t you all go?” you asked turning to face the three of them and repeating yourself in asl for Eileen. “We don’t want to leave you alone” you nodded slowly then said “I have a cell phone. Sam just gave me a new one all set up yesterday. Not to mention I’m in literally one of the safest places on earth. I think I can manage for a day or two. Seriously I feel horrible that I’m keeping all three of you cooped up, go I’ll be fine”

The three of them knew you well enough to know that if you had your mind set on something you were far too stubborn to let it go that easily. Sam and Eileen shared a few hushed words followed by Sam and Dean having a whispering match before Dean finally sighed loudly “Fine! I’ll meet you outside in twenty”

You watched him walk out then glanced at Sam questioningly “What was that about?” “He still doesn’t feel comfortable leaving you but he agreed to go check out Garth’s lead” Eileen looked up from her phone with a grin “I texted Donna that I’ll come help her and she said to tell you and I quote can’t wait till Y/N is back in action. I miss her face” you laughed lightly and said “Well be careful and tell Donna I miss her face too”

------

Sam and Eileen left to go grab what they needed so you wandered back towards your room but stopped when you saw Dean’s bedroom door was open. You knocked lightly on it and half a second later he stepped around it and stopped in his tracks when he realized it was in fact you and not Sam or Eileen. “Y/N..something wrong?” you shook your head “No I was just wondering if maybe I could talk to you just for a second?” 

He stepped to the side and waved a hand into the room “Of course” you walked in and sat in one of the chairs at the small table in his room so he sat across from you. You took a deep breath before saying “Dean..if my memory doesn’t come back” “It will” he cut you off and you couldn’t help but smile at just how certain he sounded “Please let me talk” “Sorry go ahead”

You reached across the table and grabbed his hand. He stared down at your intertwined fingers as you started to speak again “If my memory doesn’t come back and you want to move on there’s no hard feelings” his eyes flew up to yours “Sweetheart I knew you’d hit your head hard but damn I didn’t realize it’d done you that bad” “What?” you asked with a shocked laugh. 

He slowly raised your joined hands up to his mouth before just barely letting his lips brush across your knuckles “Y/N listen to me good here darling....I love you more than I ever dreamt possible. A future for me? Naw I never really thought about it before you but since the moment you first told me you love me I feel like maybe one day I can actually be the man worthy of you. I’m never walking away from you. If it takes two months or twenty years, I’ll still be right here” you had tears in your eyes by the time he’d finished talking “Christ no wonder I’m in love with you. Who would’ve thought Dean Winchester is a romantic at heart” he chuckled before saying “Only for you sweetheart..only for you” 

You pulled your hand from his and saw his face fall slightly before you said “Come home in one piece?” “Nothing could keep me from you” he replied and you had a sense of almost dejavu as if that was something that was said a lot between the two of you but you didn’t want to ask and get his hopes up just for dejavu. 

“Dean..you ready to go?” Sam called from the hall but stopped when he saw the two of you sitting across from each other “Or we can wait. A few minutes wont hurt” you held Dean’s eyes as you said “No Sam, you two need to get going. I’m gonna go see Eileen off” you stood to walk out but stopped to pat Sam’s shoulder “I expect you both back here just the way you’re leaving”

“Bye Dean” “Bye Y/N” you smiled at Sam then headed to tell Eileen your usual parting and wish her a safe hunt.

------

Everyone was due back to the bunker within a few hours so you were currently folding laundry in your room. Things were starting to hold a sense of familiarity to them but you weren’t certain if it was true or if you were simply wanting to remember so badly you were tricking your own brain into saying it remembered when it truly didn’t.

You’d started texting with Jody, Alex and Claire. You felt horrible that you didn’t remember Claire’s girlfriend Kaia or the newest addition to the wayward daughters as you called them Patience but the girls were more than understanding and were wading in little by little to catch you up on any and all memories involving them. 

Your phone chimed from where it sat next to the bed so you walked over to pick it up and saw a text from Sam which read “We’re two hours away and Eileen is an hour out” you smiled knowing everyone was safe and texted back “Make it back in one piece and then I’ll be happy” then sat the phone down and returned to putting your laundry away.

You pulled out one drawer and stopped. Your socks and undergarments were in it but you had a flash of t-shirts being in the top drawer. Must have simply been mistaken. You finished up then headed into the library where you’d been scrolling through news websites to catch up.

------

You must have been invested in the article you were currently reading because when Eileen tapped on your shoulder you jumped. When you looked up she said “You’re a hunter and I scared you!” “You didn’t make any noise! Besides my guard is down in here” she shook her head but laughed “Nice to see you in a good mood” you motioned around “It’s starting to feel like a sense of being at home here” you knew you could confide in her without it reaching Dean and possibly getting his hopes up for nothing.

Her smile grew as she pulled out the chair next to you and sat down “That’s really good news” you and her sat there talking for the next while and were still talking when you heard the bunker door open so you signed “Our boys are home” she smiled and glanced over her shoulder about the time Sam and Dean walked down the stairs but both of your faces fell when you saw the cuts and scratches littering both of their faces.

She was on her feet to Sam’s side and without hesitation you were at Dean’s side before you could even think about it. “What the hell happened?” you asked gently touching the deepest cut that ran right across Dean’s left cheek “Couple witches hexed a couple vamps. Made them a little harder to kill. No big deal sweetheart” he replied flinching slightly as you turned his head to look at the different cuts and you shook your head then glanced at Eileen “You got your idiot cause I’m gonna go patch this one up and call Cas to see when he came come through the heal them” she nodded so you grabbed Dean’s hand and pulled him behind you out of the library and down the hall to his bedroom.

------

Dean sat on the side of his bed while you fussed over the cuts on his face and neck. “Did you kill the witches? Because if not I’m gonna find them and shove their damn broomsticks up their asses” you finished cleaning the cuts and stopped when you realized he was staring at you

“What?” he shook his head letting just the barest hint of a smile play on his lips “I love when you’re all fiery” when you dipped your head just enough that hair fell in front of your face he knew that was one of your tells that you’d gotten embarrassed so he reached up to push the hair back gently and felt his heart flip when you actually leaned into his touch “I love everything about you Y/N. I don’t mean to embarrass you or make you feel weird about it since you can’t remember but you patching me up and fussing about me being hurt? It feels normal or normal for us anyways” you covered his hand with your own and smiled “I want us back Dean”

“We’ll get there sweetheart. Rowena said a few more days and a few more continents she should have her hands on everything she needs” you nodded then pulled away from him slowly “I need to put this first aid kit up” he watched you move around and wanted to say something that would make you feel better but really didn’t have an idea as to what to say.

You stopped at the doorway and glanced back at him “Is it weird if I ask you to take me for a ride in the impala?” he shook his head “Not at all. When do you want to go?” your smile pulled one to his own face “Let me grab my jacket” you glanced at his dresser for a second then added “Are your t-shirts in the top drawer?” he looked between you and the dresser then nodded slowly “Yeah..why?” “No reason” you replied then went in search of your jacket and to return the first aid kit to the kitchen.

------

You weren’t sure where Dean was headed but sitting next to him watching him drive felt so natural. You’d known him for years but it was like your heart was remembering even when your brain was refusing to. “Want to pull over or just keep driving? It’s a quarter moon but it’s pretty bright out if you want to park and talk?” he suggested and you nodded “Please”

You watched as he found a pull off and drove back to an open field. When he killed the engine he cut his eyes at you “You coming?” you smiled and climbed out behind him. He walked to the front of the car then sat on the hood leaned back against the windshield so you sat next to him making sure your boots were hanging off the side to not scratch the paint. Thousands of stars were dotted across the sky and although the moon was only a quarter it was bright. You could hear a few crickets far off and a slight breeze was in the air not enough to make it cold but enough to make your jacket comfortable.

You cut your eyes at him twice before he said “You can lean your head over on me Y/N. I won’t bite” “What if I asked you to?” you joked but had another sense of dejavu hit you. He pulled you over onto his chest leaning further back while you got comfortable “You know you said that to me the first night we slept together” he spoke after a moment.

It was the first time he’d actually talked about your relationship. You knew it was because he didn’t want to push your memory. You had your head laying against his chest and could hear his heart beating steadily under you. “Who kissed who first?” you asked and his answering laugh vibrated through your entire body “Believe it or not you kissed me first” you turned to look at him and he shrugged so you asked “Tell me?” 

He nodded and leaned his head back to stare at the night sky “We were fresh off a possession case. Me and Sam had been working it and you rolled through nearby. Eileen was with the twins working a case so you offered to help us. After it was all said and done Sam headed back to the hotel but me and you decided to grab a beer” you hadn’t realized just how much you were hanging onto his every word until he grinned “You’re staring there Y/N” “Oh hush. You’re telling me about our first kiss I get to stare” 

“Fair enough” he replied with a nod then continued “Anyways. We got to the bar, grabbed our drinks and then headed to a corner table. We were talking about the job, the life we live. You were the most beautiful woman in the place and you were sitting there in jeans and one of my flannels since your shirt had gotten torn during the fight and you had a scratch right across the top of your collarbone that flashed when you moved just the right way. I’d been trying to figure out a way to ask you if you’d ever consider being with another hunter for weeks by that point. You got up to grab us another round and I admit I watched your ass while you walked to the bar but you hadn’t even gotten the beer yet when some drunk asshole decided to grab your ass”

“How did that go over?” you asked pretty much already knowing the answer. Dean tilted his head with a hint of a smirk “I may have broken his jaw in a few different places. Luckily the bartender saw everything so she snuck us over the bar and out the back about the time the police were coming in the front. We hightailed it out of there and headed back to the hotel. I walked you to your door even though you were right next to us. You told me you could’ve handled it and at first I thought you were pissed at me for stepping in but then you added that you thought it was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. You kissed me then asked if I wanted to grab coffee the next morning before we all headed our different directions”

The happiness in Dean’s eyes as he spoke about the two of you made your heart ache. You loved him, that much you were sure of even if you couldn’t remember the details as to why. “Was it just me for you from there on?” you asked and when he looked at you god your heart skipped more than a few beats at the emotion those green eyes held “No one else would’ve stood a chance” you leaned closer to him and just barely let your lips brush against his in a tentative kiss. When he didn’t push you away you deepened it moving closer to him. He groaned into the kiss when your hands slid across his chest coming up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

One of his hands came to grip your thigh closest to him and he gave it a tug pulling you on top of him never breaking the kiss. You straddled his waist breaking from his lips to kiss down his neck. The grip on your hips tightened when you kissed on top of his pulse point “Y/N...sweetheart..baby stop” you froze the moment he said stop and looked at him in confusion “What’s wrong?” he swallowed hard before saying “Don’t get me wrong because fuck I’ve missed kissing you but we can’t do this. Not until you get more of your memory back. The moment you do I promise to keep you in bed for days but for now we can’t”

You nodded and left another quick kiss on his lips before sliding off of him and the hood of the car. He stood up after you and wrapped both arms around you “I love you Y/N” you nodded leaning back against him “I know Dean” the two of you stood there in silence for the longest just enjoying being close to each other until you shivered. “Let’s get back” he said so you nodded with a sigh “Will you watch a movie or something with me when we get back?” he nodded and kissed your cheek “Of course”

You paced across the floor glancing towards the table in the center of the room every now and then. The redhead working over the large silver bowl stopped in the middle of a movement “Y/N..dear I have grown quite fond of you actually but if you don’t stop that incessant pacing I will lock you out until I need you” 

You held your hands up defensively “Sorry Rowena. I guess I’m just nervous” “Understandably but just take a breath” you nodded and sat down at the table across the room. She smiled then went back to her work. You looked up when the door opened and gave a small smile to Eileen “The boys are on their way back” “It’ll be done before they get here” Rowena said not looking up so you repeated it to Eileen who questioned why your eyes got wider.

Eileen sat down next to you and drew you into a conversation about a few hunt years back and that managed to keep your attention until Rowena cleared her throat. The both of you looked up so she waved you over “It’s time” Eileen walked next to you so you gave her hand a small squeeze before stepping over to the table “Give me your hand” Rowena spoke so you held your hand out palm up. She picked up a silver dagger and slid it across your skin. You watched as your blood dripped onto the mixture in the bowl and it glowed a deep silver.

Rowena spoke the incantation of which you only caught half the words because while some was latin the rest was a language you didn’t recognize. After a moment the silver turned to a shimmering black. Rowena dipped a red wine glass into the bowl and held it out “Drink it all” you looked at the liquid and swallowed hard. You’d drank worse before. You looked at Eileen who nodded so you toasted her and Rowena “Here’s to our health ladies” then tipped the entire glass back in one go. “How do you feel?” Eileen asked and you started to say you felt fine then the world took on a fuzzy haze and you felt yourself falling right before your vision went black.

------

“Y/N..wake up..sweetheart” you could hear Dean’s voice and forced your eyes open. “She’s awake” he breathed in relief. You were laying on a makeshift pallet in the armory. “Told you I know what I’m doing” Rowena chastised then crouched down into your view. “Y/N..how do you feel dear?” you looked at Dean before answering Rowena “I feel amazing. I remember everything” you could hear Eileen and Sam both thanking Rowena but your eyes were glued to Dean who whispered “I love you Y/N” you pulled him down into a kiss before whispering “I love you too Dean. Nothing could keep me from you either”

Tagging @girl-next-door-writes for the bingo challenge and @akshi8278 cause it's Dean

[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight - Chapter 9: Intel

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~4500

Rating: R (language only)

Summary: Nearly five days since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

Riley glanced around anxiously, taking in the handful of other people in the park. She didn’t like it. She felt so exposed anytime someone even made eye contact with her or glanced at Bridget. It seemed like they could tell she didn’t belong there, that she and Drake and Bridget stuck out like a sore thumb, that the fact that she was a wanted fugitive was obvious. It was hard to relax when every single person in the area was a potential threat, someone who could turn her in and make it all fall apart.

She and Drake had hemmed and hawed about making this trip out. Ever since warrants had been issued for their arrest, the risk of being spotted felt so much more threatening. It had almost felt surreal, sitting on the bed with Drake on Sunday evening, sharing a pair of headphones and staring at his phone while Bridget slept, curled up against her side, watching as Ana de Luca covered Rashad’s brief statement, discussing their family’s disappearance and the lack of evidence of foul play. It had been his first public appearance as king-regent.

Monday night had been the same, this time with an announcement of formal charges of kidnapping of the monarch and treason, resulting in the loss of their titles and lands. The social season was delayed with everything unfolding, but that barely seemed to warrant a mention by any of the reporters or pundits. Olivia was sending them links to several news stories every day - footage of their estate with intelligence agents filing out with box after box, all to be poured over for evidence of any further crimes. Rashad visibly uncomfortable in front of the palace as he requested anyone who knew their whereabouts to step forward. A “tell-all” interview with Barthelemy that was an infuriating clip they only made it part of the way through. 

There were clips about Liam and the results of the no-confidence vote as well, even though Liam’s last public sighting had been his arrival at Olivia’s keep on Sunday after the last court hearing. Other than his speech the night before Rashad was sworn in, Liam had not made any statements related to his title or their disappearance. Riley knew Drake was unsettled by that fact. Liam had always known his calm and gentle, yet confident demeanor was an asset and had never shied away from using public statements to sway hearts and minds in the past. Now, when he needed to rally support as he campaigned to regain the throne, he was silent.

Drake had spent all of his time scraping up every news segment, article, op ed, or social media post he could find related to their family, Liam, or Barthelemy. It concerned Riley that he was so hyper-focused, but with everything so fresh and constantly changing, it was hard to blame him for it. Bridget grabbing him or calling for him was about the only thing that could distract him. Riley honestly wasn’t sure if he was sleeping at all.

They hadn’t left their rented room since their arrival on Sunday morning, at least until this morning. Yesterday had been rough, with Bridget throwing fit after fit. She was bored, that much was clear. They had very few toys for her, and their bare bones hotel room was not exactly a stimulating environment. At Valtoria, she spent time exploring different rooms or parts of the grounds with them everyday. She didn’t like the change in the routine, to say the least.

When they finally were able to get Bridget asleep last night, hours after her usual bedtime as she wailed and cried, overtired and cranky beyond belief, they had decided that they needed to chance a trip outside with her. Sure, it was a risk, but so was keeping a screaming 10 month old in a hotel with thin walls. The last thing they needed was the police called for a noise complaint. They decided first thing in the morning would probably be their best option, with hopefully fewer people around. Anything to reduce the chance of getting recognized.

So, they had brought Bridget to a little park, hoping that a change of scenery might help her mood. So far, she was content, sitting happily near them, running her hands over the grass and pulling some up by the blades intermittently. The same couldn’t be said for her and Drake. He looked as wound up as she felt. His arms were crossed in front of his chest and his eyes kept darting between Bridget and random people around them. A young mother or nanny ran past them earlier, chasing a school-aged boy down, and Riley thought Drake was going to knock her to the ground. To say they were both on edge was the definition of an understatement.

The tension radiating off them was probably why Bridget was so content to just sit near them. Normally, she would be crawling everywhere, checking out every leaf, flower, and bug in her path. But she kept looking at Riley and Drake, a frown on her little face when they weren’t encouraging her to move and explore. At this rate, Riley wasn’t sure this stressful little trip was going to do her any good.

At the moment, she had found a little flowering tree that was dropping all it’s blossoms, and she was entertaining herself by picking up the pink petals on the ground. Riley was about to ask Drake how long he wanted to stay when she saw Bridget move to put a tiny fistful of the flowers in her mouth.

“Drake, can you stop her from eat-” she started, since Drake was sitting closer to Bridget, but before she could even finish her sentence, she saw Drake’s eyes widen as all the color drained from his face in a second. She turned her head in the direction he was looking and saw a woman who was maybe 50 years old running towards them, pointing at Bridget, calling something out in Greek. Her throat felt tight and her heart started racing as she twisted back towards Drake, but was startled to find him already standing over her, grabbing her arm and yanking her to her feet with one hand, Bridget already scooped up in his other arm.

“Get to the car,” he rattled off, shoving Bridget into her arms before he started fumbling through his pockets, slipping the keys into her shaking hands. 

Riley clutched Bridget close to her chest, turned around, and started running as fast as she could. Feet pounding over the grass, Bridget bouncing in her arms. Sound was distorted in her ears, hollow and thin. She ran, past a jogger, past a couple holding hands. All towards the edge of the park. Towards their car parked just around the corner.

At some point, Bridget started crying, twisting, trying to escape from her arms. Riley tried to keep a tight hold on her, but it was hard. She was slipping. She stopped, trying to readjust. She spun, looking for Drake, but he wasn’t there. Why wasn’t he right behind her?

“Drake?” she cried out as she spun around, frantically searching for him. Her voice was shaky, weak. “Drake?” He wasn’t anywhere. She couldn’t think. Where could he be? He could outrun a middle-aged woman. So why wasn’t he there?

“He’s trying to give you time to get away.” The thought shot through her, and she knew it was the truth in an instant. Stupid, self-sacrificing, noble man. On instinct, she started sprinting back into the park. She wasn’t leaving him behind. Not when they could get out of this together. It was one woman. They could outrun one woman.

She was so hellbent on getting back to drag Drake out of there, she almost didn’t see him, briskly walking toward her. He did a double take when he noticed her, but then held up his hands in front of his chest and shook his head.

“We’re fine!” he called out. “It’s all fine.”

It took her half a second to process his words, but when she did, she slowed her pace, jogging the last few steps to him and tugging one arm free from Bridget to wrap tightly around his neck.

His arms slipped around her waist, holding her close. “We’re fine,” he murmured into her hair, “She didn’t recognize us.”

“Then why was she running at-”

“The flowers. Those were oleander petals. She was worried Bridget was going to poison herself.”

Riley let out a shaky breath as she leaned back slightly, looking Drake dead in the eye. “I thought-”

“I know; me too.” And with that he pulled her and Bridget tight against him again. She tried to calm herself, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, but her heart was still racing. It had all felt too close, too real.

Bridget was still crying, so after a moment, Drake dropped his arms from Riley’s waist and moved to take Bridget, bouncing her on his hip, clearly trying to calm her down. Between her continued tears and screams and the mad dash Riley had just made through the park, they weren’t exactly keeping a low profile.

“We should probably not hang around here after the scene we just caused,” she murmured. Drake nodded briskly, tucking Bridget fully against his side and grabbing Riley’s hand with his free arm. He set a rapid pace as they walked out of the park, not saying anything more until they were all secure in the privacy of their car.

“Drake, what are we doing?” she asked, watching Drake’s shoulder’s sag as he finally seemed to catch his breath. His knuckles were tense as he clutched the steering wheel.

“The best we can, Riley.”

“We couldn’t even spend an hour in a park without making a mess. How are we going to get by?”

He shook his head and let out a sigh. “Well, we’re just going to have to figure it out, aren’t we?”

A wave of guilt washed over her. All of this was her fault. She had no right to express doubt about it now, not after her decision got Drake named a traitor to the Crown. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, running her hand over her face.

“For what?”

“This is all my fault, isn’t it?”

“Riley,” his voice was quiet and his hand slid over onto her knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Riley, look at me.”

She twisted in the passenger seat to face him the best she could. She could hear Bridget kicking against the car seat and starting to fuss, clearly expecting the car to be moving at this point, but Drake made no move to start the car.

“This is fucking Barthelemy’s fault.” He stared straight into her eyes as he said it. He looked so earnest that Riley almost believed him. But deep down, she knew that was a mad over simplification of the issue. Maybe he brought it all to a head, but she and Drake had put themselves into a position to have their parenting called into question by assholes like him in the first place.

Still, she knew what Drake was trying to do. He was trying to make her feel better about the whole mess. How he was able to worry about her when he was obviously frazzled and sleep-deprived himself was nothing short of a miracle.

When all she was able to muster was a weak little smile, Drake kept going. “Remember how shitty we both felt those first few weeks home with her?”

Shitty was an understatement. Bridget had been horribly cranky as soon as she wasn’t right in that newborn period. Colicky and loud, she’d cried constantly, often for no apparent reason. She’d fed poorly, slept in tiny little bursts, and didn’t seem to soothe unless she was held, walked around, and all the stars and planets were aligned. Riley had felt like a failure as a mother time and time again. “Yeah, that sucked ass.”

“Right. Both of us had no idea what the hell we were doing, and we were so scared we were gonna be complete garbage at it. But we figured it out, right? There was just a learning curve. This is gonna be the same way.”

“Drake Walker, are you giving me a ‘practice makes perfect’ pep talk about being a fugitive?”

He blushed, just slightly, and gave her a little shrug. “I didn’t mean it to sound so cheesy.”

“No, I think it’s sweet,” she said, grabbing his hand on her knee and threading their fingers together. “But I think we need to start thinking for the long term here. Spending days locked in hotel rooms and then freaking out when we step out in public is not going to work forever.”

He nodded at her. “I’ve been thinking about this, and I think we need some aliases and forged documents. We have no way to earn any money at this point, and if we get asked for our papers, we’re done for right now.”

Riley bit her lip. She knew he was right, and she had an idea of how to go about it. She just wasn’t sure if it was a smart move.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, watching her face carefully.

“I think we’re going to have to find a way to get in touch with Amalas.”

Drake let out a huge sigh at that, so Riley kept going. “I don’t like it either, but if someone we know is equipped to make believable forgeries, it’s her.”

“What is she going to want in exchange, though? She’s an opportunist, and right now we have nothing to offer her.”

Riley shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Drake opened his mouth to say more, but Bridget’s patience ran out at that point, a massive wail echoing through the car.

“To be continued? When she’s not trying to burst our eardrums?” Drake asked, sliding the key into the ignition and starting the car. Riley just nodded. They didn’t have to decide their next steps this moment, but soon, they were going to have to, and Riley had a feeling that no matter what they chose, it was going to feel like the wrong call.

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

Olivia scowled a little as she dug through her desk drawer. Her emergency ibuprofen was supposed to be in this drawer, and her head was killing her. She really should start taking meds before her meetings with Maxwell. He had left her office maybe twenty minutes ago, and just like every meeting she’d had with him since this whole mess began, she was now dealing with a migraine.

To be honest, having to listen to Maxwell’s rambling, inefficient accounts of what was going on at Ramsford was just the last irritation that put her over the edge. Having Maxwell, Liam, and now Leo living at the keep, as well as Bertrand and Hana making frequent appearances was just a lot. She was used to her privacy, and the constant activity and bustle in her home was all a bit much to handle.

Leo had arrived Monday, and she’d tasked him with providing Liam emotional support. It was the only thing she trusted him to do, really, and even that was pushing it. But she was busy, managing the press, trying to buy off employees in Portavira to get some dirt on Landon and Emmeline, and providing statements to Bastien regarding her conduct in the days between the initial vote and her reporting Drake and Riley’s disappearance.

Hana was the only one she felt like she didn’t need to keep on a short leash at this point. She was staying at Valtoria to make sure Barthelemy’s people couldn’t gain unauthorized access, and she seemed prepared for her meeting with Rashad tomorrow. Olivia and Hana weren’t exactly sure what Rashad wanted to discuss with her, but they’d reviewed their stories prior to having their official interviews with law enforcement earlier this week, so whatever questions he had, Olivia was confident Hana would have acceptable answers.

But Bertrand was in a tizzy, staying at Ramsford in an effort to prevent his father from forcing him out as head of house, Maxwell was a scatterbrained go between who alternated between forgetting key pieces of info to share and recounting conversations down to the last detail, and Liam seemed to be sinking into a deeper pit of depression every day, leaving her to believe Leo’s efforts were lackluster. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could let these men flounder along before she stepped in and took control.

On top of everything, she still had her typical duties as the Duchess of Lythikos, and reviewing some tax records was her planned task for today. She couldn’t really neglect it any longer, but her migraine was making it difficult to focus on the spreadsheets in front of her.

She finally found her pill bottle and popped three tablets, massaging her temples and hoping the relief would come soon. But before she could return to the task at hand, a knock on her office door interrupted her. She let out a massive sigh and rolled her shoulders back before calling out, “Come in.”

Leo poked his head around the door and grinned at her, striding into her office and sitting down across the desk from her. “How are you today, Liv?”

“Annoyed. What do you want?”

“What, can’t I just come in to chat with my favorite duchess in Cordonia?”

“Not when I am busy putting out seventeen different fires. What. Do. You. Want?”

“I was hoping to talk to Lady Hana.”

Olivia squinted at Leo. He was so predictable. “Absolutely not.”

“What?” His eyebrows flew up almost comically at her response. “Why not?”

“She’s far too nice for the likes of you.”

That little smirk, the one he used to get away with everything, started forming. “Hey, I like nice.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Are you saying you aren’t nice, Liv? I remember you being plenty ‘nice’ to me in the past.”

She shook her head at him. He was far too charming for his own good. “No one in their right mind would call me nice. Besides, this isn’t about a mistake from nearly a decade ago.”

He clutched his hands over his heart, like her words wounded him, but he was openly chuckling. “A mistake? You are indeed a cruel woman, Olivia Nevakris.”

“I’m actually being very kind to you here, protecting your ego from taking a beating when she inevitably rejected any… advances from you.”

“What makes you so sure I am going to seduce her if I speak to her?”

“Well, you wouldn’t be successful, but when was the last time you didn’t try to get into the pants of a pretty woman?”

“Do our conversations not count?”

“I’m not young enough to find that line anything but cheesy.”

“Can’t blame a man for trying. No, but I really was hoping to talk to Lady Hana. Where are her quarters?”

Olivia cocked her head and frowned. She didn’t know how often Hana and Leo had interacted, but it clearly wasn’t all that often if he kept using her title. What he could possibly want from her was a total mystery.

“What do you want to talk to her about?” she asked.

Leo gave a little shrug, “She lived with Drake and Riley, right? Well, I figure she might have a way of getting in touch with them.”

Olivia was careful to keep her face still. She didn’t think Leo was likely to be working for Barthelemy. It wouldn’t make any sense, and his disdain for the way Constantine had ruled had never seemed to apply to his brother. Besides, he’d thrown away his chance at being king, so it’s not like power or glory in a coup would be very tempting to him. But she couldn’t think of a reason why Leo was looking to talk to the Walkers, and after the past few days, she wasn’t taking any chances.

“Why would you think she would be able to get in touch with them?” There, a good opening question that would hopefully get him talking.

“It would make sense that the person they live with is someone they trust the most, right? And her family isn’t caught up in all of this political shit, so she seems like a safe option in that regard, too.”

“Why are you looking to talk to them?”

“Liam seems pretty torn up without Drake here. I thought maybe if I-”

Olivia couldn’t help it, a chuckle of shock and disbelief shot out of her, interrupting Leo.

“What?”

“You had one job - cheer Liam up, and your method of doing so was to attempt to convince Drake and Riley to come back? Gee, why didn’t I think to try that?” she replied, rolling her eyes at the end.

“Ah ha, so you are in touch with them!” he cried out, leaning back in his chair, a smug, shit-eating grin etched across his face.

“Bastard,” Olivia grumbled, shaking her head.

He just grinned wider at that. “It’s alright little Livvy; your secret’s safe with me.”

“Don’t call me ‘little Livvy’ ever again,” she said, leaning across her desk and staring him down, “But even if… theoretically there was a way to talk to Drake and Riley, you won’t be able to convince them to come back. You wouldn’t have been able to a couple of days ago, and you certainly won’t now that warrants have been issued.”

“I’m quite persuasive, you know.”

“You can keep telling yourself that, but I think Drake Walker might be immune to your… charms, particularly when he and his wife are going to lose custody of their kid if he gives in.”

“Fair enough. Not even worth a shot, then?”

She shook her head. “Honestly, them returning at this point will just be another fire I have to try and put out. Them on the run is easier to deal with than them in prison.”

Liam nodded, swiping his thumb along his jawline. “Alright then. Say there was a theoretical way to get in touch with them. Would someone be able to get them some money?”

Olivia blinked several times as her brain tried to follow this unexpected shift. “I’m sorry, I think I must have just had a stroke. I thought I heard you ask about getting money to them.”

“I’m serious. They can’t use their credit cards, right? All of their funds are frozen, I would assume.”

“Since when are you mister charitable?”

Leo bit his lip, not willing to answer right away apparently. “This stays between us, alright?” he eventually said, his blue eyes wide and earnest. All Olivia could do was nod.

“I know Liam is not exactly thrilled with them. And I get why, and obviously my first choice would be for them to be here.”

“Noted,” Olivia said dryly. She had no idea where this was going, but for this amount of build up, it had better be fucking fascinating.

“I like that they just kind of said… ‘fuck it,’ and left. It’s sort of admirable, isn’t it? That sort of courage and disregard for all rules of courtly conduct?”

Olivia rolled her eyes again. “You just are happy you aren’t the biggest scandal this century in Cordonia anymore.”

“Nah, I’m just thrilled that Drake Walker is suddenly a whole lot more interesting. And what can I say? I always like to take a risky gamble.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “Unless you can give me a real reason you want to help them, I am not adding another person to this mess. Particularly one who likes to run his mouth after a few drinks at the craps table.”

Leo frowned at that. “I’m not as heartless as you make me out to be, you know. I’ve known Drake basically his entire life, and I don’t want to see him suffering, particularly since I understand the type of pressures placed on his kid. And… when my mother left my dad, she couldn’t take me. I had to stay in the palace, and you know how that turned out. But if those two found a different way to do things… good for them, I say.”

Olivia stared at Leo, trying to assess his sincerity. He seemed to mean his words, but she wasn’t ready to hand him a bunch of confidential info, not just yet. She would need to talk to Hana first, but Leo might be a nice resource. He traveled all over constantly, so it wouldn’t really seem suspicious for him to head to another country. He might be their best chance to get Riley and Drake their most essential belongings.

“Hana’s gone back to Valtoria, but we can’t have you seen there. She’ll be back Friday.”

“So, I have your permission to talk to her then. My, I am honored.”

“You can talk to her if you actually get Liam to stop wallowing in his quarters, just reviewing ancient law books.”

“Like I said, if you just let me take him to the casinos-”

“For the fifth time, Leo, he cannot be seen gambling after losing his title! Are you fucking stupid?”

Leo grinned widely. “No, but watching your face turn as red as your hair never gets old. He’ll be fine, Liv. He’s just a little weirded out by actually having some time off for the first time in years. Don’t worry, I’ll have him relaxing like me soon enough.”

“Leo!”

“Like I said, it never gets old,” he said, pointing to her face and winking at her. Before she could get a serious answer out of him, her office phone started ringing.

“Oooh, saved by the bell,” he said, popping out of his chair. “I’m getting Liam drunk, so swing by later if you get a chance.”

“Are you fucking serious, Leo?”

“You’ll have to find out later. Better answer that.” He pointed to the phone before ducking out the door with a cheeky little wave.

Taking a calming breath, Olivia picked up the phone. Only official governmental business came through on this landline.

“This is Olivia Nevrakis.”

“Duchess Olivia, it’s Queen Amalas.”

Olivia’s mind raced, trying to determine why she was calling her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I have some information for you, and I was wondering how valuable it is or isn’t to you at this point.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know the location of the former Duchess and Duke of Valtoria and the Queen-Regent of Cordonia.”

Permatag: @walkerswhiskeygirl   @riley--walker  @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5  @mfackenthal  @thequeenofcronuts  

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @ao719 @mskaneko @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie

Drake x MC: @no-one-u-know @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria  @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs  @drakesensworld @drake-colt-lover-99

Fight or Flight: @masterofbluff @burnsoslow @bobasheebaby @shz256 @iaminlovewithtrr​

[lxvesickreality]

mistakes 4/4

Request: same request from the first

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: angst but fluff at the end, swearing, extra long since I took forever

Word count: 5241

Add on: i’m so appreciative of everyone who liked and commented, even sent me messages about the last one. it truly gave me the motivation to sit down and write this so quickly. i never expected to get that much in such a small amount of time. thank you all for reading this. i hope you enjoy this one. it’s a rollercoaster:)

Add on 2: the bold line that Steve says is from the song Little Lion Man by Mumford & Sons and the reader says a line too with a difference and it’s Good Grief by Bastille. the lines are theirs and NOT mine. 

gif is NOT mine, credit to owners

5 years later

“Hurry, mommy, hurry!” the little girl giggled, almost tripping over her feet as she ran towards the park in desperate need of this fun. Y/N followed her daughter, laughing at the little one getting so excited over something that seemed so simple to herself and followed just as fast as her daughter was going. “Uncle Bucky, hurry! You’re such a slow poke. Isn’t he, mommy?” 

“He sure is, sweetheart. I’ll catch up with you. I’ll go get Uncle Buck but stay close by.” nodding her head, the little 5 year old raced off to play with the other kids who were thrilled to have someone new there to play with them. Y/N spun on her heel coming into contact with Bucky would ran the rest of the way. He apologized straight away at the closeness and took a step back. 

Bucky sighed with content, the two of them making their way to a bench to keep an eye on Ivy, Y/N’s daughter. “I found another thing on him. He’s in Iraq. Apparently, there was a few enemies of H.Y.D.R.A.’s hiding out there and-”

“He killed them,” she cut him off. “I know the drill. He’s done this for the last 5 years, Bucky. When will they let him go?” 

“I don’t know. Truly, Y/N/N. I doubt they will though. I don’t want you to get-”

“Don’t even say it. Bucky, he promised he’d come home. They have to let him go at some point.” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, letting a small smile rise on her cheeks at the sight of her daughter hugging a little boy who was just a little smaller than her. “Ivy doesn’t even know him. Steve doesn’t even know of her. I didn’t even know I was pregnant with her for Christ sake. The doctor said it would be nearly impossible to get pregnant but here she comes and she doesn’t even get to know her dad. Buck, it’s not fair.” 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am. If I’d known,”

“Stop apologizing. You couldn’t have ever known they would ask for him or that he’d give himself up. Nobody would’ve known.” Y/N put a reassuring hand on his shoulder with a smile on her face to let him ease the guilt then directed her attention back to her daughter. 

“You can stop bottling up all these feelings, you know. I know how you really feel and I don’t know how you smile still.” 

She let her gaze fall to the ground at his words. He was right. “It broke me when I saw him get into the car and they drove off. It broke me thinking I wasn’t going to live to see him again, to tell him I forgave him for cheating on me. Steve’s a good man, Bucky. I know he didn’t mean it and yes, it hurt the fuck out of me but I love him. I always will. I want him home so badly.” 

“I know, Y/N, I know. I do too.” 

That ended their conversation involving Steve. They spent the next hour and a half talking about what Y/N has been up to since she moved to Arizona to start fresh and she was starting fresh. Arizona was nice, warm and sunny most of the time which was perfect for Ivy because she always wanted to be outside. It was great for Y/N because there was nothing following her except the nightmares of being kidnapped that have began to slowly stop and be overcome with good dreams about her daughter. Tony bought her everything she needed, she wanted nothing from Brooklyn, nothing from the house her and Steve lived in. It hurt her too damn much to live in a place meant for a family of three. 

Nearing dark, Y/N said her goodbyes to Bucky who was staying at a hotel for the next few days to continue visiting with her and Ivy was in the stroller sleeping away from being so exhausted from the amount of playing she did. She wore herself out. He returned to his motorcycle or rather Steve’s motorcycle which he took after feeling so lonely without him and sped off into the night leaving Y/N behind and unattended. 

Y/N got Ivy out of the stroller, lifting her up and putting her into the car seat that was held in the back of the car, buckling her up before shutting the door and folding the stroller to make it fit in the trunk. She shut the trunk and her breath hitched. Down the road, almost too dark to see, she caught a male standing beside the trees wearing a jacket similar to her husbands and he didn’t move, he just stood there watching not caring that she had caught him. Y/N couldn’t leave Ivy behind but she couldn’t take her eyes off the man in case he decided to flee and she hopped in her car, starting the engine and forgetting the seat belt. The man stayed. 

“Fuck,” she muttered. If it wasn’t Steve and someone else, what was she supposed to do? “Bucky, I need to call Bucky.” 

Fumbling with her purse, eyes still kept on the male, she clutched her phone and dialed Bucky’s number taking her eyes off for a minute and looking back up. He was gone. 

“Hello?” Bucky answered. 

“Bucky, I-there was a-a man. He was down the road from the park.” 

“Where are you?”

“I haven’t left the park. I wanted to go see who it was and why they were staring at me but-” she stopped herself. “he wore the same jacket Steve used to wear. His favorite one. Bucky, what if it was him?”

“That’s not a good thing, Y/N. He’s been with H.Y.D.R.A. the last 5 years. Remember how I was when you met me? They could’ve done something so much worse. He won’t be the Steve we used to know.”

Her heart dropped real low, another piece of her heart picking off just from those words. She knew he was right. But she wanted to believe something differently. It made it easier. “We don’t know that.” 

“Yes, we do, Y/N. Don’t be naive. They screw up everyone who comes into their territory. Especially someone like that.” she heard him take a deep breath on the other side of the phone before he spoke up again. “Come stay at the hotel please. You’ll be much safer here.” 

“I can’t. I have a shift tomorrow and I don’t have anything with me.” 

“I’ll go get it. Or I’ll come with you to get it. You can’t be alone right now.” 

Wiping away a few tears that fell from her eyes, she sniffled and told him okay then hung up the phone. Y/N sat still for a few moments taking everything in until the walls she had surrounding herself collapsed and she started to sob. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing despite the several attempts she made to wipe them away but eventually, she gave up and let out a heart wrenching cry banging her fists against the steering wheel in anger and distress. Without her acknowledgement, Ivy was awake witnessing her mothers break down and she unbuckled herself quietly not to disturb her but thought a hug will make things better. Ivy wrapped her arms around her mom, startling her but Y/N embraced her daughter letting more and more tears flow. 

“It’s okay, mommy. I know you miss daddy. Uncle Bucky does too. He’ll come back for us, I know he will. Daddy loves us.” Y/N hugged her daughter tighter. “I love you, mommy. I’m here for you.”

“Oh baby girl,” Y/N drew back to smile at her regardless of the tears that rolled down. “I wish your dad was here to see you. He would’ve loved to see you like this. Now, get back in your seat. I’m going to dry these tears up and we’re going to spend a few days with Uncle Bucky. Oh and guess what?” 

Y/N helped Ivy back into her seat and her daughter peered up at her mother. “What?”

“Uncle Bucky is staying at a hotel with a pool!” Ivy squealed with delight, buckling the last thing up. “We just have to go to the house where Uncle Bucky will be and pick up a few things then we will go to the hotel. Tomorrow, he’ll take you swimming while I go to work. Sound good?” 

A few days later

“How was work?” Bucky questioned Y/N at the moment the woman waltzed through the hotel door revealing two bags of necessities from the store. 

She shrugged, “It was okay, I guess. I keep getting the feeling someone is watching me though, Buck,” 

Every shift she was she could swear that there is a person following behind her in a black SUV on the road to where she worked and stayed in the parking lot until she got off her shift. After the day at the park, Bucky figured she was seeing things because it could be traumatizing to see someone who could possibly be stalking you. He didn’t want to believe it could be Steve, H.Y.D.R.A.  wouldn’t let him go that easy. They made a real big effort to keep Bucky there but to their defeat, he’s alive and well. Y/N thanked him seeing that he gripped onto the bags that held the groceries. It was late and the woman caught a glance of her daughter passed out on one of the full sized beds with a shirt of Steve’s tucked tightly in her arms. That shirt is barely washed, constantly with Ivy since she found so much comfort in it and security. Y/N smiled at the sight. 

“Well, they haven’t approached you so we don’t know what we’re dealing with quite yet.” Bucky replied, the protectiveness coming out from beneath the rest of his emotions. 

“Did she have fun swimming?” 

“Yes and she swam by herself with floaties. She will definitely be athletic one day which must come from you because Steve was definitely not athletic before the serum.” the two shared a laugh. 

Approaching the mini fridge she pulled out a water bottle, “Of course he wasn’t. From the picture and from what you both have told me, he could barely do a single push up,” 

“You got a movie? You know we could’ve ordered it on the TV?” said Bucky from the other side of the room stocking the drinks she bought in the mini fridge.

“Yes, I know but I like having it my hands and not on a television. I don’t know. It’s a thing of mine.” 

He let out a chuckle, throwing away the bags and turning to face Y/N. Bucky placed it into the DVR starting up the movie and plopping on the bed next to the one Ivy was sprawled out on. He patted the spot next to him to show he wanted her to sit next to him. Y/N accepted the invitation, kicking her shoes off before joining her friend to entertain herself with the movie. Bucky skipped the previews and pressed play to begin to movie. 

The movie rolled by and the two adults were paying attention but one kept slipping his attention elsewhere. It was wrong, he knew that. What he was feeling was terrible and shouldn’t even be happening but it’s been 5 years, he didn’t believe Steve was coming back but then the argument would set in motion making him push it to the back of mind but he couldn’t help it. Bucky’s eyes flickered to the tips of her toes watching as she wiggled them in anticipation of the climax of the movie. His eyes trailed up inch by inch stopping to admire each part for just a few seconds and eventually met her face. It was beautiful to him, the way the skin crinkled by her eyes when she smiled or laughed at a line that was said in the movie. Her eyes that shone brightly against the moon that found its way through the curtain to make her eyes pop even more with the little mascara she applied this morning. She curled her hair today, the curls bouncing slightly against her chest when she giggled and her lips were still stained with red from one of her favorite lipsticks. A few pieces of hair dropped in front of her face, framing it perfectly and without thinking, he reached out to push it back to admire her some more. 

Y/N’s eyes were torn from the movie at the sudden human contact coming from her friend that was perched next to her. Her e/c eyes met his blue with a mixture of grey eyes and the emotion that appeared in his astonished her. He didn’t try to hide it, he didn’t look away and back at the movie, he kept his eyes on her. It was almost like he was done denying the feelings he had towards her. 

“Bucky?” he didn’t dare answer her. He just wanted to do it once and let it go because he knew he’d never have her. Her heart belonged to Steve, his best friend. She didn’t know what to do as he leaned in closer and closer until his breath hit her face. “Bucky,”

“Don’t speak. Just let me do it this once.” when she didn’t respond, he took that as his answer. Bucky’s lips met Y/N’s. One touch made her a believer, she knew right then that he wouldn’t want to do this just once. He’ll want more, more from her and maybe it was time to move on. It had been 5 years since she last seen the love of her life. Ultimately, it came down to the decision and she let her guard down to kiss him back. She knew in her heart that maybe there were small feelings towards this man but she also still loved Steve with everything she had. How could she forget those years she spent with him? But how could she forget those times Bucky was there and he wasn’t? 

It felt like hours until they pulled apart but when they did, she didn’t know what to think or say. The movie was over and the credits were rolling so she knew it had been a few minutes. Y/N opened her mouth to speak but decided against speaking so she stood from the bed, trudging over to the bathroom after grabbing a pair of comfy clothes and didn’t dare look back at the man she left on the bed. 

When finished, she exited the door to find no sign of Bucky and she sighed defeatedly. Pulling back the covers on the bed Ivy was, she crawled into the bed with her daughter trying to forget the memory of Bucky’s lips on hers and trying to forget the feeling of enjoying the intimacy they shared. Y/N let her eyes flutter close and proceeded to let the darkness engulf her. 

~ 

From just outside the hotel bar Bucky Barnes was at stood Steve Rogers deciding what to do about this situation. Upon learning of his offspring, he convinced H.Y.D.R.A. to let him go and by convinced, he killed a few great assets to leave in which they had no choice but to let him go. He got tired of doing their bidding and wanted to be with his family, he would’ve done anything for his family. H.Y.D.R.A. may retaliate but for now that wasn’t his problem. Steve entered the hotel dismissing the secretary and entering the bar his best friend was at. Bucky had given up, he could tell that from miles away and he meant that literally as he has kept tabs on all of them. The occasional letter exchanged between him and Bucky was enough to keep him satisfied for a little bit. But Bucky had no idea Steve decided to make an appearance especially so soon after the kiss that just happened only an hour before. 

Pointing to what Bucky was having, the bartender understood and from there Steve gladly took a seat next to him. 

Bucky gasped mentally at the sight of him. He was different, looked different. Despite what the letters had told him he wasn’t expecting for his best friend to look like this but it was a good look, it suited him. The beard he had was grown out and he looked like he was due for a haircut but he most likely decided against one. His eyes were the best thing that stood out. They were dull and sad, not a single shimmer of hope or joy in them. H.Y.D.R.A. destroys everyone who enters their territory, he’d know firsthand. 

“Does H.Y.D.R.A. know you’re here?” Bucky was the first to speak after he downed the rest of his alcohol beverage. 

Steve shook his head, “I left with a couple dead bodies behind me. Trust me, they won’t be coming back to claim me any time soon.”

“That was a bold move,” 

“I know,” 

The guilt gnawed at Bucky after the realization hit him, his best friend was back and his wife was upstairs probably asleep by now with his daughter he didn’t have any knowledge about until the first letter got to him. He kissed his wife, the mother of his child and forgot about Steve knowing another letter was to show up at any moment. He was a terrible friend.

“I kissed her, Steve,” 

“I figured you would some time soon.” his reply shocked him.

Bucky spun in his seat to face his best friend, “Wait, what?” 

“Look,” Steve put down his drink to focus on Bucky. “I don’t even think you realized you’ve had feelings for her this whole time. I noticed it when you watched her walk down the aisle to marry me, you thought you were just jealous and sad about the fact you may not get that but in reality, you wanted her. I’m not mad. Both of you probably didn’t think I was coming back at all since it’s been 5 years but I did come back.” 

“I didn’t even know until then either. I guess I just pushed away everything I felt for her because you deserved to find happiness.” 

“Does she know about the letters?” Bucky shook his head. “Thank you for not telling her. I didn’t want her to see me like that.” 

“She’s going to gouge out my eyeballs when she finds out though, you know that, right?” 

“You’re damn right I’m going to,” the men shot their heads to behind them where Y/N and Ivy stood. “I came down here because Ivy wanted you, Bucky. But here I am and I find out that my husband is here, knew you had feelings for me, wrote you fucking letters, and didn’t even bother to tell me.”

“Fucking,” Ivy cursed, giggling at the newfound word. Y/N lightly tapped her shoulder scolding her. 

Bucky started to speak, “Y/N, I-” 

“Don’t even say a word, Barnes.” her e/c eyes examined her husband who now stood silently. Y/N never realized how much Ivy was an exact replica of her father and it was stunning. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but this hurts worse than when I found out you cheated on me. Let’s go, Ivy. We need to go home.” 

“Mommy, wait,” the five year gently pulled back from her mom and let herself go forward towards where Steve was. “You’re my daddy?” 

“Yes, kiddo, I am.” 

Without warning, Ivy kicked his shin and glared at him, “You are a meanie. You made mommy cry and curse!” running back to Y/N, she kept her gaze on her flip flops and the two girls waltzed back to the elevator. 

“Did my own daughter just kick my shin and call me a meanie?” 

~

Y/N locked the door behind her once Ivy and herself set foot back into the hotel room with the full intent on leaving. Ivy took a seat on the sofa that was across the room with an attitude clearly feeling the emotions that Y/N was feeling. She knew she shouldn’t be acting this way in front of their kid but she couldn’t help it, she was betrayed once again. Maybe the two men had a good reason but she didn’t know if any reason would be good enough to sedate these feelings. 

Tossing the suitcase onto the bed and unzipping the top, she began to stuff the suitcase with everything they brought with them not caring about the bathing suit that Ivy wore was still wet and soaking every other piece of clothing. Y/N knew they needed to get out of here. It was wrong of her to keep Ivy from her father without a proper introduction but judging by the actions that Ivy committed, she didn’t think her daughter cared. Almost finished and she heard the footsteps of the black boots she got Bucky a few years back for Christmas hitting the floor outside with another pair of footsteps behind him. She anxiously picked up the last few things and tossed them in the suitcase closing it behind them.

“C’mon, Ivy, we gotta go.” she barely glanced at Ivy as she made her way to the door, slightly panicking because she knew they were behind the door. But she has two options. Leave and don’t confront it or confront the two men that stood behind this door and tell them how it was. 

“Y/N, please, open the door. We need to talk.” Steve said with regret thick in his voice. 

Shaking her head, she reached for the door handle but stopped. Did she want to teach her daughter to run from her problems, to not face them head on? That’s what she would be doing if she didn’t confront the man she loved and the other she didn’t know what she felt for. The look in her daughter’s eyes reminded her of herself, hurt but continuing to be strong. Unlocking the door, she took a step back while opening the door to ensure she didn’t hit herself. 

She glared at the both of them, “Then talk. Ivy, go into the bathroom and find something to do on my phone.” the little girl jumped at the chance to take her mother’s phone and ran to the bathroom obeying her mom. 

“Y/N,” Steve didn’t know what to say now that he had the chance. He didn’t think of what to say on the way up here. “I don’t know how to explain everything. I’m sorry.” 

“I’ll talk then.” leaving the door open she stomped into the middle of the room with her back facing them and she was breathing heavily, clearly furious with them. She whipped around. “So you knew you had a daughter and didn’t come back?” 

“I-”

“No! Don’t talk. I am talking. You’ll get your chance. You knew everything that was going on and didn’t bother to say shit to me? Do you know how I’ve been feeling the last 5 fucking years, Steven? Fucking broken and terrified. My daughter was a miracle that I didn’t want then because how could I do it without her father present? How could I afford everything? How could I possibly stay in the same city much less same state that held my biggest tragedies? You have no idea. Bucky told you what he thought he knew but he didn’t know all of it. I needed you, Steve! I fucking needed you and you weren’t here!” 

“Y/N, this is my fault too,” Bucky tried to say but Y/N’s glare stopped him from saying anymore. 

“Don’t you fucking speak, Barnes. I was a single mother with no help, no money, no job because I quit as soon as I was able to get out of the hospital and from my bed. I had nothing but a little baby that was on her way and despite the odds, I gave birth to Ivy and I’ve raised her since. Ever since she could talk, she asked about you, Steve. I told her you were off doing what you thought was right and saving me. She wouldn’t shut up about you and she fucking looked like you! I had to stare at my baby for the first few months disgusted with myself because I wanted nothing to do with her. I had postpartum depression and I had it bad. You weren’t here to help me through it. You weren’t here for her first smile, the first time she crawled, her first steps, her first words, nothing. You weren’t fucking here.” 

Steve opened his mouth to speak again, “Don’t. I’m not done. Steve...I was fucking broken. I was downright broken and it was so hard to crawl out of that dark space. I get it, you had Bucky here to look after me but he could only do so much. I cried myself to sleep each night I laid in an empty bed that only held myself. When I decided to move her, it was on an impulse and Tony offered to help me with pay for everything I needed. I didn’t ask but I ended up with a nice two bedroom apartment and a good, stable job. And this entire time I struggled and cried for you, you were sending letters to Bucky? I get that you guys are best friends but I’m supposed to be your wife, a wife you left behind after cheating on her and leaving her to fend for herself after being kidnapped!” 

Y/N took a deep, shaky breath in with salty tears streaming down her face. She attempted to wipe them away with the sleeve of her shirt but failed as more tears escaped her eyes. A sob left her mouth before she could make an effort to choke it down but it didn’t stop her from rambling on some more about how she felt. “And you, Bucky, I can’t believe you’d do that. You’ve witnessed firsthand how I was feeling when I found out I was pregnant. I cried for hours and hours, you fucking held me but you chose not to even think about telling me about those goddamn letters my husband sent to you. You didn’t even care. You looked into my eyes every day with no remorse shown about it. You talked to me, told me Steve wasn’t coming back. You watched me fucking slowly start to give up hope!”

The woman trudged to over to Steve slowly, “You know I forgave you for cheating. But maybe I would’ve forgiven you for sending Bucky letters in the first place. Maybe I would’ve forgiven you for showing up to see Bucky in the middle of the night with the knowledge of me sleeping. Maybe I would’ve even forgiven you for knowing Bucky was in love with me and being okay with the fact he kissed me tonight. But I can’t. You’ve done too much to this family of ours, Steve. You’ve done too much to me.” 

It went silent after Y/N closed her mouth after that last sentence, the tears still flowing down her cheeks that was incredibly wet from the waterfalls of tears. She didn’t know what to feel anymore, she was tired of feeling broken and betrayed, hurt even. The walls she built over the years were tumbling down fast despite the many layers of boards, she felt the walls caving in and the cracks of her heart growing bigger by the moment. Her hands entangled themselves into her hair, gripping tightly onto each strand she had and pulling gently. The feeling she had was overwhelming her but she couldn’t pinpoint what emotion it was that was taking over and it only intensified the moment. 

Steve and Bucky watched the woman fall apart in front of them, neither of them having any idea on what to do nor did they know who should comfort her because they both had done something to her. The two men wanted to embrace her in their arms, hold her tight until she settled down but they couldn’t so they stayed in their spot. Steve knew what he did was wrong, not saying anything to her for 5 years.

“Y/N, I am so sorry.” Steve apologized. She didn’t seem fazed by her husband, the tears masked the anger she was feeling and she was becoming exhausted from crying so much. “Why don’t you stay here for the rest of the night and we can talk in the morning?”

“Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Gives you the opportunity to go see that whore you cheated on me with. What a coincidence, she’s only a state over and you’re here.” the woman spoke up from the edge of the bed she sat down at. 

He shook his head immediately, “Y/N, I had no idea she was a state over. I came to Arizona to see you. I left H.Y.D.R.A. because I wanted you, I needed you. When I cheated,” he breathed in deeply. “it was the biggest mistake of my life. I shouldn’t have ever done that, I shouldn’t have done anything to break your trust, to break everything we had. I don’t know what I was thinking. I let my judgment cloud over my head and I did something that was unforgivable.”  

“I forgave you 5 years ago for cheating on me. What I can’t forgive is the fact you wrote letters to Bucky and didn’t say anything to me.” Steve had walked over to his wife and crouched in front of her. It hurt like hell to see the tears stream down her perfect rosy cheeks, ones that were caused by him solely. His heart clenched with sadness and guilt, the guilt seemed to be overtaking him and he was seeing how it was only going to hurt her in the long run. “What did I do so wrong, Steve? What did I do to deserve this?” 

“It wasn’t your fault. It was not your fault but mine and it was your heart on the line. I really fucked it up this time. Didn’t I, my dear?” this family was broken, shattered even and it was all of his fault. 

“Every minute of every hour I missed you. I kept asking myself what would’ve happened if we had just sat down and talked instead of kicking you out of the house. I wouldn’t have been kidnapped. Maybe if I had done better in training I would’ve gotten out of it. The entire year of the first year, I did nothing but wonder about you.”

“I love you. I never stopped.” one look was all it took and Y/N threw her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug. His warmth, his cologne, the smell of the laundry detergent used on his clothes, every about this man was enough for some of the anger to melt away. She needed him more than anything despite him being the cause of it but upon hearing the three words come out of his mouth, it was more than enough to get her to break the rest of her walls down. The sobs were enough to bring out Ivy who ran towards her mom and dad to embrace them. Even though they were so entirely broken, the pieces can be mended enough that they will eventually be okay.

“I love you too,” 

It took them years to redo their entire relationship, starting at the beginning like it was the first time they met but when the trust and love truly rekindled, it was stronger than ever. It was a lot to forgive and forget but with their daughter beside them for the entire ride, it made it much easier. Steve still felt the guilt of what he did, it was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. The mistakes he made led him to this moment and he couldn’t change the path it was on but the moments he had made it worth it. 

[phrynewrites]

6 and/or 50 for Branjie please?

Thanks for the prompt! Here’s a little snippet from The Audit (i.e. the rewrite of DOPS) Enjoy! 

6: “I’m not crying, you’re crying.”

50. “That looks like it hurts.” 

“So,” Brooke says, the greeting slashing like a knife as she closes the conference room door behind her, trying to hide her irritation at Director Oddly’s whole staff meeting in her office. She pauses, cocking a brow as she waits for them to quiet and face her.

She clears her throat, growing exasperated. But still, Silky doesn’t stop talking about her unresolved Venmo requests from when she covered drinks at bar trivia last night. 

“I have cut all funding from the…” Brooke glances down at her clipboard, squinting at her own tiny, slanted handwriting. “Lanmore Learnmore project. I will also be cutting at least one person from this staff monthly, until this department is comprised only of essential staff—” 

She continues talking over various objections with ease, learning long ago to block out the outcries of those who’ve never consulted their own budget, spent wildly, without consideration for their constituents’ tax dollar while truly increasing quality of life. In her experience, local governments experience less public backlash from their citizens when essential services are enhanced and fat is trimmed from budgets—even forty-five dollars saved per household is pleasing; most people think they can spend their forty-five dollars better than their government could.

So yes, she heard Yvie’s “fucking god,” muttered against her blazer sleeve and saw Scarlet drop her pen under the table, just for an excuse to not face Brooke as she announced lay-offs, and she knew Silky was rolling her eyes to the back of head at least six times over, while making no attempt to hide her scowl. 

But she stops once she hears a choked cry from across the room, namely, from Vanessa, who looks folded up in Brooke’s cushy desk chair, pulling Brooke’s cardigan off of the back of her chair and crumpling it in her lap. 

Brooke huffs. She’d have to send it straight to the dry cleaner. Maybe she should find one in town. Maybe she could wait until she got back to Richmond. 

“There’s nothing to cry about. It’s the truth of the situation, which you all put yourselves in.” Brooke points around the room with her pen. “Maybe if you all performed your jobs properly, cognizant of the budget you were provided, and frankly don’t deserve, I wouldn’t have to be here and we wouldn’t have to do this.”

“What the fuck, lady?” Yvie springs out of her chair, before Scarlet and A’Keria pull her back down by either shoulder. 

“I’m not crying, you’re crying. Fuck you.” Vanjie’s voice is small and swallowed up in herself. Nothing more than a quivering call across the table.

“Am I?” Brooke looks back at her from the side of her eyes, finding it difficult to look at the woman head on. “Look, it’s not personal. Numbers aren’t personal. Miss Mateo.” 

“Well, it’s personal when you’re cutting someone’s whole program, which helps people learn the job skills they need to rebuild their lives,” Nina poses, even toned, even as Vanessa crushed her hand in hers. “And you try to fire one of our friends every month.”

Brooke took a deep inhale. Friends. As if they won’t turn on one another the minute she leaves the conference room, trying to outperform each other to keep their jobs. Maybe then they’d actually perform the job they've been paid to perform for years, most of them, with either poor or unverified results.

“You’re destroying what she built her whole career on. Of course she’s upset,” Silky adds.

“I gotta get out of here. I gotta go now.” Vanjie pushes the chair out and throws the cardigan down on the table before haphazardly gathering her notebook and phone. As she stands, her phone slips out of her hands, rattling to the floor. She can't decide whether to pick it up or run, instead deciding to do both poorly. She doesn’t notice Brooke’s laptop charger lying across the carpet, running at full speed, tripping over the taut cable, her elbow slamming into the wheels of Yvie’s chair, her face slamming into Scarlet’s with a sharp grunt. 

Vanjie pulls her face back, squinting at the carpet. She can’t tell if that red stain has always been there, and if so, what’d it’d be from. Maybe from the last Christmas party, when Scarlet was standing on the table, barefoot, hanging up all of those string lights, already deep into a box of Chardonnay, and slipped off, expecting to be caught by her girlfriend, and instead crashing down like a rag doll thrown against the window by an angry toddler, earning herself a cut above her eyebrow. 

Vanjie swipes her hand across her face, trying to clear her mind, only to see red again. 

Brooke sucks at her front teeth. “Oh, that looks like it hurts.” 

“Yeah of course it would fucking hurt,” Yvie shouts back, sparking a series of outbursts, mostly from Silky, who pledged to find Brooke’s ‘fancy ass car’ and take all the stuffing out of her cushy, leather seats for hurting Vanjie, and A’keria, who decided that tomorrow, every single day, she’d do one thing to ruin Brooke’s day until it all mounted up and she’d have no choice but to quit, or have a complete break down in the office. Nina pries Vanjie off of the carpet. Scarlet stands up, trying to calm down all of the yelling, looking like Chris Pratt trying to round up the raptors in Jurassic Park, and faring about as well as he did, alternating between asking everyone to sit back down and telling Vanjie to make sure she doesn’t have a broken nose because, god, that thing looks fucked up. 

“Enough!” Brooke bellows, making the room feel cramped with her command. She’s pleased as each head snaps up. 

Vanjie braces herself against the window as Silky tosses Brooke’s cardigan over to Nina, who presses it against Vanjie’s gushing nose. 

Brooke will have to find a dry cleaner here, she supposes. 

“Now, someone take her to the ER—” 

“None of us have our cars,” Silky says, as though it were obvious. 

Brooke tears away from her bloody cardigan and the foolish woman holding it, wracked by heaving tears. “And why wouldn’t any one of you have a car. How did you get here? To your place of work? 

“Well, we were at bar trivia last night, which y’all all owe me for covering pitchers and mozzarella sticks. So me, Kiki, Vanj and Scarlet were out late and then Ubered to work,” Silky explains before taking a sip of her coffee. 

“But your shirt is…” 

“We keep spare work clothes at our desks. Ever since 2017,” Scarlet says easily. 

Nina turns the cardigan to press a clean bit against Vanjie, revealing a candy red blotch on it. “I was at Monet’s, working on the health fair, so she drove me with her.” 

Brooke has no idea who Monet was, or why this whole table of women were leering at Nina with a childish “ooooh,” as though Nina were just called to the principal’s office. She turns to Yvie, unclasping her palms to welcome her response. 

“I just…” Yvie turns scarlet. “Yesterday night I just...had a late night. Slept over with someone, and just, got a ride from her house.” It tumbles out, earning another chorus of oohs. 

Brooke shakes her head, face falling for a moment, zeroing in on Scarlet’s hand, still resting on Yvie’s forearm. “Wait, you two aren’t, you know?” 

This time, Brooke cuts off the peanut gallery as it begins to fire up, leaving Scarlet looking like a ghost of herself, wide eyed and stirring, and Yvie suddenly very interested in her finger nails. 

“Doesn’t matter. I’m taking you to the hospital,” Brooke says, nodding in Vanjie’s direction. “But don’t be mistaken, when I get back, I’m filing the reallocation paperwork for your program and drafting a severance package.” 

[rosethesongbird]

Scenes from a Cottage

A collection of short scenes from Aziraphale and Crowley’s life in the South Downs. In four parts, inspired by the four cardinal virtues (but here in its entirety). Please enjoy! 

You can read this work on AO3 here.

—Part I: Prudence—  In which Aziraphale has a brown thumb.

prudence (noun): the quality of being prudent; cautiousness; “the ability to discern the appropriate course of action to be taken in a given situation at the appropriate time.”

Aziraphale sighed, standing defeated on the porch in the back garden, plant mister in hand. 

Crowley was going to kill him. 

He had been entrusted—due to his own repeated pleas to assist with the growing botanical garden—with Crowley’s small collection of succulents. He had been given a detailed albeit short description on how to care for them. 

“All you have to do is make sure they get plenty of sun, so they don’t stretch, and don’t overwater,” the demon shook his finger emphatically. “When you water, make sure it wets all the soil so it comes from the drain holes at the bottom, then wait until it’s completely dry before you water again. Understand, angel?” 

“Of course. Sounds easy,” he had said. 

And it was easy! —For several weeks, anyway. Crowley complimented the supple fullness of the leaves, free of a single wrinkle yet firmly attached to their stem. He had even said that as the weather continued to heat up, some of Aziraphale’s succulents may even grow flowers—imagine that! Flowers! Aziraphale could grow flowers! He had never been able to keep any sort of plant alive short of a miracle, and now to be tempted by his own lovely, wonderful flowers!

However, the angel had perhaps bitten off more than he could chew. 

Anathema had told him, at one of their semi-regular meetings for brunch, that you could turn the edges of the leaves a lovely shade of red by “stressing” the plant, even pulling up some lovely photos on her cellular telephone. He had asked her if she wouldn’t mind kindly looking up how, exactly, to achieve this coloring, to which she said “Well, this page says to give them more sunlight, and water them less.” 

Of course, Aziraphale was nothing if not a rule follower, and did exactly what Anathema had said the experts recommended—more sunlight, less water. Possibly to a fault. 

The soil in the pots was bone dry, the once-supple leaves of the plants wrinkling up and falling off, browning on the edges, cracking under the touch of even the tips of soft angelic fingers. And alas, it was time to “face the music,” as his lifelong partner would say. 

“Crowley?” The angel began to worry the ring on his finger, twisting and twirling it around his pinky. “Will you come out here for a moment?” 

The demon sauntered out the door, raising his eyebrows, questioning. His red hair was piled in a bun at the back of his head, haphazard but effortlessly fashionable. 

“I, um,” the angel pointed to the withering selection of cacti, too ashamed to speak further on the state of the vegetation. 

“Oh,” Crowley crouched, eye level with the echeveria, brow furrowing, thin fingers gently touching the perishing plant. “What happened?” 

“I, er, well, I wanted red leaves,” he muttered, voice growing soft as Crowley rose, slowly, menacingly, back turned to the angel. He pressed his lips together, grimacing, waiting anxiously for whatever was coming. 

Crowley took a deep breath, shoulders rising, then falling. He cracked his neck, head tilting to one side then the other, straightening to his full formidable height before exploding in a shower of epithets. Aziraphale shut his eyes tightly, turning his head away from the noise. 

“You’re an idiot, an absolute nob, and you should FEEL BAD! You’re WORTHLESS! You DISGUST  me, and I wish I had NEVER brought you HOME!” 

Aziraphale felt this was really a bit too far, I mean after all it was just a plant, and this seemed very harsh seeing as they had known each other for so long—a tear began to threaten appearing at the corner of his eye—and he had begun to believe that Crowley really did love him, and now—

“Grow. BETTER!” 

The demon turned on his heel. “All done, angel. Next time, it may be prudent to let me know before you nearly kill them.” He strode into the cottage, gently shutting the door behind him, any and all malice in his serpentine body drained.

Aziraphale’s mouth fell open. 

The succulents were back to their healthy state, leaves arranged in flawless rosettes, the likes of which he had not seen since the Garden. 

And best of all?

The very tips of the tender leaves were beginning, before his eyes, to turn ever so slightly… 

Red. 

Fin.

—Part II: Justice— In which Crowley and Aziraphale keep a delicate balance.

justice (noun): the quality of being fair and reasonable; fairness; “the most extensive and most important virtue”

Aziraphale turned the page of the aged book in his lap, seated on the cushy loveseat Crowley had insisted upon bringing from the bookshop. His eyes danced over the yellowing pages, relaying tales of times long past, long-forgotten words, ancient oration. The angel eagerly licked his lips, brimming with joy over being the first person in years—centuries, perhaps—to drink up the knowledge contained within. 

Ah, yes. Drink. 

He reached for his mug on the side table, unable to tear his gaze away from the tome. His hand brushed the corner of the vessel—he had meant to grasp the winged handle, but had instead, in his zeal, accidentally slapped the porcelain rim; hot, rich, milky cocoa coming to the edge of the cup as it slipped from its coaster, sweet-smelling elixir spilling out, oh no—

A choked gasp burst from the angel’s lips as Crowley walked through the small living room, raising his hand to snap his fingers, not even breaking stride on his way to the garden. 

The mug was returned to its coaster, once half-full, now just full enough that it would not spill over; the precious volume in Aziraphale’s lap untouched by even a drop of the sugary beverage. 

He closed his mouth (having fallen open in shock at the near catastrophe he had just witnessed) and raised his eyes over his glasses, a coy smile flitting across his face as he watched the demon saunter out the back door, not even glancing back to the angel to watch for his reaction. He turned to the next page, and—carefully this time—took a sip from his mug.

Well, then. 

The ball was now in his court. 

~

Crowley could have sworn it was there yesterday. He scratched his head, standing bewildered in the gravel driveway of the cottage. 

After returning from a trip to the flat in Mayfair—Aziraphale had finally relented, allowing him to bring the enormous throne chair home, and getting it inside the Bentley was just a minor miracle, really—he had noticed a long, white, hideous, scratch on his beloved car. He had been so angry at the time that he stomped into the cottage without even touching the accursed mark, thoroughly confounding Aziraphale with swear words even he wasn’t sure how he knew. After a good night’s sleep, he had felt more optimistic, and went out determined to diagnose the scratch and whether it could be buffed out or would require a miracle. Whatever the answer, no price was too great for the Bentley. 

Then to tie his hair back, roll up his sleeves, put on his work pants, and find nothing? Not even a hint of a scratch, and the century-old car shining like the day she was manufactured? 

He opened the door. The, er, reduced in size throne chair lay across the back seats, exactly where Crowley had left it. The upholstery smelled like fresh leather, every fingerprint on the steering wheel and radio absent, even the ignition was free of key scratches. Not a single molecule of dust rested on the dash, and the dirt that always seemed to permeate the loops of the carpeted floor mats (short of a miracle) was curiously missing. 

Short of a miracle. 

Ngk.

The question was not who, or how, but when. The demon and the angel had spent all the time since Crowley had come home together. When did he have a chance to do the miracle? 

No matter. Such a good angel deserved a reward for looking after his partner’s most prized possession. The only remaining question was how to make the two equal. 

~

“Hey, angel?” The front door’s creaking sound mysteriously silenced, halfway through its “oil me” cry. 

“Yes, dear?” 

“Did you…fix up the Bentley?” 

The angel turned to look over his shoulder, standing at the kitchen counter cutting a peach, half-smiling as his gaze met shiny black glass out of the corner of his eye. “Hm. I don’t recall doing much of anything involving the Bentley in recent days,” he returned his focus to the sweet snack. “Why do you ask?” 

A smudge Crowley had intended to wipe from his glasses really must have never been there in the first place, slit pupils unable to find it again.

“Oh, no reason,” Crowley’s serpentine body sidled up behind the angel, seeing through the teasing ruse. “Just thought it was strange that the scratch was gone, and perhaps I would want to repay whoever might have…assissssted,” he hissed, as the hairs on the back of Aziraphale’s neck stood up from the sensation. The peach was suddenly so juicy, its pit a lot smaller than the angel might have previously thought—and the fruit so tender you would almost think it fell apart into thin slices before even touching the paring knife. 

“Well, whoever gets rewarded will be very lucky indeed, won’t they?” A lock of hair about to fall into Crowley’s eyes pulled itself back into the bun. 

“Oh, yes, of course.” Aziraphale’s mug, sitting on the side table next to another weathered book, filled itself with piping hot tea. “After all, it’s only fair.” 

Fin.

—Part III: Temperance— In which Crowley holds back.

temperance (noun): the practice of self-control, abstention, discretion, and moderation of desire; also known as “restraint.” 

Hell was not exactly a friendly place to be. 

I mean, it was kind of their thing, really, down in Hell, to be nasty, rude, and angry all the time, hurting each other for no reason, feeding each other to rats and dogs for fun, pushing and shoving in that literally godforsaken hallway, a well-placed elbow to the ribs knocking the wind out of you when you least expected it. 

But this? 

Ngk.

Not even Hell was so cruel as this. 

Oh, no. This form of torture was something else entirely. Sharing a damned—er, sorry, blessed—domicile with a soft, tender-hearted bastard of an angel, peering at that little upturned nose over a book, fluffy white-gold curls brushing your face accidentally when he nods off (claiming, of course, that he doesn��t need to sleep, although he does enjoy a nap from time to time), yellow serpentine eyes trying desperately to tug themselves away from the curve of his perfectly ample bottom as he walks to the kitchen for another mug of cocoa or a slice of cake. 

Beelzebub themself could only dream of being so wicked. 

Gentle touches of soft fingers brushing a lock of red hair out of your eyes. 

A choked cry of “Slow down, Crowley!” escaping flushed lips when you drive—well, when you drive at all. 

And—oh, Satan—what a demon might do for a sweet, sweet glimpse past the ubiquitous bow tie, behind the stark white buttons; a peek at the hint of chest hair, the rolls of soft pink skin cultivated by six thousand years of hedonistic indulgence interrupted by only the most perfect belly button one might ever see in their entire life, to put their corporeal hands all over—

“Crowley? Are you quite alright?” 

A pair of eyes—eyes you could practically dive into, glacier blue—ripped Crowley out of his inner monologue. 

“I’m fine. Tickety-boo. Why?” 

“Well, it’s just… you were, um, as you say, ‘zoning out.’” 

“Oh, you know. Just thinking.” 

“I was thinking myself, actually; I’ve just been reading, and pondering how utterly fascinating Saint Augustine’s idea of time is, for a mortal, and—“

Aziraphale started up what was certain to be a long comment on Saint Whatever’s idea of something-or-other, he could go for hours on stuff like this, a perfect opportunity for Crowley to get lost in the eye crinkles and rosy cheeks. He needed only to nod, saying “Ah, I see,” and “Fascinating,” every so often, and the angel would be spurred on. 

He had always felt this way, since the angel admitted to him that he gave the flaming sword away, a thousand lifetimes ago. It had only gotten worse as time went on, when fleeting meetings by chance in Roman restaurants became Bentley rides and lunches at the Ritz. 

And then the Bentley rides and lunches at the Ritz became sharing a whole house (they technically shared a bed, also, but since Aziraphale didn’t sleep at night, it was Crowley’s bed in practice) and enjoying home-cooked meals together. 

That was when the real torture began. 

It took all the self-control Crowley had—an odd thing for a demon to have, really—to not be kissing every heavenly centimetre of those tempting lips every second of every day. It was taking all the self-control he had right now to not halt the angel’s monologue with the kind of kiss where you can hear your teeth clashing together, tongues aching to dance with each other, oh Satan help him, Aziraphale must taste so sweet—

Interrupted once again, this time by the sensation of the softest thing he had ever touched gracing his forehead, blood rising to cheeks and ears with the realization of what just happened. 

Aziraphale’s lips broke contact with Crowley’s forehead as he pulled back, blushing also, smiling a loving smile the likes of which Crowley hadn’t seen since 1941. 

“You’re such a good listener, my dear,” said the angel, standing up from the loveseat to retrieve a cookie from the kitchen. 

As soon as he was out of earshot, Crowley sighed, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

It paid off to be restrained. 

Fin.

—Part IV: Courage— In which Aziraphale and Crowley overcome their fears.

courage (noun): the ability to do something that frightens one; also termed fortitude, forbearance, strength, endurance, and the ability to confront fear, uncertainty, and intimidation.

“I know it’s unlikely, but what if—“

“Angel, if you keep on ‘what-if’-ing you’re going to drive yourself insane. And me, you’ll drive me insane too.” 

“But, we should be prepared! For, well, you know,” 

“I know what?” the demon poked his head out of the covers. It was the middle of the night, and Aziraphale was standing in the doorway, glasses pushed up onto white-gold curls that were sticking out every which way, uncharacteristically unkempt for the angel. “Can we please talk about this tomorrow?” 

Aziraphale started wringing his hands, frantically worrying the ring on his finger. “I’m just… oh, I’m terribly worried, Crowley.” 

Crowley sighed, sitting up out of the bed, bare chest and freckle-kissed shoulders emerging from the comforting depths of dark grey sheets. He patted the space next to him on the bed, tilting his head in a gesture he hoped was communicating “get over here, you lovely, wonderful, bastard.” The angel plunked himself down unceremoniously onto the fluffy comforter, lips pressed together, shoulders slumping. 

“Look, angel. We can’t—“ he pinched the bridge of his nose. “We can’t live out the rest of our whole lives wondering when the hammer will come down.” 

“I know. But you simply can’t tell me to just—go back to how things were before.” 

Crowley smirked. They sat there silently, thinking. He wasn’t wrong, after all. They were in purgatory, for lack of a better term. They had—for now—bested the powers of heaven and of hell, joining the growing ranks of earth. The world had changed—though the vast, vast majority of the people living on it had not noticed—and there was no going back. How were they to know what was to come next? They had lived their whole lives to this point knowing, in the back of their minds, that someday it all would end, spectacularly and with great fanfare, and then when that actually came, it… didn’t. And it was, for the most part, thanks to them. They had stopped it, together.

Together. 

“Aye, there’s the rub,” as Hamlet would say. (Crowley would maintain that he still preferred the funny ones.) 

Aziraphale had been… contemplating, as of late, this togetherness. It had brought him great joy, and yet… he could not shake the feeling that eventually this would all end, when Heaven or Hell decided they had had enough with this foolishness and they were really going to end things once and for all, angel and demon be buggered. He had always been a worrier, hedonistic joys of earthly life being mere distractions from the thoughts buzzing around that never quieted. It was almost easier, before he and Crowley were so… linked. He had less to lose. Now? Oh, now. Now this was all. This was everything. This life, where they lived here—together—on earth as though they were people, living like they would die someday, when the alternative was unthinkable. “For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come, / When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, / Must give us pause.” “Shuffling off this mortal coil” was a preferable alternative to separation, an eternity in their questionably corporeal spaces knowing the other is there and not able to reach them. 

And yet Aziraphale couldn’t close his mind to the thought, as Crowley lay there next to him, in the bed that they shared (in name only, Aziraphale still refused to sleep), that maybe the demon would be better off not… with him. Maybe then Crowley could enjoy his little part of the world without Aziraphale’s meddling, and avoid the meddling of Heaven and Hell in the process. A tear threatened to fall from the angel’s eye as his train of thought sped up, uncontrolled, hurtling toward a bridge that was most definitely out. 

“Aziraphale, I—“

“Crowley, I’ve been thinking—Oh,” 

After all the silence, they had interrupted each other. 

“You go first,” said Aziraphale, politely as ever. Maybe Crowley would be thinking the same as him, and spare him from having to confront his fear. 

Crowley laughed, looking intently at the covers. His laugh had a certain quality to it—nervousness? apprehension, maybe?—whatever it was, it was highly unusual. Aziraphale steeled himself for what he knew was coming. “I think I’m moving out,” or “I’m not sure about all thissss,” with the telltale hiss of Crowley saying something he didn’t want to say, at all.

“Angel, I—“ he swallowed something in his throat, an unwelcome emotion threatening to rise—“Well, I don’t know how to say this. It feels so, I don’t know. Wrong? Right? But I’m sure of it, even still,” 

Aziraphale agreed, nodding silently. It felt so wrong, having to leave this all behind. He really had enjoyed it, while it lasted. But at the same time, protecting Crowley was the right thing to do. 

“Aziraphale, will you marry me?” 

Aziraphale gasped. His train of thought came to a sudden, screeching halt, thankfully just before falling off the cliff it was heading toward. That was not what he had expected. It appeared the momentum of his train had transferred itself to Crowley, as the demon exploded in a wholly unnecessary explanation, cheeks and nose reddening as he spoke.

“I mean, I don’t have a ring or anything, and I know what we have now is-is special, sure, but I can’t help but feel like I want something to… express it. Our, um, relationship, I mean.” 

Aziraphale’s jaw hung open, still in shock. He lost the battle with his corporation, the battleground being his tear ducts. “Crowley, I—you—“ 

Crowley waved his hand flippantly, turning away from the angel. “No, it’s fine. I know, I go too fast, and I’m sorry. Just… forget I said anything.” 

They sat silently again for a moment, Crowley’s jaw clenching, Aziraphale still furiously processing what his partner had just said. 

“Crowley, of course I will,” he smiled, eyes still pouring out hot tears, apparently not getting the memo that he was happy now, they could stop; instead making the angel cry in earnest. He haphazardly wiped them away with his sleeve. “And here I was, thinking maybe you would be happier without me—“ 

He was interrupted by a gentle, tender kiss; the touch of thin bony hands on his cheek, wet with saline water. 

“Angel, you’re the only reason I wanted to keep this stupid world in the first place,” Crowley whispered, against Aziraphale’s still-trembling lips. “It’s all bollocks except the parts with you in them.” 

Aziraphale touched his forehead to Crowley’s. “Oh, Gabriel will be absolutely incensed,” he laughed.

“And we’ll let him be,” said Crowley, mischievously. “He can’t intimidate us anymore. Not when we’re ballsy enough to get married, of all things. None of them can.” 

The angel released his breath, and with it, all the tension he had been unknowingly holding. “They can’t scare me,” he said. “They’ll have my fiancé to deal with.” 

Crowley gave the man another kiss before burrowing back into the covers of the bed. 

“You know, I was scared you’d say no.” 

“Well,” said Aziraphale, taking his rightful place under the covers, clicking off the light, glasses lying on the nightstand. “It was very courageous of you to ask.” 

Crowley hummed in response, already falling back to sleep, exhausted by the release of tension and use of mental energy. 

“Goodnight, Aziraphale.”

“Goodnight, my love.” 

Fin. 

[prorevenge]

B!7ch of a friend insults me over dead uncle, gets exposed for all the shit she did

So, long-ish one here, and it’s been some time so I don’t exactly remember the dialogue.

So, as a backstory this happened when I was in the equivalent of Junior year of high school. I became friends with a girl one year older than me and soon we grew to be like sisters, doing shit together all the time and being generally like sisters. Might I also mention that at that time both of us were into shit like Reiki and weird sorts of spirituality and the occult and shit like that, and me being the edgy teen I was at that point was incredibly happy to have someone share my interests.

When my junior year started she was a senior and met a guy at college admissions prep who she apparently immediately fell for. Of course she introduced him to me and him and I took to each other almost too well.

Bf is the boyfriend, D is my friend.

Bf and I started to get along marvelously and being the stupid kid I was of course I fall for him hard, but I hid it and decided that I would be the better person and eat my feelings since he was her boyfriend. So I kept it friendly and basically developed an iron control on my emotions (which to this day is both a good and a bad thing for my mental health).

Over the next 6 months D had become obsessed with him, increasingly jealous and manipulative with both of us and was basically making both our lives hell. She was calling me for hours sometimes just complaining about how Bf has the emotional range of a teaspoon, other times raging and crying, and at that point I was stuck mediating between D and Bf on a daily basis, almost to the exclusion of everything else. I recognize now, years later, that she was incredibly emotionally abusive to both of us. While being a generally abusive twat and psycho bitch she was also very very horny and flirty and about a couple of days before shit hit the fan she made out with a classmate of mine in front of me while asking me not to tell her boyfriend.

One day soon after BF calls me pissed off beyond belief because he and D got into one of their arguments which after half a year of relationship became explosive in nature. He wanted to leave her since he was tired of her bullshit and she threatened to kill herself. I don’t remember exactly what had triggered the argument but what I do remember was that I was feeling so damn guilty about not telling Bf what I had seen. He was one of my best friends after all, and I was put in the situation of either covering up her cheating or risking a big meltdown. I chose to tell Bf that I think she’s just crying for attention since she made out with So-and-So the other week and he went mad. Like seeing red kind of mad. He thanked me for telling him what happened and said he’d go to her house and break up with her and that he’ll keep me posted.

An hour later I get a string of angry texts from her that I betrayed her and that I should stay away from them and all sorts of belittling things. Bf also blocked me on her request and told me to stay away and so I ended up the “villain” and feeling like I wanted the earth to swallow me whole.

After a few days of being miserably depressed, a few girls from my class approached me at a party I couldn’t dodge out of and asked me what’s wrong. After telling them what D had done they were the ones who convinced me I did the right thing and that I wasn’t the villainous bitch she made me look like. You can imagine how fucking pissed I was after giving my all to her and getting jack shit in return so I started plotting revenge. The first step was contacting her ex who I knew she hated, going out with him but bailing like a chicken because I was still feeling guilty. That didn’t work, I was a weakling and made up with her and suffered a few more months until summer came and the three of us went on a seaside vacation where shit REALLY hit the fan. I booked a couple days extra after they were supposed to leave and on their last evening, while at a restaurant, I got a call from my parents telling me to not come home early because my favorite uncle had died and they were going to his funeral. I was distraught and went to my hotel room while D said they’ll just drop by their room and come stay with me since I wasn’t feeling like being alone. Guess what: she got horny and had sex for 2 hours while I sat alone crying my eyes out. When they came D wanted to do some drugs, got incredibly high and started arguing with me and Bf about some stupid spiritual shit she saw while on her trip. Bf was already pissed with her since on our second night she got shitfaced drunk and flirted with everyone in the club, so him and I decided we wanted to go to the beach and see the sunrise. She came too, arguing with Bf and me the whole time until these stupid ass words left her mouth:

D:”Bf, I cannot believe you are arguing with me and you(me) - stop whining, it’s just some dead guy, get over it already!”

What. The. FUCK. Did. You. SAY?!

I stormed off in a rage, with Bf running after me afraid I’d do something stupid in my altered mental state and she kept sneering and complaining. I can honestly say I blacked out out of rage at some point because I can’t remember what she said that made me punch her square in the damn face.

I got home the next week and started looking for a way out of this sham of a friendship. D didn’t even apologize for the shit she said and I had had enough, so when a mutual friend reported that she was making out with some guy at a party I immediately reported it to Bf and the same thing as before happened with both of them blocking me.

Fuck you and good riddance, I thought, but boy oh boy karma served me a true opportunity to wreak havoc not long after.

Fast forward 6 months I was in my senior year, kept my side of mine and D’s mutual friends and was dealing with what I know now is my still severe depression when guess who calls? You guessed it, Miss D sobbing on the phone because Bf “wrongly” accused her of cheating with a friend of his. Oh but of course I’ll help, I say, not mentioning that I’ll help get her exposed if anything.

I wheeled and dealt, called favors, pretended to be friends to people and generally was a manipulative ass bitch until I got the information of what exactly she did and wasn’t telling me: that she actually cheated with SEVEN fucking blokes. Seven. Not one, not two, seven. I was flabbergasted to say the least.

Through a bit of clever usage of computers I even got convo transcripts and made sure Bf found out everything - ie I told him every single dirty thing she did with a grin of satisfaction on my face and then as the “nice” girl I was held him back so he wouldn’t kill her. I do believe my thoughts were on the line of “nobody kills her before I can make her suffer.” Just peachy, I know. I somehow convinced him not to kick her ass into kingdom come and instead arranged a meeting in the KFC next to our school where Bf wanted to “make up with her”. I told D that I had convinced him of her innocence and he agreed to get back together and she was “soo relieved I worked my magic again”. Little did she know I didn’t have to drop by the post office when I told her I’ll go ahead, run an errand, and meet her there, but that I went ahead, got all of our friends there to witness and plastered a whole section of KFC with screenshots of her lewd conversations with various blokes. Bf was also there, almost murderous, waiting for her to arrive.

After a bit of a wait I had the honor of witnessing the most glorious sight ever: D walked in, all happy and hopeful in her tiny cheater soul, and her face instantly dropped when she saw me, her now ex boyfriend and everyone in her group of friends from high school waiting for her surrounded by proof of her shenanigans. That was not the only thing that dropped though, since as I was reveling in the look of utter betrayal on her face she proceeded to pass the fuck out.

I didn’t even care what happened after; it was enough that she saw me there, looked at the predatory grin on my face and knew I was behind it all and had robbed her of the one thing she cherished most: her Bf. It was worth the almost full year of abuse and the couple of months of manipulation and lies to see her fall.

Years after she even apologized sincerely when she realized what drove me to this revenge plot and now we’re civil, but now she knows she should NEVER. Ever. Cross me.

(source) story by (/u/AliTheMadWarlock)

[jack-andthestalk]

Chapter 1: Back to Lallybroch

Chapter Text

As my plane touched down on Scottish soil, I looked out over the beautiful landscape, I snorted to myself thinking of the last time I had touched down in Scotland, four years previous. Eager to sight see with Uncle Lamb and oblivious to how my life was about to drastically change. My first time in Scotland was a promised visit, A long overdue holiday with Uncle Lambert, while I finished medical school and still had the luxury of a summer break, before going out in the real world of hospital rotas and long shifts. The visit had been in Uncle Lambs mind for sometime, his best friend Brian Fraser owned a historical Estate called Lallybroch, in a small village, Broch Morda, high in the hills of the Scottish highlands. Since my parents had passed away three years previously, Uncle Lamb had taken me on as his own, and did his level best to be both Mum and Dad to a very broken and scared sixteen year old. Brian and Ellen had visited us plenty in Boston during those first few years, helping Lamb find his feet with a teenager and offering support wherever they could to me. We had never managed to return the visit, Lamb had plenty of times, while he worked in Scotland on digs, he always stayed at Lallybroch. He had never managed to bring me, until that summer. It was one of my best holidays, made only better by the presence of Jenny and Jamie Fraser. Brian and Ellen’s children. My first time to meet them but we became quick and fast friends. Three weeks of unadulterated fun! What was the worst the could happen? Little did I know four years ago, in an unused cottage on Fraser lands, that my son would be conceived. And here I was returning to Lallybroch again, as a guest for Jenny’s wedding. My first time in Scotland and my first time in a long time to be in my son’s fathers presence. I took a breath and stepped on to the Scottish tarmac.

***********

 Three months after returning from my holiday with Uncle Lamb I came to the slow realisation that my periods had stopped. Funny with all my medical training, I put it down to stress and losing weight over exams.

It was only as I was almost approaching my second trimester that I realised, I was in fact pregnant. One long night between the sheets with Jamie Fraser being the cause of my ailment. A frantic and absolutely awkward phone-call to Jamie ensued. Followed by equally frantic and awkward phone calls between Lamb and the Frasers shortly after. Promises of standing by me and helping, flowing free on both sides. I just lay on my bathroom floor crying, wondering how the hell would I manage to sit my exams 8 months pregnant. True to their word, the Frasers including Jamie had done everything and anything since our little boy was born to help me be a single mum and work as a doctor. He was flown back to Scotland every two months. Ellen usually flying to Boston to collect him, spending a few days with me and then flying them both home, where the little monkey was thoroughly spoilt for weeks at a time.

Jamie flying him back to Boston, brief nervous greetings at Airport arrivals with me, before Jamie rushing to a departure gate to return to Scotland to manage the estate and farm. We managed to co parent as only two modern full time working adults can, our communication being completely facilitated by Ellen, Brian, Lamb and Jenny. This was the first time I would be in Jamie’s company for longer than a few hours with our son present in years. Deep Breath.

 *********

Jenny picked me up from the Airport, Jamie had brought Willie to Inverness to pick up horses and would meet us back at Lallybroch. Willie had arrived in Lallybroch, three weeks earlier, accompanied by Jamie. I simply couldn’t wait to see my little boy. I fidgeted nervously with my hands. Imagining how the week would go, all of us together. Jenny bubbling with excitement about her upcoming nuptials, chatting animatedly on the way to Lallybroch. Her brown hair tied in a messy bun and her hands moving over the steering wheel to illustrate the story she was telling. Wedding flowers. Jenny and I, had built a strong friendship since my first visit to Lallybroch. Obviosly because of the consequences of that visit we were thrown together somewhat. The Frasers simply became family. I was the mother of Jenny’s only nephew and the Frasers only grandchild. Jenny flew out and stayed with Willie and myself often and was always on the end of the phone in both support of Willie and friendship for me. Quite simply Jenny and myself were more like sisters these past few years, I was so touched and taken aback when she asked me to be her maid of honour. I may have cried for several hours after her phonecall.

I had no siblings, and for Jenny who had any amount of friends, to pick me to be at her side on one of the most important days of her life was simply not something I would ever forget. Her gruff speech and the rarity of emotional words from her, the day she rang to ask, didn’t help the flow of tears. “Ye ken it’s no just because yer Willie’s mam, ye’ have been there for me more in the past four years then anyone, yer my sister Claire no matter what else,” she sniffed at her end of the phone and added jovially “ asides it’ll make Da happy, he can try and push you and Jamie towards the priest and legitimise his grandson.” We had both laughed at that. Jenny had been excitedly talking about her wedding, a change in her voice, interrupted my thoughts. “So ye have yet to meet Laoghaire then Claire?” Jamie’s new girlfriend. “Yes, that’s right. What is she like Jen?” Jamie had phoned me a few weeks before, gruffly stating he was seeing someone and would it be ok for Willie to meet her. I had said off course, I trust your judge of character but the whole episode had left me feeling empty and I was struggling to think why, probably because I didn’t want any other stepmum type person in Willies life. I knew that was silly because Jamie wouldn’t allow someone to act as a Mum to Willie ... and yet still. Jenny’s tone had gone a little higher in pitch when she replied. “Ach, I s’ pose she is grand Claire.. she is queer mad about Jamie, I dinna know if that’s necessarily a good thing though... she can come on a bit strong...” “What’s she like with Willie?” “Weel she came on a bit strong there too, tried to smother him with affection, to impress Jamie I presume but then she rang one of the days asking could she take him out, Mam had to tell her it wasna appropriate .. I think that stung a bit .. but it settled her down some.” The woman was going to be around my son and I prayed Jamie had chosen well. “Do ye mind?” Jenny’s voice softening. Clearly thinking this a sensitive topic. “Not about her being around Willie, but Jamie having a girlfriend I s’pose”, she finished. “No don’t be silly why would I mind, Jamie and I were never a thing”, that empty feeling returning again. “Well that’s just it, I have no asked ye before Claire but ... weel was Willie just a one night thing or was there more to it?” She glanced over to look at my face and quickly added. “Yer welcome to tell me to mind my own business, aye? But I always wondered about ye?” I simply replied. “No just the one night.” A sudden flashback of me lying spread eagled and wanting, under Jamie’s strong body. Nails clawing down his back and Jamie’s whisper of Gaelic in my ear, made my stomach clench. I looked out the window so Jenny wouldn’t see my expression. This trip was clearly unearthing regressed memories. Great.

***************

  We pulled into Lallybroch courtyard to be met by Brian Fraser. Tall and dark unlike Jamie’s colouring But had the Fraser eyes, which my son had inherited. “Ach there she is now, Claire ye look bonnier each time I see ye!” Brian’s outstretched arms waiting to embrace me. “Quit yer embarrassing pur Claire, Brian stop it.” Ellen smiling at her husband, knowing he had no intention of stopping. Brian Fraser, always the charmer and made no secret he wanted his son married to the mother of their child, partly for old fashioned reasons, partly because I was the niece of his best friend and partly, I hoped because he liked me. His teasing of the issue was guaranteed and accepted. I’d probably be more upset if he stopped. What would I do if he was jesting with this Laoighaire about marrying Jamie? Get a grip Beauchamp. “Claire, Jamie and Willie willna be long now, I’m sure yer dying to see yer wee lad, god he is a braw boy isnt he Brian Mac?” “Aye Ellen, like his Da and me..” A loud ahem from me and a smile. “Oh aye you too Claire, Jamie was only saying he gets more like ye every day.” Did he now.

I was sitting at the large kitchen table in Lallybroch’s kitchen when I heard a Jeep door slamming and little footsteps thumping through the house. “Mama... Mama!”, Willie bounding into the kitchen and up into my arms. Jamie following closely behind him, standing, arms folded and resting against the doorframe. Watching Willie and I unite, a smile on his face. “I miss you Mama” Willie clutching me about the neck, “me an Da counted down all the days ye we’re com’n on Da’s pone.” “Oh well hasn’t Da a clever pone!” I exclaimed mocking my sons pronunciation of phone, ruffling Willies red mop of hair, just like Jamie’s. I took in Willie from head to toe, satisfied that all was well and not much had changed over our three weeks apart, only a few more freckles and maybe a little taller. I readjusted my gaze and looked back up at Jamie, who was watching my ministrations with Willie, a tender look on his face. “All as it should be Sassenach?” A smirk forming on his lips. “Yes, sorry I’m always afraid il miss something”, “aye me too, Dinna fash I do the exact same.” I took in Jamie’s appearance. I always forgot how big he was. In terms of genetics I couldn’t have picked a better father. Jamie was a beautiful man. Perfectly carved muscles, a strong Viking face and beautiful red curls just long enough to tumble around his face. I couldn’t look in my sons eyes without seeing Jamie’s. Willie was quite simply his double and had all the promise of Jamie’s height too. “How was yer flight?”, I stood to greet him, with a wriggly three and a half year old in my arms. He broached the distance, kissing me lightly on the cheek. “it was good I slept for most of it”. It’s great to finally get here and lovely to see everyone. I forgot how beautiful Lallybroch is”, Always good to see him. We stood for a minute taking in our son, before we could hear Ellen shouting to bring me up to my cottage. -

[meganlpie]

Failures; But Not Really

Another Wattpad request! I do not own ANY of the Avengers. They belong to Marvel. 

Warnings: Road Trip/No powers AU, slight angst, fluff

Pairings: Steve Rogers x fem!reader, mentions of the other Avengers.

Invisible. That was how you felt a lot of the time before you met Steve. Steve knew that. When the two of you had met, you had been sitting on the bus next to two people who seemed more interested in feeling each other up than respecting your personal space. Lucky for Steve, he saw how uncomfortable you were and offer you his seat, telling you he would stand until a new seat opened up.

           You flashed him a dazzling smile and took his seat as soon as he assured you he was serious about his offer. That became your daily routine after that. Whenever you'd get on the bus, Steve would give up his seat for you. Every day for months until one day, there was actually an empty seat next to Steve when you climbed on the bus. Steve smiled shyly at you as you sat next to him. After a few minutes, a conversation started. That was the beginning of your friendship, which soon blossomed into something more. Something deeper.

           That had been two years ago and now, Steve was ready to take your relationship to the next level. He was ready to propose, but he wasn't sure how to do it. He could do something ordinary and cliché, or he could something extravagant and over the top. He didn't know which and it was torture for him. He wanted everything to be perfect. Then, Tony came up with a brilliant idea that Steve could use to his advantage.

           "A road trip?" Bruce asked, setting down his coffee. Tony beamed and nodded. "Sure. All of us, even Y/N if she wants to come, Steve." Steve sat back in his chair. It wasn't often that the group of old college friends got together anymore and maybe this would be a good time to do it. "That's a great idea, Tony! And it's given me another!"

           The others leaned forward, eager to hear what Steve was planning. "I want to propose to Y/N. Maybe I could do it on the road trip. Find the perfect spot and ask her." His friends all beamed at him. "That's great, Steve! I knew you had it in you." Steve glared playfully at Bucky. "Jerk." Bucky smiled. "Punk." The others rolled their eyes. Some things never changed. Steve looked at them all sheepishly. "I could use some help though. I really have no idea how to do it." The group of friends all shared a smile and began giving Steve their own ideas of how to propose. By the time they all went their separate ways, Steve was more confused than ever.

           Still, you readily agreed to go on the road trip with Steve and his friends. You loved Steve and his friends were really important to him. "Hey, Steve, are you ready yet?" you called from the living room. Steve snapped his suitcase closed and pocketed the ring he'd purchased. This was it. Steve was going to propose at some point along the way. And it was going to be perfect. What could possibly go wrong?

*short time skip*

           Apparently a lot could go wrong when trying to propose on a road trip. So far, Steve had tried a total of six times to propose to you. Each time, he failed a different way. The first time was when you had stopped in Chicago at the Navy Pier. Steve convinced you to go on the Ferris Wheel and he hoped to propose there. That was where he learned that you were petrified of heights. The wheel stopped with the two of you at the top and you wouldn't bring your face away from Steve's chest or stop crying long enough for Steve to ask his question.

           The second failure was in South Dakota. The sun was rising over Mount Rushmore and you both were enjoying the sight. Steve thought it was the perfect time to propose. He lead you both over to a nearby bench where you could watch the sunrise and he could pluck up the courage to do what he had been dying to since you left New York. You leaned into him, your head resting on his shoulder while Steve gave himself a silent pep talk. After several minutes he finally spoke. "So, uh, Y/N, I've been thinking about this for a while. We've been together for a couple years now and I'd really like to take that next step with you. W-Will you marry me?" At first there was no answer. Then, Steve heard it. Light snores were coming from you and Steve bit back a groan.

           The next three failures happened in California, Arizona, and Florida. Every single time Steve tried to propose, something happened to get in the way. Steve was beginning to wonder what the universe had against him. Still, he was determined to ask you. So, he thought he'd try again in Louisiana. You loved the French Quarter more than any other place in the south. That was it. Steve knew it. That would be the place he'd finally be able to propose to you...or so he thought.

           You were all enjoying a wonderful dinner when Steve decided it was a good time. He turned to you with a smile. "Y/N?" You looked at him and beamed. "Yeah, Steve?" He swallowed thickly and opened his mouth. He scooted his chair back, but just as he was about to ask, a waiter came by. The poor man wasn't paying attention to where he was walking and tripped over Steve's chair. The food in his hands went flying and the light shrieks you and Wanda let out drew the attention of the entire restaurant.

           The waiter apologized profusely while Steve just sat there, defeated. "I give up." After making sure the waiter was okay, Steve got up and left the restaurant. He refused to say another word. Why was it so hard to ask the love of his life to marry him? Why couldn't he get the words out without something happening to ruin the moment? Steve felt like such a failure. He couldn't even get a simple proposal right.

           "You okay, Steve?" Steve turned to see Natasha following him. She was always one of the more leveled headed of his friends. "No. Everything is going wrong. Why is this so hard?" Natasha shrugged. "I don't think it's that hard, Steve. I think you're just trying too hard. Y/N loves you. I don't doubt she'll say yes. Just relax and be yourself. Don't try to be perfect." She gave his shoulder a squeeze and returned to the group.

           Natasha's words lingered in Steve's mind the rest of the trip. He hadn't tried to propose again by the time they made it back to New York. He couldn't. He knew that, if he failed again, he might give up entirely. Six failures was bad enough. Steve didn't think he could handle seven. He needed to think. What better way to think than to go back to his old stomping grounds? "Hey, Tony I think we should make one more stop. Brooklyn." Tony gave him a knowing smile and nodded. "Sure thing."

           Steve couldn't get out of the car fast enough when the group stopped in Brooklyn. He breathed in the air and smiled to himself. You followed him out of the car with a confused look on your face. He hadn't been very talkative the last leg of the trip and it worried you. "Steve? What's wrong? You've been acting weird."

           He turned to face you. Standing in front of him, you looked so beautiful, even with the crease in your brow from your worry and your lips pulled down into a frown. For some reason, seeing you like that gave Steve a little more courage. Maybe it was you or maybe it was the environment. After all, Brooklyn was Steve's roots. A man can't go wrong when in the place he grew up in, could he? Licking his lips, Steve came over to you.

           "Y/N, I've been trying to ask you something from the moment we left New York. I have tried six times before this and each time, something has gone wrong. I was almost ready to give up. But, seeing you here with me, in my old neighborhood...it reminds me why I wanted to do this in the first place." He took your hands in his and beamed at you. "Steve?"

           "Please let me finish before I lose my nerve again. I love you, Y/N. I don't when I started loving you. It was probably the moment you tried to refuse taking my seat on the bus. Still, it doesn't change the fact that I love you and have for a long time now. I know that we have something special here, something that doesn't come around often. I truly believe that we are meant to spend the rest of our lives together. So, I'm finally going to ask you what I've been trying to ask for so long. Y/F/N, will you marry me?"

           Steve waited as you opened your mouth to reply. Tears were streaming down your face now, but you wore a smile. Steve could only hope that was a good sign. For a few moments, you didn't reply. You were too busy crying and staring at Steve. "Uh, Y/N...could you answer please? I kind of feel like an idiot standing here." You let out a watery giggle and nodded. "Yes. Of course I'll marry you, Steve."

           In a nanosecond, Steve picked you up and spun you in the air before his lips firmly planted on yours. Cheers and catcalls erupted from behind you. Steve felt his face heat up. In all honesty, he'd forgotten the others were there still. Judging by the way you hid your face in his chest again, you had too. Steve kissed the top of your head as the others ran over to the two of you. Each of them congratulated you, hugging you both, even Natasha who wasn't a hugger. Even as everyone was gathered around you, Steve couldn't help but meet your gaze again. He smiled once more. Yes, he had failed, but in the end, those other failures meant nothing. He got what he wished for. You said yes.

(a/n: I hope you like it!) 

Tagging: @brewsthespirit-blog @gameofwinters @aikibriarrose @esoltis280 @fairytalesexistxx @jotink78 @iwillbeinmynest @mala-firebringer 

[pernatius]

Forgive Me: Ch 5

Ch 4

Summary: A psychologist tortures prisoners to avenge the death of his sister.

Attempting to once again write 10k words within a week.

—————

Somehow he survived, but if he had to wait for a second longer he wouldn’t have. Maybe it was the act of God. People do say he works in mysterious ways even if the psychotic psychologist deserved to be killed that night. Maybe it was luck. The bullets went right through him, yes, but they didn’t hit anything major. His luck, after all, prevented him from getting caught for many years. He was in critical condition for days. For weeks he was stuck on that hospital bed. Once the incisions turned into scars he was handcuffed. Lights flashed onto him. A crowd shouted their questions as the police walked him towards their car. The old man ignored them, but he smiled through it. 

He sat in the far corner of a white room in a straitjacket. The old man stared aimlessly between the bars of the door’s window. His eyes focused on the light flickering on the other side. He muttered words under his breath as he did. He was counting how many seconds there are between its flickers. 

The clicking of heels echoes across the hallway. Its rhythm matches the beats of the light’s flickering. The door opened and in its doorway stood a woman in a lab coat. She held a clipboard in her hands, had tied her hair up in a bun, and she’s half of the old man’s age. The door shut. Her glasses reflected his empty expression as she stepped closer. She takes a seat in front of him, but his eyes haven’t moved from the light. 

“Ah, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I’ve read all about your many years’ work.” Because he doesn’t respond, she continues, “It’s a shame such a smart mind was wasted on a man like you.”

“I did it,” he whispered. 

“Did what?” She takes out a needle from her lab coat’s pocket. 

“She’s gone.”

“Who’s gone?”

“My sister. She’s finally gone. I don’t hear her anymore. I don’t see her anymore. She’s finally moved on.” He chuckles, but when his eyes meet with hers his excitement dies down. His giddy demeanor shifts into fear. “No. No. How? Why?”

“Sir?”

“Please, Martha, leave me alone. Please.” He tries to push himself deeper into the corner as he starts to both frantically scream and cry. 

“Sir, please, calm down, I don’t know who you’re talking about. I’m your psychiatrist. I’m Dr. Harris.” The doctor takes a step towards him.

“Get away from me. Please.” He gets up and tries running away, but he trips on his footing. He falls flat on his face, but he manages to get back up with just his legs. When he reaches the door, he bangs on it with his forehead. “Help,” he called several times. 

“It’s alright, sir. Just, please, calm down.” 

When he notices her getting all too close to him from her reflection in the bars, he tries dashing away again. However, he barely takes a step forward because she slams her foot into the knee that was shot. Falling to the floor in agony, he sobs as she unstraps one of his arms and injects him with the needle’s medication. With him being unable to move his limbs, “Now it wasn’t that bad. Was it, Joseph?”

“I did everything for you, Martha. I did it all for you, but you still haunt me. You still can’t leave me alone,” he sobbed out. 

“I don’t plan to do all those things you did to those prisoners anytime soon, but, it’s tragic, you ended up behind bars as well,” she sighs, “I’m going to ask you a few questions. Maybe they’ll get you to leave here much earlier than you were sentenced. Maybe they won’t. Whatever the case it’s not like you have anything better to do. So, please answer me and don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

Running off from an abusive household in the middle of one fall night, Joseph is behind the wheel and his sister is next to him in the car they stole from their father. They laugh as their house grows smaller and smaller with each second. “We did it. We really did it,” Martha gasped out loud with relief. 

“Of course we did.”

“Dad would’ve been really mad at us if he woke up.” Martha yawned. 

“Even if he did, Martha, I wouldn’t let him touch you. I’d never let him touch you ever again.” 

She leans against her brother’s shoulder as she begins to drift off to sleep. “Where are we heading to, Joseph?”

“Anywhere but back there.”

Martha lets out a chuckle. “Yeah. Hey, Joseph?”

“What is it, Martha?”

“I know you’re my brother and all and you said it’s your job to protect me even if I’m older, but I want to protect you too. I will protect you too.”

“Thanks, but for right now you should be getting some sleep.” His sister fell asleep before he could finish. The sight of her finally sleeping peacefully gets him to crack a smile. No longer did they have to live in fear each day of their father. No longer did he have to hear her scream. No longer were they trapped underneath his roof, but instead lived freely underneath God’s sky. It was a new beginning to them, but it was short-lived. 

They promised each other they’d be there for one another. He promised her right to her face, but he broke it. He was there, but he didn’t hear her scream. He didn’t hear her at that time. They took her as he was distracted by another woman. Those men took her from right under his nose. While he laughed with the beautiful stranger and as his cheeks reddened his sister was growing paler and paler. It took days to find her. The police stopped long before then. 

“Ah, so Martha was your sister.” Dr. Harris wrote it down on her clipboard. After she writes it down, she points her pen at him and asks, “How about her husband?”

Michael loved Martha. Ever since they met he’s been nothing but kind to her. He didn’t shout or even looked at her wrongly, He didn’t shout or even looked at her wrongly, but ever since the day Joseph was introduced to Michael he’s hated him. It was obvious how happy he made his sister. He gifted her with a feeling she hasn’t felt until then, love. Joseph should’ve been happy for her, which he knew he should’ve, but that’s the reason why Joseph never liked him. He gave her something Joseph couldn’t give her. He was taking her away from Joseph because of it. Right from under his nose he was taking away the only person that understood. He was taking away the only person that knew what they went through when they were kids. Even though he was trying to look for someone as well he just didn’t like the fact she was slowly drifting away from him. That she was slowly no longer finding a need in him. 

The long nights of searching for her were filled with Joseph blaming Michael. Michael wasn’t part of the city’s police department. So, he had no part in solving the case, but Joseph still blamed him. He blamed him even though he went along with him to search for her. He blamed him for not doing enough. He knew Michael knew people and he chastised him for not using them. He also, and what lingered in his consciousness for the rest of his life, chastised him for being a bad husband. Because of this, Michael blamed himself for what happened to her as well. This is why he barely fought when he was making that promise with Joseph. That’s why he bit down his conscience as he felt guilty for the people his brother-in-law hurt for years on end. 

While Joseph pointed his finger at his brother-in-law he was actually venting. He saw himself as Michael every time he shouted at him. Every time he wanted to hurt him it was actually him wanting to hurt himself. Even as he hurt those prisoners he saw himself as them as well. He wanted to do those same things as he did with them, but he couldn’t. It’s like he said, “That’s the problem with people like him. He listened. He agreed, but once it’s about to happen to him he backed down.”

The psychiatrist opened her mouth. “Sure, on paper you’re the victim. It’s tragic what happened to you, but what you did was...God, I can’t find the right word,” she pushes her glasses closer to her eyes, “I don’t know, but you being here should be more than enough of an answer. A shame that you were the one that survived. Your brother-in-law, as based on your recount, was a great guy. If your story were to go public people would still agree that you should’ve died instead.”

“Oh, I know. I wish I did.”

“You agree that you should’ve died?”

“I wish I had died a long time ago, Martha.”

“Once again I’m not your sister.” He looks at her with a blank expression. It’s as if she spoke to him in another language. So, she sighs and presses two fingers against the bridge of her nose. “Do you regret anything you did? You tortured so many lives. You killed several people that night.”

“Why would I? Those people had their chances. They didn’t deserve a second chance.”

“I assume this is because you feel guilty about the situation with your sister.”

“Of course, Martha, there hasn’t been a single second where I haven’t thought about it. When people do really bad things, they don’t deserve to be forgiven.”

“Then, do you believe you deserve a second chance?”

He opens his mouth, but he closes it. He looks at her then he moves his attention towards the flickering light. “I believe in life after death.”

“That’s not what I was asking.”

Ignoring her, “Throughout history, there have been all kinds of religions and throughout it, people have used religion to get what they want, which I did too. People have fought with others over which religion is the one, true, religion. There’ve been battles because of it. Thousands died. Belief is dangerous.”

“Where exactly are you going with this?”

“But in the end, it doesn’t matter. They all tell of two afterlives. There’s one of paradise and one of torture. If people are religious then they believe in an all-powerful figure who chooses where you go based on what you have done throughout your life. You don’t get a second chance. Once you do evil in the world you get put in hell for eternity. Now do I deserve a second chance? Does it matter? I know what’ll happen to me, but I had to do it for you. I had to do it so you can finally leave me alone. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough because you’re still here.”

“But you killed all those people. You killed your brother-in-law. They didn’t deserve to die and even though what you did hit a grey spot in morality they deserved a second chance. At least so, as based on your logic, they could avoid what happens next as long as they’re able to.”

“That’s the thing about people. They’re confusing. Their words don’t make sense half of the time.”

She moves up her sleeve. She checks her wristwatch and gets up. “Looks like our time is up. I’ll be back here tomorrow.” As she heads towards the door, it opens. Nurses come in with Joseph’s lunch. From the reflection in the bars, she watches them feed him. She looks at him with a sympathetic expression. When their eyes meet, she continues walking. Her heels click once they exit the room. They echo across the hall growing quieter and quieter with each step. 

Once again he’s alone in the room and is sitting in its far corner. As it gets darker and darker, he cries to himself.

[rafespeaks]

U BET I WANNA HEAR ABOUT ASTRONAUT MAY AND TRANS BRENDAN AND SPOOPY MUTE DAWN AND TORI AND SERENA AND ALL THE REST SO: Music, Dawn, Clothes, Colorful, Long

Since u didn’t specify who for each prompt, I’mma them in the order of what u mentioned.

Music - May

“Do they have any music where you’re from…?”

It wasn’t a question she expected an answer to, but she stared up at the alien Pokemon regardless. It had been several months since she’d saved the planet from a massive meteor. Since then she’d only grown more and more curious about it and where it had come from. Unfortunately, it never seemed to understand her… Or, if it did, it chose not to respond in the slightest. It simply stared at her with that slightly unnerving gaze…

“You know - like this!”

She tapped away on her phone, coming up with an upbeat collection of audio clips assembled into a cheery tune. It had gone viral a couple years ago, and rightfully so - it was always fun to listen to.

She held her phone up for Deoxys to see, beaming as the song played through. Deoxys had heard music before, she was sure. How could it not have? There was music practically everywhere - at Pokemon Contests, in stores, playing in the lobby of Pokemon Centers, playing out from her phone whenever things got too quiet for her liking… But this time, something unusual happened.

Deoxys leaned forward, watching the blipping buttons flash in time with the music. After perhaps a minute, it uttered a low, trilling cry… and the next thing May knew, she had an aurora in her bedroom.

She gaped, staring up at the shifting lights in utter awe as they pulsated to match the song’s rhythm.

She’d never seen this behavior from Deoxys before… It wasn’t an attack, either. She knew all of its attacks. So what…?

All too soon, the song ended. Deoxis blinked, and the aurora faded in an instant.

Slowly, a smile curled up the corner of May’s mouth.

She was learning more and more about this strange Pokemon every day…

Dawn - Brenda(n)

Brenda sighed folding her arms behind her head. Just a few short hours ago, she’d participated in a contest, commanding her Pokemon on stage with a confidence she couldn’t hope to match in her everyday life. She hadn’t worked up the courage to tell her family she was trans. She had very few friends to share her moment of realization with. And the one friend who knew now had found out by complete accident.

She’d been competing on stage, having a grand time of it… until she spotted May in the audience. May had a funny look on her face - as though she was thinking too hard about a solution to a puzzle she didn’t fully understand. Just the sight of her had tripped Brenda up, and consequently her Pokemon a moment later. That was probably what caused May’s moment of realization. She could see her eyes blow wide and her mouth gape open a little. But her performance had been far from over, so she’d had to wrap things up and rush out.

Needless to say, an awkward conversation ensued once May caught up. But things had turned out for the better in the end…

She just wasn’t so sure her parents would be understanding, too. And the contests on top of that… They’d be shocked that ‘he’ was not a ‘he’ and she wasn’t interested in research and population data and fieldwork and the like… She loved contests. She wanted to make a career out of it. If she could do it forever… she’d be happy…

… Perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps tomorrow was finally the day she would tell them. Yes, for sure. It had to be tomorrow…! No more delays! No more feeling disheartened and downtrodden every single time she was misgendered by her own family! No more lies!

With a strange mix of sickness and determination in her gut, she reached over to turn off the bedside lamp. But as it clicked off, the room didn’t darken nearly as much as she thought it would.

Oh… It was dawn… She’d stayed up all night…

… Technically, ‘tomorrow’ had arrived. But… had it really? She’d decided on ‘tomorrow’ just a few seconds ago. So really, that gave her all of today to prepare and enjoy the safety in silence…

It could always wait until tomorrow…

Clothes - Dawn

Dawn frowned softly, fidgeting with the collar of her new dress. She disliked doing anything without her favorite scarf, but she couldn’t very well wear it to a contest like this. Especially when her mother had gone to the trouble of buying her an outfit as nice as this.

A bell chimed out. Five minutes until the contest started.

Her frown deepened a little and she reached back to adjust her bow. Prince, her Empoleon, chirruped beside her. In an instant, her expression flipped and she beamed up at him. No need to worry - she was fine. After all, they were only making a simple debut in their first contest ever. Not a big deal. She’d fed her Pokemon plenty of poffins, practiced the different segments over and over again, and even made sure to enter the contest type that played to her Pokemon’s strengths. It was only a matter of putting things all together…

Prince chirruped again.

She just… needed to relax. No good would come of stressing herself out like this. And even if things didn’t go well, that was fine. Her mother hadn’t won her first contest either. No matter what happened, she had to have faith that Joanne would be proud regardless…

She smoothed down her dress one last time, taking a deep breath.

“One minute until Visual Competition start!”

This was it. She grinned, flashing Prince a competitive look. His chest puffed up with confidence.

“Let’s go show them what we’re made of!” the Empoleon crowed.

Dawn nodded fiercely. A timer had started.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One…!

Colorful - Tori

Nimbasa City was one of the most colorful, blindingly bright cities Tori had ever seen. When she first came here, she’d been dazzled and excited and ready to try anything. The Big Stadium and Small Court were right up her alley! The Battle Subway was phenomenal, and the Battle Institute was much the same, but had the added bonus of being a smaller challenge for when people didn’t have the time for a long train ride! Not to mention, the amusement park! Oh, Elesa’s roller-coaster gym had given her such a thrill when she’d challenged it! But now…

She sighed, looking down on the city’s twinkling lights as the Rondez-View Ferris Wheel brought her higher and higher. Her only regret whenever she did this was that the attendants wouldn’t allow single people to take a whole compartment to themselves - she was required to pair up with someone each time. She’d come here so often now that she’d actually gotten to know a few of the regulars. But days like this, she simply… wasn’t in the mood to talk.

She remembered the very first time she’d been on this ferriswheel. N had taken her up, marveling at the mechanics of it before spilling a shocking secret - he was the appointed ‘king’ of Team Plasma.

She had to wonder where he was now. She’d searched everywhere she could possibly think to go in Unova. Had he left the region, then? It was possible. But he was so naive and impressionable… What was he going to do out there? How was he going to take care of himself? Live off the land and do his little… Pokemon Whisperer shit? All it took was one overly territorial Pokemon that he believed he could talk down. Sure, he had Zekrom’s protection, but…

… She had to find him. If only to be sure he was doing okay on his own. If she stood by and did nothing and he turned up dead…

Decision made, she stormed out of the ferriswheel the moment her compartment was opened up. It didn’t matter if she had to search the whole world over - she would find him. And when she did… maybe she could convince him to let her help him. To come back to Unova. To trust people…

Long - Serena

Serena had started to think her struggle against Team Flare would never end. It had been a long, hard road since she first left home and began her Pokemon journey. Since then, she’d changed so much she hardly recognized herself anymore. She’d changed her clothes. She’d changed her hair. She’d changed her battle strategies. She’d changed her views on battles and Pokemon relationships. But as much as she’d changed and as long as her struggles had lasted, nothing could compare to the hardships Az had suffered through.

3,000 years was a long time to wait and struggle through the world’s hardships… And to do that without a friend in the world, knowing the only one you had left because you did something terrible? She couldn’t imagine it…

She didn’t know what she would’ve done without her own Pokemon. It was funny - she’d spent the majority of her life without any Pokemon around but Rhyhorn and Fletchling. But now, she couldn’t imagine life without her beloved teammates. It hadn’t even been a year yet, but it still seemed so long ago…

Hopefully the good times would last far into the future.

[two-creepy-nerds]

Phobia Ward Session 1 & 2

By: Byron Kastilahn and Luna K (Author’s Note At the End)

Content Warning: Allusions to sexual violence

Length: Very Long

SESSION 1: Luna K

PART 1

When I was younger I was fascinated about the deep web and what goes on behind below the tip of the iceberg. Late at night I would dive into places no person in their right mind would imagine. I came across gore, child porn, murders, snuff films. You name it, I’ve seen it. But there was always something I came across on my nightly searches on the deep web. It was an advertisement for a hospital.

After coming across if for at least the 50th time I finally decided to inspect it. You see, this wasn’t any regular type of hospital being advertised. It was a mental ward in a way. Nothing like I’ve ever heard of before. The owner and head Doctor of the hospital posted a video on the website giving almost a virtual tour. Now as you know from someone who browses the deep web usually videos like this would take a dark turn for the worse.

Thankfully I had a strong stomach, so whatever videos decided to pop up I was able to watch with ease, but nothing seemed wrong in this video. It seemed like a fairly clean and nice place to be sent to, although the concept of the ward was very odd. It was a mental hospital that you could send your loved one to if they suffered from any type of phobia no matter how severe. Frankly I thought that was an amazing idea, that seemed to help people get better.

Years later after highschool, when I was majoring in journalism we had to write a seven page essay about a subject of our choice. So automatically I thought of the hospital and I came across that one night on the deep web. I went back to find the website for the first time in six or so years and it was there, but this time with a new polished look and a different video. My guess was since the original owner was fairly old, he must have had a son that he passed on the hospital to. I called the number that was listed and the phone rang a couple times before going to voicemail.

“Hello, you have reached the voicemail of Dr. Winston J. Howard. If you would like to admit yourself or a family member, press one. If you would like to know our office hours, location, or when it’s best to contact us, please press 2. If you are calling to donate to our hospital please get your credit card ready and stay on the line. To speak with a nurse please enter your parties extension now.”

I pressed two and heard as the phone rang a few more times. This time I was greeted by a friendly voice.

“Hello you have reached St. Matthias Hospital and Phobia Ward. Who may I have the pleasure of speaking to?” “Uh… yeah, hi. I’m Olivia Thorne and I’m doing research for a college class. I was wondering if I could stop by and see what you guys are all about and if you were offering any internships.” “Thank you for calling us Olivia. We are looking for some eager interns wanting to learn more about the human psyche. We are open seven days a week for 24 hours a day and you can find our address on our website under the description of the video. We are looking forward to having you come in. I’m Nurse Lucinda and if you need to contact us again please do not hesitate to call us and to speak to me again. My extension is 583 and you just dial that in when you get the voicemail.”

I was very surprised by how nice the nurse was considering that it was almost midnight and she was probably working a 10-12 hour shift. After more browsing around on the website I found the address listed. I wrote it down on a piece of paper along with the nurse’s name and extension number. I headed off to bed after spending a few more hours on the deep web like I used to. I woke up around 10 a.m., got ready and headed out to my car to buy some shitty fast food breakfast and coffee. While I ate I entered the address into my phone’s gps. Then I was back on the road. The hospital seemed like it was all the way up in Montana while I was in Wyoming, so I this wasn’t just some two/three hour trip. It was going to take a while. Every now and then I would stop to get gasoline and get something to eat, but I always had a strange feeling when I would get out of my car. I felt vulnerable. Like someone was watching me. Making sure that if I didn’t do what I was suppose to be doing they would jump out and get me. I’ve never had that feeling in my entire life and I tried to dismiss it as me just being paranoid for being this far away from home.

I continue on the road for quite awhile. I stop at this shabby motel to sleep. It’s dirty and I can see the imprint of the last person who slept in the bed. I’m too tired to care and I pass out. I then wake up around seven in the morning and I’m back on the road.

I notice there’s a big black truck following me for a good hour and a half and I start to feel uneasy again. I try to call my mom and tell her what’s going on but there’s no service out here. I then start to panic and right there I blow out my back left tire and have to pull over. God, I hope that whoever’s in that truck just passes by me. But he doesn’t. He pulls over and rolls down his window. A big muscular man is behind the wheel. “I saw your tire blew out. Do you need any help?” “No, I’m fine.” I chuckle nervously.

He opens his passenger door. “C’mon, I’ll give you a ride to the nearest mechanic.”

A shiver goes down my spine, but I’m stuck out here with no spare tire so I hesitantly get inside the truck. I close the door and it automatically locks. I panic and feel something wrap tightly around my neck. My vision starts blacking out and I can’t breathe. Everything goes black.

PART 2

I feel “someone” gently tapping my cheek. A gloved hand forcefully opens my left eye and shines a light into it and proceeds to do the same one to my right eye. All sounds are muffled and my ears are ringing “Way to go you bumbling oaf! She broke a blood vessel in her left eye. I gave you specific instructions to get her here unharmed.” The “someone” pours a bucket of ice water on me.

“Good morning princess.”

I shoot straight up. It’s dimly lit and my eyes finally focus on the man standing in front of me. He’s tall and has a well kept beard. He’s also wearing a dirty lab coat covered in something I don’t want to know. The guy from before is standing next to him, he looks like a midget standing next to Big Show over there. “I’m so glad you took an interest in my little institution here, but you were stupid to come.”

Then Big Show picks me up and straps me down in a dirty gurney. They wheel me out of the room I’m in and take me down a long hallway. “What you’re about to experience is your worst fears brought to life. Are you ready for that? We have to get you cleaned up though, you had a little accident when my nurse here got ahold of you.”

I notice another man wheeling the gurney. He’s not as big as my friend on the right but he’s very tall and skinny. He looks like he’s been injecting heroin since he was five. We go through a set of doors and they unstrap me for a moment. I can’t fight Big Show. He could kill me in one hit, so I stay still. They then remove my clothes and push me against a brick wall and blast me with a hose. They shut off the water and I’m sore from the pressure of the water.

My head is spinning and all I can think is, “why me”?

Why out of all the people in the world? Why did this happen to me? After they clean me off I’m lead down another hallway filled with doors and behind those doors I hear screams. They open a door and push me in the room. There’s another girl in a far corner of the room. She’s shaking and crying uncontrollably. I hear words but I can’t make it out, she picks at her skin. “Are you okay?” I ask. “They’re in my skin,” she mutters. “What’s in your skin?” “The doctor. He put the eggs in my skin and now they’re hatching. I can feel them crawling in me.” She starts wailing and takes a piece of broken mirror and starts carving away at her arm. I panic and try to stop her but she starts thrashing and screaming. She manages to stab me in the hand with the glass! I pull away and run to another corner of the room. I watch as she continues to carve away the skin at her arm. Her skin gets whiter and whiter as her blood drains out of her arm. “There… they’re all gone.” she says weakly as her body goes limp. I wait a bit and then walk over to her and in the piles of tissues and puddles of blood I-

I see spiders.

I start banging the door and screaming. There’s a freaking dead person in here! Finally, after about a good three and a half minutes of screaming a nurse unlocks the door and two men pick up the body and put her in a bag to carry her off.

The nurse gives me a glare and slams the door. There’re still puddles of blood and spiders in the room, but I don’t think they care. I sink down back into my corner and I start crying. I’m terrified! You hear things like this happen everyday but I never gave it a single thought that it was going to happen to me. I mean I wasn’t the safest person in the world, but when you’re young you really never think about your mortality and how anyone can die or be kidnapped in a matter of seconds.

I eventually cry myself into a deep, dreamless sleep, only to be woken up by that nurse. She slaps my face, sticks a needle in my arm and injects me with whatever was in the syringe. I start panicking. She gives me another hard slap and tells me to stop moving so much or she’s going to mess up. I stay still and tears start rolling down my face. Then one of the guys from earlier comes in the room with a wheel chair. He picks me up and sits me down.

I try kicking him, but my legs don’t want to move.

The nurse paralysed me.

They wheel me down the hall as the nurse scans her badge on some kind of sensor and holds the door open. I finally get to a room that is very brightly lit with a single chair right in the middle. It looks like a refurbished dentist chair with a helmet strapped to it. I get picked up again and strapped into the chair. I ask what’s going to happen to me but neither the nurse or the man reply. They exit the room and an old man walks in. He is very short and he looks like he could topple over if there was a strong gust of wind.

He takes his time studying me before taking a chair from the far corner of the room and sitting next to me. He has a slight German accent.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Ludwig. I will be examining you today. You look like a very healthy girl, yes?”

“Y-yeah. I go to the gym a lot in my spare time. Doctor, where am I?”

“You are part of a big experiment that will change the world. Do not worry. You will not be hurt if you just cooperate and listen to my staff.”

“But how did I get here and why am I here?”

“You called us. Don’t you remember? You called our head nurse to set up an internship.”

My blood turns cold. The feeling was buried deep in my brain, but I still couldn’t believe that this was the same place I was actually trying to apply for.

“Now that we are done with formalities, I would very much like to start examining you.”

He walks behind the chair and puts the helmet on my head before he sets up a monitor. He also puts a heart rate tracker on my finger.

“Now I want you to take deep breaths. If you don’t while this helmet is on, your lungs will collapse.”

I start taking deep breaths and the Doctor pulls down the front part of the helmet to cover my face. Then I feel another needle going into my arm. The machine turns on and I’m transported into the old basement of my house. I hear my family upstairs laughing and talking, and for some reason I’m down here. I start looking around, puzzled why I’m here. Then I see him, Uncle Brian…

He wasn’t my real uncle. Just a friend of my dad’s who insisted I call him Uncle Brian. He hands me a can of warm beer and tells me to take a sip. I listen to him and I immediately spit out the warm liquid.

“Ugh, it tastes like pee!” I sputter.

Uncle Brian laughs. He insists that I take another sip. He practically forces the drink down my throat. My head starts to feel fuzzy and warm. My vision is blurring. I feel Uncle Brian pinning me down, putting almost all of his weight on me.

My speech is slurred, but I manage to say, “Ow, get off! you’re hurting me!”

All he does is laugh.

Then…

PART 3

The simulation turns off and the doctor quickly removed my helmet.

I start crying again.

The nurse wheels me back into my room. All I can do is curl up into a ball on the cot. I want to die. I tried so hard to forget those memories and they brought them back. Someone from the staff opens my door and they pull me out of bed. I try to stay as limp as possible, because I’m tired of fighting.

They put me in a wheelchair and I notice more people are walking down the hallway. I guess it’s time for dinner. I get wheeled into the cafeteria and they set a bowl of grey looking mush down in front of me. More people gather to the table I’m sitting at. There’s a low chatter throughout the room and I wonder how many people were tricked into coming and how many people came here willingly.

“Hey you.” I look up at the man saying that, “Where’s Clara? That’s her spot.”

That must have been the name of the girl who was in my room.

“She kinda freaked out and there was an accident.”

“Oh, so she killed herself?”

I’m surprised how bluntly he was able to say that, but I nod my head. They continue to pick at their food. I feel like time is escaping from me. Soon I’m wheeled back into my room. I spend what feels like three days in there with trips back to the cafeteria. Day four rolls around and I finally decide to get out of bed. I find a piece of broken mirror from the incident. It gleamed at me from a crack at the foot of the wall it must of slid halfway into. I unsheath it and it’s long!

I look at it for a long time. I don’t know if I want to kill myself anymore, so I put it in the pocket of the clothes they gave me.

I continue with the routine like everything is normal and they wheel me to the doctor again.

“We meet again. I would like to apologize for causing you distress earlier, but it seems you have recovered, so now we must continue with the treatment.” I get strapped in the chair and I start taking deep breaths like before. I start to panic and then I feel a sharp pain in my chest and I’m struggling to breathe.

They quickly remove the equipment and rush me to a different part of the building. They strap me to a hospital bed and monitor me for the night. A nurse comes in and straps me to an IV. While she leans in close, I try to grab the piece of broken mirror in my pocket and I slash it across her throat. I hope it wasn’t too deep of a cut, but I was able to distract her long enough to run out of the room. They don’t have many staff on hand here. I’ve already met all the nurses, but my real challenge is to avoid Big Show. I guess I hurt that nurse more than I thought because I don’t hear any alarms going off. They had a guy try to escape a few days ago and they had alarms going off for hours.

I try to stay calm and nonchalantly walk down the hallways. I’ve seen other patients walk up and down here all the time, so I feel like I’m in the clear if I just make it look like I’m not in that big of a rush.

I’ve memorised all the hallways by now and I think I can find a way out. I go through a set of doors that are rumored to be where they take all the bodies of the people who die in here. Well, the rumors were damn right. The stench of the current bodies they haven’t disposed of yet stinks up the whole room. I hear footsteps and I play dead.

Then I hear alarms and Big Show walks through the door carrying the nurse. After dumping the body, he runs out of the room, so I count to ten and then slowly get up and look around. There’s another set of doors but that only leads to a furnace. Looks like I have to find another way out.

The alarms are still going off. I’m scared I’m going to run into someone so I take the uniform of the nurse, surprisingly not too dirty. I calmly walk out of the room and pull my hair up in a bun. My hands and feet start moving wild to unlock all the patient doors. Some come out of their rooms and begin to wander about. If I can distract guards this way maybe I can find a way out. Then I run into “him”.

“Well, Princess, looks like you finally mustered up the courage to try to escape huh?” the doctor says as he backs me up into a corner.

I reach for the glass I had in my pocket but I forgot it in the other damn clothes!

“Look, if you wanted to leave, you should have just asked. We would have sent you home all nicely wrapped in a body bag delivered right to mommy’s front door.”

I start to panic and then kick him in the crotch, making him fall to the ground. I run as fast as I can until I bump into Big Show and I stammer.

“I-I think I saw a patient run that way.” and I point to where the doctor pinned me.

He looks at me, mouth tightly closed, air steamin’ out the nose. His eyes pierce through my head like a laser about to melt my brain. Then he slowly and coolly lumbers down the hallway at a casual pace. My God… even I didn’t think that’d work.

I run into a set of locked doors, and scan the nurse’s key card to unlock it. The door leads outside where I see the sun for the first time in what feels like months. The air smells so different outside than it does in there. I don’t hesitate and I keep running.

I’m in a parking lot and I take a good look at the building I was held prisoner in. It was definitely the same hospital shown online. I continue to run as fast as I can and come to an open road, but I just keep running till I find a small town. There’s a small police station and I tell them my story, so they send me to the chief. I tell my story the best I can to him.

“I knew there was something going on over there. We had another case just like yours a few years back,” is what he told me.

And here’s the truth. It turns out there’s been multiple cases like this not just in America, but all around the world. Some fucked up science project from a bunch of mad, rich men. The police call my mom and they set me up in a small inn they have in town. A few days later I was able to go home and when my mom saw me she burst into tears. I cried for days, I was finally out of that hell hole. But I know, oh I know this hasn’t truly ended.

SESSION 2

Intro Log My name is Daniel Sanchez. My Father’s name was Derek Sanchez.

My Dad and I were always explorers. I’ve loved the thought of adventure since I was born, likewise to Dad. As a child my Dad would venture through his neighborhood with his friends, as well as the old creek right next to it to the dusty hillsides right outside of that humble bunch of houses.

Then when I was born, my Dad new he had a sidekick. We did everything together. Watched movies, played games, and he taught me everything I know. We played outside more than any of those things though. Hiking, urban exploration, you name it. He was always great at geography. And even though we generally stayed in our home state, he managed to find something interesting for us every time. The prettiest mountain top. That one spooky building that we could get into thanks to him being a cop.

Of course, by the time I was 21, I knew I couldn’t stay with him forever. I moved out with a girl I’d been with for a number of years and many more to come. I got a good job after four years with the Marines paying for my college. My life was set. And I still got to play some online gaming with Pops when the wife had to go to bed early.

But the separation wouldn’t last. Of course it wouldn’t last. And of course it had to lead to the most horrible moments of my entire life. Worse than war. Worse than that arachnophobia problem I inherited from him.

Trust me, I’ve seen bad shit overseas. I’ve gone through painful accidents on an adventure or two. But nothing prepared me for what lied in the ruins of that abandoned hospital.

“Abandoned in a failed cover-up,” my Dad said.

He’d told me the story over text messages.

“Freakish, human experimentation,” “Hundreds of bodies found,” “Torture on a whole other level.”

And it was only two states away. We made a trip to Kansas in Dad’s home town just about every year I was living with him, so a road trip was nothing. Just had to make sure the ladies were fine with it.

Little did they know the things that would happen to us. What I’m writing down here is a message that’s already been made before. It took them down once, but they’ve come back, fighting with tooth and nail. What I’m writing here is my little adventure to the ruins of St. Matthias Hospital.

Log 1

When we got to the hospital, the first thing we noticed was the smell. It seemed that at one point the place had released a fire that was never dealt with. The place was scorched black in many places. Burnt carpets and blackened walls, even whole rooms turned to ash. But it wasn’t the ash itself that left a smell. There was something more rancid carried by it.

We ventured through the building, trying to figure out the history to each room. Some were just empty ones with damaged chairs lying around, seeming like interrogation rooms or something. Some of these rooms with lone chairs did have a bit more though. Some of these chairs were a lot more put together with pieces of unknown machinery lying around. A few of these rooms with the ceiling still intact had a host of wires and machinery hanging from them. It was like things were ripped from these contraptions in a rush.

Then came what we guessed were the patient’s rooms. They had bunk beds in every one of them with remains of dried up, stained blood, numerous cobwebs and even clumps of fecal matter. My Dad and I payed our respects to all the poor bastards who had to live in these prison cells called “living quarters.”

That’s also when the first weird occurrence happened. Outside of these rooms we’d hear the faint noises of skittering against the ground. It was always very subtle. Almost unnoticeable. I had to point it out to Dad as a matter of fact. They would stop for a little bit and then pick back up eventually. As we’d leave the room, the sound would always seem to go further away. It was like something was crawling away from us, but always making sure to stay nearby.

It all stopped when we made it to what easily seemed like a cafeteria. Large, damaged tables with remnants of food grown moldy beyond belief. It was all just left there in a hurry. I hope to this day they all had a good meal after they got out of there. If they were even able to live a normal life again.

Then we finally came to the worst of it all. We stumbled across one room in the whole place we wish we hadn’t. All the implications. The floor, covered in dried blood. In some places you could see the imprint of body bags. And just beyond that room was the remains of an old incinerator. We finally knew where the smell was coming from. We really wish we hadn’t found out.

And it only got worse.

We left that room and decided to ditch the place all together, until we heard the footsteps. We were on full alert. It sounded like two people, so we prepared ourselves. Moving cautiously down the hallways as I covered the rear, my dad suddenly stopped without warning. This caused me to bump into him and get a bit flustered.

Then he pointed to the end of the hall. In the dim moonlight shining through the door at the end, we saw a shadowy figure. A tall, well built figure that looked like it meant business.

“You want me to handle this?” I whispered to Dad.

“I got it,” he pushed me back whilst walking towards the figure, “Listen, we want no trouble.”

And as my Dad got further, I felt something wrap around my neck! An arm! Then a hand with a rag covered my mouth! As I faded into unconsciousness, the figure by the door pulled what looked like a gun on my Father. I blacked out before I could see anything else.

Log 2

We awoke to a bright light. In the midst of our grogginess and grumbling came a voice from behind the bright light.

“Wake up boys. You’re in the hornet’s nest now, so just listen to us and everything will be okay,” the voice says, sounding Scottish or Irish.

Could never decipher the two.

I could just make out his bulky shape in the light. Before I could even wince though, a sudden coldness touched the underside of my chin. I noticed that it was a knife being held by a well toned woman in a black tank-top and jeans. Her hair was short and black and she tilted my head up towards her gaze with the blade.

“They look tough. That mean we don’t hav’ ta’ go easy on ‘em?” the woman said in a calm and cool, southern accent.

The man stepped closer, revealing his thick, muscular form and grizzled, black facial hair. He looked like he’d been through a shit can or two.

He said, “Boss says to stay with procedure. Start with the deepest one and work our way through their years.”

The man, with dark, messy hair and a scarred up left eye got close to me. I peered into the white void of that damaged eye and tried not to blink.

“Ya know where ya are laddy?” he asked.

I shook my head, still trying to keep my composure.

“Yer in a pit o’ darkness that you won’t be crawling out of til’ we skin off every last fiber o’ yer sanity and make ya wanna go cry to ya mammy!” he spat in my face. “You got it boy?! We’re gonna make ya wish you were hung by yer toenails an skinned alive over a fire rather than what we’re gonna put ya through!”

“Alright asshole!” my Dad barked in an annoyed manner, “My boy’s probably popped bigger flakes than you in the hot scorching deserts of hell. You’re not scaring us!”

It’s in that stalled moment that I noticed what Dad and I were sat down in. They looked like the chairs in the hospital where the machinery was hanging. And just like that, with one glimpse at the ceiling I saw those same accumulations of wires and metal. But this time there was a centerpiece to this mechanical rose bud. Hanging from all of it was something like a headset. Bulky, looking more like a helmet, but I could just tell that it was made for more than protection when it was connected to all of that.

My attention was soon grasped by the movement of the woman that was next to me. She was now in front of my Dad and I saw her drive the knife into my Dad’s thigh! He screamed in agony just as I was about to scream at her!

“You mother-!

I’m shut up by a smack to the face (more like a brick) from the big guy.

He pointed a finger at the woman, “The fuck I say aboot procedure!”

He then walked up to her and pushed her aside roughly before removing the blade from my Dad!

He kept it for himself and pointed it at the bitch, saying, “Yer not gettin’ this back ‘til we’re done. Now start the test!”

He walked over to me and reached above my head. I saw him pull down the headset and try to place it over my struggling head. He slapped me one more time before placing it over my now still head. When all I saw was darkness, suddenly the sound outside of it just stopped. I couldn’t hear my Dad’s cries. I couldn’t hear the man’s heavy breathing. Not even the whirring of the A/C.

Suddenly, three white dots started appearing in a row before disappearing and reappearing in that manner over and over. I soon realized that it must have been a loading screen. Then the pattern just stopped, two of the dots disappearing to only show one in the middle of the screen. Within a second this dot bursted into a flash of light that slowly faded into the sight of a bedroom. It was amazing actually. I felt like I was literally in a bedroom. I couldn’t even feel the weight of the headset anymore.

I looked around to then see my Dad sitting on the bed in the room when I could have sworn he wasn’t there before.

“Shit!” I yelled, kneeling in front of him and trying to examine his leg, “It’s… it’s fine?”

I could see his face wincing though as he said, “No, it still hurts. A lot actually. Where the hell are we?”

I tried to think of something to do for the leg while trying to communicate, “I think we’re in a simulation. Don’t worry about it. Should I just- should I just put pressure on it?”

Dad said, “Buddy, even I’m not so old to know that it’s no use. I highly doubt that’ll do anything in here.”

“Fuck,” I’m hopeless.

I looked at the leg and it seemed tensed up. Then I gazed worriedly back up at his face and it was paler than fresh snow. He was looking at something behind me. I slowly adjusted myself to look in that direction and see a corner of the room where a black mess of strings was all bunched up. No, they looked like dark, ink spattered webs. The ends of the webs connected to the walls had something growing from them. Black streaks and cracks grew all over the walls before it was just completely consumed by darkness.

In that moving, quivering darkness, something grew from it. A body, looking as if it was covered in tar. A part of the body seemed to open up like a mouth where the head of an old woman peeked out from it, her eyes closed and lips pursed. She then opened those dark, empty holes for eyes along with her mouth to allow a thick, black ooze to drip from all three orifices.

I crawled back away from it and noticed my Dad was frozen like a statue. His expression was panicked, but petrified. The ooze began to spread across the floor and as some of it touched me, strands jumped out of it and connected to my body! It pulled me into the pool as I began to scream! I looked at my Dad, and the woman had stretched her long, dark body all the way over to him. Her mouth stretched ever wider and began to engulf him before my eyes were flooded with vile, vile ink.

And suddenly we were back.

The real world just blinked back into my vision. The headset was taken off of me, and I knew for sure it was the real world. The stale air. The concrete floor. The same two assholes as before. I looked at my Dad who was still and devoid of emotion. His leg was bandaged up, but he didn’t seem to be showing pain anymore. Just exhaustion.

“Sleep Paralysis,” the woman blurted out of nowhere.

I tried to form words, but simply asked, “What?”

“Your Dad has sleep paralysis. They’re moments before falling asleep or waking up where you can’t do anything. Not move, not speak, just look at the world around you. And boy, oh boy can you see stuff. Your Dad sees a woman in his hallucinations. She’s more common than you may think for people.”

I’m still at a loss for words, so I just asked, “Who are you guys?”

Bulk, who’s sitting behind a computer, said, “We’re the remnants of a long standin’ project. Before, we were dressed up as nurses and doctors who would put you through these test. Now with some budget cuts thanks ta a little mouse that escaped, we’re here in the purest form, doing this in our basements. We’re what remain of St. Matthias Hospital.”

He then removed the restraints from my arms and held out a hand to me.

He said, “Name’s Michael. Lass’s name’s Gen. Welcome to the experiment.”

Log 3

After introductions were done, the two loons sent us out into a cold, grey hallway connected to three other rooms. They brought us to the last door at the end of the hall. The door was made entirely out of metal and had a slot on the top and one at floor level.

Dad and I immediately knew where we were going. Within seconds they introduced us to a cell with a bunk bed, toilet, and a drawer full of clothes. Then they left and we were abandoned here to wade through our thoughts.

I shook my head in disbelief, “What’s the plan?”

My Dad was still holding his leg while he sat on the bottom bunk, “What, like escape? This place is made out of concrete and the door is metal. Unless we somehow get a chisel and a Playboy poster, we’re not breaking out, son. We’ve gotta take them on. Find their weaknesses.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to think of something we could do right there, right now. I looked at the drawers. Three total, made of wood, possible to carve out a weapon.

Toilet. Way out? Too small? Too much time, maybe.

The beds. Could make something of a weapon from it as well, but it would be more noticeable. Push against door for time? No, bolted to the floor. Shit, shittiest, shit, shit.

“Hey!” my Dad snapped my attention back to him, “Just calm down. We can’t do anything in here and they’re not gonna keep us in here forever. We’ll observe as much as we can then and plan something out.”

“Fine,” I said, sitting next to him. I then looked at him and asked, “You okay? Like, you alright up in there?”

Dad just said, “Yeah. I just know that whatever they’re using is really good. Not only does it look real, but somehow they were able to find out so much about me already. I don’t want to say it, but it is a little scary.”

I told him, “Well, you get some sleep. You need it more than me. I’ll take top so you’re safe on the ground.”

He just shook his head and almost looked defeated. I climbed up to the top bunk and shortly fell asleep just after lying down. It wasn’t all sweet dreams and cupcakes after a hell of a day/night, whatever it was. I was woken up by my Dad screaming his head off! I jumped down from the top bunk and tried to see what was wrong with him. He was gripping the stabbed leg and I asked him what was wrong with it.

He yelled, “It’s like it’s- i- iAAAAAH! It’s hurting all over ag- g -gain! Tingles! Like sharp, punctured tingling!”

I looked at the bandage as close as I could and there was blood showing as if the wound opened up again! And then I saw it… I saw something move under his skin!

I banged on the door and yelled, “You mother fuckers! What did you put in him! You Goddamn assholes! Let us out! Let us out! Let us out!”

The terror, screaming and constant banging of my bruised fists were enough to make me slide down the door with exhaustion. They weren’t coming. They probably didn’t care if we died in there anyways. Dad’s screaming stopped and I woke up the next day with a crick in my neck against the door.

Dad was still asleep and he looked better. At the time I didn’t know if I was seeing things due to the lack of sleep, but I knew that we needed to get out of here the first chance we got so I could bring him to a real doctor.

Then the door opened, myself almost falling over due to still leaning on it. I caught myself before my face hit the floor and I saw that shit eating grin.

“Time for our next session, Laddy.”

Log 4

We were taken back to the room with the chairs and were immediately strapped in. They seemed to think that we were already used to this and immediately started up the session by placing the headsets on us. And like that, we were already in.

The heavy spatter of rain resonated in the ornate room around me. I was in what seemed like a fancy place with wooden furniture and I noticed that I was still sitting down. It was on what seemed to be a booth with a table in front of me looking as if it was ready for a fancy feast. On the table I saw a newspaper with a date.

July 21, 1998

The Main Moon Monorail was launched today as the fanciest and largest Monorail in Denver, Colorado. Serving as a luxury ride for sightseeing and transportation across the city, this vehicle boasts an old fashioned design to it’s inside. Evoking a retro feeling the moment you step in, you’ll be transported to a time when travel was all about the journey, and not just the destination.

Well, they were right. It looked pretentious for a city train. Wondered how much money people threw at it just to ride around for an hour or maybe two. Then I remembered that this wasn’t real and that this whole thing was made up.

A jolt from the train that I barely noticed was moving lifts my gaze from the paper and I saw my father across from me. He sat calmly with his hands folded on the table, just staring at me.

“Dad?” I asked him, waving my hand a little.

“Fear is a stupid thing,” he said, looking down at the white cloth draping over the table, “We get high strung about things that are natural. Limbs being too thin. Bodies twitching about. Birth.”

I looked at him peculiarly, “You alright Dad?”

He looked back at me, unfolding his hands and banged one of them down on the table as a fist, “You remember your first fear, son? The baby piss pants thing you were always scared of?”

I recoiled back in surprise, “Dad, you hate them too. The fuck’s your problem?”

The sound of rain tapped the window next to me even harder.

“They’re closer than you think. Closer to here,” he pointed to his chest, “And there,” and pointed at the window which it’s edge had only been in my peripheral vision.

I finally turned to get a good look at it and noticed that it wasn’t rain hitting the glass. No, it was big and hairy. Eight long appendages sprouting from fat, bulbous bodies. On the window were maybe hundreds of giant spiders slapping against it. It was like they were falling from the sky! Then a vent just above me popped open and the eight legged freaks started pouring onto my lap! I jumped out of the seat and batted the big fuckers off before looking back at my Dad!

He began to twitch in the seat, still looking onward as if I was still in front of him!

“Dad!” I yelled, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Then his back began to pulsate! The skin under his shirt actually moved so violently that it looked like there was a wave under there! Suddenly, something burst out of the shirt- out of his back! It was a long appendage that bended in two places, looking thin, hairy and pointed at the tip. I knew immediately that it was a spider’s leg as more of them burst out! His mouth began to peel back as two large fangs protruded from his top gums!

The eight legs that came out of his back lifted him from the seat and he began to move towards me, his regular body looking like he was in some twisted ass flying pose! I backed away from him and tripped back onto my ass! His head was now growing hundreds of little, black eyes! Then something fell from the luggage compartment above me. A bag landed in front of me and opened upon impact! In it was a Beretta pistol just asking to be fired!

I grabbed the gun immediately and put those military years back to the test! I stood up and opened fire with just two rounds to his head. In the heat of things I was still willing to shoot it because I knew that something this vile couldn’t really be my Dad! The creature lurched back and squealed in pain, but it didn’t go down. I delivered two more rounds just as it prepared to lunge at me and the beast finally fell down at my feet!

I almost got an urge to look the spider thing over, but more of the regular ones started bursting from other vents and even the windows broke from the constant barrages, letting more of them in! I ran to the other car where it seemed a little less hectic. Spiders were still hitting the windows, but they hadn’t broken them yet. I noticed that there was a large bar here with a lot of cooking equipment behind it. Man, fuck the high life.

I made my way across the car just to stop and take a look outside the windows to see the city below. It was really hard to make it out in between all the fuzz. My attention was soon brought to a sound like metal bending. It resonated above me and a part of the ceiling caved in! The lights flickered a bit before focusing again as I saw a big mother fucker in front of me! This spider almost reached the ceiling with it’s immense size! I looked at the pistol and shook my head, pumping every last round I could before being whacked backwards by one of it’s long legs!

I was thrown against the wall near a seat, my head making contact and dazing me for a few seconds! I tried to shake it off as I felt something heavy fall upon my legs. I tried to prepare myself before my vision came back to see the beast that was stepping on me, but it wasn’t there yet. It was dinking around with the kitchen appliances. I looked at the thing that fell on my legs and it was a long case, like for an instrument or something. I undid the latches and I was ecstatic to see that it was my second guess! A chrome, 12 Gauge shotgun just ready to be pumped!

I swiped the weapon out of it’s case and whistled to the spider, “You hungry?!”

It turned back to me and hissed before it’s face was turned into mashed potatoes by two different hails of led! The beast tried to swipe at me with it’s legs again, but the ammunition buried inside its head had blinded it as I delivered another shot that sent it to the ground. I stepped on the creature to deliver one final blow before heading to the door to the other car.

Locked! I thought about shooting the handle, but remembered just how dangerous that was. Soon, I got another idea as I looked at the hole in the roof that had been spitting little spiders into this room, seeming not to care about me. I was thinking, possible ricochet, or a hail of spiders? Well, I decided that I’d show these assholes what I think of my fears and climbed on the big, fat bastard to get on top of the speeding train. The creatures batted against my body as I slowly made my way across the roof, thinking that my cockiness was probably not the right thing to listen to.

But I finally made it to a sun roof above the next car and fired a shell through the glass before dropping down. Three shells left if my judgment on the model was right. But just my luck, I saw the door to the conductor’s room ahead of me and broke into a sprint! I bursted into the room and tried to decipher the controls before noticing that the hail of spiders was beginning to die down.

I looked outside the window and noticed as the it cleared up, I could see an end to the monorail track. The only problem is that I didn’t see anything ahead of it or below it. As the train made it past that threshold, I felt my body lift into the air as the vehicle lurched downward and crashed into what seemed to be water! I smashed against the windshield and laid on it as the train descended into that black sea.

I began to quickly realize through the pain of my back that this sea was full of something. Large, spindly, hairless arachnids swam and bunched up against the window. I also saw that my back had cracked the glass I landed on. The cracks grew bigger and bigger and all I could think of next was pumping my shotgun.

Then it ended. It ended in the blink of an eye just like last time and I saw the two dirt bags in front of me.

Mike said, “I think we’re gettin’ somewhere Gen.”

Log 5

“You’re probably wondering why we’re doing this,” Gen stated.

We were both still in the chairs and my Dad seemed to be passed out or something.

“I don’t give a fuck! What’s wrong with my Dad?! His leg… you did something to it! I know you did!” I yelled at them, trying to break free of my restraints.

“Don’t worry about him. He’s obviously not going ta make it past the final test,” Mike said.

I shouted, “You mother fucker!”

I suddenly felt the cold steel against my neck once more as Gen said, close to my face, “It was my fault, but the geezer’s built like an Ox. He should’ve been able to match up with you very easily.”

Mike then said, “The whole point of tis process is to eliminate all fear in a human being. Our boss has been searching for a long time for what kind o’ procedure that can rid a human of that weakness. We’ve gotten different results from different subjects, but yours are remarkable.”

“That comes with a tour of duty asshole,” I snarled at him.

Mike explained, “Oh, it’s not a matter of the person. Well, it is, but it isn’t. We’re not looking for a type of person to get results from. We’re trying to replicate the result that works the best. You see, people don’t usually pass these simulations because of how well they emulate a person’s fears. We want to make the perfect simulation for anyone to be able to undertake and pass, to rid them of their fears. We take that simulation, change it up a little for different subjects and let them eliminate it through success. Basically we’re selling a product anyone can enjoy.”

“You’re going to train someone to be fearless through something that’s fake?” I asked with a doubtful tone.

Mike smiled, “Your military uses simulations as well.”

I laughed, “Yeah, and even those don’t prepare a soldier for the real thing.”

“We believe our technology is better than anything your Government’s been working on.”

I shook my head, “Now you just sound like a business man.”

Mike finally frowned and grumbled, “Get ‘em out o’ ‘ere.”

Gen grabbed a gun and lead me out of the room and back to my cell. She tossed my Dad in next and was about to close the door when I walked up to her.

She pointed the gun at me and said, “Back up.”

I said, “Can I use the bathroom?”

She huffed and lead me to one of the only other two rooms which was the restroom. I sat down on the toilet and noticed her still there.

“Privacy?” I asked.

“Not for you,” she looked bored, loosely holding the pistol in her hand.

“Gen!” Mike yelled from the testing room.

“What?!” Gen yelled back, still looking at me.

“I need yer help! Damn computer’s too smart for me old brain!”

She sighed heavily, “I need to watch the subject!”

“Well give ‘em some privacy, okay?! I need yer help!”

She just looked in the direction of the testing room and then back at me before rolling her eyes and closing the door to go help. I got up off of the toilet and looked around for something that might’ve been useful. The room was pretty barren aside from the mirror and toilet. It seemed like the cleaning supplies would be in the only room I hadn’t been in yet which I figured was an office.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

If I broke the mirror then it was going to be too obvious.

Fuck my life, we’re never getting out of here! That’s what I thought as Mike opened the door and I saw my Dad next to him, looking like absolute shit.

“He needs to go too,” Mike said.

I got off of the toilet, having not even dropped my pants at any moment during this, and stepped out of the room. Just as I made it halfway to our room, I heard a loud, wailing scream in the bathroom and ran back to it! I saw my Dad thrashing all over the floor in the bathroom, Mike trying to hold him still and I noticed the mirror in the room was smashed! I saw just at the threshold a thin, sharp and pointy piece of glass lying there and I quickly picked it up to put it in my pocket before Mike turned to me.

He yelled, “Gen! He’s failing! Help me get this big hunk o’ shit to his room!”

“No!” I yelled, grabbing my Dad by the legs, “He’s my Dad, I’m gonna make sure he’s alright!”

My Dad seemed to calm a bit from my touch and Mike groaned, “Fine!” We got him into our room, laying him down on the bed before Mike said, “Enjoy your last moments.”

He slammed and locked the door closed as I stayed by my Father’s side.

“Dad, Dad!” I tried to settle his convulsing body, “Derek, come on! What’s wrong with you?!”

His skin was becoming bloated somehow. It seemed to move in random spots, but I couldn’t even concentrate on that!

Then he said something while trying to restrain himself, “Daniel, buddy…” he coughed up blood and some kind of black, chunky liquid, “You were a good kid. I disciplined you well. I mean-” he hacked up more, “I’m sorry for all the times I spanked you. All the times I sent you to the corner for being the little doofus you always were. But I meant it in kind.”

“I know, Dad,” I said to him, my face feeling hot and wet.

“Thing is, it made you into a total bad ass. I know that you know that, but I want to make sure you recognise where you got it from,” He said with a smile as blood trickled down his cheek.

“Dad… just- just calm down. You’ll be fine!” I yelled, my vision becoming blurry.

“No, Danny. Just know that you can beat these fucks. I built you that way. Show them how great you are!” he started to yell and scream.

He screamed for the last moments of his life as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Shortly after that, the bandage he had on the whole time that was now sopping with blood broke as hundreds of little spiders crawled out of the cut! The tiny arachnids burst from his mouth and ears and I backed away, screaming, barely able to see through the tears.

Gen came barging in with two cans of bug spray and started to defile my Dad’s body with it, trying to kill the little fucks. I sat on the floor, my mind completely blank as I felt something fall out of my pocket. It was the glass, of course it was. I gripped it hard, cutting my hand and stood up, stalking behind the bitch. I raised my hand just a little, but immediately withdrew it to hide it behind my back when she turned.

“Looks like you’re not sleeping tonight, buddy,” She said.

The nickname stung. Made me want to claw her eyes out and pour black tar into them. But I loosened my grip on the glass.

I then said, “Let’s finish these tests.”

Log 6

They sat me down in the chair for what I knew even then was the last time. Mike got on his computer while Gen strapped me in, headset and all.

“Ya ready, pal?” she asks, the headset inches above my head.

I breathed in, then out, “I’m finishing this.”

She smiled a cheekish smile, “Sure ya are, honey.”

I kept my composure and let the darkness overtake me. Then it was cold. It was freezing! It was still dark, but I could make out a few things that were near me. I was lying on the ground and saw that I was in a pile of snow. I could also hear the sound of wind in the air. Concentration was getting difficult. The overwhelming darkness. The stinging cold. And there! I heard something! A branch snapping! I rolled myself up into the fetal position, I was so lost and out of my wits.

Cold… Cold… Closer…

I needed to do something. I was taught this, I knew what to do! I sat up, realizing that I was completely naked. My body was sopping wet from the snow and I knew I didn’t have long before I froze to death. And the thing out there… Jesus, I hoped fire would scare it away. I ran through this dark forest, the wind eating at my flesh and beating me down and saw a plain spot! Not much snow! I just needed to-

-I saw it. The thing moving around in the woods. All that was visible were it’s white, glowing eyes and a faint outline of an almost anorexic looking figure. It was like the thing hadn’t eaten in years. It’s arms were as thin as branches, same with the legs. The torso wasn’t much better off. Although I couldn’t make out any sign of bone structure showing through the flesh. It was almost like I was staring at a living stick figure of sorts.

Then the body began to expand. It’s body blended with the darkness and the eyes grew larger and larger, staring me down! I quivered in horror as my knees began to buckle. My hope was draining and my legs hit the cold dirt.

GIVE IN

It spoke to me. The voices weren’t directly coming at me. It was in my thoughts. My very soul. I began to succumb to the darkness. I went back into that fetal position and began crying uncontrollably. The world around me was no longer just barely visible. I was now in a void of nothingness.

And I had fallen into man’s first fear.

Eternal darkness.

Then I noticed something. The air conditioning. The rise in temperature. I was back in the room. No one said anything. I just sat there quietly with my face still hot.

Then Gen took the headset off, saying, “Aw, wittle baby afraid of the dark?”

I began to breathe heavily in anger whilst Mike spoke up behind his computer, “Looks like our lil’ trick didn’t work after all.”

I simmered down a bit, “What trick?”

Gen said with a laugh, “Oh, well your Dad wasn’t much use to us. Although, fearless old people would be fantastic, youngins are what we’re really after for our end goal. We thought the anger sparked from losing yer dad would give you a drive. Aw well. We’re just gonna have ta push ya harder.”

She began to unstrap my almost limp body, my entire being at a loss for words.

She undid the arm straps and was about to pick me up when I blurted out, “Hey, Mike. You done looking at your porn over there?”

Mike snuffed, “Ah, fack you!”

Then Gen turned around to the fat, Scottish bastard to laugh and say, “Not like it’s the first time I caught ya. Gets lonely down here, huh pal?”

Mike was gonna make his own snarky remark back to her. They were gonna have a laugh and go about their day with their sick little plans. But all of that was ruined when I brought the piece of glass to Gen’s throat and dragged it across hard. She didn’t even get to scream with how fast I did it. Just a gurgle and a few buckets of blood spilling on the floor and she was out.

Mike went wide eyed and sprinted out of the room. I chased after him as he went into the only room I hadn’t entered yet. Inside was exactly what I thought. An office, a bunk bed for the two sleaze balls and a refrigerator, microwave and a toaster oven with some kitchen appliances. What really caught my eye was another door! I knew it was the exit, but I needed to worry about the other thing I had just noticed. It was Mike. Big, angry and pointing a shotgun right at me! I just managed to get out of the doorframe when the blast came hurtling at me!

I ran back to the testing room, locked the door and grabbed a huge knife out of Gen’s belt before standing right next to the door. I knew that he’d try the door. He did. I knew he’d unlock it the only way an angry Scottish bastard would. Shooting the damn lock off. He came crashing through and I jumped on his back, trying to bring the knife down on his neck too!

He swung me around though and my aim was off as I only managed to stab him in the shoulder! He threw the gun on the ground and reached around to grab me with both of his beefy hands as he threw me to the ground! He pulled out the knife whilst letting out an immense and powerful cry while I went for the gun. He then kicked it away and brought the blade down upon me, but not before I rolled out of the way. His mighty force snapped the blade in two, rendering it useless. Gen didn’t bring her extra knives today.

I tried to crawl to the shotgun, but then felt a mighty blow against my ribs! Mike kicked me over and over again until I was lying there, useless and coughing up blood. He walked over to pick up the shotgun as I attempted to get back up, only managing to flail my arms around in a weak manner. But then I felt it. My hand landed on Gen’s pants pocket and I felt a tiny bulge in it! I dug through the thing to find a swiss army knife.

I unsheathed the tiny, but graceful blade and hid it as Mike came over to me with the shotgun in hand.

“What a waste,” he uttered before lining up the sights.

I smirked and hocked a big clump of blood at his face, blinding him before I rammed the tiny blade into his thigh, bringing out a new cry from the big man.

I then tackled him down and straddled him before saying, “Looks like your spark worked afterall.”

And in the next few moments, you wouldn’t imagine how hard it was to cut a fat neck with a tiny little blade.

Final Log

The door I found in the office was the way out. When I got out I found myself inside a house out in the country amongst rows of trees. The place was a little underground bunker just below it. It wasn’t very far from the original hospital either. When I got my bearings and all my shit back on track, reuniting with my loved ones and get settled back into my job, only then was I comfortable enough to call the authorities about it.

When they got there, there was nothing left. Everything was cleaned out of the bunker and they found out that it was owned by a family on vacation. I told them it was all bullshit and that it tied to the events that happened last year. They pushed it aside though. They said none of it correlated back to the St. Matthias Hospital events.

I made sure that they weren’t involved with these people either. Like the police themselves were involved with this group. I took one last trip to that horrid place, making sure no one was in the house and picking the lock open. I made it into the bunker below after seeing no one around and they were right. The whole place was cleaned up and looked like it was mostly used for stock that the owners kept down there.

I even went to the cell where my Dad’s missing, unretrieved body that my entire family mourned over an empty casket for was nowhere to be seen. The bunk was still there. I fell over, bawling my eyes out. Then, when I looked up to wipe away my tears, I saw under the bottom bunk a host of webs and spiders.

Author’s Note

Byron here. Just wanted to say that Luna and I are happy to announce that we’re starting to self-publish on Amazon. It’ll mostly serve as a way to support us, but we’ll try to keep as much of our writings as free as possible to be read on this blog unless we just magically start getting publisher deals. Thank you all and we hope to bring you new and great stories. This re-post/compilation was just to organize the whole story and announce this whole thing.

The Book

https://goo.gl/hPchq3

[jungshxook-blog]

Paper Hearts Pt. 3

Part 1

Part 2

Jungkook X Reader

Genre : Angst/Fluff

Summary : Jeon Jungkook, your best friend, soon becomes something you never thought possible : Distant…. All because the one he cared about most was oblivious towards his feelings.

A/N : Again, thank you all so much for reading and liking this, also for the sweet messages I got in this!! I feel like this part is really angsty, so be prepared. I’m currently suffering from a load of Jin feels, so expect very emotional Jin moments!~

“Wow, babe. You really forgot about the shit we shared?!” Surprise bubbled inside of your chest at the new “nickname” he’d given you, spreading to every limb in your body. “Baby, I’m sorry for last night, okay? I fucking miss you, and I can’t stand being without you, Y/N,” he whimpered.

“Should’ve thought about that when you shoved your dick up some girl,” you snort, crossing your arms over your chest. “Fuck, this is all because of that ass, Jin! If it wasn’t for him, you’d believe me!” He screamed, the smell of beer lingering in the air between the two of you.

Marching down the hall and into your bedroom, Jungkook slammed the door behind him. Followed by the rather vulgar action was the sound of shattering glass, and a scream that belong to none other than…

Kim Seokjin.

“Jungkook, what the fuck!” The older shouted, disbelief and pain laced in his usually soft voice. You wanted to go to the two, to at least try and calm Jungkook down, but your muscles were tense, reminding you of cement, resulting in you standing in the living area looking like an idiot.

The sound of something falling to the ground, which was followed by a grunt, made its way to your cold ears. The sound traveled from your eardrums and spread to every limb you owned, bringing you back to the present and knocking you out of your trance. You began your journey towards the closed door of your room, picking your pace up to a light jog.

You knew Jungkook was drunk, resulting in his inner demons gnawing at his broken soul. Anger and intoxication was never a good match - you knew that much.

Grasping the brass knob of the wooden door, you turned it and pushed the barrier open with a little too much force as you stumbled into the silent area.

“Y/N”, Jin panted, blood painting thin crimson stripes starting from his forehead all the way to his left cheek. The sight was nauseating, and you grabbed your abdomen in attempt to silence your gags.

Not only was he bleeding, but the sharp lining of his jaw was now decorated with a medium sized blotch of purples and blues. “Y-Y/N. It’s not safe in here. Please go back outside,” he pleaded, wincing at the sharp pain he felt in his jaw area, as he furrowed his eyebrows in pure frustration.

Paying no attention to him, you twisted your body to face an infuriated Jungkook. His almond brown hair was ruffled and the palm of his right hand was bruised, his knuckles covered with blood, which dripped from his shaking arm and onto your hardwood floorboards.

You knew that Jungkook didn’t have the heart to put his hands on you in any abusive way. Striding up to the Maknae, you place a hand on his broad shoulders and began your speech of reassurance.

“Jungkookie, I know this isn’t you. Please stop it; you’re drunk. Can we please just talk it out? Seokjin doesn’t have to be there if you feel that he’s a bother,” you cooed. The boy began to visibly relax and actually take a moment to consider your offer. “I- I… Fuck, I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me these days,” he breathed.

“Shit’s been bad ever since that argument you and I had the other day. I’m not even really mad at anyone other than myself. One-sided love really fucks people over, you know?” He laughed bitterly and you noticed how his eyes began to form small rivers at the brim.

Jin stayed silent, and you were thankful for that. Putting your thumb to work, you drew tiny circles on your best friend’s shoulder. “Kookie, it’s alright. Everyone faces difficulties in life. But it was also my fault. Don’t be so quick to beat yourself up about things,” you coo.

Jungkook blinked furiously in attempt to prevent his tears from falling, but to no avail, as the drops found purchase on his soft cheeks. “No,” he shook his head wildly, his hands flying up to cup either side of your face. “No, I should’ve just expressed my love to you in a more obvious way. Forget that, I should’ve just told you I love you, rather than screaming just because I was having a shitty day.”

Jin’s heart melted at the sight of a sobbing Jungkook, pouring out his cooped up feelings as if there was no tomorrow for him. He’d been with the Maknae for almost four whole years, and he’d never experienced such a devastating situation from any of the boys - not even Yoongi, who he once found crying in a fetus position on the white tiles of their bathroom.

Jungkook always had a caring, innocent, and friendly persona that relentlessly followed him throughout the years of his life. Witnessing anything other than the squint of his eyes whenever he grinned - or the giggles that would radiate off of the walls when he made derp faces - caused a certain energy of emotion inside his worn-out body.

One that would begin at the tips of his long fingers and travel up his slender arms and then rest in the center of his chest. He knew the feeling quite well. He felt it whenever he rested his gaze on any of the members in the dorms; it was love. His love for all six boys was unwavering and irreplaceable.

The year of 2013 had been where it all began. Being the oldest, Jin prepared meals for the boys and looked out for them every single day. He’d scold any of them if they took a joke too far, annoyed him, or wouldn’t behave in areas such as amusement parks (which was mostly Taehyung and Hoseok’s doing)

Jungkook was empty inside, and he felt anything but his hyung’s never-ending love. He needed your love, but not in a friendly way. He needed to know that you loved him in an intimate way, and he sure as hell didn’t receive even the slightest bit of intimacy.

Shutting his eyes, Jungkook sniffled before opening his mouth. What you had in mind was that he was going to apologize or fuss about how unfair life is, but you were surprised when you heard the faint sound of his singing.

“Remember the way you made me feel

Your mind flashed back to where you’d first met Jungkook, which was - believe it or not - (literally) on the side of the road. You were testing out your new bike you received as a gift from your friend, Seoyeon, who loved the outdoors. You were riding at a steady pace when you suddenly felt the bicycle go over a “speed bump”, which you later found out to be a man’s foot.

“Aish!” The stranger grunted, jerking his foot away from the wheel. Halting your bike, you gazed up at the rather handsome boy, smiling like an idiot when you recognized the face that was endlessly pasted on social media sites, along with six other boys. Then it hit you; you were talking face-to-face with one of South Korea’s most famous idols.

Your lips formed an “O” as your eyes widened. “J-Jeon Jungkook?!” You hollered, your hands flying up to your eyes as you rubbed them. “Oh- Oh Jesus Christ!” You breathed. The idol chuckled at your childish behavior and stuck his hand out for you to shake. Grasping his hand with your own, you give it a firm shake before returning it to the handle of your bicycle.

“I- Um… I’m honestly sorry for running over your foot! Please forgive me!” You bowed, your cheeks flushing a bright pink. “No need to speak so formal, beautiful,” he grinned. “You look about the same age as me.” Your head snapped up, mostly in surprise at what he’d called you.

“Um, okay. Well, I’ll have you know that ‘Beautiful’ isn’t my name; its Y/N.” “Y/N,” he sighed, content plastered on his handsome face.

Such young love but something in me knew that it was real

Jungkook would then exchange phone numbers with you, and when you asked why he’d say : “You need to pay me back for running my foot over.” However, you could see that was a rather poor excuse to conceal the true meaning behind his sudden need for your number.

A week later, you and the Maknae would go out to eat ice cream - which you had to pay for to keep up the lie about “paying him back”. After several trips to places, such as the mall or to a restaurant, Jungkook would drag you over to the dorms and introduce you to his hyungs. What you thought would be an embarrassing event turned out to be a fun and exciting moment.

Taehyung was the first to warm up to you, then Hoseok, Jimin and the others followed soon after that. You remember Yoongi acting distant for the first couple of weeks, but his shell was soon cracked, or should I say slapped off of him by Seokjin. “Excuse me, child, but is this how we act around guests?!” He scolded, plopping himself down next to the silent boy.

“Have more manners. Don’t you see that she’s uncomfortable?” After letting out a sigh, the oldest of the two blew on the red blotch that was on Yoongi’s cheek and caressed it in a soothing motion. “I really hope that my finger prints on your face helped you to realize that you were being rude, even if it was unintentional.” You giggled at the “Eomma’s” behavior, which resulted in Yoongi rising from his seat to lightly hit your arm as he, too, chuckled along with you.

Frozen in my head. Pictures I’m living through for now

Trying to remeber all the good times. Our life was cutting through so loud

Memories are playing in my dull mind

Those seven boys were the light in your darkness, the angels within your demons, the reassurance which calmed your fear. Every event was an adventure, as well as each and every one of their personality traits. From Yoongi’s sarcasm to Taehyung insisting that he is the “secret toilet” of the group. You loved their flaws, their perfection, and everything in between.

But what you loved the most was Jungkook, who over time, became your best friend. The boy who’s shoulder you cried on because your boyfriend cheated on you for two months, the boy who checked on you after practice to make sure that you weren’t sleeping on the desk, the boy who you loved.

I hate this part

You did everything together, laughed together, smiled together, cried together - the list could go on and on. So why the sudden change? You hated this without a doubt. Well, who wouldn’t hate the feeling of your heart being ripped out of your chest? Jungkook’s broken soul felt just like that to the both of you.

This wasn’t an easy situation to fix, either; there’d always be the memory of this depressing time fixated in not only yours and Jungkook’s mind, but the other boys’ mind as well.

Paper hearts…”

The melodic tune came to an end, and Jungkook was walking out the door, brushing last you while doing so, but not before you took hold of his wrist. “Jungkook- Please,” you breathed, relieved when he turned to face you.

“Can we please talk about this outside? I mean you don’t expect to just walk out of here after singing me to heaven, do you?” You laughed, more to yourself, seeing that you were the only one who took part in your fit of giggles.

With a stiff nod, you allowed Jungkook to pull you out of the heavy room and into the hall.

Instead of heading towards the living area, Jungkook pulled you towards your front door and held it open for you as he stepped past it. Shutting the door behind you, you cross your arms over your chest as you gaze at the Makne. “Jungkook, can’t we figure this out? Please? I hate to see you like this, and you hate to be like this; I can tell. Why do you keep torturing yourself?” You questioned, concern and pity lacing your trembling voice.

This had been exactly what Jungkook had feared : pity. He felt weak, worthless, embarrassed. He knew that he was broken, touched with an anger and sadness he’d never experienced before, but he wanted to work it out himself. Pity would lead to others comforting you, yes, but that wasn’t a good thing for Jungkook. They’d only be offering tranquility because they knew that he had a problem, like demons messing with his every thought, slowly consuming his mind.

Jungkook felt stupid, for lack of better words. And how was he going to fix this? He had no idea where to even start. The familiar touch from you was what brought the broken boy back to the present, as he snapped his head in your direction. “Jungkook?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows.

He took a deep breath, getting ready to apologize for his foolish actions. However, the only sound the slipped past his chapped lips was a small whimper, one that you could barely hear. The boy’s hands began to shake furiously, and he moved them behind his back out of pure embarrassment.

Jungkook’s breath hitched in his dry throat, and he blinked furiously, mentally praying to Jesus, Buddha, and all the other Gods he could think of, to provide him with the strength and courage he so badly craved for.

You were worried sick, with no clue as to where this conversation was headed. Jungkook looked horrible, as if he hadn’t slept for the few days you’ve been apart. The black-purple under his eyes decorated his empty coffee colored orbs, and he was undeniably dehydrated; you could tell that much just from looking at the way the skin on his lips were peeling.

Not to mention his cheeks. They were no longer round, but appeared as if some of the skin was sucked into his mouth. Has avoiding him caused him this much pain and sorrow? You felt weak, depressed, and empty, but you sure didn’t feel as if you could literally drop dead any minute…

“Y-Y/N…” Jungkook groaned, grasping your arm weakly. “I-,” he began, but to no avail as his knees buckled and hand slid down your arm. The next minute, the broken Maknae was laying on the wooden floor of your porch, his eyelids shut.

You and Jin would then carry the unconscious boy into your living room and place him on the love seat, that is, after Seokjin had to snap you out of screaming your head off and disturb the neighbors.

When you felt Jungkook’s hands, they were ice cold, as if he’d had no blood circulation in that area whatsoever. Grabbing your hot pack, you wrapped it in the boy’s palms, as you sat back to observe the mess before you.Jin thought it was best for him to leave, and you obliged.

You knew Jungkook needed you more than anything, and you wanted him back in your life. He craved your love and affection…

Love is complicated… One-sided love is dreadful.

[diddlesanddoodles]

DUMPLING

Chapter Seven

(Fair warning. Lots of frivolous cursing. They can’t help it, it’s just how they are.)

Her dreams were strange. 

She was smaller than she remembered being, held tightly to her mother’s chest, and traveling in a group through a dark forest. It was cold and she could see her breath leave her mouth in a thick mist.

“Don’t move,” said her father, pressing a hand to her mother’s shoulder. He ran a calloused hand down Nenani’s head when she began to babble at him in confusion. Her mother pulled the blanket over her little face. Around them, the forest was silent and strange. No crickets chirped. Even the wind was still. The others of their group were silent, hunching into their cloaks, and looking around the dark trees.

The air smelt wrong.   

“What is it?” someone asked. “Are there giants?”

“Shhh,” her father hissed. His hand gripped the hilt of the sword at his belt, the emblem of thorns adorning the guard, before the world exploded in a horrendous crash of sound and trees. The blade drew from the sheath with a flash.

“RUN!” Her father bellowed. Voices as loud as thunder roared above them. The people screamed as they bolted.

They were running. Her mother’s breath was heavy in her ears, desperate and terrified whimpers escaping her as she ran, her arms clutching the child to her breast. Suddenly, she paused and changed direction. Something behind her crashed.

“No use in runnin’, love,” boomed a voice from above. “I can smell the fear on ya.”

She ran further through the brush and leaped down an embankment, running along a narrow stream, the overgrowth hiding her from anything above. The loud stomping of the monster's walk passed by, paused, and continued on. Above them, he cursed.

“Stupid girl...”

Nenani could hear her mother’s breath become ragged, could feel the fluttering pulse of her heartbeat under her little hands. Abruptly, her mother fell hard to her knees at the foot of a large tree. She shoved her young daughter into its roots, pulling the blanket around her to shield her from the moons rays and from hunting eyes.

“Keep very still,” her mother told her, cupping her chubby little face. “And be very quiet.”

“Mummy,” she cried, little hands reaching out for her mother. The woman’s vibrant scarlet hair framed her face as a light breeze passed. She smiled through the tears dripping down her face.

“I love you, my sweet,” she said. “Be brave for me.”

The woman kissed her cheek even as the little girl babbled something unintelligible in the manner of a babe. Her mother just smiled once more, but it looked so sad. And then she was gone.

No, please don’t go...

The tiny child sat in the dirt, wrapped in the wool blanket and waited. She could hear the sounds of the forest and the crashing and screams that faded as they moved further and further away. And still she waited. And waited. The chill began to creep in, and the little child wobbled to unsteady legs and ambled out into the night.  

“M-mummy?” She called, her thumb pressed to her lips. “Mummy? Dah-duh?”

When no one answered, she started to cry as she tottered about, dragging the wool blanket behind. Something behind her snapped loudly and the girl looked back at the noise and found herself staring at a pair of very large boots, scuffed with mud and forest debris. She tilted her head up and up and up and found piercing green eyes staring at down her. A large gloved hand descended from above and the little girl gave a startled cry and tried to run.

“Oi, now, lil’un,” rumbled the giant. “Where might ya think yer waddlin’ of ta? Not gonna get very far on them little legs.”

The young child only manages a few wobbly steps before tripping and falling face first into the dirt. She lay there, crying more from the shock of the fall than any pain. Large fingers encased her little body, plucking her tiny form effortlessly from the ground and cupped her into a warm palm that brought her up higher and higher. The same large fingers curled around around her slightly. A giant face loomed ahead, lips parting in a grin, and flashing his terrible teeth. Green eyes as sharp as knives cut into her as she stared back, her bottom lip quivering as she whimpered in fear.    

The giant chuckled, a deep throaty sound, and said, “Hello there, my little sweetling...”

…………………………

Nenani opened her eyes slowly as words, sensations, and smells from long ago echoed in her head. Her mind buzzed with the strange dream, but the more she tried to recall it with more clarity, the more it seemed to slip away from her like so many grains of sand through her fingers. Until at last, she could not remember it at all. All she was left with was a feeling of longing for her mother and the memory of those sharp green eyes...

It was then that she noticed with belated realization that her bed was breathing. She shifted a bit, pushing herself onto her arm and looked up to see Yale’s large sleeping face, tilted to one side. His mouth was open and he was drooling a little. She was curled up on his chest, a deep green wool blanket pulled over her and him alike. She didn’t remember falling asleep, let alone falling asleep on Yale. It was a bit of a startling thing to find oneself asleep on top of a giant first thing in the morning.

Was this something she was going to have to grow accustom to?

She remembered eating quietly while everyone else spent their evening indulging in the dark brew of the house ale and discussing various things. The most popular being how grateful they all were now that the Wedding feast was over and their work load would return to normal. Several of the kitchen staff had to be forced to bed after they had seemingly indulged a bit too enthusiastically in their beer. Farris barked at the drunk giants to ‘fuck off’ before he put them all on pit duty. Whatever pit duty was. Regardless, the threat was real enough to penetrate the haze of alcohol because they all begrudgingly toddled off to wherever it was the staff slept. And not too long after, it was only Farris, Bart, Yale, and Nenani left at the table.

Yale spent most of the evening fussing over Nenani and trying to make her laugh by poking her sides and telling awful jokes and generally trying to get her to not be so scared of him. He was marginally successful. It was hard to be afraid of someone who kept making weird and funny faces like that.

Until Bart barked at him to knock it off, the loud noise of his voice startling her.

“Stop coddlin’ ‘er ya git,” the large man said.

Yale just grinned in response and leaned forward onto the table, wrapping his long arms to encase Nenani in a loose embrace and startling her a bit as well. “I’m not coddlin’ ‘er. I’m just happy she made it through the Reap. And the King. And Lolly for that matter.”

“Ya act like yuv never seen a human pup before,” laughed Farris.

“It’s been a while,” Yale replied, pulling Nenani closer, ignoring her protests, and nuzzling her with his nose. His hair tickled her face, making her giggle. She pushed back against his cheek, but Yale wouldn’t let go. “Ya forget how cute they are when they’re young.”

Bart just rolled his eyes and took a long drink from his mug.

“Ya were around when the King found the brat,” Farris pointed out. “He was a scrawney little bugger too.”

“Yeah, but he was such a crybaby,” Yale replied. “He would burst into tears if you looked at ‘im wrong.”

“HA!” Bart laughed. “Aye, he was a blubbery wee thing...before he found his mouth, that is. And that one there’s been soppy eyed since ya caught her. Shakin’ like a three wheeled wagon.”

Farris and Yale chuckled at that.

“I thought you were gonna eat me,” Nenani murmured quietly in her defense, shifting a little where she sat.

Yale shook his head slightly. “Nah. Like I said. Ain’t much to ya. Not worth the hassle.”

Seeing the worried look on the little girl’s face, Yale laughed and pulled her a little closer to him, rubbing her arm with his fingers. “Oi now, don’t go on with that long face. I’m only pullin’ yer leg, Dumplin’. No one down here’s gonna be gobblin’ ya up.”

“So long as ya behave, that is,” Bart added, running his hand over his beard. Farris was shaking his head, but smiling.  

“Never stopped the brat,” Yale replied with a grin.  

“Only ‘cause ya could never catch the little rat.”

“I won’t be blaming ‘im fer being scared of our ugly mugs. Had every right to be scared and more,” Farris replied. “Surprised he ever warmed up ta anyone really. That first year was pretty rough fer most a’ us. That one certainly.”

“Who?” asked Nenani, leaning back into Yale’s shoulder, his large head resting on his crossed arms. If he insisted on cuddling on her, she might as well be comfortable. She had finished her stew and was now contently munching on a chunk of bread Yale had broken off from the larger loaves in the middle of the table.  

“Jae,” replied Yale, tilting his head to fix the little girl with a single eye. “He’s another human. The King found him when he was a kid and just kind of kept him.”

Nenani could not say she was hearing much many good things about this Jae person.

“Aye,” said Farris, staring into his mug. “Off in the moors on a hunt. Few days after the Blood King died, if I recall.”

Bart sneered and turned his head to spit on the floor. “Greatest day of m’life when those boys shoved that bastard full of steel.”

Both Farris and Yale made noises of agreement.

Nenani looked at Bart confused. Rheil had said the Blood King died. Not that he was killed. It felt strange to know that a figure so empirical to the stories she had been told all her life was dead and had been so for most of her life. Had her mother known? Had father or her Uncle? Did it matter? A dead boogeyman was not as terrifying as a live one, she supposed.  

Luckily, the others did not seem to want to speak of the dead monarch either and the topic turned to other things. It was sometime after that that she must have fallen asleep. She remembered gentle hands gathering her up and feeling warm and oddly safe. A feeling she had not experienced in many months.

As these thoughts and memories filtered through her mind, a loud voice broke through the morning quiet and startled Nenani badly.

“WAKE UP YOU LAZY FUCKERS!” Farris strode into the room, shoving aside the curtain that separated the barracks from the main kitchen, and slapped his palm along the wall. And a few of the sleeping workers’ heads as they lay in their bunks. Around her, the sleeping kitchen staff all groaned and stretched from their beds. Beneath her, Yale started awake and sat up without warning. Nenani tumbled down into the tangle of blankets and onto Yale’s lap with a startled squeak.

He looked down, his sleep laden eyes suddenly clear and sheepish. “Ah, sorry ‘bout that. Forgot ya were there, Dumplin’.”

“Verhn will be brewing today so we’ll be using the yard fer prep,” barked Farris, standing in the center of the room. There were several wooden bunks all stack along the walls, three bunks tall. Yale’s was the bottom bunk on the left side of the room. Farris was holding a list in one hand as he began barking out orders. “Saen, you’re off pit duty. Five crates of potatoes are waiting on ya. Get ta peelin’...”

Someone cheered.

“...and Avery, yer on pit duty. Call my Mum anything other than a blessed saint again and you’ll be the one on the spit and not the one spinning it.”

Someone else groaned. “...fuuuuuck you too.”

“Shuddup and get to it, ya arse. Quinn, Kol, your list is waitin’ fer ya on your stations,” said the Spice Master. “The Queen’s added a few...things. I hope you fellas are up for a challenge.”

“Always, boss,” quipped a sleepy giant as he leaped down from the top bunk.

“Half them pastries I haven’t ever even heard of,” Farris added. “And she’ll be expectin’ the dinner rolls tonight and the pastries tomorrow.”

“Sounds like fun!” came the sarcastic reply. “I love learning new shit with a hangover.”

“That’s yer own fault. Herit, Gjerk, yer with Bart today,” said Farris. He looked up from his list towards the bunk to his right and the two smallest of the kitchen workers. He grinned maliciously. “Got a fresh delivery of Lippers this morning.”

Both of the workers seemed to deflate. “Ahhhhhh, Seven Hells.”

“And that means you two’ll be sleepin’ in the yard tonight!” quipped a worker as he passed.

“Fuck that,” snapped one of them. “I’m gonna be covered in fucking Lipper stink and you’re all gonna suffer too!”

“Y’come in here stinkin’, Herit, and I’ll toss ya in Gurney’s manure pile! Hog tied and head first.”

As everyone around her bickered, Nenani was valiantly trying to untangle herself from the thick wool blanket that seemed to entrap her the more she fought. And she was not making much headway. Yale seemed content to just watch her struggle in lazy amusement.

Nenani sighed in defeat, looking up into the giant’s face. “Help?”

“Since ya asked so nice like,” he said smiling and pulled one side of the blanket. Nenani rolled, landing on the bare mattress with a ‘oof’.  

“Yale,” Farris said. “I need ya to go through all that new shit the Queen’s folk brought with her. I don’t recognize half of it, but I’m sure Quinn and Kol will be needed a good bit of whatever the fuck that shit is. Ya got Dumplin’ duty too. Keep ‘er out of trouble and out of the way. Maybe see if ya can’t teach ‘er somethin’ useful.”

“Aye,” said Yale, throwing his long legs over the side of the bunk. “But I’ve got half a mind to start shovin’ cloves up my nose now if they’re gonna be saltin’ Lippers out there.”

“And I’ve got half a mind to break that nose a’yours,” growled Farris before turning to stride out of the room. “NOW GET TO IT YA BASTARDS!”

Yale seemed to be taking his sweet time getting up, stretching and yawning. The rest of the staff were all up and filtering out of the room. Several shooting jealous glances his way. Yale just smiled and waved at them. Nenani laid down on the mattress next to him, feeling like she could easily go back to sleep. How early was it? Who in their right mind would be awake at this hour? It was still dark outside!

Yale turned his head down at her. “I’m not kidding about th’ cloves, neither, Dumplin’. Lippers are foul buggers.”

“What are they?” she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and yawning. “Fish?”

“Nah. Fresh water eels with big ol’ lips. They got this thick skin that excretes this nasty stuff that smells like death took a shit then lit it on fire.”

“...yuck,” she replied. “Then why bother?”

“Once they’re skinned and salted, they’re really nice. Fried in butter over some mash. And the skin’s pretty damn dough tough, makes fer some great leather work,” he replied. “Pretty versatile lil’ fuckers. It’s just a shit to get ‘em to where they’re worth eatin’. Not that anyone upstairs cares how they get it, just that they do. S’the only job worse than pit duty. S’why we shove it off on the tenderfoots. And Bart will pretty much do anything so long as he gets to chop something’s head off.”

With a grunt of effort, Yale got to his feet and stretched, and walked forward a few steps and back around to face the little human girl still laying sleepily on his bed. He crouched down next to the bed as Nenani pushed herself up.

“So what about you, Nenani?” he asked, voice quiet. His use of her actual name surprised her.

“Hm?” She sat up, crossing her legs and regarding the giant curiously.

“I didn’t scare you too badly did I?” He asked, reaching towards her. He pinched her face between a thumb and forefinger playfully, a small smile on his lips as his thumb lightly rubbed her cheek. “Y’know I was just playin’ with ya right? The whole, eatin’ ya thing? Ya seemed pretty rattled.”

“Yeah,” she admitted meekly. “It was scary. And I’m still a little nervous...about being here. Everything’s really big and...”

“Probably heard a lot of stories about this place, huh?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Well, can’t say they weren’t true at some point,” he told her. “Things were pretty bad during the war. Lots of folks did some terrible stuff, just tryin’ to see another day.”

“I don’t wanna be eaten...” she admitted weakly, shrinking into herself a bit.

“Ya won’t be,” Yale assured her gently and shifted so he was kneeling at eye level with the girl. The fingers at her face moving up to stroke her head affectionately. “Ya never have to worry about any of us hurting ya. And that’s a promise. We ain’t like them border guards. Right bastards, the lot of ‘em. S’why the get the worst postin’s. But don’t worry though. That little trinket around yer neck? It don’t just say that you belong to Farris or that you have the King’s permission ta be here. It means yer one o’ us. And even in the pits a’Hell, we take care of our own. Understand me, Dumplin’?”

He winked at her bewildered expression.

Something in his words struck a spark somewhere deep in Nenani’s mind. She recalled the days after her Uncle died. Her fellow villagers never offered a helping hand when he never came back. Not even a kind word of condolence. They spat at her, called her cursed. The Beastmen were cruel to her whenever she was on the docks asking for work or food. They would try to kick her when she passed. A few tried to grab her, threatened to sell her to slavers. For months she had to sneak and steal and scavenge and in the process she had received her fare share of slaps or beatings. She was no good at living on the streets and had lost a good bit of weight. She’d grown use to being filthy and sleeping in dirt. No one wanted a gutter rat around. Even the other wretches seem to disdain her. She was a small, needy little girl. A burden. It was as though they were waiting for her to just die already. It had been so hard and lonely...

There was a tightness blossoming in her chest at the recollection. It caught her off guard enough that she was only barely aware of the tears pooling in her eyes.

She was being welcomed openly by people who she had grown up believing to be man eating monsters. It was almost a cruel joke and not one that she felt like laughing at. But at the same time, she felt a profound sense of gratitude and relief in that moment. A weight she had carried for months. The fingers at her head were then at her back, stroking down her spine. Yale’s expression was oddly knowing.

“Rheil told us about how you ended up here,” he said. “Pretty rough goin’ there, lil’un.”

“IT’S GONNA GET A LOT ROUGHER IF YOU DON’T MOVE YOUR ARSE, YALE!”

“Ah, well. Let’s get to it then,” Yale said, scooping her up. A finger gently tapped her nose, earning him a watery smile from the girl as she scrubbed her eyes. “You’ll be alright, Dumplin’.”

[tamsclapper-blog]

The Artificial Clam that Ruined Christmas

Dave and Broth knew it wasn’t real. How could it be? Real clams weren’t limp and dry to the touch. A real clam had gumption. Yet there they were, packing it into a box with brightly colored tissue paper.

            They told their grandmother, 10 years past, that they joined the Navy. They even sent pictures of themselves dressed in real Navy suits they found in the dumpster behind the Taco Bell. She believed every photo, and now believed her grandsons lived in an ocean view condo in North Carolina. If she knew they really lived in Arkansas, a simple state known only for harboring the man who invented ziploc bags, she woulda busted a nut.

            Truth was, Broth was more frightened of the ocean than a baby is of fingernail clippers. And Dave, well Dave was ashamed of his brother and feared that he too might be afraid of the ocean. It was this ‘what if’ mentality that kept him several coat throws away from ever visiting the shore to find out what was or what wasn’t.

So when Broth got a call from their grandmother requesting they come for Christmas, he was feeling mighty pleased with himself for keeping a bushel of oceanfront pictures under his bed all ziploced and ready to go, but then she said something that made him wish he was holding a ziploc bag to breathe deeply into: “Bring something from the ocean.”

*

Broth sat in the passenger seat with the small box between his legs. He gazed out the window, avoiding eye contact with his brother. Dave held the wheel firmly and gritted his teeth. “I can’t believe there isn’t a single crustacean in this god-fucking bag-loving state.”

            Broth said nothing.

            “Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like without you. I imagine it could be pleasant and simple. After all, I’m not the one who’s afraid of the ocean.”

            “You sure about that?” Broth shot.

            Dave’s eyes flickered but he was quick to regain composure. They rode in silence until they crossed the state line and said in unison, “Panty horse”. It was a state line crossing tradition in their family.

             That night they stopped at a motel that was as famous for reuniting folk as it was for people untucking the covers, plunging in, and sleeping the whole night through. When they arrived the woman at the front desk could tell they were brothers and had been fighting. Dave arranged for two separate rooms with an adjoining door but the woman, pointing to a poster with their ‘Never Go To Bed Angry’ slogan, said she only felt comfortable giving them a single room with one, rather puny, bed.

            So there they were. Two faithful brothers kneeled down on opposite sides of the bed, hands folded hamburger style as they prayed. Broth prayed for a safe trip, a steadfast grandma, and for the ziploc enterprise to come out with a bag that could dry a bathing suit. Dave prayed for salt in the complimentary breakfast and that he wouldn’t have to sleep with his ass cheeks all pressed up against his brothers; a prayer not well received.

             In the morning they ate breakfast on the patio among the lilies and wire chairs. Dave was delicately brushing butter on his muffin when a man, who looked like he wouldn’t know the difference between John Kennedy and Clark Gable if you paid him, blocked out the sunlight with his lingering torso.

            “You boys on the road?” for a rough and tougher he had a surprisingly high-pitched voice.

            “We’re men,” Dave said, not looking up from his food.

            Broth said, “Headed west to see our grandma!”

            “West, alright. Okay. You can take my sister along with you, at least as far as Santa Fe,” the man supposed.

            Dave said, “Now why in the hell would we do that?”

            Broth’s hand shook like a thespian’s broomstick, “Dave, Don’t loose your temper,” he was in a deep seated eye lock with the standing man, “We better take her, Dave. We better do what he says.”

            “That’s right, there, Davey. Better do what I say. Ha.”

            Furiously, Dave launched from his seat, but when his eyes met the mans he handed over his watch quicker than a half-baked choir boy can say ‘no loose change.’

            Broth’s shaking was so anti-miniscule that a muffin shot out of his hand and landed in the shirt pocket of a young girl, about 12, who came to stand by the mysterious man. Patting her brim filled pocket, she flashed her metal braced teeth.

            “This here’s my sister, Olbright, take her with you wherever you want,” he turned to Dave who was gripping the table for support, “Just don’t let me catch any you three in this town again. You hear?”

            Broth tipped his hat and stood to bow, “We hear everything. I can hear better than a cocker spaniel.”

            “Uh, huh,” the man said skepticly.

            Olbright pulled up a chair and the sun returned as the man disappeared, unless you had been paying attention and saw him walk away in a normal fashion. Dave tried to shake his heavy daze. He had that sick feeling you get in your gut when you trade one good gemstone for one mediocre at best gemstone at a convention – and nobody could hear his cry.

            “You guys got any bees?” Olbright asked impatiently.

            “No,” Broth replied. “The bees have been disappearing. No one really knows what’s happened to them.”

            Olbright crossed her arms and kicked the leg of the table.

            “I’ll go pay the bill,” Dave said.

*

The only two things the car ride after the hotel had in common with the car ride before the hotel were that Dave and Broth weren’t doing much talking and the road was long and arduous. The difference was that now they had Olbright and she simply wouldn’t shut up. She talked for hours about catholic school and how she had never gone there. Then she talked about catalog models and how their faces change over time. What ticked the two brothers off the most was how oblivious she was that they had both gotten haircuts during the last pit stop. She just kept chipping away at their souls with talk of crowded city corners and pinto beans. Broth was just about ready to settle his head between his knees for a nap when the chatterbox from hell yelled, “What is this thing?!” with disgust from the backseat.

            “Jesus! That’s a clam for our grandma. Wrap that back up!”

            “A Whaaat?”

            “A clam from the ocean.”             “Um. Is your grandnanny blind?”

            “Um, No!”

            “This is not from the ocean. Even I know that and I’ve never even been there.”

            “Oh yeah,” Dave chimed in, “Well how come you never been to the ocean. You scared or something.”

            “Noooo, I don’t think so.”

            Broth reached back and grabbed the artificial clam and its box wrappings. “Why don’t you take it easy back there. Just go to sleep or something.”

            “I can’t. It’s day.”

            “Then let’s play the silent game. For the next hour I want it so quiet I can hear my teeth chatter.”

            “But what about the engine. Are you going to turn off the engine just to play a game? That’s really irresponsible.”

            “Enough!” Dave shouted and slammed on the brakes.

            Then, and only then, that artificial clam ever so gingerly flew from Broth’s flimsy grasp, broke through the front windshield and bounced off the hood.

            “Holy. Mother. Of. CHRIST!”

            “The Virgin Mary?” Olbright asked.

            “Yes,” Broth whispered, bowing his head in defeat, “Or so I’ve been told.”

            Slamming the car door behind him, Dave started down the gravel road. Broth scurried to his beloved clam. The shell wasn’t chipped, but the half- chalk like half-caulk like ‘clam’ broke off. Stuffing the pieces in his pocket with an iron fist, he ran after Dave, screaming his name on high. Catching up with his brother, who was paused in the road, and an eerie feeling came over Broth. He felt afraid to speak.

            “I can’t stop thinking about what happened at that hotel.” Dave said gravely.

            “What do you mean?”

            “Come off it.” The wind picked up and a wave of dust washed over their blue suede shoes.

            “I – I dunno.” Broth muttered, “That man made me feel like I was hiding in a kitchen with all pots and no pans. I hate feeling that way.”

            “So do I. I felt weak. And now look what were dealing with,” They looked over at Olbright who was kicking at a car tire. “We can’t keep living this way. Fear is ruining us. Maybe we should just go to the ocean and –“

            “NO! No, Dave anybody would have given a man like that their watch and looked all dumb faced and eagle eyed. That wasn’t fear, just common sense.”

            “Hey!” Olbright called out, “You guys wanna see your dumb old granny or ya’ wanna squat in the dusty road all day?”

            “Granny.”

*

When they arrived at grandma’s, everyone was feeling pharmaceutical. Broth had super glued a piece of ziploc to the shell and another to the artificial clam so that it locked neatly into place.            Dave lifted Olbright into an open window and she went around and unlocked the door. The weary eyed travelers sat by grandma’s feet as she napped in her ottoman. There was nothing to do but wait.

            When she woke, she opened one eye at a time and then her mouth. This is what came out of it, “When I was a little girl my father’s father took me to the sea. I loved the sea and the way the sand was like tiny pebbles, only different. I had waited with cold breath all winter for grandfather to see me in my swimsuit, and now there we were. He whipped off his shirt and ran for the water. “Come on, Virginia! Take off your top, the waters fine!” But to my surprise, I couldn’t do it. The sea had made me shy. I never went back after that day. And that’s why I’m so proud that you boys, my grandsons, live in peace along the seaside.”

            Broth presented the gift, feeling he might faint. Dave gulped. ‘She’ll know, she’ll know,’ he thought.

            Just then the telephone rang. Broth rolled over and rubbed his eyes. A dream, it had all been a dream! “Thank. God,” he expressed, grabbing the receiver.

            “Talk to me.”

            “Broth?”

            “Grandma? What a coincidence, I was just having the strangest dream about you.”

            “Really? What was the dream?”

            “Uh…you were drinking cherry cola in an igloo,” he lied.

            “Oh, dear! That’s wonderful. You know, I haven’t had cherry cola in years. That is a coincidence! Listen dear, I know it’s short notice, Christmas being only eight and a half days away and you boys living way out by out ocean, but I really would love a visit.”

            “We’d love to come see you, grandma.”

            “Good! Good it’s settled. Can’t wait to see you! Oh, and bring some cherry cola.”

            “Okay, Gram.”

            “Oh, and Broth? Bring something from the ocean too. Ta ta.”

 *

 Broth spent the afternoon preparing a rather suggestive meal for his brother.

            “Baby back ribs, baby carrots, and baby snap peas. Notice any theme here?”

            “No,” Dave spat as he tucked his napkin into his turtle necked sweater.

            “Well, you should, cause were going to grandma’s, baby!”

            Broth had the whole dream carefully written out, just as you’ve read above. I, Broth wrote that, just as I’m writing this, and I read it to Dave, stuttering and shaking like a bitch on pay roll. When I finished he fled the room and came back with a sketching of the mysterious standing man and a map pointing to where grandma probably lived in the dream. This is how I knew he understood what we had to do.

            We filed into the car, closing the smooth metal doors like true gentleman. We sailed past grandma’s house, who in real life lived right down the street, a secret us brothers guarded in the evening, morning, and early noon.

            This journey called for far more courage than a simple romp to grandma’s, and I figure you’re not too dim witted to know we were headed to the very thing we disowned decades ago; the mad sea. What you probably are too stupid to know is that the strange man in the dream represented our grandmother’s neighbor, Armen Kelley, who was always looming about, especially around the holidays, bragging about his best selling novel; ‘The Ocean and All the Things that are Really from it and All the Things that Aren’t.’ If we brought something artificial to Christmas this man would be our downfall, believe you me.

             Dave and I rode together in perfect unison down a road that was so malleable, you could slip a penny in it if it were a pair of loafers, and said, “Panty horse” when crossing our first state line.

After two days of travel we finally found a motel we could agree on called Absolute Fascination, and it was there that I caught my first glimpse of hell. Toes huddled together, I hid behind my knees on the cold bathroom tile.

            Dave knocked on the door, “Are you thinking about Jed Maco in there?”

            “No,” I lied. Jed Maco was a lad I went to school with who’s parents wrapped his lunch in tin foil instead of ziploc bags. My hatred for the Maco’s helped steer my mind off something of a vastly blue persuasion.

            Dave flattened himself, slid under the crack of the door and reformulated. I didn’t even know he was behind me until he tugged on my ponytail. I wheeled around and we were nose to nose – two brothers – just as it should be, would be, and was.

            “Have you ever heard the expression ‘the world is your oyster’?”

            I nodded.

            “Well, what if it really could be.”

            “Don’t like oysters,” I said after thinking it over.

            “But what if you did like them, Broth. What if we could lay out sunbathing, go parasailing!”

            “Take it easy.”

            “If nothing was holding us back, we could-“

            “I don’t want to hear your ‘we coulds’! I do just fine without those things. Maybe I don’t want to be here at all, did you think of that? Maybe I was fine as doing before that female doctor before her time reached into the utero and pulled me out by the hind legs!”

            Needless to say we both got like 50 emails that night. They were prank emails.

*

“David B. Cylinderthrob, clearly you are under much stress. Your hair follicles have been startled by something. What did you do to them? Well, anyway, that’s why you’re bald now,” the doctor spouted, tactlessly.

            We had arrived at the seaside earlier that day, where the mystery of whether Dave was or wasn’t scared of the ocean receded as quickly as the strands of dead skin cells that used to round his face, drawing attention from his ‘maybe its maybelline’ cheekbones. And we hadn’t even left the car.

            “But doctor,” Dave pleaded, “Without my hair, how will anyone be able to tell I’m albino?”

            “Oh, its still very obvious, Mr. Cylinderthrob.” The doctor bent down on one knee and held Dave’s chin affectionately,             “You’ll always have those beady little eyes.”

            Dave blushed.

            “Say, doc,” I interrupted, “Who’s thong strap do I have to snap to get some cheese curls or chili around here.”

            “Just go to the end of the hall and take a right. There will be four elevators, use the middle-left one and wait until the doors close before you press the round ‘four’. The button will light up when you do this, but don’t be frightened. When you step out, take a smart right and pass the first set of stairs. When you reach the second, descend. If we have cheese curls or chili that’s where they’d be, in the cafeteria.”

There were rows of them, nestled sweetly in a shallow tin platter, each shell raised at half mast exposing the steamed bodies of a certain sea urchin my brother and I had been clamoring for. They were the size of a wax turtle figurine if the turtle were the size of a rock that’s the circumference of a zookeepers fist, and I had a feeling Grandma was going to ‘go ape shit’ when she saw. I ordered one in a to-go box and a double helping of noodle casserole; I was eating for two since Dave’s appetite went out the window, barreling towards the tides with his luscious locks.

            I went up to find Dave seated in a wheel chair with one sad balloon tied to the handle, pathetically grazing the cruel tile floor. This was a man voted ‘Best Hair for an Albino’ in his senior year booklet, and now he looked like a tried and true grape, ready to combust.

            “Well, at least one good thing came out of this.” I announced.

            Dave grunted.

            I opened the to-go box, waving the morsel under his nose. His eyes glimmered for a moment, then he pushed it away. “Let’s get this honkey tonk Christmas road show on the road where it belongs.”

            I could tell he was going to be a real prick the whole way home.

 *

 I loved Christmas as a kid. It was the only day of the year my parents would let me use the bathroom before Dave at times when we had to go at the same time. It was also when my father and I would enter in an annual competition, just me and him, testing our fate in The Father and Second Favorite Son Snowmobile Race for Non -New Yorkers and Ex- Policemen. We even almost won one year. I remember that day like it was corn water in a vase. But it wasn’t, it was Christmas.

            Papa-runie had resurrected an old snowmobile from the dead, and this thing was mad. It was a three speeder but I swear it rocked like twenty-seven speeds. Mama usually didn’t let us wear helmets cause she said it made our heads look too big for our bodies, but when she got a load of what we’d be riding that year she said, “God has no head mercy for the foolish.”

            She wrapped our baby sister, Juniper, up in some old cloth, stuffed her in a French horn, and slung it over her shoulder. I remember at the starting line how mom’s brass horn reflected off my fathers wrist watch forming a powerful beam that flashed square in my eye, nearly cataracting me. They were so in love.

            “On your marks?” The mayor inquired.

            I looked to the father and son team to our right; a baseball card collector named Ted Bundy and his father, an ex-cop turned con. We were going to pulverize them, I thought mischievously.

            “Go!”

            Everything went silent. We were traveling so fast, sound couldn’t catch up. A voice verbatimed in my head, “Unbuckle your helmet.” It seemed a familiar voice, though too angelic to be my mothers. “Unbuckle and remove your helmet, Broth. It’s time to let go.” My hands reached up as if it weren’t even me moving them and unleashed my neck from its itchy strapped hell, throwing the blasted thing behind us. And then, it felt like a million knives stabbed into me. It was a pain like nothing I’d ever experienced. We had ridden over ice and it broke. I swam as fast as any boy wearing thirteen pairs of long johns could, and my mother was waiting at the ponds edge to lift me out. My father sunk immediately. It was the helmet, it was just too heavy. Devastated, I watched as the victors crossed the finish line. The boy pulled down his pants to taunt me with the fleshy keister and his old man flipped me a bird or two.

            The next day my mother and sister perished in a fire. Since then its been just me and Dave; Dave taking care of me, me taking care of Dave, and our Grandma making peroshkis and buying us the latest trouser trend. Now, with clam in hand, I finally felt man enough to repay that woman.

 *

 Armen Kelly. Was he beast or was he man? All I knew for sure was he was on our Grandma’s porch patting us down, “Saw it in an old cops and robbers film,” he offered aimlessly as Dave pushed his way through the hinged openers that could only properly be described as doors.

            When I saw her my heart stopped for half a second, beat, and then repeat itself just as it always does. At first she didn’t notice us because she was ravenously licking envelopes but then, in one maddening arm swoop, all the letters flittered to the ground and she motioned us to sit on her coffee table. I tried my weight and it teetered but with a bit of fidgeting Dave and I sat simultaneously on opposite ends to even things out, and Armen handed over a piggy bank to make up for the five pounds Dave had on me. Grandma didn’t make a peep except to give some balongie excuse for her favorite team, The Nicks, and to coin a new term. I took out my ziploc bag full of beach photos and passed them around.

            “You bring these same photos every year,” Armen spouted, “Why don’t you take a new shot or two?”

            Dave came to my rescue, “Actually, Mr. Kelly, Broth takes a picture of our beloved ocean front every morning, but he likes those few shots so much that he keeps taking them again and again. It takes a true artist to copy an image so exact.”

            Armen muttered under his breath.

            “Yes, and the morning before we left, I scooped from the shore a morsel so succulent that I couldn’t help but wrap it in Garfield franchise paper, dab a bow on top, and bring it to the only women I know who enjoys playing Scattagories with a spinner instead of a dice,” I said smoothly, taking the gift out my pocket like a boss. Grandma unwrapped the clam and bounced it on her knee, giggling like a school girl, when old ‘Shoulda Beena Stillborn’ put on his reading glasses and got his nose all up in the shell, sniffing.

            “My dear Virginia. I hate to say it, but I’m afraid this here clam is an artificial.”

            “A WHAT?” I shouted.

            “That’s from the Atlantic, you man fetus,” Dave chirped.

            “As is noted in my book, ‘The Ocean and All the Things that are Really from it and All the Things that Aren’t’, or TOAATTTARFIAATTTA, as we call is down at the publishers station, a real bivalve molluscs, which one would have to go to the ocean to find, has two valves which are connected by both a hinge joint and a ligament. This clam here? No ligament.”

            “Armen,” Grandma sighed, “Everyone knows how much help you had writing that gruesome sea urchin book. Really, I don’t think you’d know a real clam if it crawled into bed with you and took off your socks.”

            “It’s a fake!” he shouted and stomped.

            “Sit down, Armen, you’re getting red in the face. It’s unbecoming.”

            “Your boys don’t live by the ocean!” He turned to face us, “I see you phonies at the grocery store every Sunday!”

            The room went silent except for Dave crunching on cheetos, then he looked up and lamely said, “No.”

            Armen paced like a hobby horse ready to leave the station.

            “Okay,” Grandma finally spoke, “Yes, I know the boys don’t live by the ocean.”

            My eyes widened.

            “You use so many ziploc bags. Only an Arkansinian zips and locks with such pride.”

            Dave bursted from his corner of the coffee table, toppling me to the ground, shouting,  “I told you so, I told you so, I toooold you to lay off the ziplocs!”

            “What the fuck, Dave! You never said that! Besides, you use ziploc bags all. the. time.”

            “Boy’s, stop! It’s my turn to talk and I’m going to talk for a long time, so curl up like cats on the floor!”

             I laid my head on a broken table leg and drifted in and out of consciousness as grandma spoke for many hours. At times it seemed like everything was in slow motion, like when Armen Kelly walked backwards to the front door and closed it oh so slowly behind him. I couldn’t possibly reiterate all that was said, but here’s what I did pick up on: grandma, as it turns out, doesn’t give two shakes of a lambs tail about the ocean, and never understood why we thought she did. She spoke in high regards of the inventor of ziploc bags, calling him the prince of plastic. She also rambled about D-Day in such a contradictory way that I was unable to assess whether she was for or against the tragic day. I woke to Grandma breaking smelling salts under my nose.

            She led us single file into the dining room where Dave and I’s gifts sat on the table. We opened them feverishly, revealing two thirty caliber machine guns. We pointed them to the ceiling, and with each bang specks of ceiling fell like little snowflakes, raining down on us, covering my face just as the snowfall did on the night my father died and I laid in the backyard feeling still an untouched pill. Through the silent cracks between bangs, I could faintly hear my Grandmother’s cries; “Stop! My house!” But that didn’t matter now.