#my mom called me mom yesterday by accident. that’s the thing my brain is sticking to rn. & then she laughed and she said ‘I bet you feel

[lesbiantics]

this has been a bit of a fucked summer for me I think.

[honeypiehotchner]

intelligence & issues (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- chapter eighteen

Helloooo I almost posted this yesterday as a thank you gift and then I totally got caught up in schoolwork. Gotta love finals season am I right

Anywho, thank y’all so much for 1.7k followers <3 Here’s a long ass chapter that’s a good ol’ mix of fluff and angst xx.

Chapter Warnings: waking-up-together kinda fluff, no sexytimes but there are some ~suggestive~ comments of course, ANGST at the end (i’m so sorry), the end of this case is very near on the horizon

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Aaron wakes you when his first alarm goes off at 5a.m. It’s way too fucking early in your opinion, but you know he wants you to have time to go back to Emily and JJ’s room to get ready for the day.

Still, being woken by a kiss on your forehead is something you can see yourself getting used to. Not to mention using his chest as a pillow all night.

You tilt your head to capture his lips in a sweet kiss, not caring that the both of you probably have disgusting morning breath right now.

He pulls away first, nudging your nose with his before he rests his forehead on yours, looking deep into your eyes. “Good morning, sweet girl.”

You can’t help the smile that splits your lips. “Good morning.” You close your eyes in your flustered state, burying your face down into his chest. “I don’t want to leave.”

“I want you to stay,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But we’ve got a job to do.”

“I know,” you sigh, opening your eyes to bring yourself back to reality. Then, you hook your arms around his neck, starting to grin. “Same thing tonight?”

He smirks, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Depends on how much of a good girl you are today.”

“Ooh, a challenge,” you tease. “I dunno…I’m feeling pretty bratty this morning.”

You feel his arm tighten around your shoulders, drawing you closer to him in warning.

“I’m just teasing,” you murmur, propping your chin on his chest, giving him your best eyes.

But he isn’t fazed. “I know. I’m keeping track.”

So, naturally, you pout. “Fine.”

“Strike two.”

“I have a feeling this isn’t like baseball. Three strikes and I’m out?”

“Are you trying to find out?”

“Mm, maybe?” You grin, but, as always, the FBI Agent part of your brain comes back to life. “If we didn’t have to be downstairs soon, I’d say yes. But I probably should go get dressed.”

“Understood,” Aaron replies, a small grin on his lips too. “I suppose even as your boss, I can’t keep you here.”

“As my boss, we’re technically not even supposed to be in the same bed together,” you remind him with a snort, but seriousness comes over him. “What?”

“We still need to talk,” he says quietly. “Really talk about this, but right now I just want you to know...I don’t regret this. I want this. No matter the consequences.”

“Me too,” you whisper, fingernails gently scratching the base of his skull, your weak attempt at comfort. “Do you think there’ll be consequences?”

He sighs, and you rise and fall with his chest. “I don’t know.” He pauses. “If Strauss finds out somehow, maybe. I don’t know if keeping it from her until she inevitably finds out is better than telling her ourselves, but…”

“We’ll figure it out,” you assure him with a small smile. “But you wanna do this?”

Instead of answering you verbally, he pulls you closer for a soothing kiss, coaxing all your worries away.

“I want to do this,” he says, knowing you need to hear the words from his voice.

“Okay,” you murmur, taking a deep breath. “What do we do about the team?”

His eyebrows furrow. “What about them?”

You give him a tired look. “Come on. They know.”

“What?” He blurts, sitting up a little, taking you with him. “Rossi knows.”

“And Emily and JJ and Garcia,” you chuckle. “I didn’t even tell them. Emily saw us at dinner one night. JJ figured it out from the phone call a few days ago. Garcia just...knows.”

“What about Morgan and Reid?”

“Are you kidding me? Morgan knows. Have you seen how he irritates the shit out of me every day?”

“Exactly,” Aaron says. “He does it every day.”

“Have you noticed how he’s been doing it especially when you’re around?” You raise an eyebrow. “Come on, you’re our supervisor! I thought you were a better profiler than that!”

“We have a rule not to profile each other,” he says sternly, obviously a little butthurt that he didn’t see that everyone else knew.

“A rule that none of us stick to, by the way,” you laugh. “We just don’t voice it. But we do. Trust me.”

“I didn’t think you’d figured that out yet,” he admits.

“Eh,” you shrug. “It wasn’t hard. I caught myself profiling everyone. I figured I couldn’t be the only one who does it by accident.”

Aaron only smiles. He’s amazed by you every single day. Sometimes he wonders if you even know how intelligent you are. If you even know the full scope of your mind. Maybe you don’t, maybe no one does.

“But anyway,” you swerve back on track. “I feel like it should be unspoken, but just...no PDA, you know? It’s fine that they know because honestly I think they knew before we knew, but let’s not make it a big deal.”

“Agreed,” he nods. “We still need to be professional.”

“Exactly,” you breathe, glad to be on the same page.

His second alarm goes off, the one for 5:30, and you groan, dropping your forehead to his chest.

“Why does it have to be so early?” You mutter, your lips brushing against his skin as you speak. It sends a hot wave through him, one that causes him to promptly shift your body off of him. “What are you doing?”

“You need to go get dressed,” he says. “And if you stay here wrapped around me any longer, I won’t be able to let you leave.”

You grin. “Point taken.”

You roll off the mattress, fully aware that he’s looking at your ass, and at your entire body, marveling at the way you look in his shirt.

“Oh,” you say, doing a dramatic turn, watching his eyes very quickly move back to your face. “Do you have any boxers? I probably shouldn’t walk down the hall in just a shirt.”

He’s scrambling for a pair of his boxer briefs, the thought of anyone else seeing you just like this making his blood boil frighteningly fast.

“Thanks,” you smirk when he hands them to you. And you put them on in front of him, partly for a show and partly because the look he was giving you demanded it. “I’ll see you in an hour or so?”

He nods. “Try not to spend too much time gossiping.”

“Oh, please,” you shake your head. “They’re getting all the details.”

You’re out the door before he can even catch you, and you just know you’re going to get it later.

+++

Emily and JJ are on you as soon as you open the door, both of them dressed and ready, arms folded over their chests like Moms whose daughter stayed out too late last night.

In a way, that’s completely accurate.

“And where have you been?” JJ asks, fully entering her Mom persona.

“Uhm, a friend’s house?” You play along, trying to inch your way to the bathroom.

But Emily knows your move, and stands in front of the bathroom door. “Is this friend named Aaron?”

“...maybe.”

And the façade falls, because they both cheer, pulling you into a hug.

“Finally!” Emily screams.

“Finally, what?” You laugh. “The night before I was also in his room.”

“Oh, we know,” JJ assures you.

“Finally, you admit it,” Emily clarifies. “So...details?”

“So...we have to be downstairs soon and I need to get dressed,” you walk past them to your bag. After grabbing your clothes, you turn back around to find them still staring at you. “What?”

“You’re in his shirt,” JJ says, still smiling.

“And boxers,” you laugh, pulling the hem of his t-shirt up a little. “Guys, don’t make this a big thing.” You pause, heading toward the bathroom. “He was a little upset that I knew everyone knew, and he didn’t.”

“How did he not?” Emily scoffs. “He can be so dense.”

You shake your head, shutting the bathroom door to get dressed.

When you emerge from the bathroom, now dressed and looking more presentable, Emily and JJ are finally getting ready, too. They still watch you like a pair of hawks stalking prey, though. You just hope they won’t make any comments later.

That’s wishful thinking and you know it. But hopefully the comments will be held in at least until you’re all on the jet, heading back to Virginia.

+++

When you walk out of the elevator with Emily and JJ, you find Hotch standing with Rossi, the former looking much more grave than you left him. And he’s on the phone.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, picking up the pace. You glance at Hotch, silently asking, and he nods. “There’s another body,” you fill in Emily and JJ, ignoring the strange look that Rossi gives you.

Once Hotch hangs up, he looks immediately at you. “There’s two bodies. Male and female.”

“What?” Emily blurts. “In the same location?”

He nods. “Same house.”

About this time, Morgan and Reid step out of the elevator, jogging over when they see the team’s faces.

“What’s going on?” Morgan asks.

“Two bodies this time, same house, male and female,” you explain briefly.

Hotch jumps in. “JJ: you, Reid, and Y/N head over to the precinct and get Garcia on the phone. Get her to find everything she can on these new victims.”

You nod, glad he’s not sending you to see anymore bloodied bodies. Just the thought has a chill running down your spine.

You don’t want to admit it, but it’s hard not to picture Trevor’s face. It’s hard not to feel the thrill of the possibility of revenge. But you know that’s only the irrational part of your brain. You know you wouldn’t really act on those thoughts.

But they’re still there.

+++

Back at the precinct, you’re dialing Garcia and stirring a cup of shitty coffee. When she picks up, she sounds about as frizzed as you feel.

“Good morning, my angel sent from Heaven,” she sings, sounding far too bright for seven in the morning. “What can I do you for?”

“Good morning,” you chuckle. “We’ve got two new victims.”

“Mm, I know,” she groans, and you begin to hear typing. “Morgan texted me their names, I was waiting for your call.”

“Yep, we just need you to work your magic, that’s all.”

“That I can do,” she replies, no doubt through a smile. “Speaking of magic…”

You already know where this is heading. “Seriously? Who told you?”

“JJ and Emily texted me,” Garcia admits. “But you know I was going to weasel it out of you eventually, anyway!”

“Yes, I know,” you roll your eyes, tossing the coffee stirrer and empty cream and sugar packets in the trash. “Listen, how about this: Once this case is over, we’ll all have a girl’s night at my place with a bunch of junk food and wine, and I’ll give all the details -- whatever they might be at that point.”

You can’t let yourself believe that you’ll still be together because who knows what could happen. Anything could happen. The universe has a bad habit of getting in the way of your love life.

“You know the way to my heart,” Garcia sighs dreamily. “It’s a date. Speaking of dates, it looks like our two victims were married.”

“Married?” You nearly yell. Talk about a plot twist. “And the guy brought our unsub home for a one-night stand?”

“Looks that way so far,” Garcia says with a grimace. “Caroline Merritt, 35, was the CEO of her own company and traveled a lot. It looks like she changed flights yesterday and landed around eleven p.m. She checked her car out of the airport parking lot at eleven forty-five.”

“Great, so she might’ve walked in on our unsub.” You rub your forehead from the stress. “What about the other victim?”

“Jasper Rhodes was 34 and a part-time worker at the local Walmart,” Garcia lists off. “They had been married for three years, but Caroline never changed her last name.”

“Don’t exactly blame her,” you remark. “Alright, which one had allegations?”

“I’m about to burst your bubble, babycakes. Neither of them.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Garcia echoes, just as solemn. “Caroline has a squeaky clean record, aside from one speeding ticket when she was seventeen for going forty-five in a school zone. Jasper also has a clean slate for a record, but he does have one DUI from when he was twenty-two. Nothing else since.”

“It’s been twelve years, so for all we know, he could be sober for a decade now,” you mutter. “Okay. Do they have any connection at all to our other victims? Please say yes.”

“Cross referencing as we speak,” Garcia says, typing furiously. “Almost done… Negative,” she sighs. “I’m sorry, babe.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you shake your head. “Thank you for being such a wizard, as always.”

“It’s my specialty,” she quips. “So...do I get some details about you and Hotch now?”

“Goodbye Garcia…” You chuckle, ending the call before she can ask anything else.

You walk back into the conference room, shaking your head sadly at JJ who looks up with hopeful eyes.

“Garcia found virtually nothing. Caroline got a speeding ticket at seventeen, and Jasper a DUI at twenty-two. Nothing since. And no connection to any of our other victims,” you relay the information, ending it with a sip of your coffee.

“This unsub is good,” JJ says, exasperated. “How is she always three steps ahead of us?”

“She’s not, really,” Reid says, and you can feel something else coming on. “It’s like she knows we’re closing in on her, so she’s going after those who have no reported allegations. She’s not as far ahead as we think, but maybe that’s what she wants us to think.”

“Reid, dude, you’re sounding like a fortune cookie right now,” you laugh. “I get where you’re going with this. But unless they find some DNA at the crime scene, we’re back to square one again.”

“Maybe…” He trails away, getting up to look at the map.

Something is going on in his head, but you’re not sure what. He’ll tell you when he’s finished with it, you’re sure.

In your pocket, your phone starts buzzing. Thinking it’s Garcia, you pull it out and answer without looking, but Garcia’s voice isn’t what you hear on the other end.

“I’m heading back to the precinct,” Hotch says.

“O...kay,” you furrow your eyebrows, mouthing, ‘Hotch’ to JJ. “Why just you?”

“I need to show you something,” he says slowly, like he’s struggling to get the words out. “The unsub left a note.”

“What does it say?” You ask, wondering why it’s like pulling teeth to get him to speak.

“It’s addressed to you,” he finally says, and all the blood drains from your body. “It’s in an envelope and sealed. Your… Your name is on the front.”

You’re not sure what to make of that at all.

“Okay,” you say, your brain unable to really process it. “Okay, we’ll look at it when you get here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Aaron,” you whisper, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Don’t say that to me. You’re scaring me.” You pause. “What are you sorry for?”

“For this note,” he replies, voice quiet. “For this unsub targeting you, and now for scaring you.”

“What does the note say?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I didn’t open it.”

“Okay. Just...hurry, I guess.”

“I’m turning into the parking lot now.”

“Okay, see you in a sec,” you murmur, ending the call.

You look up from the phone to find both JJ and Reid staring at you, concern swimming deeply in their eyes. You don’t even have the energy to offer them a reassuring smile. Nothing about this is comfortable for you.

Why would the unsub leave a note addressed to you?

Hotch walks through the precinct doors a few moments later, a man on a mission as he walks directly to the conference room. You’re explaining to JJ and Reid about the note when he walks in, and you fall silent upon seeing him.

He hates that he even called you to warn you, but he had to do something. His mind was racing on the drive. He had to hear your voice, and he knew you were bound to ask why he was coming back on his own, what’s so urgent, so he knew he’d have to tell you.

But the fear in your eyes right now is something he never wants to see again. Ever.

“Where is it?” You say, your voice wavering.

Slowly, Hotch pulls the envelope out of his jacket pocket. It’s in a plastic bag, which is standard protocol for evidence, and you begin searching for a pair of gloves.

You find a pair and start to slip them on, grimacing at the way your hands shake, and using your peripheral vision to see that Aaron is watching you closely.

Once you’re gloved up, he hands you the plastic bag. It feels much heavier than it should.

Carefully, you pull out the envelope, swallowing down the nausea you’re feeling. As Hotch said, your name -- Agent Y/N L/N -- is scrawled on the front in messy handwriting. Fortunately, Reid can examine that, and this letter if it’s handwritten.

You break the seal on the envelope, flinching slightly, and ignoring that you did. But Aaron saw it.

You pull out the note and half of you cries in relief because it is handwritten, and the other half of you feels sheer terror because your business card is taped to the top left hand corner.

“Shit,” you cuss, closing your eyes.

“What?” Aaron asks, taking a step closer, lowering his head to meet your eye level.

“My business card,” you say, opening your eyes again, hating the way things look blurry for a moment. JJ and Reid are just fuzzy figures at the table when you look around the room. “It could’ve been anyone at the meetings. I handed my card to as many that would take it. There’s no way I’ll remember everyone, or even half of them, I mean, I ran out of cards, I had to go stand by Morgan because--”

“Okay, okay, slow down,” Aaron stops you, putting both hands on your arms. “Look at me, please.”

Slowly, the world comes back into focus and you meet his brown eyes, finding your peace there like you have so many other times before. You focus on the weight of his hands on your arms, grounding you, bringing you back.

“I know it’s difficult,” he says. “But you need to breathe.”

You nod, sucking in a deep breath a little too abruptly, not even realizing you had been taking shallow breaths in the first place.

“Good girl,” he whispers, so low that he’s almost mouthing it, careful not to let JJ or Reid hear. And it’s not sexual or sensual this time. It’s comforting. “Can you read the rest of it?”

You nod. “I can help you end your suffering. I can help you avenge. I can help you heal. It doesn’t have to be this way.” You pause, looking up from the note, looking between Hotch, JJ, and Reid. “What does that even mean?”

“Did you talk about your experience during the meetings?” Reid asks.

“A little bit, but I barely scratched the surface of it,” you admit. “And I didn’t mention any names. I might hate him, but...I’d never send a serial killer after him.”

“I know,” Hotch says. “We’re not accusing you of that,” he adds gently. “It’s clear our unsub feels a connection to you now. Something you said must’ve resonated deeply with her.”

“But all I said was that he was my fiancé and that I didn’t report him, so that still gets us nowhere. She’s still a ghost.”

“She’s not a ghost,” he says sternly. “We will find her. You’ve already seen her once.”

“Yeah, but I don’t remember seeing her, Hotch.”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is she’s reaching out. Which means we’re close.”

“Not close enough,” you protest, tossing the letter back on the plastic bag on the table. “I need to take a walk.” You move toward the door, and he’s following you, so you add quietly, “Alone, please.”

Hotch nods, and watches you go, more worried than he’s ever been in his life.

+++

When Rossi, Emily, and Morgan return to the police precinct, they spot you sitting alone on a bench outside the front doors.

“I got this,” Morgan says, hopping out of the car and heading to you, gesturing for Rossi and Emily to head inside. They share a look and nod, disappearing into the precinct to leave Morgan alone with you.

You don’t even look up from your hands when you see Morgan coming over from your peripheral vision.

“What’s up, kiddo?” He asks, standing in front of you.

“I’m really not in the mood right now, Derek.”

“Too bad,” he shrugs, sitting next to you on the bench, stretching his arm out behind you. “What’s going on? You know I’m just gonna keep buggin’ you until you tell me.”

You snort. “I know.”

“So…” He pauses. “Tell me. It’ll save us both a whole lotta time. And it’ll save you a whole lotta stress, sittin’ there with all that in your head.”

You know he’s right. And you know he’s the only one who really gets it.

So, you tell him what’s wrong.

“The unsub left that note just for me. My card was taped to it, Morgan.”

“And?”

“What do you mean and? It means I laid eyes on her, maybe talked to her, handed her my fucking card, and I still didn’t know it was her.”

“We’re not superhuman, Y/N. We only see what they show us. She probably put on a mask while talking to you.”

“Well now she’s still out there--”

“Listen to me. I ran out of cards too, remember? We started using yours. I easily could’ve given her your card. Hell, I was there with you, I probably looked at her a dozen times, too. Are you gonna yell at me for not recognizing her?”

“No--”

“Then stop doing it to yourself, you hear me?”

“I just… She feels a connection to me. What does that say about me?”

“That you’re a relatable person,” Derek offers, causing you to glare at him. “Hey,” he raises a hand in surrender. “I’m just being logical. It doesn’t say anything about you. Because a serial killer’s view of you is not who you are. You are who you are.”

“Thanks for the fortune cookie.”

“Don’t get that tone with me, kid,” he replies tiredly. “You know you’re not really mad at me, so don’t take it out on me, okay?”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you rub your forehead. “I’m just…”

“It’s not your fault, Y/N.”

“I know that.”

“I know you know that, but you still need to hear it,” he says. “And I’ll always be here to tell you, got that?”

You look over at him with a small smile. “Got it.”

He smiles too, glad to see you’re feeling better. He shoves your shoulder lightly, playfully. “Come on. Let’s get back in there.”

“Yeah,” you nod, standing up.

He walks ahead, but you stay still, wondering if you should even ask what you’re about to ask. But Derek notices your hesitation and turns back around, studying you.

“Spit it out,” he says, knowing there’s something.

“The unsub is trying to talk to me,” you say, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. “So...what if we set up a trap.”

“What?” Morgan deadpans, raising his eyebrows, turning his body to completely face you.

“What if we--”

“Use you as bait?” Morgan finishes, incredulity coating his words.

You nod. “I wasn’t going to word it like that, but--”

He scoffs, looking more and more pissed off as the seconds go on. “Hell no. Are you outta your damn mind?”

“No, I’m not. I’m--”

“No,” he stops you, holding up his hand, pointing at you. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. Don’t go there. We will find this unsub, and we will do it without you sacrificing yourself.”

“I wouldn’t be sacrificing myself!” You protest. “You guys would be there. You’d have my back.”

“We can’t predict everything this unsub will do, Y/N, you know that,” Morgan fires back. “And I’ll be damned if I let you throw yourself into danger like this. It’s not happening. You hear me?”

SIghing, you nod. “I hear you.”

“Have you even told Hotch about this?”

“No.”

“Good. Don’t,” Morgan replies. “You’ll just get a lecture and you and I both know you don’t need that right now.”

“I know.”

He pauses, shaking his head. He steps forward, wrapping you in a hug, eyes closing when he feels you burying your face in his neck. “I love you, kid,” he whispers. “And I know it’s hard, but you got this, we got this. And it’s gonna be okay. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nod into his neck, taking a deep breath. “Yeah.”

Next chapter

[drmmyrs]

Remember Me (Becca x MC)

So, weird story. I was randomly browsing tumblr one time when this ask pops out at the top of the screen (req about amnesia au Becca’s POV). It wasn’t even related to anything I was reading but checked my inbox and it wasn’t there. Most probably the ask isn’t for me but still wrote it just in case 😅

PS if someone DID send me this ask, kindly drop me a message just so I know I’m not seeing things 😭

PPS I’m trying out a new writing style and I’m not sure if it’s any good so I’d really appreciate any feedback 🥺 (this will be a mini series too, I think, since the angst potential is definitely there 😂)

PPPS title is inspired from the song in Coco just cause I’ve been playing it a lot on piano recently

tag list: @whackawriting @samanthadalton @crazzyplays @uselesslesbianfr @baexpoppy @alexroyard @alexlabhont @veenast @noixngn @sillyandcutewizardstuffs (If you wanna be added or removed or just prefer a certain ship just let me know ❤️)

Pairing: Becca x MC (Emily)

Word Count: 2090

I don't remember what happened, nor know where I am, but I hear shouting, lots of it. I try to move, but my body feels completely numb; the only thing I can feel is the trickle of liquid that splatters across my face. Rain? I open my eyes strenuously, but all I can see past my blurry vision are brown eyes glistening with tears. I can't quite make out her face, but for some reason, seeing her cry sends a flurry of emotions that hurt more than my throbbing head. I try to open my mouth, hoping to provide comfort somehow, but no words come out. She is saying something over and over again, something about leaving? But my head hurts too much to be able to comprehend. A siren then blares from a distance, growing louder by the second as flashes of red cloud my vision. And that is when everything turns black.

I slowly open my eyes–still reeling from the nightmare that somehow felt too real–and harsh, blinding lights immediately greet me. I hastily shut my eyes back and suddenly become well aware of the ache engulfing my entire body. It isn't before long that I realize that someone is holding my hand, tracing lazy circles against my skin ever so often. I try to move it but only manage to lift a finger, and at once, the grip tightens and becomes still for a moment before I hear a voice– How can a voice sound so familiar... yet so strange? It's saying my name, urgent and gentle at the same time as though I might break at any second. I try to open my eyes, but exhaustion grips me powerless. And soon, I succumb to its fiery grasp as I slip back into slumber.

When I wake up again, I already feel much stronger than before. The ache in my body has turned into a dull hum as if sharp nails are gently caressing my skin, enough to be felt but not to hurt. I look around the room, panic swelling in my chest as I take in the sight of different medical equipment looming around my bed and needles sticking out of my arm. I fight the urge to squirm as I take big, calming breaths, ignoring how the four white walls seem to close in on me. Thankfully, the door opens, and a nurse walks in, temporarily distracting me from my distress. She smiles upon seeing me awake and walks towards me.

"Welcome back, Ms. Davenport. How are you feeling?"

"W–where am I?" I ask weakly.

"In the hospital. A month ago, you were involved in a car crash, and your head was hurt pretty badly," the nurse says sympathetically. She is now taking my vitals, scribbling something on her chart from time to time.

Car crash?

I scrunch my eyes, trying to remember, but the harder I try, the more my head hurts.

"Wait. A month? Are you saying that I've been here... for a month?"

The nurse nods. "You've been unconscious the entire time. But your vitals now are looking good. The doctor will just run a few tests to make sure we don't miss anything."

I stay quiet for a while, my mind still processing everything the nurse just said, which has only raised new questions.

"Your friends and family were really worried about you, you know. There wasn't a day when you didn't have any visitors. Especially that special friend of yours you were in the car with." The nurse turns towards me, holding a pen against her chin. "What was her name? Em–Emma, I think? She barely left your side. She actually just went to grab some food before you woke up."

...I don't know any Emma, but I don't tell her that.

"What about my parents?"

"Your mom and sister usually visit during the evening."

"And my father?"

The nurse shakes her head. "I don't think I've ever seen your father."

The nurse leaves after a while, and the doctor comes inside the room shortly. I answer a few questions before I'm escorted outside to take some tests. Afterward, the nurse leads me back to my room and gently guides me to bed.

"Would you like me to call in your visitors?" the nurse asks.

I nod.

The nurse goes out, and soon my mom walks in followed by–

"Emily." I frown. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Both of them stop in their tracks. My mom looks at me in concern and confusion, while Emily looks like I just punched her in the gut.

Anger bubbles up inside me as a realization comes to mind. "Y–you. You're the one who did this, aren't you? You're the reason I'm here."

A guilty look flickers across her face, confirming my suspicions. And before I can stop myself, I shout at her to leave, but she stands there motionless, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

"Go get the doctor," my mom tells her, which snaps her out of her shock. She scurries out of the room at the same time my mom starts walking towards me.

"Why is she here, Mom?"

My mom stops at the side of the bed and reaches out to stroke my hair. "Honey, the accident was not her fault."

"But she was there with me..."

"Yes."

"Why?"

My mom's hand goes still, resting on top of my head. "Becca, what was the last thing you remember?"

"I..." I close my eyes and think hard for a moment. "I–I remember hosting the Kappa party. But that doesn't make any sense. Why would I leave with Emily?"

A brief look of panic flashes across her eyes.

"Mom? What's wrong?"

My mom smiles at me, but it looks forced. "It's nothing, sweetie. The doctor will be here soon."

But I can see that she's trying her best to keep calm–the look on her face similar to when she would talk to my little sister and me right after we would hear her and dad fight.

The doctor comes in a little while later, asking a bunch of questions similar to my mom's. They then do more tests on me, and I grow scared by the minute, not understanding what the hell is going on. Eventually, I'm back in my room alone, my mom and the doctor staying outside to talk. After some time, they enter the room, and my mom sits beside me, taking my hand as the doctor walks towards the other side of the bed.

I look at my mom, drained from all the medical tests I went through the entire day. "What's happening, Mom? I'm scared."

My mom squeezes my hand and gives me a reassuring smile. "The doctor will explain it to you, sweetie. But I'll be right here the whole time." She then gives a single nod to the doctor.

The doctor smiles at me politely. "How are you feeling, Becca?"

I stare at him, suddenly annoyed at being asked the same question over and over again.

"Right then." The doctor clears his throat. "During the accident, your brain was affected more than we initially thought." He pauses, and I meet his gaze, willing him to go straight to the point. "It seems like you have retrograde amnesia, meaning that you have no memory of the past three years of your life."

The doctor goes on and on about the technicalities, but I'm not listening anymore. His voice is reduced to background noise as I repeat his words inside my head, trying to grasp the implications of what he just said. I prop myself up, looking wildly around the room, tugging at my shirt as if it would help me breathe. But it doesn't. My body feels numb, which is why I almost don't notice my mom pulling me into a tight hug, stroking my back comfortingly as she whispers reassurances. I focus on her voice, forcing myself to take deep breaths as I slowly begin to calm down. I pull away after some time, recomposing myself as I find my voice.

"Three years," I whisper.

"We'll help you recover your memories, honey. But for now, you can ask me anything you like."

"I–I think I just need some rest."

My mom nods, helping me settle back in bed before she leaves, promising to be back tomorrow.

Sleep comes easy to me, and I wake up the next day with Madison sitting at the chair next to my bed, browsing her phone.

"Hey, Maddie."

She looks up from her phone, a smile lighting up her face before she practically jumps out of her chair to hug me. "Becca!"

"Ow, that... kinda hurts."

When she pulls away from me, her eyes are teary.

"Sorry, I just missed you so much. You were gone for so long! I thought–"

"Hey, hey, none of that," I say, smiling at her.

She pulls the chair closer to my bed and sits down. "How are you, Becca? Your mom told me about your... condition."

I stare at the ceiling. "Yeah, it sucks." I snap my head back to her. "Tell me something. Do we still hang out a lot?"

"We still meet up from time to time. Not as much as we used to, though," Madison says, smiling sadly.

I nod. "Who do I usually hang out with now?"

"Emily."

I furrow my eyebrows. "Did we become close friends or something?"

"Oh, right. You've only been together for like two years," Madison murmurs contemplatively. "She's your girlfriend, Becca."

I let the information sink in. "You have got to be kidding me." I stare at her wide-eyed. "How–What–Why?"

Madison recounts our 'love story,' each detail more absurd than the last. I don't want to believe any of it, but Emily as my girlfriend... it actually explains everything. I rub my temples. How the hell did that happen? I remember like it was yesterday when she tried to steal Chris away from me. And now... and now...

"Maddie? Can you do me a favor and grab me something to eat? I'm starving."

Madison smiles. "Of course."

Madison goes out in a while, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

***

After a few more days of recovery, I am finally allowed to leave the hospital. Despite my protests, my mom explains that I will have to stay with Emily and her friends at what I assume has been my home for the past two years. She explains that she prefers for someone to look after me constantly, and she will not be able to do that with her job and all.

Outside the hospital, I find Emily waiting near a car; her eyes are bloodshot, as if she hasn't slept a wink in days. When she sees me approaching, her face immediately brightens up. Our gazes lock briefly before I turn back to my mom.

"Are you sure I can't stay with you?"

My mom smiles sadly. "I'm sorry, honey. I wish you could, but..."

"It's okay, I understand."

"Look, I know you don't remember, but these people you've been living with... they care about you very much.”

I nod.

My mom pulls me into a hug before guiding me inside the car, shutting the door afterward. She and Emily talk for a brief moment outside, and I watch as she hugs Emily before walking away. Emily steps into the passenger seat.

Zack, who is sitting in the driver's seat, turns around and smiles at me warmly. "I'm glad you're back."

I shift uncomfortably, ignoring his gaze. "Thanks."

We drive home silently, awkwardness saturating the car space. Upon arriving, I observe the details of the house, seeing if it sparks any memories... but nothing. I see Emily looking at me intently, probably thinking the same thing. They then lead me inside the house, and I step in hesitantly, taking in the surroundings, which vary immensely from the sorority house, the last place I lived based on my memories. Emily guides me to my room, lingering near me as I open the door.

"Becca–"

I turn towards her. "Please don't. I know you think I'm your girlfriend. A–and I guess I was. But as far as I remember, I don't like you at all. So I would appreciate it if you just leave me alone." I turn around and go inside my room, shutting the door behind me. I then lie on the bed, trying to forget how the light dimmed out of Emily's eyes as I broke her heart.

[hawks-supremacy]

Yakitori Lunch - Baked Goods

a/n: hello i am back! i finished moving and got settled in so now i can continue writing! i don't particularly like how this part ended but i wanted to get something out after not being on here for over a month. sorry i was gone!

warnings: none

words: 1.3k

Masterlist

Knocking on the door to the Miya household you held a container full of a batch of green tea cookies you made last night. You always felt bad showing up to other people’s houses for meals empty handed, so typically you brought desserts. Maybe that was just ingrained into your brain from always seeing your grandma show up to other people’s houses with food or desserts in hand, either way it's a habit you have now.

You stood at the door for a few minutes hearing some crashing noises coming from the inside, before an out of breath Osamu answered the door. You looked past him and saw a groaning Atsumu laying on the floor, “You asshole!” Atsumu yelled slowly getting off the floor. Osamu shrugged, looking unbothered. “You coulda broke my arm or killed me! Then I wouldn’t be able to play volleyball!” Atsumu huffed, his hands on his knees. Osamu rolled his eyes in response and waved him off. Shortly after Atsumu charged and tackled Osamu, all the while you just stood there blinking and holding your cookies.

“Would you two knock it off and invite them in? I swear you children are going to be the death of me.” Mrs. Miya said, coming to the door. “Come in dear, I am so sorry for them. They’ve actually mellowed out since they were kids if you can believe that.” She laughed as she let you into the house, “You didn’t need to bring anything, I invited you.”

You shrugged as you followed her into the kitchen, “I was taught it was rude to show up empty handed. Where can I set these down?” She motioned to the counter and said that anywhere is fine. After setting the cookies down you offered help if she needed any to which she waved you off and said to have fun. You nodded and walked into the living room where Atsumu and Osamu were still arguing and fighting. You stood there watching for a few seconds before clearing your throat. Osamu stood up straight, shoving Atsumu back one last time as Atsumu pushed his shoulder. “Do I get a tour?” You asked after they finally stopped fighting.

“Yeah come on, I’ll show you around.” Osamu said, starting to walk away. You quickly caught up with him as he began the house tour. Obviously you already knew the kitchen and the living room. He gave brief descriptions and tidbits about each room as you came across them, like how when he and Atsumu were kids Atsumu pushed him off of their bunk beds and he broke his arm. Or how the space underneath the cabinets in the bathroom was his favorite hiding space when they played hide and seek as kids.

By the time Osamu was done showing you around and talking about the house his mom was calling everyone to eat. Upon entering the kitchen you saw Atsumu talking with his mom, which wasn’t suspicious until Atsumu looked at you with a shit eating grin. You sat down at the table as their mom brought over yakitori for lunch. “Sorry it’s nothing fancy. Osamu is the cook of the house, but I wouldn’t let him.” She apologized as she sat down. You shook your head, dismissing the statement. “Don’t worry about it, I love yakitori. I would prefer it over something fancy anyday, Miya-san.” You said as the plate of food was passed to you.

She smiled as you passed her the plate, “Please you can call me mom.” Coughing Osamu whipped his head towards his mom with wide eyes, “MA!” He yelled. “First of all Darling, don’t talk with your mouth full and don’t yell at the dinner table. Second of all, what? Suna calls me mom, why can’t your partner? How long have you two been dating and you haven’t told me?” She asked nonchalantly before she took a bite of her food. This time it was your turn to cough as you processed what she said. You and Osamu stumbled over your words as you tried to explain that you weren’t in fact dating, but were just close friends. She looked at you both confused, “But Atsumu told me earlier that you two were dating.” She looked at Atsumu who looked back sheepishly as he left out a few laughs before she narrowed her eyes at him, “Miya Atsumu you are in so much trouble. How dare ya make a fool out of your own mother?” She scolded as she smacked the back of his head.

“It’s fine really, just a misunderstanding.” You said waving your hands trying to dismiss the whole situation and move past it. “It’s not fine, I’m so sorry for just assuming my own son was telling the truth. I wouldn’t have thought he was a liar.” She ignored Atsumu and he tried to apologize. “Regardless, you can still call me mom if you want, as I said before Suna does so you can as well.”

“Suna does it more as a joke Ma.” Atsumu said as he stuffed his mouth with food. “He still does it ‘Tsumu.” Osamu said in return. “Shut yer face idiot, I wasn’t talking to ya.” They went back and forth like this for a while before their mom interrupted them telling them to stop fighting in front of the guest.

“So what happened yesterday at the mall?” Miya-san asked as she finished up her food. You shook your head at the thought of the store employee. “We were trying to leave one of the sports stores when an employee stopped us all and accused us of stealing. One of my friends was trying on this god awful bag as a joke and left it on and forgot about it, he tried giving it back saying it was an accident but the employee just got an attitude about it. He called mall security when I tried sticking up for my friend. It was a stupid situation that shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry you had to come pick us up.” You explained the situation and Miya-san started laughing.

She waved her hand as she continued to laugh. “I’m sorry dear, I’m not laughing at you or anything. It’s just not the first time I’ve had to pick up the boys from that mall holding cell is all. The first time it happened they were fighting in a store and they knocked over and broke some things and were refusing to pay for it because they didn’t have any money. I had to come and pay for it and pick them up.” She explained, still laughing a little at the situation.

You guys finished lunch talking about different subjects, like if you knew what you wanted to do after school or how your classes were going. You, Osamu and Atsumu moved to the living room while Miya-san cleaned up the kitchen. You had an hour before Shinsuke would be back to pick you up and take you home so you all were just going to sit down and talk. You had suggested you play a game of some sort but their mom shut that down saying that games were temporarily banned after the twins had broken a lamp last time.

Once Miya-san was done cleaning up she came into the living room where you guys were laughing at a story that Atsumu had told. She told stories about the boys and you told stories from when you and Shinsuke were kids. You all had fun laughing at and with each other and before you knew it an hour had passed and Shin was knocking on the door ready to take you home. You told everyone goodbye and gave everyone hugs and Miya-san told you to come back soon. “Did you have fun?” Shin asked as you got in the car. “Yeah, I really did.” You smiled in response as you drove back home.

Tag List:

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If your name is crossed out I can't tag you

[woulddieforsamwilson]

Paper Rings

It wasn’t like he didn’t know who James Barnes was, he just had no reason to become friends with the boy. He didn’t think they’d be very good friends anyway; James was always with the stronger kids, the ones that would beat Steve up at the end of the day, and that’s where he belonged. James was strong and sturdy, both reasons that half the girls in their class swooned over the boy. But despite all this, James never picked on Steve for being as thin as a stick or beat him up for fun. And Steve swears that one time, during art class when Steve was being praised for his work, James smiled at him.

It was probably nothing.

It wasn’t nothing.

The moon is high

Like your friends were the night that we first met

Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet

Now I've read all of the books beside your bed

Steve didn’t know what happened, one second he was walking home so he could clean before his ma got home, the next he was pulled into a familiar ‘ally.

“Hey there Rogers” Robert, a boy a few years older than Steve who looked 10 years older, “how’s old dad?” Steve glared and squared his shoulders, Robert laughed, “‘think if I were married to your ma with you as a kid, I would want to die too” Steve growled and clenched his fists, ready to hit the boy in front of him, but before he could try, James-fucking-Barnes strolled into the ally.

James was smiling brightly like the best thing in the world just happened to him, which, from what Steve could tell, was probably true, “hey Rob what-” James’ face fell as he saw the scene before him, “what are you doing?” Robert turned and looked at James, “just talking to Rogers. I think we’re gonna be best friends!” Robert and his goons laughed loudly, but James didn’t.

“Right well… why don’t we go get some pie down at Anne’s, hear she’s got a new apple pie out” Robert smiled, “sure James, but first, wanna ‘talk’ too little Stevie here?” 

“No, now can we go?” Robert rolled his eyes, “fine, let me just finish up our chat, then we can go,” Robert kicked Steve in the leg, sending him toppling to the ground, Steve groaned as his head hit the trash can behind him, but he always got up. 

Steve opened his eyes and pushed himself into a crouching position and looked up just in time to see James punch Robert in the face.

“What the hell!” Robert yelled as blood poured from his nose, “pick on someone your own size!” James yelled, crossing his arms and standing protectively in front of Steve, “you’re crazy Barnes!” Robert said, turning away and running back to whatever hellhole he came from, his goons followed.

When they were all gone, James turned to look at Steve, his gaze was piercing and comforting, like the look, his Ma gave him when he came home with bruises. “Are you okay?” Steve glared and pushed himself fully up, “I’m fine,” James looked instantly relieved, but Steve continued, “but you don’t have to stand up for me, I can take care of my self” James scrunched his eyebrows like this was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard, “you call getting your ass kicked ‘taking care of it’?” Steve rolled his eyes, “yes, because if you would’ve given me a few more minutes I would’ve had them right where I wanted them” James laughed-and for a moment Steve’s heart stopped-but then it was over and he was talking, “right, see ya later Stevie” Steve sputtered in protest, because the only person who could call him Stevie was his Ma, but James was already gone, possibly taking Steves heart with him.

That night Steve made it his life goal to become friends with James Barnes.

The wine is cold

Like the shoulder that I gave you in the street

Cat and mouse for a month or two or three

Now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe

Bucky was an idiot. He’d been working up the courage to talk to Steve Rogers since he first saw him, but he could never muster the strength. But of course, his stupid brain chooses to introduce himself to Steve at the worst possible time.

And now, he lost half his friends.

Was it worth it? Probably. His ‘friends’ shouldn’t have picked on Steve. Steve who weighed less than his book bag, who was always sick and bruised, who only had a mom, Steve who was perfect in every way.

The next day, a Saturday, Robert and his goons showed up at his door. “Barnes. Can we talk” Bucky nodded and stepped out of his house, closing the door behind him slightly. 

“Is this about yesterday? Cause if you think I’m gonna apologize-” Robert rolled his eyes “yeah we figured you wouldn’t apologize. But we still want to be friends” Bucky smiled, these guys weren’t as bad as he thought, “but we don’t want you to talk to Rogers anymore” Bucky’s smiled faltered, he didn’t want to stop talking to Steve after he just got up the nerve to speak to him, but he also didn’t want to lose all his friends in one swoop. He could go back to just admiring from afar, like before, “alright, but only if you stop picking on other kids, especially Steve” Robert nodded and held out his hand, ignoring the rock at the bottom of his stomach, Bucky took Roberts hand and they shook. 

Bucky was the worst person ever. After he defended Steve, the younger boy had tried to approach him several times, always nervous-and as time went on-expecting the worst. Bucky wanted to be friends with Steve, but Robert was somehow always around, and so Bucky always shut poor Steve down. 

Eventually, Steve stopped asking. 

Bucky was walking home again, he could already smell the dinner his Mama was making back home, and his stomach growled in anticipation. “Wow your little crush on Barnes must be huge, no other reason you would keep talking to him even when you know what we’re gonna do to you” Bucky stopped dead in his tracks, Robert had promised, he wasn’t going to hurt Steve-or anyone else, but baby steps-Robert may be many things but a promise-breaker wasn’t- ”I can do this all day!” He heard Steve’s voice call out, surprisingly confident considering his situation.

“Hey!” Bucky yelled, stepping into the now-familiar ally behind the movie theater, “thought we promised?” Robert sighed, clearly exasperated, “c’mon James, have you not seen how this fairy has acted around you? He’s in love with you! Wouldn’t you beat him up if he was in love with us?” Bucky glared, “no” and then he punched Robert for the second time.

It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

Kiss me once 'cause I know you had a long night

(Oh!) Kiss you twice 'cause it's gonna be alright

Three times 'cause you waited your whole life

(One, two, one two three four!)

Years later they had graduated high school. Bucky was working at the docs and Steve was taking art classes. 

One night Bucky came home completely exhausted. He sloppily untied his shoes and undid his shirt buttons. Once he was done he wobbly walked over to the couch where Steve was sitting, a drawing pad on his lap and a pencil in hand. 

Steve looked up at Bucky’s disheveled self and blushed, but didn’t comment. Bucky flopped down on the old couch and sighed at the comfort that enveloped him. 

“Buck?” Bucky hummed, acknowledging he heard Steve but not opening his eyes, “could I kiss you?” Bucky’s eyes shot open, staring up into Steve’s own eyes, which were full of fear, before his mind could even process what his body was doing, he was nodding excitedly. 

And then, for the briefest of seconds, Steve’s lips were on Buckys, and then they were gone. 

But Bucky wasn’t done. He sat up quickly and looked at Steve, “Steve?” the younger boy nodded, “could I kiss you?” he nodded again, and that night was filled with small kisses and happy feelings. 

I like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings

Uh-huh, that’s right

Darling, you’re the one I want and

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Uh-huh, that’s right

Darling, you’re the one I want and

Paper rings and picture frames and dirty dreams

Oh, you’re the one I want

“Marry me?”

It was a question both had thought about before, but neither brought up, too afraid to scare the other. 

But on a particularly rainy afternoon, it was blurted in the middle of the kitchen.

“What?” Steve asked half in shock. 

“Marry me” Bucky stared at Steve, love, and devotion clear in his eyes. 

“We-I” Steve took a second to control his thoughts, “we can’t get rings,” he said simply. “Steven Grant Rogers I would marry you with paper rings,” Steve’s heart melted, but quickly broke when he thought of all the terrible things getting married would do.

“Steve? It’s okay love we don’t have to I was just thinking…” Steve looked up at Bucky with tears in his eyes, “I can’t do that to you! You have your entire life ahead of you, I could die any second! You deserve someone better, someone, who could take care of you and love you till you grow old! I can’t do that Buck!” Steve cried out, all his insecurities leaking out.

It was silent for a full minute before Bucky stood up and walked toward Steve, for a second he thought Bucky would slap him, but instead, Bucky grabbed his face and kissed him harshly.

“Stevie, you’re the one I want. No one else, just you” Steve looked at Bucky’s face and knew it was true, “yes.”

Bucky froze, “what?” Steve took a deep breath, “yes, I’ll marry you” Bucky’s face broke out into a beautiful grin as he laughed, Bucky picked Steve up and spun him around, making the blond laugh giddily. 

A day later, in their small apartment, they were married.

I want to drive away with you

I want your complications too

I want your dreary Mondays

Wrap your arms around me, baby boy

The Grand Canyon was going to be their honeymoon. They had been saving up all year to go anyway, but since their wedding, they had decided to make it an unofficial honeymoon. 

A week before they were going to leave, Bucky received a letter telling him he was drafted.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Can you write something inspired by everything I wanted by Billie eilish with ethan

Ethan laid on his back, his dark brown eyes set on the ceiling as he stared up in deep thought. His hand is under his head, his breathing slow and heavy, clearly thinking about something he wasn’t ready to talk about. Y/N knew Ethan wasn’t open about things that weigh on him until he’s ready to, but she had to ask if he was alright. She loved him enough to worry about him even if she knew her care would be pushed aside.

“Are you okay? Like…did something happen?“ She asked carefully, hoping he’d open up for once in his life instead of bearing the burden all on his own as he suffered in silence.

’‘Do you ever wish you made different choices in life?“ He wondered out loud, surprising Y/N with his sudden desire to share what’s on his mind. Swallowing thickly, she turned to her side to face him properly.

’'I used to. Then I realized we shouldn’t chase our past for mistakes we cannot change. In the end, every choice I made had brought me here, right next to you in bed. I’m not curious about what would happen if I chose differently because I fear what would change about my life now…they say things happen with a reason and I believe that.“ She snuggled closer to him, happily humming into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, offering his warmth and silent gratitude for talking to him on the subject even if he was closed off and cryptic. Quickly, Y/N fell asleep in his arms, leaving Ethan to contemplate the one choice he was stuck on this particular night.

’'I wish Gray and I went to that school and played sports.“ Ethan whispered to himself, sighing heavily before he too closed his eyes and drifted off.

’'ETHAN WAKE THE HELL UP!!“ Grayson screamed in his ear, scaring the shit out of his still sleeping self. Falling off the bed, Ethan groaned at impact, even more once he realized he landed on a lacrosse stick.

’'We’re gonna be late for practice and you know how coach gets!“ Grayson kicked him lightly, chuckling once Ethan growled at him.

’'SHUT UP! You’ll wake Y/N too!“ Ethan exclaimed, picking himself up – barely, but he did so.

’'Y/N? Who the fuck is she and why would she stay with you in bed? Since when do you let girls sleep over?“ Grayson teased, playfully pushing Ethan who turned around in confusion, his eyebrows furrowed.

’'Bruh, stop fucking around. Y/N! My girlfriend! Your best friend!“ Ethan spoke in a 'duh’ tone, convinced his brother is messing with him.

’'Since when do you have a girlfriend?“ Grayson wasn’t screaming in his face anymore, genuinely concerned with his brother. ’'Did you hit your head when you fell off the bed? Or yesterday when Tommy tackled you? I knew we should have gone to the doctor!“ Grayson began to panic, covering his mouth with his hand as Ethan looked around the room, realizing he doesn’t recognize the room at all.

’'When did you have time to change the entire room, bruh? You know, this is an elaborate prank and I applaud you, but it’s time to stop fucking with me and let me talk to my girl because I’m starting to freak out.“ Ethan spoke quickly, animatedly as he clasped his hands and started cracking his knuckles.

’'That’s it, I’m calling a doc. Coach will understand.“ Grayson grabbed his phone to dial, certain his brother had a concussion or some brain damage that wasn’t unusual for athletes anyway.

’'I swear to God, Grayson, don’t even play. I’ll call mom on you.“ Ethan ran a hand through his hair, turning to his bed next. He grabbed his pillow to seek her scent, finding nothing but his own musk. He looked through his phone to find pictures of Y/N, but she wasn’t in his gallery – the only photos he found were from frat parties, practice and a bunch of nudes sent to him from girls he had never seen in his life. Checking his neck, he found his necklace was gone too – the one with her initials on the pendant. Looking down, he quickly noticed a lack of tattoos as well, his skin untainted by the ink he found himself addicted to.

’'I’m losing my fucking mind.“ He whispered under his breath, trembling as he sat down, worried his knees would buckle. Desperate, Ethan decided to Google her name, finally finding her Instagram account, all her photos back at UCLA still there – but Ethan wasn’t in any of them, someone else was. Gritting his teeth, Ethan felt tears prick at his eyes, starting to shed tear after tear as he caught flashes of all the trophies he had around his room, of the dirty jersey in a corner and a football on his dresser.

’'The doctors told me to bring you right in. They’ll do a CT and see if there’s a bleed or something.“ Grayson explained, helping his brother stand as he pushed him out the door and into the hallway. They got at least ten random mumbling ’heys’ from drunken frats that Ethan realized must have been their friends.

Finally in the car, Grayson stepped on the gas, worried Ethan might be in a life-threatening condition. Unlike Grayson, Ethan was barely holding onto reality. Was anything real? Was he a famous YouTuber with enough money to keep him financially stable for the rest of his life? Did he have the most amazing girlfriend in the world or was she just a face he had seen by accident and put into his elaborate fantasy? He didn’t know what’s real and what’s not, but this felt really fucking real.

’'Are we happy?“ Ethan asked Grayson who frowned at the question, biting his lower lip hard enough for Ethan to look away.

’'Yeah, I think so. As happy as any college guy can be. E, what’s happening here?“ Grayson held his breath, scared out of his mind at this point.

’'We went to L.A. and became one of the most famous YouTubers. We went through hell, but it was worth it. It was worth it because we’ve experienced all we’ve dreamed of, seen places we never would otherwise…fallen in love. And when you woke me up…I woke up to this and all I know is that I got exactly what I wanted and yet it feels like the worst nightmare I’ve ever had.“ Ethan hid his face in his hands, feeling the lump in his throat grow and his tears threaten to spill over once again.

’'Y/N? That’s the girl from your dream?“

Nodding, Ethan sighed. ’'She felt real. Still does. As does my love for her. And I remember asking her if she ever regrets any of her choices and she told me she never does because every choice she made had led her to me. I think I’d be with her if we were brave enough to move. I wish we did.“ Closing his eyes, Ethan relaxed in his seat as music filled the silence.

’'Ethan? Babe?“ Feather-light kisses littered along his jaw had jerked Ethan awake. Blurry vision had made it hard to focus but once he did and his eyes only saw her, Ethan screamed with glee. He had pressed her so tightly to himself that she feared her ribs would crack.

’'Can’t. Breathe. Help.“ She managed to breathe out, reminding Ethan of his own strength.

’'I love you so fucking much, you have no idea.“ Ethan smiled before kissing her hard, his hands holding her face like she’s the light of his life and he refused to let go.

’'Did I miss something?“ Y/N chuckled, aware Ethan just told her he loves her for the first time, three months into the relationship. And even more, he was opening up to her without restraint.

’'I had a dream I got everything I ever wanted…it ended up being a nightmare. You were right about past choices…they led me to you and I wouldn’t change a damn thing.“

Tags: @dolandolll @beinscorpio @godlydolans @heyits-claire @peacedolantwins @dolanstwintuesday @ethanhes

[wrightiverse]

The closing chapter of Crowd is taking a while. In part that's what happens when you can't just kick unresolved plot points and story arcs down the road to another chapter, but it's also because this story engages with some stuff that's important to me personally and I want to do right by it. I ended up thinking out loud about it yesterday and decided I wanted to share it here too, in a tidier format. It's about grief and loss and includes discussions of the death of a partner or a parent, fair warning.

The bare-bones premise of "what if Glenn had a boyfriend" was always going to involve unpacking Nick's mom and what happened there. The Wrightiverse fics are supposed to be about having a good life after trauma, and/or trying to figure out how to adjust to domestic fluff when you've been living in an angst fic kind of world until now. It's been an interesting challenge figuring out how to thoughtfully fit Morgan into all that.

I don't allude to Morgan explicitly in everything I write for them, but I'm always thinking about her. The presence of her absence is felt throughout so much of what's going on with Glenn, what's going on with Nick, how the Wrights even ended up interacting with the Closes in the first place. It means that when I'm wrapping up stories and story arcs, thinking about her takes up a big piece of my brain even though she's not an active character in the story. I'm not necessarily always the most insightful person as to why certain characters resonate with me, but my partner's best & oldest friend (let's call him D) is a widower, and that definitely shaped how I responded to the character of Glenn. Years ago, I was getting to know D's first wife, the way that you do when couples hang out, and then she passed away unexpectedly. D has since remarried to a wonderful person, which is fantastic, but there's been a process involved for all of us in figuring out how to hold all the complicated emotions and competing truths of that situation. "Support in, process out," as they say, so a lot of my thoughts about that have gone into how Glenn and Robin talk about Morgan in Crowd. Robin is afraid to put himself "on that level" and Glenn has to get him to understand that there aren't levels, but Glenn also has to step back and check sometimes to make sure that he's doing all this in a way that feels right for him. Death is unfair, you know? And sometimes that makes it hard to figure out whether a situation feels unfair because you're making the wrong choice, or because it's a fundamentally unfair situation in which you're making the best out of your available choices.

While Glenn and Robin talk about Morgan a few times in Crowd, that story is much more about Glenn moving past the stall in other areas of his life. So her presence in their arc is not about resolving things, it's about showing that Morgan's loss is always going to be a part of their story. It's just a part of what Glenn brings to the table, like how Robin's divorce is part of what he brings to the table. Glenn is going to freak out if Robin is in a car accident, no matter how minor, and Robin is going to get anxious if Glenn tries to sleep on the couch. Fortunately, they communicate about this stuff. Eventually.

In Crowd, though, we see that Morgan's passing also hangs over Nick and Robin's dynamic in a less resolved way. Both Samantha and TJ try to check in on how Nick is doing with Glenn being in a relationship again, and both times the Close boys sort of miss the significance of why it's these particular people asking. (Ron, of course, just wants to know how Glenn likes being a step-dad.) I'm not bashing them for not making the connection, though. One thing we wanted to emphasize is that there isn't one singular correct way to process this kind of loss. What was right for TJ might not be what's right for Nick, what was right for Samantha might not be what's right for Glenn. What's right for Nick might not be what's right for Glenn, either: Nick invites Robin to come out to the cemetery with him before Glenn ever does, but Nick doesn't want to emotionally process about Morgan with Robin at all, and that's fine. I always want to be very clear in these stories that Robin is not a replacement for Morgan in any sense, and Robin didn't "fix" Glenn. Like in this post:

The "This character who is flawed, traumatized and hurting cannot be saved by love. But they can choose recovery because they are loved"-trope makes me just... I think I need to lay down.

Glenn growing enough to take the risk of caring about somebody again was important, and having somebody who could care about him and support him was important, and those things were related to Robin but not exclusive to Robin. Same thing with Nick. He might accidentally almost call Robin "Dad" sometimes, but Robin isn't a substitute for his mom: Nick already has a mom, and over the course of Crowd, he is slowly showing Robin how he would like Robin to relate to her. While writing recently, I realized that Glenn's grief surfaced the most at the very end of Name, and is doing the same at the end of Crowd. It seems initially counterintuitive that the most painful topic wants to emerge during the happy ending, but I don't think it's an accident. Sometimes when you lose somebody, doing well can feel like it's a betrayal. And sometimes, moving past the most blatant expressions of grief can free up people around you to think that you're "better now." In my experience, that's not how it works. You can love your current partner and still miss the other one every day, and it doesn't diminish either of them. Life can be very cruel, but the heart does not have limits on its capacity to love and heal. It's important to me to get that right, out of respect for D and everybody else I know who's been through this. Sticking the landing on that is taking me a lot of time

[kusunogatari]

[ ObiRyū October | Day Sixteen | Incantation ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Hatake Kakashi ] [ Verse: Ghost Among the Ghosts ]

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“Hi, Mom...it’s me again. I brought you some fresh flowers! Sorry I left the other ones here so long...I’ve been busy the last few weeks. School is going well, but...it’s a lot of work. I’m keeping my grades up, at least. But that means less time for...everything else. And no, I still don’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend, for that matter. But maybe that’s a good thing. I’d be really inattentive lately, and that wouldn’t be fair. I dunno, maybe I’ll meet someone after, y’know? But if work is busy too, then...guess I’ll just be a crazy old cat lady. Though I don’t have a cat yet…”

She’s rambling. But then again, that usually happens when she takes a day to catch up with her mother. Sitting cross-legged in the grass, Ryū lets an elbow rest on a knee, chin held in a palm. It’s nice to just...sit and chat.

And given Reika can’t really reply, it means she can go on for as long as she wants.

“Dad came to visit yesterday. That was nice. He said he was going to stop by and see you while he was here. I hope he did. Guess he didn’t leave anything, but...well, I told him I was going to stop by today. Maybe he just figured things would get cluttered, otherwise.”

Beyond the freshly-replaced flowers, Reika’s headstone is clear. There’s a small growth of lichen, but she’ll take care of that while she’s here. Otherwise, the polished black marble is flawless.

“Anyway...I guess there’s really not much else to report. Kinda stuck in a bit of a slog, I suppose. Same routine over and over. Classes change, but the routine doesn’t.” Shifting positions, she leans back on her palms, sighing. “There’s a few people I’ve seen in a couple of classes with me, but...haven’t really made any friends. Dad says I’d scare them away anyway cuz I spend so much time here.” Ryū can’t help a snicker. “I might’ve had my baby goth phase in high school, but it didn’t stick. I just...like dark clothes and hanging out with my dead mom! Nothing weird about that, right?”

The only answer is wind rustling through the cemetery trees.

Another sigh escapes her, seeming to get lost in thought. “...guess I kinda just fell into it all. The image, I mean. People were always calling me Ghost, so...it was easier to roll with it than fight it. Is that weird? Maybe not. Guess I just kinda adopted it. Maybe part of it’s still sticking, huh?”

Another thoughtful silence before she straightens, hauling herself to her feet and brushing leaves and grass from her clothes. “Well...I won’t bug you any more today. Though I’m not really looking forward to heading back to my dorm. It’s so cramped, and my roommate snores. Not to mention I have an essay to do when I get there. So maybe I’ll just...wander around a bit. Y’know...procrastinate.”

After clearing the lichen, Ryū says her goodbyes before heading further into the cemetery rather than back toward the gate.

It’s strange. She’s here so often, yet she’s never really taken the time to look at any other parts of the graveyard. Even back when she was embracing her spooky image in high school.

Better late than never, she supposes.

The further you go, the older the plots get...and eventually, entire family crypts start popping up. Ryū eyes them curiously, feeling an old itch start bubbling up to the surface. Maybe she’ll just...take some pictures. For old time’s sake. Surely nobody will mind, right?

Out comes her phone, subtly snapping photos of some of the more unique headstones. One bears an entire full-size weeping angel, arms outstretched to the sky in mourning.

“Wicked…!”

Okay maybe her goth phase isn’t as over as she likes to pretend it is.

Soon enough she’s losing herself in it, taking artsy pics of as much spooky splendor as she can manage. The cloudy Autumn day only adds to the atmosphere, she can’t help it!

And then she hits the motherlode.

Looming up out of the gloom is one of the crypts: its own stone building to inter members of a family. And this one is massive...let alone clearly old as old gets. A wrought iron gate blocks access to the interior, and no matter how she cranes her neck, Ryū can only see so far.

Backing up a few paces, she realizes there isn’t a family name carved anywhere in the stone. That’s a bit odd. Instead, a phrase is etched along the top of the threshold. Usually it’s something in Latin, but...this doesn’t look quite right.

Brow furrowing, Ryū reads it over a few times in her head. Maybe it is Latin and she’s just...really rusty. But her curiosity persists, and so she googles it.

...nothing really comes up.

Well, drat.

A sigh escapes her, tucking away her phone for the moment. Under her breath, she tries sounding it out, doing so slowly with the Latin pronunciation that she knows.

As soon as she finishes, a flash of cold washes over her, seemingly coming up from the crypt.

Every hair on her body stands on end, tensing as eyes fly wide.

...what the…?

Fog then begins to plume up the steps, curling around the gate. And as she stares, Ryū sees hands slowly reach to grip the bars. Then with an ear-splitting creak, it starts to swing open.

Oh this is not good...what did she do?! What, was that some kind of...incantation? That stuff isn’t real…! And why would it be carved into a crypt?!

A deep, raspy chuckle then sounds, and a shiver runs its way up her spine. Every part of her brain is screaming at her to run...but she can’t get her legs to move, locked into place as she trembles.

“Well well...been a while since anyone’s given those words a read. Was starting to wonder if anyone would ever bother…”

With a lurch, she manages to stumble back half a step, body feeling rigid and stubborn. “Who...who’s there…?”

“You mean to tell me you read the invocation, and you don’t even know who you’re talking to? I should be offended. And here I was so relieved at finally getting a chance to stretch my legs! Hell gets so boring after a while…”

A figure then starts to emerge from the fog. And Ryū’s heart feels about ready to jump right out of her chest. Hell...this person’s from Hell? Then...doesn’t that mean -?

“I guess I can still manage an introduction. But...you first, hm? Only polite, since you rang.”

...is it wise to tell them that? “It...it’s Ryū. M-my name is...is Ryū.”

“Ryū…?” They seem to roll the word around in their mouth, as if tasting it. “Hm...I suppose that’ll do. And my name...is Obito.”

They take one last step, and Ryū beholds the demon in all their glory.

...it’s not an image she expects.

It’s not a gargoyle-like creature. No cloven hooves, no horns. It’s just a...a man? Wearing black slacks, shining black shoes, a violet button-down shirt, and a black vest. A hand wrapped in a fingerless glove adjusts a matching purple tie. Short dark hair, glowing red eyes, and...and…

Scars. All over the right side of his face. Some even peek up from under the loose collar of his shirt.

“Why is it everybody always stares, hm? Something on my face?”

Ryū forces herself to blink. “...I-I -?”

Ignoring her, the demon glances around. “...huh. Not where I expected to pop up. No one’s used this place in a long time. Being nosy, are we?”

“Wh-? N-no! I...I was just looking, and…?”

“And decided to recite the obviously-demonic carving on the wall?”

She sputters. Obviously demonic? How was she supposed to know?! “I-I didn’t know that’s what it was! I-I swear!”

Obito just rolls his eyes. “Uh huh. That’s what they all say.”

“Can’t you just, um...g-go back where you came from?”

“I’m afraid not, you see…” He starts sauntering toward her, her own legs attempting to retreat. “Demons, once called out of Hell, can only return once they have their contracted’s soul in their possession. It’s a system. And given that you called me...that means you.”

“I-I didn’t call you! It was an accident!”

“Yes, yes...you humans and your accidents.” He steps closer, Ryū finding herself with nowhere to run as her back finds a tree. Leaning in, Obito gives her a very unabashed once-over. “...hm…”

“W...what?”

“I think you’re lying.”

“Wh-? Why would I lie?!”

“Because I can smell it on you.”

“Smell what? I-I just took a shower this morning before I came to see Mom!”

Obito gives a roll of his eyes. “Oh, brother...so you don’t know…?”

“Know what?!”

“That you’re a witch.”

She freezes. “...I’m a...a what?”

“Oh come, now. Your appearance is telling enough. Tell me...did your mother look like you? All ghost-like…?”

Ryū feels the blood draining from her face. “...I…”

“Thought so.”

“I am not a witch! I just had a goth phase in high school! And the only reason I did was because everyone forced it on me!”

“And why do you think they did that?”

“Because I look like this!”

“And? You really think they couldn’t tell? It’s a subconscious thing, especially in this day and age. Very few people legitimately cry ‘witch’ nowadays. Most who do just get laughed at, but they’re out there. Or rather, you’re out there.”

Head shaking, Ryū rebuke, “Well...still! Witch or not, I did not call you here on purpose! So just...go back where you came from, and leave me alone!”

“I told you, I can’t do that. Not until I harvest that soul of yours. Or...mine, really. Semantics.”

She stares at him. “...so, I...I really am stuck with you…?”

“Until you utilize your contract, that’s exactly right. So hurry up and make your request so we can get this over with.”

“...and if I don’t?”

“Don’t what?”

“What if I don’t make a request? What if I just...ignore this so-called contract I didn’t agree to? Then what?”

Obito’s face goes slack. “...you can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, contracts have consequences the longer they go on. Consequences that are rather dire for mortals. Eventually you’d just be begging for me to end it, so there’s no real point in drawing things out.”

“I could...I could hire an exorcist!”

That earns an outright laugh. “Oh, you could. But it wouldn’t go well. We’re contracted. My suffering is your suffering. And vice versa.”

...well shit. She’s running out of ideas. Surely by now demons are rather used to all the ways humans try and wriggle their ways out of contracts. Ryū’s eyes flicker back and forth, trying to think of a solution.

All the while, looking amused, Obito watches her. He’s never actually met someone from a witch bloodline before. While they don’t all look like she does, that just makes her all the more unique. Part of him wonders what her skills would be. Are witch souls worth more than a regular human soul…? He’s not actually sure. But he’ll admit, it feels rather tantalizing compared to other humans he’s contracted with. Almost seems a shame to waste it.

“...you know, there is one way to circumvent this whole ordeal.”

He speaks without meaning to, her head shooting up.

“...and what would that be?”

“You could always become a demon yourself. It’s not easy, and technically you’d still be damned, but...you wouldn’t die.”

A stubborn scowl overtakes her face. “Not sure that’s much better.”

Shoulders shrug. “Just letting you know. Hell’s really not all that bad when you’re on Lucifer’s good side, you know.”

“...I’ll bear that in mind,” is her dry reply.

“You really should make up your mind. Time is ticking. And I’ve got other things I could be -”

“Hey!”

The pair of them turn, seeing another figure making its way toward them. Silvery, messy locks fall over a fair face, the bottom half obscured by a mask. There’s really not much remarkable about him...except for a glint of silver that jostles around his neck as he runs.

A cross.

Behind Ryū, Obito’s eyes narrow.

Reaching them, the newcomer holds an arm out between them, barring Ryū back. “I’ve been waiting for you to show your face again. Let her go!”

“This is none of your business, Kakashi. She summoned me.”

“I told you, it wasn’t on purpose!” Ryū insists from behind Kakashi’s arm.

“It’s too late! Intentional or not, what’s done is done. She has to forfeit her soul one way or another. I’m just doing what I’m meant to do.”

“Don’t you remember what it’s like to be human?” Kakashi barks in protest. “Why hurt them when you used to be one, Obito?”

Ryū’s eyes widen. He was human…?

Obito’s lip lifts in a sneer. “I was human. And that life was nothing but suffering. Poverty, loneliness, despair...and then a violent, painful end before I was even a man. Can you really blame me for letting that bitterness overcome me? Life wasn’t, isn’t fair, Kakashi. Humans suffer, and they cause suffering. They must reap what they sow.”

“And what has she done wrong, beyond being at the wrong place at the wrong time? Do you really want to damn an innocent just because you suffered in life? That won’t reverse what you went through. It will just make someone else suffer, too. Let her go.”

All the while, Ryū watches them both. It’s clear they knew each other before Obito became a demon. And if Obito is telling the truth, then...it seems to her that he had every reason to be persuaded into a role like this, given what he went through.

Suffering begets suffering, after all.

...then maybe…

“You can’t break this contract, Kakashi. You’re hardly strong enough to have any influence here. It doesn’t matter if she’s willing or not. It was a done deal as soon as she spoke the incantation. One way or another, I’ll -!”

“I know what I want.”

Both men turn to her, expressions equally surprised.

“Miss, no - you can’t go through with this! If you do, your soul will -!”

“You heard the lady, Kakashi.” Behind them, Obito gives a bone-chilling smirk. “She’s made up her mind. And about time. What’ll it be, then?”

Gently urging Kakashi’s arm aside, Ryū steps forward, studying the demon. “...so, in order for the contract to be fulfilled...you have to complete whatever task I give you...right?”

“That’s right.”

“No matter how long it takes?”

“Yes. But we demons are very efficient.”

“...and the task can be anything?”

“Well...there are a few exceptions. I can’t raise the dead, for example. Can’t make you immortal. But most things are on the table. Tell me your wish, and I’ll let you know.”

She can’t help a dry snort at the word ‘wish’. As if she sought this out. “...all right, then. What I want from you is...to protect me from all possible harm, within your ability, until I die naturally. Only once I’ve lived whatever life you can allow me to live can you have my soul. If you purposefully allow me to be killed to try to complete the contract early, then you’ll have failed, and the contract is null and void.”

As she speaks, Obito’s grin slowly falls to a neutral, and then surprised expression.

Behind her, Kakashi gives a humorless laugh. “...so, rather than a guardian angel...you’ve snagged yourself a guardian demon. Well that’s a first.”

Ryū doesn’t reply, still looking at Obito. “...so? Is that on the table…?”

Sighing curtly, Obito looks aside as if trying to think of some kind of loophole. But after a minute of silence, it’s clear he can’t recall any. “...I suppose it is.”

“And because you’ll be performing your contract, there won’t be any of those consequences you talked about?”

“...in all honesty, I can’t be sure. I’ve never had a contract quite like that. The longest I’ve had to wait was a week.” He looks her over. “...you really want a demon to be hovering over your shoulder for the rest of your life?”

“I figure that’s the best outcome I could ask for, all things considered” is her quiet reply. “...besides, something you said struck me a bit funny.”

“...and what was that?”

“That you were lonely.”

His face goes slack. “...you...can’t be serious.”

Even Kakashi has no rebuke for that.

“You’re extending your contract to the fullest possible extent because a demon implied that they were lonely…? You must be a special kind of naive, lady.”

She gives a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “You’re the one who implied it, not me. Not everyone is a jerk, you know.”

He scowls, but doesn’t have a retort. “...all right, then. We shake on it...and your request will be set. No changing your mind. Got it?”

“Obito, I can’t let you do this!”

“There’s no can’t, Kakashi,” Obito retorts. “You couldn’t stop me if you tried. Buzz around her like an annoying little fly if you want. There’s no saving her.”

Turning to the other human, Ryū gives a somber smile. “I’ll be okay.”

“But -?”

Before he can try to argue, Ryū reaches out, and takes Obito’s hand.

The same rush of cold eddies around them, and Ryū can’t help but flinch as her hair whips around her face. Leaves kick up, the trees creaking as they get caught in the ethereal wind.

Hands still locked, Obito sneaks his other arm around her back, pulling them chest to chest with their hands pressed between them. A smirk curls his lips, hovering several inches over her own. “...it’s done.”

“This isn’t over, Obito!” Kakashi insists.

The demon turns to him, expression bored. “Well, I suppose you might have time to build up some power before she kicks the bucket. But I won’t be letting a soul go that easily, Kakashi.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” the demonologist replies lowly.

“Run along, then. Go bury your nose into your books and find some holy relics. You’ll be racing against the clock for this one.”

Glowering, Kakashi turns on a heel and leaves them.

“Finally, a little privacy,” Obito then sighs, giving a stretch. “You think he’d give that demonologist bit a rest…”

“So...you two know each other?”

“In a manner of speaking. But let’s not get into that, now. You’ve got a life to get to.”

It’s then that Ryū hesitates. “So...other people can see you…?”

“Only if I want them to. And even then a very small handful could otherwise. You’d be one of them, actually. If you had a bit more training, you might even be able to see what I really look like.”

“...you mean this is a ruse?”

He smirks. “...yes and no. This is my human appearance. I died at thirteen, but as a demon I’ve kept aging. This is how I’d look if I’d lived. But it’s not what I truly am, now. Not fully.”

“So I won’t have to explain why someone is constantly following me, then.”

“Not unless I decide to show myself. Which, for my own convenience, I doubt I’ll do often, if at all. I’d like this whole experience to be as painless as possible, since you seem to have it in your mind we’re going to be buddies in the meantime. Just think of me as a voice in your head that only you can see.”

...well, this is going to take some getting used to. But at least for now she has time. And it seems that this Kakashi guy wants to try and break this contract. Maybe he’ll succeed. For now, however...she’ll just have to adapt.

“...all right then. Come on. We’re leaving.”

“And going…?”

“Back to my dorm. I have homework.”

“You’re a student?”

“Studying to be a nurse.” She starts walking, and Obito follows.

“Riveting.”

“You’re the one who asked.”

Yes, this is going to take a lot of getting used to.

     This is...super random but I guess it works for the prompt xD I dunno anything about demonology or whatever, so this is...purely me winging it. Also any religious mentions are just for the sake of context. That’s another subject I know little to nothing about lol      A human (well, kinda) and a demon stuck in each other’s company. Surely nothing is going to wrong in this situation, right? Riiiight.      I’d...say more but it’s late and this weekend is gonna suuuck so I’m gonna go sleep. Thanks for reading!

[kinghoranshit]

Just Another Normal Story (HS) - PT 4

I cradled our daughter, Harmony, in my arms. I felt exhausted. It’d been the two days since she came into the world the morning of November sixth. 

A conclusion I came to about all of this was, at least it was happening when the weather's getting colder. Zombies couldn’t handle that, right? And we had the fireplace to keep the house heated if the power went out completely. We had no cable or internet though. 

“Nichole,” My dad’s firm voice filled my head. 

I looked over at him and he was giving me that look. 

“Dad.” I shot him a look.

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “We’re running out of food.” 

I shook my head. “No, not yet.” 

“Come on, Follow me.” My dad tilted his head toward the doorway.

I looked down at sleeping Harmony. I didn’t want to let her go. 

“You need to see what he has. I’ll take her,” my mother stated. 

Finally, I nodded and handed her over to my mom. 

We went down to the basement into his workshop and he handed something to me. The wooden crossbow I used three years in a row for my Halloween costume in high school. I had been a zombie slayer. Ironic, I know. 

I didn’t know why he handed this to me. It didn’t work. It was broken last I knew. But as I glanced at it in my hands, it looked brand new. 

“You fixed it up? Why?” I asked. 

“For you to use,” he remarked. “Become that zombie slayer.” 

I laughed. “Dad, it was just a costume and a joke. We both know I’m too scared of zombies.” 

“I’m scared of zombies too. But killing them takes it away little by little. Here.” He now handed a bag of metal arrows to me. 

“I don’t even know how to use this!” I exclaimed, trying to shove it back into his hands. 

“I’ll teach you. It’s not hard. Just a pull of a trigger and putting the arrow in is a piece of cake. One of the quickest reloading weapons.”

I shook my head. “This is fucking nuts.”

“What’re you going to do when you run out of supplies for Harmony? What if I end up dying?”

I kept my mouth shut. I already knew the answer. I felt this certain feeling surging from deep within my chest. The adrenaline kicked in at the thought of stepping foot out of the barricaded house. I hadn’t seen what it looked like in two days. It could be completely different. Or the same. Probably the same.

“Got anything I can practice on?” I asked. 

***

I wiped the gleam of sweat off my forehead as I panted. I walked over to take the metal arrow out of the bullseye target that had a botchy sketch of a zombie tacked onto it. My goal was to get in the forehead. And if the arrow didn’t go all the way through, I’d have to get up close and personal. 

“Nichole!” Harry called. 

“Yeah?” I yelled back, loading another arrow into the crossbow. She worked well. After a couple hours, I’d gotten pretty decent. Not sure I was good enough to go out yet. Well, mentally anyway. This surely would lead to major therapy in the future if we survived and somehow a cure came about. I already couldn’t sleep much, worried they’d break down the barriers and overtake us. 

“We’re out of diapers.” His figure appeared at the doorway of the garage. I could hear them outside every once and awhile. I was positive they could smell me through the metal door. 

I stared at him a bit blankly. “We can’t be.” 

“But we are,” he remarked. 

I felt my heart lurch into my throat. It wasn’t like I expected us to just hide away in the house forever. I was hopeful of it, but knew we couldn’t. It wasn’t realistic. 

I sighed heavily, grabbing the satchel of arrows, and continued to hold the crossbow in my hands. I walked in past him and into the living room. My mom was on the couch still, holding a giggly Harmony. 

“C’mon, Nikki, we’re going to Target,” my dad ordered, reloading his shotgun. 

“What? Just us two?” I shot.

He nodded. “Yeah. Harry will stay here with mom and Harmony.” 

“No, no, no.” I shook my head. “That’s a bad idea. We should stick together.” 

“We can’t take a baby out there,” my mom argued. “It’s too cold.” 

The thought from earlier popped back into my head.

“If it’s too cold for her, wouldn’t it be too cold for the zombies?” But I knew as soon as the words left my mouth, it was a no. “Nevermind.”

But then the thought of this thing from ‘Warm Bodies’ came into my head. “Do you think putting zombie guts on us would prevent them from smelling us? That way we can get more when we go to Target. We wouldn’t have to watch out as much.”

“That might work.” My dad nodded. “Harry, mom, and Harmony are still staying here.” 

I huffed in annoyance. I just had a bad feeling with them not being in my sight for so long. 

***

I pulled the green army jacket on over my blue plaid shirt. That which I wore with a grey tank underneath, denim skinnies, and brown combats. Why not? I never thought I’d actually wear this outfit again, but it seemed like an essential thing to do under the circumstances. My acting as a zombie slayer days were over. I was going to be one. 

Harry pressed his lips against mine. “Be careful. I’ve got it here.” 

I gave him a weak smile. “Remember, if too many happen to break in, kill the first one you see and put the guts on you. Then mom and Harmony. Mom has a pistol she can use.” 

He nodded and kissed me once more. I rested my hand on the back of his neck, holding him there. I wanted to feel his lips for as long as I could. It could be for the last time.

“I love you,” I whispered. 

He nuzzled his face into my hair. “I love you too.” 

I walked over to my mom and Harmony. I kissed my daughter’s head and looked into her big, very dark blue eyes. “Mommy has to go get you things. See you soon.” I looked at my mom and she had tears brimming her eyes. There was no way she was going to take my place. She didn’t have the agility to sprint or run long distances since her major car accident a few years back; she had to get medical nails in her ankle. 

“Stay safe.” 

I gave her a small smile. “Of course.” 

We left in my dad’s Ford F150 truck. I had my crossbow ready to shoot down any so they wouldn’t get into the garage. Luckily, Harry had the garage shut before any got in. I sat back down and shut my window. 

“How much gas?” I asked. My dad never really kept track of that sort of thing. 

“Three-fourths.”

I nodded. “Okay. Good. That should be good for a couple trips. But remember, we want to get as much as we can in this one trip.”

“I know,” he replied. 

I didn’t say anything else. I looked out the window. It seemed especially gloomy today. The sky was full of grey clouds, casting a white hue over everything. I could see a few moving figures as he drove. It wasn’t a long drive to Target. Only fifteen minutes. But every minute I was preparing myself. 

“Here’s the plan.” My dad turned the truck off. “You go ahead and get everything for Harmony. I’ll get the food. Remember to use the crossbow, and test your theory if possible. Got it?”

I let out a deep breath. “Yeah.” I reached back for the two duffels. I strapped one across my chest. This should be fun. 

It was dead silent as we walked into the dim lighted Target; must be barely powered by a generator. The glass of the doors had been shattered, so our boots crunched on the pieces. I mentally cursed. Here’s hoping that sound wouldn’t provoke any zombies that could be nearby. 

I wish the baby supplies weren’t set in the back part of the entire store. If I do run into a zombie, testing my theory would be the first thing I do. I made sure the walkie-talkie was still harnessed onto one of the loops.

“See you soon,” he whispered, splitting off, and left me alone. Nichole, don’t let your fear take over. You can protect yourself. Doing this for Harmony and Harry. 

I went for the smaller stuff first-- onesies, socks, shoes, blankets, pacifiers, baby wipes, toys. I wasn’t entirely positive what she all needs right now. I was just glad we didn’t need to get a crib; my parents had one for when John and Ellise visited. Oh God. I hope they’re okay. And Leo! He was no longer in Iowa as well. I didn’t want to think the worst but I already was considering we hadn’t heard from them at all. The satellite towers went out yesterday. It wouldn’t be long until our power was out I assumed, so we should grab extra batteries and candles. 

I zipped the duffel shut to make sure everything was secured. Next, I grabbed my last item, which would be the biggest and wouldn’t fit in the duffel. I held my crossbow up, ready to aim and shoot. I made fast and quiet movements to where the diapers were. My blood stopped cold hearing a shuffling sound. 

I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath. I turned around to see a guy who couldn’t be much older than me standing there. He was eyeing me good. His icy blue veins popped out all over the place. He growled at me. 

Despite my previous fear towards zombies, I couldn’t help a smirk. “Want me?” 

His eyes grew even more wide as he overlooked me more. I held my crossbow up and aimed for the middle of his head. Closing one eye to get better radar. There was another screeching sound.

Fuck. 

I pulled the trigger, watching the arrow fly and sink into the guy’s head. I tripped my way over to him, pierced it in even more just to be sure before yanking it out. I reloaded the crossbow with the same arrow and frantically rolled onto my back to aim. She was right above me. I could see the brain matter still attached to the cold metal and without a second though, I glided my fingers over it. The gooey sensation was not pleasant when it hit me. The smell wasn’t either as I wiped it onto my face; it was like expired dairy and throw up all in one. Gross as hell but worth it as I saw the skinny lady sniff the air, confused. She looked displeased when she couldn’t smell what she did before.

Slowly, I sidestepped around her and then bolted to find my dad. I grabbed the walkie-talkie. 

“Dad? Do you copy?” 

I didn’t get an answer then I could hear some cries and yells. Oh no. 

I sprinted the fastest I had ever in my life, looking down every aisle of food. Finally, I found him in the bread. Four or five zombies were going at him. It didn’t matter how it happened, I needed to do something. 

I held my crossbow up, aiming for one as I stalked towards them. I pulled the trigger and didn’t wait. I reloaded with another and aimed once again. I took down another. Now, just two were left. My dad still fought with the one holding onto his coat. So, I took down the other trying to help her boyfriend on their date. 

My dad smashed the zombie’s head into the shelf a couple times and his body fell limp. I reached my hand out and he gladly took it.

“The guts thing works?” he panted. I noted the scratch on his face and hoped that the virus didn’t transfer that way.

I nodded. “Yeah. Killed one over by the baby stuff.”

“I told you could get good with the bow.” He cheesed, picking up his shotgun and duffle. 

I rolled my eyes. “You got everything?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, I still need diapers. We should also get candles and toilet paper if there’s any left. Let’s grab em and get out of here.” 

“Don’t forget Gander.” 

Right…

***

I used a different walkie-talkie to contact Harry when we were back in the driveway. “Hey, we’re back. Open the garage.” 

“Okay,” he replied briefly.

The garage door opened and my dad pulled in. Harry was quick to get it closing. Once it was shut and we were in the clear, we carried everything inside. We grabbed like ten boxes of diapers. Each carried five out. Didn’t have to worry about zombies attacking us since we didn’t smell like food.

I went to kiss Harry, but he stepped back. “Please clean up first.” 

I smiled slyly before I grabbed his face and rubbed his cheek against mine. Nothing was going to transfer since it was dry. 

“Thank you so much, Nikki,” Harry retorted, dramatically wiping his face. He was definitely pleased to see no crud on his fingers. 

“You’re welcome.”

Next and final: 5

[Masterlist]

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #285

"do you have the time to listen to me whine about nothing and everything all at once?”

What does your car smell like? You assume I have a car. Would you ever let anybody else drive your car? ^ Have you ever met someone in person who you first met on the internet? Do you have plans to do that anytime soon? Yes, Sara. I want to visit her again, but right now I have no clue when that will happen. I have another friend that wants me to shoot her wedding that was planned for this year, but it was delayed to an unknown date, so. What was the last thing you used a blender for? A margarita. Have you ever got into an argument with a stranger on social media? Do you remember what it was about? Yep. There's been a couple. Has COVID had any impact on your Christmas plans this year? What’s going to change or be different to normal? Yes. Mom and I aren't coming while Ashley's inlaws are there at her house, and then I think we're going to my other sister's since she wants to cook? I've only really overheard Mom over the phone, I'm not 100%. I'm just. Going with it. What’s your favourite flavor of cake? Are you any good at making that kind of cake? Probably red velvet, or just double chocolate. I dunno. I love cake. I don't cook, though. Are you currently under any COVID-related restrictions where you live? Are people generally following the rules? Well, you're SUPPOSED to wear a fucking mask, but "it's a hoax" and "you can't make me" fuckheads don't listen, and it's poorly-enforced. You see people without them all the time. Do you still watch cartoons? I'm not opposed, I just don't watch television. Is anyone else in the same room as you right now? What is that person up to? No. Do you use Pinterest? Ha, I get most of my (unedited) avatars from there. It also gives me some pose ideas for photography. Are you wearing earrings? Ugh, no. I absolutely hate how the first holes stretched from heavy earrings. I need to get a proper tapering set if I want to actually use gauges (mind you, very small) so they look even semi-good again. I don't wear any in the second/upper holes because I think it just looks weird with nothing in the first. Do you know any sign language? Not anymore. In elementary school, we did do a play however where in one of the songs, we signed the lyrics. I remember zero. Have you ever gone on a service trip to an underprivileged country? No. Which breed of dog do you find most scary? None. Ever been to a pottery class? Not particularly, no. I've made pottery in normal art classes multiple times, though. When you were young, did you ever pretend to “marry” somebody? I have no idea. I don't have a specific memory. Don’t you just find it annoying when people get too much plastic surgery? Oh, fuck off. Is it your body? Is it there to boost YOUR confidence? Then your opinion doesn't fuckin matter. Are you the type who usually plays it safe? Yep. Who do you think about most? It's certainly not willingly, but Jason. PTSD kinda engraved his presence in my brain. How’s your grandmother? Both are dead. What’s your favourite type of cloud? Big, tall, and poofy cumulonimbus ones. Do you have a birthmark? Where? Does it look like anything? Yeah, a slightly darker brown blotch on the side of my right forearm, near the elbow. If you were blind for the rest of your life… what would you miss seeing the most? Probably people smiling. My nieces' and nephew's came to mind first. What is your most disappointing moment in life? I've been living it for years now. I'm not who I wanted or thought I would be at all. What is the best reward anyone can give you? Validation lmao. What is your favorite animal? List three adjectives to explain your choice. Meerkats, always. God, I can barely boil it down to three words. Loyal, complex, and brave will have to do. What is your favorite color? List three adjectives to explain your choice. Pink. Soft, pretty, gentle. What do you consider to be the most valuable thing you own: when you were a child/teenager/now? As a child, my big plastic crocodile named Marlin (yes, after the Finding Nemo character) that was the "main character" in my games of make-believe. As a teen, probably Rebel, the stuffed meerkat Jason gave me. Now, it's absolutely the pebble I got upon "graduation" from my partial hospitalization program. What’s the kindest act you have ever seen done? I'm not sure; I've seen a good deal. Thinking of only the ones I've seen in-person, uhhhh... wait. A couple days before my overdose, in desperation, I called Jason's house in the middle of the night wanting to talk to him. His mom answered, and she talked to me for hours with such patience and kindness to try and calm me down. I miss her a lot. Is Frozen one of your favorite Disney movies? No, I never really liked it. If you were an explorer, would you rather explore the Arctic Circle, Antarctica, or Alaska? Ohhh, Alaska. It's gorgeous and at least not absolutely frigid everywhere. How many blankets do you sleep with in the winter? I usually just have my usual thick comforter, but if I'm seriously cold, I'll grab another smaller one to wrap myself in underneath the big one. Do you know of anyone who was in labor or gave birth to a baby during a major snowstorm? HAHA my mama w/ me. Do you enjoy eggnog during the winter - with or without alcohol? EW. Do you dress any of your pets in seasonal/holiday apparel? No; I really dislike the concept of dressing your animals unless it's truly for their own benefit/warmth. Who was the last person to give you a gift? What was the reason for it? Uhhhhh. I have no idea. Are you a good cook? If so, who taught you? What’s your favourite thing to cook? NOOOOOOO. When was the last time something in your house broke? Did you manage to fix it or did you need to buy a replacement? Ugh, my laptop is fucked up. It's either the charger port, charger itself, or Mom thinks perhaps the battery. Her friend's husband is gonna look at it after Christmas. Is any part of your body hurting right now? What caused that pain? For once my legs aren't hurting. They almost always do from either muscle atrophy or them having been still for too long. The last time you made a sandwich, what did you put in there? It was just a normal 'ole peanut butter sandwich. What’s your favorite time of day? What’s your favorite thing to do at that time? First thing in the morning, because it feels like a new start. I like watching the sky change from pinkish to blue while I'm just sitting in bed checking everything. Where did you go the last time you left your house? I rode with Mom to her doctor's appointment. I didn't go in w/ her for obvious reasons, I just wanted to go on a ride and listen to music. If you eat steak, how do you like it cooked? What sauces or sides do you like to go with it? It has to be medium well. Idk what sauces are cooked into it that I like, because I don't make it. I like fries with steak, and probably Sara's mom's mashed potatoes would go well, haha. Do you prefer sweet or savory pancakes? What toppings do you have on them? I can't imagine me liking savory pancakes... I just like the usual: butter (not mandatory tho) and syrup. Are you someone who cracks their joints a lot? Which one(s) do you tend to crack and click the most? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO NO NO NO, I HATE THE NOISE SO MUCH. My lower spine pops a lot, though. Some fingers occasionally, too. Have you ever taken medication or tablets to help you sleep? Is this something you do on a regular basis? Yeah, I was taking Melatonin to fight insomnia for quite a while. I only stopped it because my mom was theorizing that it may have been making my nightmares worse, because her dad had AWFUL nightmares on it. I don't know if it did or didn't foor me, honestly. For you, what’s the worst thing about getting up in the morning? What about the worst thing about going to bed tonight? Knowing in the back of my mind that despite my hope, today's going to be the same as yesterday. I dread most nights the process of lying down and actually falling asleep, because it can take hours. Do you prefer regular or diet soft drinks? Not only do I think diet sodas taste bad, but the artificial sweetener gives me awful headaches, anyway. What do you tend to wear if you’re just hanging about the house for the day? I'm only always in my pjs. When was the last time you dyed your hair? Did you do it yourself or get it done at a hairdresser? Ugh... it's been a very, very long time. It was done by a hairdresser, but per usual, the color didn't stick well. I am DYING to bleach my hair so I can dye it pastel pink, light silver, or like a creamsicle orange. I edited some pictures of myself to "try" these colors on, and omg I loved them all. Does having to wear a mask stop you doing things? Is this because you struggle wearing one or you just don’t like it? Not really, no. I barely go anywhere at all though, so I have Have you ever witnessed a car accident? Or have you perhaps been involved in one yourself? Were you at fault? Yes; yes; no. How many books do you read in a year? Do you enjoy reading or do you have to really force yourself to sit down and read? VERY few. I've only just gotten back into semi-regularly reading since Sara got me into Wings of Fire. I have one friend though that is an INCREDIBLE bookworm; she keeps track of how many books she's read in a year, and she's already beyond one a day. It's incredible. If you have pets, where did they come from? A breeder, a rescue or maybe a friend who bred their pet? Roman came from Ashley's inlaws'. They have like an infestation of cats needing to be spayed, so they didn't at all mind letting me have one because I'd been wanting a cat for a long time. I love my baby boy so much. Venus came from The Gourmet Rodent, a snake breeding (and F/T rat provider, as the name suggests) business from Florida. I highly recommend them. Their customer service was fantastic when I was worried about Venus not eating. They even checked up with me a few months following my emails to ensure she was doing well. Have you ever seen an episode of My 600lb Life? No. I absolutely NEVER could. As an obese person who's been fighting her fucking ass off to lose weight for years, I don't want to be further depressed. Do you feel bad when someone asks you to hang out and you say no? Oh yes I do. Ngl, if I don't want to hang for whatever reason, I'm the kind that makes up an excuse to not seem *as* "rude" (quotations bc it's technically not rude at all, anxiety just tells me it is). When was the last time you turned down plans with someone? What did you decide to do instead? Ummmm I'm not sure. Have you ever had any “unusual” or exotic pets? If you could own any animal, what would it be and why? Do you consider iguanas or Chinese water dragons as "exotic/unusual?" Nothing stranger than that, really. I would never, ever own a truly exotic animal that wouldn't do well in captivity. I do however pretty desperately want to rescue an opposum one day, though. I positively adore them; they're my second-favorite animal. How often do you wash your hair? I don't even have a regular schedule for that anymore, honestly... I have to every time I shower because my hair gets oily FAST, but I try to put off showers as long as I can handle now because of how bad my selfcare has been for multiple reasons... What have you found the hardest about the current pandemic? Not seeing an end in sight because people are fucking dumb. Shit's not going to get better unless things drastically change. And what about the easiest? Has anything improved in your life because of what’s happened? Certainly nothing has improved. Not much has changed for me, considering I barely ever left the house to begin with. If you have multiple pets, do they get along with each other? Are they related or even the same species? They ignore each other, really. Surprisingly, even. Roman will sit on my bed and watch Venus slither about occasionally if she's out, even meerkat pose haha, and playful as he is, it's unexpected that he *does* mostly ignore her. What was the last meal you ate? Did you have anything good? Breakfast; I had Special K cereal. I've finally started to get back on track with eating okay. Do you live somewhere where strangers say hi to you in the street? Would you like to live somewhere like that? Where we live now, if you pass someone outside in the car, it's normal and really expected to give a little wave. That's very normal here in the South though, really; you don't just have to be in your own neighborhood. Have you ever tried any of those meal replacement shakes? The chocolate Equate ones are normal in my diet, actually. They're really not bad at all and played a big role in me losing ~60lbs before. Funnily enough, I haven't found a popular name brand I like, though. Cheap stuff isn't always bad. Do you make up silly nicknames for your pets or family members? "Silly" ones, not really, besides Roman. I call him "weirdo" and "crazy" a lot, but nothing truly unique. What’s your favorite thing to take photographs of? Are you actually any good at photography? Nature or boudoir (only shot it once, but I love it and the confidence it gives people). Being as modest as possible, I honestly do think I'm pretty good at it. Do you have anything interesting planned for the rest of the day? How about for tomorrow or the weekend? I haven't had anything interesting planned in eons, it seems like. Are you going to take the vaccine for COVID once it becomes available? Once it proves to be reliable and safe, hell yes. I'm doing my goddamn part in ending this shit. How much housework have you done lately? Is this more or less than usual? A bit more than usual since I haven't finished decorating my room since moving... I've been doing it very slowly and gradually. I need to just finish it already, I'm just so unmotivated. What gifts are you hoping to get for your next birthday (or Christmas, whichever one is coming up next)? I'm fucking dying to get my tat redone/improved. Been waiting since LAST Christmas when I didn't get to use my own gifted money. Do you suffer from any form of motion sickness? No. Do you contribute regularly to any Facebook groups at all? "I’m a member of plenty, but hardly ever post." <<<< Same. I react to posts a lot, though. Just don't really make my own. When was the last time you weighed yourself? Were you happy with the numbers you saw? Ugh... when I went to the doctor I think last week. I knew it'd be bad, but the verification fucking sucked. Since moving, I've gained ~30lbs. Have you got any chronic health issues? What do you do to try and manage them as best you can? YIKES I am a CATASTROPHE. I've got a dictionary of mental health issues that I'm not gonna go through individually, but I deal with them via prescription medications and therapy and sheer will. Who taught you how to drive? My driver's ed teacher. It was mandatory in HS. What was your high school mascot? A firebird. Did you go to your senior prom? Yes. What did you do after graduation? I very briefly went to a community college. What was your first job? GameStop sales associate. If my social anxiety wasn't fucking shit, I probably would have liked it. What did you want to be when you grew up? Somewhat in order: paleontologist, vet, movie director, game designer, animal biologist, video editor (VERY brief), and photographer. Writer, poet, and artist were always something I wanted to do in my free time OR full time if I was lucky. Do you remember the first time you drank a beer? I've never tried beer and don't want to. It smells fucking awful, and because my dad is a recovered alcoholic who was addicted to that in specific, I just want nothing to do with it. Did you ever try cigarettes? No. I have absolutely never understood the appeal, but with a very addictive personality and wild anxiety, I never wanted to risk it, anyway. How did you spend your summers growing up? LOADS of swimming in the pool, jumping on the trampoline, and just playing outside in general. If you could change anything from your teenage years, would you? I'd absolutely change how I found happiness only in Jason. Do you remember your first time? No, because at that time, I didn't really realize it was sex. I know that sounds weird, like "how would you not know?", but just trust me. I don't feel like retrospecting on it. I do remember our first *kiss*-kiss, though. How much did you make per hour at your first job? I don't recall. Favorite home-cooked meal growing up? I looooved spaghetti. Favorite place to eat out growing up? McDonald's, duh, lol. Did your parents live in a different country before you were born? No. They were from different states, though. Do you have a preferred coffee brand? Don't like coffee. Have you ever dated someone who was terrible with money? No. How often do you paint your nails? Never. Do you know anyone who's related to a current or former world leader? Not that I know of. Do you do your own taxes, or do you hire a professional? I don't pay taxes because I'm unemployed. What is something you don't have any natural talent for? Speaking. At all. What is something you frequently forget? "Numbers." <<<< BIG fat same. How do you feel about your body? How much I hate it is on my mind literally every waking moment of my life to some degree. Who is someone you would like to get to know better? So I have this Facebook friend Courtlynn who seems very similar to me, and I'd love to get to know her better. We interact via posts here and there, but have never seriously talked. What's your opinion on assisted suicide? I am very much for it when a person is in serious pain and recovery is not possible. Like one of my greatest nightmares is being paralyzed from the neck down, and I stg I would spite whichever fucker had jurisdiction over me living. That would be absolute torture for me. At what point do you consider a relationship to be "long-term?" A year, so long as you were consistently together. Stable. What jobs did your parents have when you were growing up? My dad's been a mailman my entire life, and he had a second job at Lowe's for a while as a carpenter. He hated it. Mom worked with computer data at the hospital when I was very young, and then she was an assitant and special needs teacher for a long time. Do they still have these jobs? Or different jobs? Or have they retired? ^ about Dad. It's his only job now. Mom is currently on disability. Do you have a cell contract plan, or are you on a pre-paid plan? Would you believe me if I said I'm unsure? Haha. I use a Tracfone, and my mom takes care of whatever plan comes with that, so idk. Would your parents be okay with you dating someone of another race? Mom, absolutely. I'm unsure about Dad. I mean he wouldn't *seriously* care so long as they were good to me, but I think he might still be kinda racist. Or he just jokes about it a lot (which should not be joked about, btw). Do you like when friends stop by unexpectedly? "No way lol. I’m very much of a loner and want to be “prepared” to spend time with people." <<<< Absolutely this. How strong are your feelings for the last person you kissed? I love her very, very much. What was the last thing someone else bought for you? Food, I'm sure. Are you attracted to the last person you exchanged numbers with? I haven't seen a picture of her in years, so I have no idea. I remember she was beautiful, though. Is music a daily part of your life? Not daily, no. Some days I only watch YT videos instead of listen to music. What do you think of country music? Not a fan at all. It's ironic considering it was my favorite genre as a little kid. There's the occasional country song I like (mostly ones from my childhood, though), but those are few and far between. Tim McGraw, now, I love. Did you go to your high school’s graduation? Yeah, even though I didn't want to. I didn't care enough about the actual ceremony. Who was the last person to message you on Facebook? What would you do if that person told you they have feelings for you? That would be the woman I took family pictures for. She's married and we barely know each other, so I can assure you she doesn't. When you apply your make-up, do you do it in a specific order? On the very rare occasion I wore makeup, yes. Eyeliner, usually eyeshadow, mascara, and most rarely, black lipstick. Does it matter to you if your significant other smokes? Yes. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? Mom, I think. Do you like where you are in life right now? HA. Is your mom overbearing? No.

[sparklebitch]

Keith telling his mom all about his wonderful boyfriend lance, and how much he misses him during their two years stuck together. Maybe krolia finally meeting lance after and she absolutely adores him and then tries to give Keith the galra version of the birds and the bees

I was in the middle of writing another fic but this one was too good to pass up alskjldaksjd. P.s. Slight plot changes were made so that Keith and Krolia don't find Romelle and they just return empty handed because this is just a dumb fic where Krolia tries to explain to Keith how to safely fuck his boyfriend.

Trigger warnings: none (unless you count second hand embarrassment lol)

Also minor nsfw (this is as close to nsfw as you're going to get from me suck it) and dumb comments made by Lance but what's new ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

~   ~   ~

"What are you doing?" Keith jumped at his mother's voice. He still wasn't used to it, even though it had been a few years since they had been stranded together in the quantum abyss. Keith panicked and crumpled up the picture that he was wistfully staring at.

"Uh, nothing" he sat up straight and tried to hide the object in his hand. Krolia eyed him suspiciously.

"You were smiling. But you are sad" she stated. Keith's cheeks burned brightly even in the dark of the atmosphere around them. Keith crossed his legs and cleared his throat, all while avoiding his mother's curious stares.

"Yeah, I was just... thinking of someone" He stuck his tongue in his cheek in an attempt to keep himself for saying anything more. He was never one to shut up about Lance.

Before Keith knew what was happening Krolia ducked behind him and snatched the photo out of his hand. She moved just out of his grasp as she unfolded and examined it. "He is pretty" she said absently as her dark eyes scanned the paper.

It was from a few months before Keith had found his mother. Nothing special was going on, but Pidge fixed up an old camera that was laying around and Lance insisted that Keith take pictures of him around the castle. The two of them paraded around the castle for hours looking for the perfect places for Lance to pose. Most of them were just silly, but this one... this one took Keith's breath away. He had taken it entirely by accident. Lance sat down in the window sill of an empty room, pointing out the places that he wanted to get his picture taken, and describing to Keith the elaborate poses he wanted to try out. Keith was fiddling with the camera, trying to figure out what some of the other buttons did when the flash went off, blinding the both of them. They fell to the ground in laughter after the initial shock wore off. Keith didn't even know how good that picture was until Pidge handed him the giant stack.

"Yeah, he is" Keith smiled shyly. Lance's hair was sticking up and beads of sweat were glistening on his forehead. He had a goofy smile on his face as he gestured to somewhere in the room. Behind him, a thousand stars shined, creating what looked like a halo above Lance's head. Words could never fully describe how Keith saw him. It would take him two lifetimes to even explain a fraction of the beauty he saw in Lance.

"You love him" Krolia said. It wasn't a question. She could see it in her son's eyes. His eyes were now comically wide as he stared at his mother.

"I- I- wh- Er-" Krolia ignored his nervous stuttering and calmly sat down. Keith wildy grabbed at the paper and then held it to his chest. Krolia chuckled.

"That is what I felt like when I first saw your father" Keith blushed and peered down at the worn image.

"I just... hope he's still there for me when we get back" Keith said worriedly. Krolia cocked her head.

"You are worried he is dead?" Keith blinked in surprise.

"What? No- I- Well, NOW I am" he squeaked embarrassingly. "I- I just mean... it's been a long time. We've been gone for- God, I hope he isn't worrying about me..." Krolia slowly wound her arm around her fretting son. He was going to worry himself sick. It was something that she often did herself.

"Don't think about that" she instructed. Keith had tensed when she moved closer to him, but now he was relaxing into her side. It was comforting. He never knew how much he missed being hugged like this by someone who cared for him. "Tell me more about him" Keith smiled softly and did just that.

~   ~

Keith stepped into the castle, his heart beating wildly out of his chest. Their mission had gone wildly wrong, costing them years of their life as they drifted endlessly through space on the back of a cosmic whale, and now he was walking back to Voltron, virtually empty handed. Aside from finding his long-lost mother and his new space-wolf companion, of course.

He could hardly breathe as he looked around. Everything looked the same as it had when he left. Not that he was expecting the ten-thousand year old castle-ship to have changed, but still. Anything could happen in two years.

But it wasn't the castle that he had missed so much during his time away.

With each step Keith moved faster and faster, weaving his way through the halls. The walk was familiar. He could hear voices as he grew closer. He quickened his pace.

"Shouldn't he have contacted us by now?" Lance's panicked voice rang out through the walls. There was a muffled voice as someone obviously tried to calm him. "He said he would call me! Something must've gone wrong! Hunk, I need to go look for him. What if he's hurt! What if he's out there, waiting for someone to go--" Keith burst through the door, out of breath, interrupting Lance's worried ranting.

"Uh, hey" Keith said, suddenly feeling both nervous and relieved. Lance was okay. And Lance was still looking for him. Lance stood in his spot, his hand still pointed at Hunk, his mouth wide as he was mid sentence. "I'm- I'm back" he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Fuck, I- God, that was- I'm sorry. Lance, I'm so so sorry. I didn't mean to be gone for so long... I- I can explain--" In a moment he was enveloped in a hug. Lance wrapped his entire body around Keith's. He clung to him tightly. It took Keith a moment to hug him back. He was shocked by his sudden movements.

"You scared me, Mullet" Lance muttered into Keith's suit. Keith was gross. He knew it. He hadn't properly had a shower in years. Sure, he cleaned himself in the waterfall but there was only so much you could do without soap.

"I'm so- God, everything just went so wrong and we got stranded in the Quantum Abyss and we didn't get out until just yesterday. If- if we hadn't found that abandoned ship when we did..." he shivered. He didn't want to think about it.

"We?" Lance asked. Keith noticed Hunk slipping out of the room as they continued to talk, still in each others arms. Keith loosened his grip slightly so he could see Lance's face.

"Yeah... Lance... I- I found my Mo-"

"Wait, are you taller than me!?" Lance shouted, completely missing what Keith had just said. "How long have you been taller than me!?" He let go of Keith and took a minute to examine his boyfriend properly. He was definitely taller. And his hair was much longer than it had been the last time he saw him. Lance trailed his fingers down Keith's bicep. It was something that he often did when they were laying in bed together. His muscles were more defined now. Keith was... bigger. "What the hell?" Keith got a slightly confused look on his face.

"Uh, yeah, I mean I wasn't just sitting around for the past two years. Me and my mom were busy building a shelter and training. Plus we had to hunt for food" he shrugged. Lance hummed thoughtfully. Then he process what Keith had said.

"Wait, your mom!?" he exclaimed. "You found you mo- DID YOU SAY TWO YEARS!?" Keith winced at the loudness of Lance's voice.

"I- Yes?" He said in utter confusion. Sure, he could've been slightly off in his math, but if it wasn't two years it was fairly close. There was no way he was that far off. "We got stranded in the Quantum Abyss, like I said, and we somehow ended up on the back of this... space-whale thing and thankfully it had its own atmosphere, otherwise we would've run out of oxygen after a few days... There was this space-fruit growing on it, and some animals that we hunted for food. I even befriended this space-wolf. I brought him back with me" Lance's face was frighteningly blank as Keith explained everything.

"Oh my god, are you brain damaged?" Lance said, looking horrified. "Fuck, I need to get you into a pod. Come on" He grabbed Keith's freakishly muscular arm and tried to pull him out the door.

"What? No! Lance! I'm not brain damaged!" He said adamantly. Lance stared at him skeptically. Keith balled up his fists and took a breath. "On my last mission with the Blade I... I found my mom, Krolia. She works with the Blade too. We escaped from the ship I found her on and- there was no time to call anyone. We ended up in the Quantum Abyss and then things went wrong... we got stranded and..." Keith trailed off. "How- How long has it been since you saw me last?" Keith asked suddenly.

"Two weeks" Lance replied, looking dismayed. Keith felt his shoulders fall. A pressure that he didn't know he was carrying lifted. "Are you saying that it wasn't two weeks for you?" Lance asked incredulously.

"Definitely not" Keith said, shaking his head. "Much, much longer" Lance seemed to deflate as he took in the information.

"Wow" he said after a while. Keith crossed his arms and nodded slowly.

"Yeah" Lance watched as Keith hugged himself tighter. How many times had he done that in the years he was away? Two years. Lance couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like. "It was... really hard" Keith said, not looking Lance in the eyes. "Being away from you for so long... I was worried that- that maybe you wouldn't be here when I got back and-" Lance's face broke.

"Oh. Baby" he cried as he rushed toward Keith, pinning him against the wall in a bone crushing hug. This time Keith hugged back immediately.

There was footsteps behind them, but neither moved. They didn't know who it was until they heard a loud "Oh, jesus". Keith rolled his teary eyes as Pidge walked in behind them.

"Keith are you really back?" Allura's voice rang out.

"And you didn't come see us first? I'm offended" Shiro said jokingly.

"Ugh, gross. He's sucking face with Lance. It's like he never left" Pidge said flatly. Keith wiped his eyes discretely and peeked around Lance.

"We're not sucking face" he said deadpanned.

"But we're about to so I suggest you get your ass out of here" Lance said without looking up. Pidge made a disgusted noise and promptly exited the room.

"Are we really?" Keith asked with a slight frown. "Cause if so, I think I should brush my teeth first. And maybe shower. Again, I was without basic hygiene supplies for two years"

"Right, right" Lance said, finally letting go of Keith. The room was empty aside from the two of them, Lance having scared the others away with his threat of making out with Keith in front of them. "Well, maybe we can... do something about that" he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He quirked his eyebrows and bit his lip, something he did when he was about to do or say something that was inappropriate. His hands snaked around Keith's waist yet again, but this time they dipped below his waist.

"What do you have in mind?" Keith asked, amused. Lance leaned in close, until his lips brushed Keith's earlobe. Keith shivered involuntarily.

"We could... do something dirty while getting you clean" he said suggestively. Keith held back the urge to roll his eyes, but the telltale signs of a blush was creeping up his neck.

"That's cheesy and also gross" he said, trying not to lean into Lance's touch. It was pointless. He could never resist Lance.

"Hm, well, we've always both been a little gross" he said as his lips traced the curve of Keith's jaw, his hands sliding up to caress the small of Keith's back. Keith's eyes practically rolled into the back of his head. Lance's hands continued to travel up to the zipper at the top of Keith's suit. He began to pull it down, achingly slow. Keith let out a low whine as Lance's lips hovered over his own.

"Lance" Lance smirked. "I missed you so fucking much"

"You missed me or you missed this?" Lance asked a little bit bitterly. Keith looked down at Lance, his face open.

"I missed you" he said earnestly. "More than you can imagine" Lance felt his ears go pink. He wasn't used to Keith being so open about his feelings. He swore it took him six months after they started dating to even admit he liked Lance. Without another word Keith gently put his hand on the back of Lance's neck and pulled him in close, until their noses were touching. Lance smiled softly.

"I thought you said you wanted to get clean first" he teased.

"Just kiss me, alright?" he grumbled. Lance laughed as he relented and kissed Keith firmly. Their mouths moved together in unison. Keith had been waiting for this moment for too long. Lance tugged on Keith's wrist, trying to move into the bathroom. They were nearly there, still moving against each other, desperate to make up for lost time when they were stopped.

"Keith- Oh" An unfamiliar voice spoke. The two of them split apart in an instant, both blushing furiously. Keith was now half undressed and was sporting a very uncomfortable boner, as was Lance, Keith noticed. "Oh, oh dear" Krolia muttered awkwardly, looking back and forth at the two of them.

"Wha- Who-?" Lance glanced at Keith who dropped his head into his hands.

"Uh, Lance... meet my mom"

~   ~

"Keith, I absolutely adore him" Krolia gushed. It had been several hours since he had returned now. After taking a proper shower, alone, he reunited with the rest of his friends and got to properly introduce his mother to them. He had spent a good portion of it trying to explain to everyone where he had been, and how long he had been gone. It came as a great shock to him that for them it was merely two weeks. It was actually a bit of a relief to him to know that Lance only had to worry about him for two weeks, rather than the two years that Keith had been worrying. He wouldn't wish that on anyone.

The others had left Keith, Lance, and Krolia alone to catch up a bit after hearing much of Keith's tale. He was worried at first about his mom meeting Lance, but the two hit it off really well. Krolia was practically rolling on the floor at Lance's jokes, even the more immature ones, and he had her swooning at his over-the-top compliments.

Keith was practically beaming.

"Hey, uh, I hope I'm not interrupting or anything" Hunk said, ducking into the room. "I just thought I would bring you guys some food in case you're hungry" he sat down a tray of fresh baked-goods on the table, along with a pitcher of something pink. Krolia nearly lept out of her seat when she spotted the food. Keith had spent the better part of a month talking up Hunk's amazing cooking.

"Hey" Lance nosed his way up to Keith. This was the first real moment alone that they had had aside from earlier when they were... interrupted. Keith pulled Lance closer to his side and brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. "I'm glad you're okay" he said, with a sad look in his eye. Keith pressed a kiss to his temple.

"Why so sad?" he asked quietly. Hunk was animatedly describing what he had made to Krolia across the room.

"It's just... You were gone for so long" Lance said, curling his hand into Keith's shirt. "Not for me, but... god I can't even imagine what it was like to be out there for two years" he got a faraway look in his eye. Keith gently tilted his chin up.

"Lance, it's alright. I'm alright. It's over now. And besides, I wasn't alone" he said with a smile. Lance watched as Krolia shoveled the croissant looking food into her mouth while loudly explaining to Hunk how they had eaten nothing but strange space-fruit and the meat from some species of animal.

"I guess"

"You were the thing that got me through it" Keith said, seeing that Lance was still worried. "Thinking of you. Every night I would fall asleep looking at my picture of you" he said as he tugged the worn and faded picture out of his pocket. It had been folded and wrinkled numerous times, but it had gotten Keith through some unimaginable times and there was no way he was going to let it go.

Lance touched the paper and then looked down at his lap.

"I'm so sorry that I didn't look for you" he said tearfully. Keith quickly dropped his hands and reached for Lance's.

"No, no, no, no, babe there's nothing you could've done!" Keith said frantically. "You would just been lost out there too and then who knows what would've happened..." Lance slumped into Keith. He was never leaving his side again.

"I'm still sorry" Lance said stubbornly. Keith cracked a small, fond smile and ducked his head.

"I'm sorry that I left" He said seriously. "So we're even, right?" Lance huffed and peered up at Keith.

"I guess" he said. His expression softened as he was no long able to hide his smile. "I'm glad you're back, Mullet" he said. Keith closed the gap and pressed a long, slow kiss to Lance's lips.

They broke apart as Krolia returned to her seat. She watched the two of them closely, an unreadable expression on her face.

"Keith" Krolia spoke slowly from the end of the couch. "I believe we... need to talk about something"

"Okay" Keith said with a frown. Lance glanced at Keith worriedly. Krolia's tone meant that this was nothing good.

"I think we need to talk about what happened earlier..." And just like that Keith's blush came back full force.

"Oh, god. Mom" he said with wide eyes. "Please no" Krolia shot him a pained expression.

"Please, Keith, don't make this any harder than it needs to be" She pleaded. Lance was completely still at Keith's side. "After... the event that transpired earlier.." she said uncomfortably. "It is clear that the two of you were planning to be... physically intimate" Keith let out an embarrassing noise.

"Oh my god" he said, mortified. This was not happening.

"I know I wasn't around when you were younger, but I'm here now and as your mother I have the responsibility to make sure that you are... safe" Lance shrunk away from Krolia at her words, burying his face in Keith's side. "Given your age, I assume you know the logistics of intercourse" Keith felt his spirit leave his body. This was not happening.

"Um" Lance stared wide eyed at the floor. Krolia ignored the weak protests and awkward groaning from the two boys.

"You do know the logistics of intercourse, do you not?" she asked. Keith let out a strangled groan. "Do I need to explain it to you?"

"God, no" Keith said uncomfortably. Krolia looked relieved.

"Very well" she said before continuing. "Now as I was saying before... When you have chosen a suitable mate, as the two of you clearly have" she said gesturing at the two. "Naturally after time you will have... desires" Lance nearly lept out of his skin when Krolia placed her hands on his shoulders. When did she move closer? "And you will want to act on them. That is normal- Keith? Keith, are you listening?" Keith turned to his mother, his lips pinched, his face bright red.

"M- Mom!" Keith whimpered, completely mortified to have to say what he was about to say. "We- We have sex" he said through grit teeth. Lance went completely still underneath Krolia's hands, which were still on his shoulders. "We've had sex before. We- We know how to be safe." Krolia blinked slowly at Keith and then turned back to Lance.

"Oh" she said simply, removing her hands and backing away. "Very well" Keith buried his face into his hands. Lance continued to sit there unmoving. He was already reeling from the news that his boyfriend had been gone for two years, even though for him it was only two weeks, and the fact that his boyfriend was not only taller than him now but totally ripped, but to top it all off his mother magically appeared and was now giving him the galra version of the birds and the bees!? Lance felt faint.

"Yeah" Keith said as he inched closer to Lance. Krolia pursed her lips and nodded slowly.

"I apologize. I just want to help you with something that a parent should do. I'm afraid I failed you in that aspect" she said apologetically. Keith relaxed slightly.

"Kro- Mom, it's okay. I understand why you had to do what you did" He felt Lance's hand snake into his own. They intertwined their fingers and shared a relieved glance. Keith had missed him so much. "You were trying to protect the people that you loved" Krolia nodded with a small, sad smile.

"Yes." She was caught up in the memories of her husband for a moment before she shook her head, dissipating the thoughts. "I was trying to protect you then, as I am now" she said. "And protecting myself now as well, I suppose" she added.

"What do you mean?" Keith said absently. He was still sharing a meaningful glance with Lance.

"I just mean that I only now got my son back, I don't think I'm prepared to be a grandparent as well" she said with a light laugh. Keith laughed along with her and then stopped abruptly.

"Wait, what?" Krolia smiled as she continued to laugh.

"Silly me, for thinking that my twenty year old son doesn't know how to safely have sex with his boyfriend. You obviously know all about preventing pregnancy" Keith's face heated up.

"Eh..." Lance glanced at Keith out of the corner of his eye. "So who's going to tell her?" he asked awkwardly.

"M- Mom" Keith choked out. "We- I'm not- We can't. We're both guys. There's literally no chance of either of us getting pregnant" Krolia got a puzzled look on her face. Lance couldn't take it anymore. He buried his face in Keith's shoulder and tried to hide his nervous laughter. He had never been more mortified than he was right now.

"Keith, dear, I know that you're both... male" She said, still looking confused. "Obviously the two of you could never have a human child. But being that you are part Galra-" Keith froze.

What.

"- I wanted to be absolutely sure that you to were being careful. I can't image the two of you want to bring a child into this world at this moment. Things are far to dangerous here. It would be nearly impossible to keep a child safe" Lance stiffened, his face still buried in Keith's arm.

"Uh..." Krolia looked at Lance, waiting for him to finish. But he had no other words.

"Of course if the two of you decide to have children later in life, after all of this has settled down I would be overjoyed to be a grandparent. And what a cute baby the two of you would make" she cooed.

"Wh- wha-" Keith's throat was dry. He coughed and tried to continue. There was no way... "What are you talking about?" he asked hesitantly. He had a terrible suspicion that he knew exactly what she was going to say.

"You- You are aware of the special... anatomy that Galra have?" She whispered, though it was practically a hiss. Keith's face went white as a sheet.

"His dick looks normal though" Lance said in confusion, finally peering over Keith's shoulder. However, as soon as he said the words he hid his face again.

"Well, yes. But Galra are able to... impregnate those of any gender" Keith's ears were ringing.

"Wait!" Lance screached, backing away from the two of them. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he flailed his arms in front of himself. "Are- Are you saying there's a chance I could be PREGNANT!?" Lance shouted in pure terror.

"Oh dear," Krolia said gently. "I- I suppose we should have that talk now, shouldn't we?" She gently grabbed her son's arm and guided him to a seat. "Let's start at the beginning again, shall we?"

Keith whimpered faintly.

[ravenwritesstuff]

Shelter (1/?)

Fandom: Frozen (modern AU, no magic) Pairings: Kristanna (Kristoff/Anna),previous Hanna (Hans/Anna) Rating: T for now, M for sure later. A/N: Just going to drop this chapter here. I have the second one written and the whole damn thing plotted but probably will never finish it (kind of my MO), so if you at least want the second chapter lemme know. I’ll post it, too.

...

Her hands shake as she sets her phone back on the counter. The pen in the other hand trembles above the pad of paper next to it as she looks at the date and time she had scribbled during the call.

We got in.

The thought loops in her brain and as the initial shock of it fades a smile rips across her face.

“Who was that, mom?” A sticky-faced first grader asks from the folding table across the kitchen, feet dangling as she does her homework.

Anna presses a hand against the butterflies in her stomach - feeling the words that will change their lives bubble up.

“It was the house people.” Now she has two identical pairs of eyes on her and she sees the mirror spark of excitement ignite in them at her words. “We got in, babies! We’re going to get a house!”

She lets her daughter knock her to the floor into a pile of giggles and tries to not let the fact that her son does not join dampen her joy.

….

“We’ve got all your papers in order now.” Gerda, her coordinator slips the last signed page into Anna’s folder with smile. “So now we have to discuss how you’re going to cover your sweat equity hours.”

“Oh. I am ready to get started right away.”

Gerda, a woman old enough to have heard this same sentiment a few thousand times, smiles.

“Now this is hard work.” Her tone is gentle. “And you have two young ones.”

“They’re in school during the day - and there are after-school programs I can enroll them in if I need to.”

She hears her own voice - so eager it hurts.

“We require four hundred hours.”

“I know and I am ready to do whatever it takes -”

“I know you are, dear. That’s why you were selected.” Gerda clasps her plump hands on top of the desk across from Anna. A well worn crease forms between her brows. “I’ve seen a lot of people come through here wanting to conquer the world in a week, but this is the long haul. We’re talking at least a six-month commitment, probably closer to a year, and on top of working towards your certification and raising children on your own -”

“I can do it.” She has been rebuilding her life from the ground up for the last four years - building a house cannot be that much different. “I can do it.”

Gerda’s lips purse. “It is just very important that you understand the length and seriousness of this commitment before we begin. If you back out at any point there will be no recuperation for any of the hours you put in.”

“I won’t back out.”

“Ms. Arendal - “

“I won’t.”

Two breaths then: “Fine enough. Then if you feel you understand what is required of you all I need is a signature here.”

Gerda pushes one last page to Anna’s side of the table. Anna signs.

“All right then.” Gerda takes the page before the ink even dries and passes a thick packet to Anna. “Here is your work assignment as well as rules and regulations. I am available for questions during normal office hours - but your best bet will be to direct your questions towards your site supervisor.”

Anna flips open the first page and finds a name.

Kristoff Bjorgman

“Got it.” She closes the packet and smiles. “I can’t wait to start.”

….

“And remember today you are going home with Miss Ariel and Melody.”

It’s a brisk Tuesday morning, spring not quite ready to stick, as Anna waits for the crosswalk signal to change. Her palms are clasped tightly around small mismatched-mittens as the red hand flashes to a white stick figure.

“We know, mom.” It’s her son, Aiden, and she doesn’t even have to look down to know he is rolling his eyes. Six-years-old going on sixteen - she winces but lets his sass slide this time. They’re running late as it is.

“Miss Ariel will help you with homework and feed you dinner and I’ll be over to pick you up as soon as I can.”

“It’s going to be so fun!” Brantley says from the other side of her, red braid swinging. “Can we have dessert?”

“It’s a school night. Miss Ariel has the same rules we do about desserts on school nights.” Anna squeezes her daughter’s hand, palm warm through the worn wool.

“It’d probably be something dumb like fruit anyway.” Aiden pulls his hand away as they step onto the opposite sidewalk.

“Nuhuh! Mom tell him to stop being such a grouch.”

Anna’s head swims. It is not even half past seven in the morning and she is already exhausted. Gerda’s warning about taking on too much pops into her mind, but she shoves it aside. She has to do this - not just for her children but for herself, too. She needs to prove to herself that she can do this.

“Aiden - honey - this is just how it’s going to be for a little while ” She has already explained ad nauseum to the twins that she cannot take them to the job site. As expected - one took it better than the other.

“Yeah? Well it sucks.”

Anna bites her lip. Aiden knows better than to use that word and she knows he is just trying to get a reaction out of her, so she tries to not let it show that it does. Instead she looks at him - his auburn hair poking out at all angles. How he has both the best and worst qualities of his father will always amaze her.

“It will get better. Things will just be a little harder for awhile.”

Aiden mumbles something under his breath, but she does not catch it. She does not even try. When they get to school - only Brantley kisses her goodbye.

….

She parks two blocks down the street from the site and runs.

“Are you Anna?” She hears a voice ask when she finally stumbles onto the site.

She turns towards the sound and is nearly blinded by the low afternoon sun. She squints and shields her eyes (from the sun and something else) but she still cannot make out more than a large shadow. The air is brisk but she is sweating, nerves working against her. It takes all of her courage to not step back.

“Yes. I am. I’m Anna.” She swallows panic.

“You’re late.”

She deduces that this must be the site manager - Christopher? She cannot quite remember from the papers, learned panic erasing her train of thought, and she can’t quite get everything in focus when her head and heart are spinning.

“I know. I’m sorry. My last client likes to talk and - “ She makes excuses all while digging her heels in against retreat.

He isn’t that kind of guy.

At least she doesn’t think so.

At least she won’t let him be. She takes a deep breath.

“You can pick up trash today.” He cuts her off before she even has a chance and it catches her off guard. Her tongue ties. “The dumpster is over there.” He points. “Ask someone to make sure before you throw any scrap in there. It may be useable, and don’t forget to check in to get your hours.”

Just as quickly as he appeared, he is gone and she is left slightly dumbfounded. She was uncertain just what she had expected as a welcome but that certainly was not it. She squares her shoulders anyway and looks around. The site is not exactly messy but she can tell there is clean-up to be done. She checks the time on her watch, makes note, and sets to work.

….

She’s lugging a discarded pallet towards the dumpster, muscles straining, hands burning.

“Hey!”

She hears the call but does not respond. No one here knows her well enough to hale her.

“Hey you!”

It is closer now, close enough that she looks up from her task to find someone striding towards her. The setting sun lights sets the fringe of blonde hair poking out from under his hard hat on fire. Frost edges his breath, pours from his mouth and she had forgotten how cold it is getting with the sun’s retirement. She’s only been on site an hour but she knows that this is the man who greeted her (site supervisor and from what she can tell total jerk) and the look on his face is none-too-happy.

“What are you doing with that?” He asks as he approaches her, adjusting the worn tool belt at his hip

“Taking it to the dumpster?” it comes out far more as a question than she wanted.

“Don’t. It doesn’t go there.”

“Where does it go?”

He is close enough now that he grabs the pallet from her hands as if it was a butterfly’s wing and she meets hard brown eyes. She tries not to flinch but her inside are quaking.

“I can take it if you’d just tell me -”

“If you wanna know you can follow me.”

He turns on a heel and she is left shaking in her thrift store work boots for one moment at his abruptness before she finds the strength to follow.

------

The next few hours go without incident. Everyone else on site seems to at least be pleasant and she hopes that whatever Christopher’s problem is that it will be resolved by the next time she sees him, but she isn’t holding her breath. She has experience with men and the depth of their moods, catered to them for longer than she should have, but she is done with that now.

By the time she goes to pick up the twins from Ariel’s she has all but put the gruff site manager out of her mind.

------

The next morning she is introduced to a new level of soreness. Even her fingers ache which is not good considering she had to give two facials and three Swedish massages today. She pops four Aspirin with her coffee and stretches at the kitchen counter.

“What’s the matter, momma?” Brantley swings her feet as she spills more cereal than she eats.

Anna smiles through a wince. “Nothing, baby. Just sore from yesterday.”

“From building our new house?”

“No. Not our house,” Anna looks at the clock. They are running late. “I have to help build another house before I can build ours.”

Aiden snorts. Anna pretends not to notice.

“When do you get to build our house?” Brantley asks and Anna wishes she had an exact date, but she doesn’t.

“I’m not sure baby, but I am working really hard to make it as soon as possible.”

“That’s so dumb.” Aiden swings his leg too hard and kicks Brantley under the table (whether on purpose or on accident Anna will never know) and Brantley yelps.

“Mom! Aiden kicked me!” Brantley’s eyes already well with tears and Anna wishes she could climb back into bed and start over.

“He didn’t mean to. Did you Aiden?”

Aiden shrugs and stares into his cereal. Brantley’s bottom lip trembles. Anna wants to set herself on fire, but instead she goes and ruffles her daughter’s hair.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. The table is small and he didn’t mean it. Did you, Aiden?” Anna pulls out her mom voice and it brings just enough attention from her firstborn for him to shake his head the negative.

Brantley sniffles. Her cereal bowl is almost empty.

“How about two more bites and then brush teeth, okay? We have to leave soon.”

Brantley shovels two spoonfuls of mostly sugary milk into her mouth and skips down the hallway of their apartment to the bathroom. Aiden stirs his spoon.

“You too, kiddo.” She takes the one step to the table (small kitchens had their benefits) and reaches to ruffle auburn hair, but he dodges her touch. He shoves back from the table.  

He starts down the hall, but not before she hears him mutter: “If you’d just made it work with dad you wouldn’t have to build a dumb house.”

A secret part of her heart crumbles.

If only she had….

She shakes her head. No. That wasn’t an option then and it isn’t an option now. She grabs their cereal bowls and takes them to the sink to scrub them. She may not have much control over her world, but she can control if her sink is clean or not.

She focuses on that.

------

She has never wished to die. She never will, but today - oh - today - she pops six Aspirin.

Aiden will not get dressed. Brantley forgot to finish a page of her homework and is certain now she will mess up her marks and is sobbing. Anna wants to cry, too, but there are things to do and clocks to punch and she has to try to pretend she care when all she wants to do is quit. She wants to curl up and sleep for decades, but she won’t.

She can’t.

She doesn’t.

It is a miracle they all get out the door with pants on.

------

It’s her fifth consecutive day on site and she has managed to avoid Christopher until now. She’s kept a careful distance since her first day, deferring instead to the assistant supervisors, not wanting to incur his wrath or be perpetually stuck on trash duty. He approaches her as she sands a windowsill.

“You should wear gloves.” He nods at the bandages on her hands where blisters had popped up from the rough work. “It helps.”

She is dumbstruck at first, surprised, then: “I don’t have any.”

He is doesn’t ask why. That level of sensitivity she can only attribute to him being used to that on this job.

“There are extra pairs in the bed of my truck. It’s the blue chevy right there.” He gestures with his head. “Help yourself, just make sure you return them.” He points at the tool in her hand.“While you’re at it go switch out your sanding block. You’re using the wrong grain. You should be using medium.”

And with that he is off and she is left with her head spinning. She watches him go join some other workers as they put finishing touches on the framework and sits there with mind whirring. She only allows herself a moment though before she shakes herself out of it and moves. She won’t over think it, this random kindness, even though she wants to. No. She will do what she is told. She will get a house for her children.

But when she finds his truck and the leather gloves just as he said there would be (women’s sizes included) she can’t help but wonder if she had judged him a little too quickly.

------

She forgets what time off means. She thought she had known busy as a single parent before she started with Habitat. Gerda’s warning resonates now, one week in.

I’ve seen a lot of people come through here wanting to conquer the world in a week, but this is the long haul.

It is a Saturday morning. Every inch of her body throbs. Her friends Belle and Adam had agreed to take Aiden and Brantley so she could be on site today and log some real hours.

She rolls to her side and plants her feet on the ground with head swimming.

Tears well in her eyes unbidden. She pushes them back.

This is just the first chapter of this new part of her life.

She has had many new chapters, new parts.

Each has brought their own pain.

This is no different.

She stumbles to the bathroom, sun still sleeping, and flips on the light. She grabs the Aspirin and dry swallows four tablets.

Today is going to be a very long day.

_____

It is lunch on site (her first yet) and she forgot to pack one. Between trying to get the twins ready for the day and her exhaustion she had forgotten to pack food (not that the selection in her cupboard was great but it was better than nothing). She is four hours into an eight hour shift and all she has to eat are the fruit snacks she had stashed at the bottom of her purse for the twins.

She eats them quietly on the outskirts during break, trying to not draw attention, trying to not worry about her aching stomach. Then:

“Hey. Why are you eating all by yourself?” It is the lovely young woman she had noticed from one of her first days on site but had not yet met.

Anna just shrugs. She’d kept to herself since arriving, not mixing with the others, not sure if she was allowed to or if she was okay with allowing herself to.

“Get your behind over here!” The other woman waves and Anna hates to deny but also hates to let them know her failure, to let them know she has no lunch to eat.

Still she goes, uncertain how to deny, and sits as far aways as she can without being rude.

She has seen all of these workers at different times during the week, but they are all here now. She does not know if they are staff laborers or placement seekers like herself. Still, she smiles and tries to act like she belongs.

“Hi,” she waves low from her lap and everyone smiles.

“I’m Tiana,” the invitation giver offers introduction, dark curls falling into hazel eyes.

“I’m Anna.”

“You getting yourself a house?”

Anna blinks, the abruptness of her new acquaintance startling, but she nods her head.

“Good. I am too. Fact is all of us are. You are either going to see me or Naveen - that’s my husband - on this site till one of us drops dead or catches on fire.”

She looks at the ragtag group for the first time in earnest. She’d been so focused on the work that she had failed to notice how many of them  have the same second hand clothes and dime store boots she does For the first time she breathes a little easier. She’d known that others would be working on the site but she had somehow missed the connection that they might be just like her.

“I’ve only just started but it feels like I’ve been at it for years.” Anna laughs a bit, but it falls flat.

Tiana’s face is serious.

“Days like that come often, but you have to remember why you started. Write it down. Stick it to your bathroom mirror and don’t let anything stop you.”

This woman’s determination sends shocks through her and she sees the mark of struggle on her face the same as she feels inside. Anna thinks of her children. She thinks of the life they had before she’d left their father. She remembers that final night when -

She clenches her fists and forces a smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t forget.”

Tiana smiles knowingly and shares her hard boiled eggs with her.

------

The spa smells like lavender and money. She knows she is lucky to have landed this job out of school but still she cannot help but feel the weight of it. The clientele, the volume, the pressure to bring in more clients.... It alls adds up.

Ariel comes in between appointments, a lunch break she wishes she could just push through and work but has to take.

“How are you?” Her lilting accent is unnoticed by Anna, by everyone else at the spa who used to work with her. They are used to it.

“Fine.” She takes the salad Ariel offers her. It isn’t quite warm outside yet, but where they sit on the bench a few doors down from the spa the sun makes up for the difference.  

“Yes?” The way she phrases it as a question makes Anna feels defensive,

“I’m. Fine.” She stuffs salad into her mouth as if to prove a point.

“Okay.”

They eat in silence for several strained bites, then:

“Aiden isn’t doing well.”

Anna has to hold back the REALLY?! that is brewing beneath her skin because she knows. She knows more than Ariel wants to imagine, and even the silent admission from someone else make it more real somehow. Ten million doubts and questions assaulted her at once. She is not enough, she cannot be enough, she is failing her children, if she had just made it work with -

She shuts that train of thought down.

Ariel shut that down with her preternatural understanding: “I know.”

They eat more salad before she continues with:

“He asks about Ha - uh - his father.” Ariel stumbles a bit, her native tongue different than Anna’s and there are moments of translation - transition - where her polite nature wars with her curiosity.

Even with her friend’s tacit strategy - it is salt in the wound.

All she has done in the last three years is try to get past that - try to get past him - but she has made her choices and he is one of them. She has come to accept that. She chews and swallows a hefty bite of romaine.

“He’s mad at me. He doesn’t remember anything. He doesn’t understand.”

Ariel is silent then. They haven’t covered much of her marriage, but enough that Ariel understands what she means. She reached out and grips Anna’s forearm, stills her eating, and looks her dead in the eye.

“You did the right thing.”

Anna wants to melt into the reassurance, to snuggle down tight and swallow it so that all she feels inside and out is safe and warm and right, but all she feels is cold. All she feels is worn. All she feels is sore.

She looks back at the salad Ariel brought her, suddenly uninterested.

“I know.”

“Have you ever - you know - thought about talking to him about it now that he is older? Telling him why his father isn’t around and where he is now?”

Anna shakes her head. Those who know her best, who know the truth, occasionally ask her this, but she is not ready. It is just easier to take the blame than it is to tell her children the truth, to let tell them their mother is a coward and their father a criminal.

“He wouldn’t understand.”

Ariel is quiet for a moment, taking a few bites, then: “He is your kid so you have to do what you think is right, but I think if you ever tried to explain you would be surprised.”

Anna stabs at her salad, suddenly very not hungry.

“Yeah?” She mumbles. “Too bad I hate surprises.”

-----

She is massaging one of her (very few) regulars when there is a gentle rap at the door. The spa typically never interrupts a session unless something is urgent. She murmurs a quick reassurance to her octogenarian client (whom she is fairly certain is asleep) before slipping into the dim corridor where the salon coordinator relays the news.

Aiden is in the principal’s office.

Again.

She takes the call and arranges a meeting - head pounding.

She returns to the small, dark room she works on and to the massage she had been giving but she can hardly focus. Her mind is a dizzy whirl of schedules and conflicts and she is just not sure how she can make this all work.

But she can.

She will.

She has to.

[queerspeculativefiction]

Don’t forget to buy milk

Was talking on the discord about old writing in the first person and went and re-read some stuff and still kinda fond of bits in this one even though it’s hella old and clunky.

Story under the cut.

The stairs make a sound when I walk on them like a puppy whimpering from its master's kick. Did it always creak like that? I can't remember, like I can't remember yesterday, my brain stuck on repeat.

I am following old notes like a guide to a past I had quite forgotten. Little scrawled maps to dark corners and kicked puppies. I should never have come back here.

...

The phone call had come a week ago. A voice on a distant line giving condolences I did not need. He was dead. An accident. Gone. The shadows of memory turning into just shadows, now forever unconnected with reality. No more.  

I didn't cry at the funeral. I stood there in stony silence, watching the coffin being lowered. Just me and the priest and some curious bystanders. I stood there and I did not cry, and then I went back to the house. This house. My house. The house he had lived in. That I had lived in a  long time ago.  

Ten years. Was that a long time? String enough moments together and you can convince yourself it is a lifetime. Walk enough steps and you can fool yourself into thinking they can never be retraced. Look up at the sky and it is still the same moon, staring unblinkingly down at both of you.

...

I slept in my old room that night. The bed was still there, the covers dusty like everything else. Had he just left this room alone? Untouched. Was he hoping I would come back somehow? The thought made me sad, even though I didn't want to grieve. Hate is easier than sorrow. Had he missed me after I had gone? Had there been a hole in his life?

When I woke up in the morning, the mirror was broken. Had it been broken when I went to sleep last night? Had I got out of the bed, sleepwalking, smashing my own hated reflection? There was no blood on my hands. Such a kind lie. My eyes stared back at me, my face faceted as if viewed through the eyes of a fly.  

There were no flies here. I always remembered flies, buzzing in the heat of the summer, but this was winter and they lay dead on the window sills. Mummified little corpses. Dirty windows. Someone had drawn symbols on it, happy little suns and trees and houses. No dog. No people. Someone had written 'mommy I miss you' and the fingers were too large for mine.  I didn't dare to compare too closely, fearing that I would be caught in the glass, a reflection haunting a deserted past.

...

I found the first note in the bathroom, it simply said 'remember'. The handwriting was mine. I pulled it down and wrote the words again below it to compare. The same pen even, the common bic blue. I didn't remember writing it, and I didn't remember what I was supposed to remember.

The milk in the fridge had gone off. The carton smelled like murder when I opened it, curdling milk like vomit as I poured it into the sink and rinsed the carton. Had it been off when I bought it? The note on the fridge said 'buy milk' and it was my handwriting again. I should go and buy milk, but it was raining outside and that always made him anxious.

He's not here anymore. I need to remember that. He is dead and the house is mine alone. I do not need to lock the doors anymore, but I do anyway, each frame of wood a barrier between me and the past. Barriers breaking down. Some locks have scratches around them, little gouges made by screwdrivers and scissors. The paint scratched. But the house is old and the wood is solid and holds its secrets.

...

I hear the handle rattle in the night and scream myself awake in the abandoned darkness. Nobody to hear. Nobody at the locked door. Everything is quiet but my panicked heartbeats. I turn on the bedside lamp and the bed is filled with notes. Little yellow post-its scrabbled with messages. Little reminders to a past I would forget.

'Lock the doors,' one of them said. 'He can Hear you breathe,' said another. I crumpled the rest without reading, turning them into a yellow ball of advice and accusations. 'How Dare you Bitch,' still stuck on my retinas. How did I dare?  

I didn't want to die. That was the simple truth of it. I didn't want to die, and eventually I realized that if I stayed, I would. So I did the only thing I could and left. Washed my hands of my past and my mistakes, trying not to remember. Vowing never to come back.

But I remember now. And I have come back.

...

'The CELLAR.' the note had said, left on the bathroom mirror, now smashed like the others. The house kept breaking around me, one piece at a time until I was no longer sure whether it had always been that way. The wallpaper in the living room now hung like shredded skin, revealing the childlike drawings beneath it. They had never truly covered them, in the right light the red shapes still shone through, like butter stains on cloth. Now they were revealed in all their hideous glory.

Hate is easier than grief but how do you hate your own flesh? Your own blood? Worse, how do you fear it? I stood there staring at the pictures, hearing the slap echo through my memories. The first blow. I remember how it felt. First the betrayal. Then the fear. Then the little traitorous thought 'there is something wrong with his eyes.'

Something wrong. Something creeping, cutting, captured on notes now forgotten. Butterfly wings broken and put back together. I remember writing in a diary, then tearing out the pages, flushing them furiously because there were no words for my feelings. Forbidden, even for myself. Even when the puppy disappeared, when the flies started hovering around the cellar door. It was winter now. No flies. The door to the cellar gaping open like a wound.

....

The stairs make a sound when I walk on them like a puppy whimpering from its master's kick. Did it always creak like that? I can't remember, like I can't remember yesterday, my brain stuck on repeat, skipping notes like a scratched vinyl record. I am following old notes like a guide to a past I had quite forgotten. Little scrawled maps to dark corners and kicked puppies. I should never have come back here. But I did.

I am walking down into the darkness, in the cold and in the memories. The smell surrounds me like a wet embrace, old and dank and invasive. I flick the light switch and the bulb refuses to work. There had been a note on the fridge. 'Buy lightbulbs,' it had said, next to 'buy bleach.'

The beam of the flashlight catches the wall, the stairs and the floor. Marking the way. I am descending now, I have to. I can't stop. The wrapped forms down there could be carpets but I know they are not. It is winter and there are no flies, and no heat down here. The bodies are old. Desiccated. Faces distorted through the plastic. Barely recognizable as human. The flashlight shatters as it drops.

....

I should tell someone I suppose. I should call the police and tell them what I found, what I always knew I would find. Instead I walk back up, closing the door behind me. I would have locked it but the key was gone. 'Buy a padlock,' I write on on a yellow post-it note and puts it on the cellar door. My hands are shaking and I need a drink, but when I go back into the kitchen the fridge is open and empty. 'Get a flashlight,' I write, then adds 'and vodka.' Maybe I will go outside later. Not now.

I take the knife in my hand and looks at it. I put it to my chest, the matching scar under by shirt tingling like ants had crawled over it. Fifteen years ago I was stabbed, thought I would die. I lay on the floor in the kitchen and bled, and when I hunch down I can still see dried blood stuck between the floorboards. I didn't call the police then either. I just couldn't.

There is a bottle of wine left and I drink it, hands shaking. I walk around the room screaming at the shadows, fighting ghosts in empty rooms. The smell of evil is everywhere or maybe it is just the unwashed laundry. A decade of it, worn and worn again until some of them were stiff with filth, the washing machine unused. I put a note on it. 'Do the laundry.'

...

Maybe if I hadn't been his mom, those are the words that escape me while I get drunker, tonight like all the other nights. What kind of mother would admit being afraid of their own son? Not me. I would lock the doors and forget the looks, the glares, the way he randomly hurt and kicked and struck out at everything. Homeschooling. I could handle it. Nothing was wrong. He would mature. Grow up. He had not meant to kill the dog. He was just curious when he cut it open. He didn't understand that he hurt me when he kept hitting me with things.  

'But he did,' the little voice in my head insisted. He did understand. That was why he did it. The blows. The words. The growls. I didn't dare to hit back, not after the first time. Not after I'd seen those eyes. He would kill me if I did. He would get the door open and crawl into my bed and stick a knife in me. I was his mother and he would still do it. And them one day he did.

And I left. He was fifteen and I ran away, it should have been the other way around but the house was his territory and I had just hoped he would stay there. He knew how to order in, I made sure there was always money in the bank account and I just ran and tried to forget. Sleep in strange hotel rooms, under stranger men, trying not to keep an eye on the handle. It never turned.  

I never turned back. Until now.

...

I am living in this house now, surrounded by memories and ghosts. I write notes to remind myself what I forget, and sometimes they answer back. 'Lock the doors,' they tell me, 'it is not safe.' The stairs still creak, and I can't remember why I shouldn't go down there. The darkness holds secrets, and the last note on the door just said 'NO'.  

'Buy an axe,' I write. 'and pens.' The notes are running out but there is always the walls. And the windows. 'help' I wrote in one of them, my hand sticky with red though I no longer remembered why.

There are no notes left to remind me.

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

Forget Me Not Jim Mason x Reader 50 First Dates AU Pt 2

@michael-langdon-appreciation

Y/N couldn’t look away.

The blue eyes were part of it-the only thing familiar on Jim. Even they seemed slightly different, though, as she’d never seen him stare back at her with quite that expression before.

The one that said he was a split second away from swooping in to protect her. Which she might have liked the idea of in principle, but right now, no way.

After two months of having people walk on eggshells around her, she did not need another babysitter. Especially not Jim. Her own big brothers were more than enough of a pain in the patootie. Having the guy who turned her insides to sexual jelly acting all sympathetic and concerned-

Nope.

She wanted him looking at her with a grown-up expression, not as if she were delicate china. Even if currently she was concentrating very hard to stay vertical and not dash back to the bathroom.

Stupid stomach flu.

Another wave of dizziness struck. "Jim-this is fun and all, but I need to call it a night.”  Jim blinked before straightening, the entire solid package of male shifting awkwardly toward the door. Like he was hesitating between reaching for her or following her request.

She slipped past him and caught the doorknob, swinging the door open so she could use the solid frame as an anchor to keep herself vertical.

"Okay. I'll go." He paused. "You need anything?"

Y/N clutched the door harder. "Twenty-four hours' shuteye, but thanks for asking." Jim paced forward reluctantly. "I hope you’re feeling better soon."

She lasted until he was in his truck before she locked the door and raced for the bathroom. Classy. Elegant. Way to impress the guy. She couldn’t muster the strength to feel embarrassed. Crawling into bed after she'd rinsed her mouth was the only thing on her mind.

Although the feverish dreams she had that night of Jim Mason doing dirty things to her were a lovely distraction.

Two mornings later the flu was still hanging on, though the nausea was no longer a 24/7 thing. With the fresh taste of toothpaste lingering on her tongue, Y/N strolled into her living room.

Medina had taken up residence on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table. "Sick again?" she asked.

"Duh." Y/N lowered herself gingerly into a chair. "You're the master of the obvious today. Stupid flu bug will not let go of me."

A pale pink box flew across the room, and Y/N caught it instinctively.

"If I’m the Queen of obvious, then you’re my lady in waiting. Flu, shmuu."

She twisted the box toward her, reading out loud. "First Hint. The early pregnancy detection- Hokey spit.Medina."

"If the morning sickness fits ..."

Protests at this point were futile, but there were other more important issues. "Please tell me you didn’t buy this at the local Safeway."

"You think I'm stupid?" Medina folded her arms across her chest. "I was in CVS Pharmacy yesterday. No one we know anywhere around, and yes, I looked. Now go pee on the stick so I can tell you I told you so."

The whole idea was stupid.

Impossible.

But...

The twinge of doubt at the back of her brain was enough to tip Y/N into caving. "Stay here,” she ordered. "I don't need supervision."

Her friend had already opened the box and pulled out what looked like a small stir stick. She held it forward. "Have a ball." Medina retreated enough to give Y/N a moment’s privacy, but she had to admit it was kind of nice to have her there as they stared at the stick lying on the counter.

"If that thing let off a bang about now, I bet we'd both scream loud enough they'd hear us in Winterfell,” Medina quipped.

Y/N looked away for a moment to brace herself. If it was positive, what then?

Pregnant.

On top of everything else?

"How could I be pregnant, Medina?"

Medina held the stick in the air, the two pink positive lines clear and bold. Undeniable.

"Fuck." Y/N leaned on the bathroom door, working to calm her breathing. "Okay, I can deal with this. It's not the end of the world. It's ..." Bursting into tears was the last thing she’d intended, but it happened. A moment later she was being supported by Medina’s firm hug. Petted and coddled all over again like her brothers had been doing for the past two months, but this time she wanted the pampering. At least for a few minutes.

When she pulled herself together, Medina handed her a fresh wad of tissue to replace the set she'd ravaged. Y/N wiped up the last of her tears. "Thanks for being a brat and bringing me the test."

They shuffled awkwardly for a moment before Medina sighed. "Not much use hanging out here unless you want me to try to break into your passwords on the computer again."

"That’s not important right now. I have other things to worry about." Y/N groaned. "And now that I know why I'm sick, I guess I'll find some ways to feel better."

"Rest. More vitamins." Medina nodded. "I'll do some research."

One great big secret that was only going to get bigger. Literally bigger. Y/N wandered into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea while she considered. There was a person growing inside her. She tossed a piece of bread into the toaster, staring out the window as the timer  clicked down, the noise echoing in the silent house.

A baby.

click. click. click.

It was clear. She was going to be a mom.

Now the mystery was...would there be a dad or not? That one wasn't nearly as cut and dried.

Jim stared at the house, wishing he’d done this right the first time, immediately after getting home. Six days was as long as he could wait before nearly going stir-crazy. Bubbling inside were far different emotions. Holding back was too much to ask, and he didn't want to wait any longer.

Y/N needed to know what they’d done. What they’d agreed to. She’d had time since the accident. If their relationship ended up being another issue to deal with, at least they’d deal with it together. That didn’t make him an asshole.

He knocked on the door, anxious to get started.

The woman who greeted him was still on the green side, and his heart went out to her even as his gaze took in the rounded curves under her housecoat.

"You still sick?"

She shrugged. "Feeling a bit better. What's up?"

Had to seem strange since he didn't usually drop in on her like this. Not before they'd ... "I need to talk to you."

Y/N frowned. "Something wrong with my brothers? Or at the office?"

"No, nothing. This is personal."

That only seemed to confuse her more. "Give me a second to pull on some clothes, okay?" "No, nothing. This is personal."

He shook his head. "I needed to talk to you about your accident. More specifically, the night before."

Y/N collapsed onto the couch. "This is old boring territory, Jim. I don't-"

"Humor me. I know it's boring because you’ve said it a million times, but I haven’t heard it."

"I was out for the night. Went home. Got my car the next morning, and went off the road into the ditch and bumped my head. You think book or movie options would sell better?"

He ignored the snark. "How did you get home from the bar?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it quickly. "Oh. You drove me. Thanks, if I didn't say it before."

Damn it.

Jim let a growl of frustration escape. “Y/N, We weren’t worried about our please and thank-yous when we got here that night."

Her eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"

He lowered himself beside her on the couch and slipped his hand over hers. "Something happened that night. We both wanted it, and if I hadn’t gone north, we'd be together now."

Her entire body went rigid. "Together, as in how?"

Jim stroked her fingers gently, willing her to at least remember his touch. "We made love, Y/N. A bunch of times. And it was hot and amazing, and I can't wait to do it again."

The pallor of her skin brightened as twin red spots flushed her cheeks. "We...made love. After you drove me home." Her confusion was understandable, so he nodded and went on.

"I know it was shitty timing, not only because of the accident, but because I had to leave the next day. I'm so sorry I wasn’t here for you. Sorry you had to deal with your accident without me around, but I intend on being here for you from now on. No matter what you need."

Y/N stomped away a few feet before twirling on him. "Okay, that wasn't nice. I'm glad you feel like one of the family, Jim, but I certainly never thought you were the type to be willing to sacrifice your entire future on a whim like this."

Somewhere their wires had gotten crossed. "I have no idea how me being a foster kid, or your family, is even involved in this discussion, or what the hell sacrificing my future means. Before I left we said we would work on being together. On spending time and getting to know each other more."

Quite honestly she grew even more confused, agitated even. She couldn't remember any of this, her mind seemed to have a road block.

"Sweet sentiment, especially when you toss in having a kid. Babies aren’t something you can return to the store when they become inconvenient, Jim."

Wait. What? "Babies? What are you talking about?"

She froze with her mouth open as panic slipped into her eyes.

A pit opened in front of Jim, and he stood with one foot in midair over the unfathomable depths. He took in all the signs, lined up the data, then waited for his ability to speak to return. "Wait, are you telling me you're pregnant?"

Holy shit.

Holy fuck.

Holy crap.

Y/N took a deep breath before muttering her response. "So. That went well."

"Answer the question." Jim narrowed the gap between them. "Are you serious? You're pregnant?"

She frowned. "You sure you didn't know?"

"How could I know? Oh man, Y/N. I had no idea." Jim wasn't sure his feet would continue to hold him. It might be a cop-out, but the room was wavering. "I need to sit down." He stumbled backward and collapsed onto the couch. Y/N was pregnant. They'd had sex, she'd had an accident, and he... They. She.

Jim lifted his gaze to meet hers. "How far along are you?"

It was her turn to pause. "Oh, shit, you’re not serious, are you?"

"About what?"

Y/N dropped into the seat opposite him. She made the most hysterical face as she scratched her head. "Good grief. Okay-for the sake of discussion, let’s assume you’re telling the truth. You drove me home and we spent the night knocking boots."

"It is true."

She glared at him. "Let me talk this through without interruption, or I will kick your ass out the door."

His head was still spinning from trying to process the idea of a baby on the way. "You've gotten an attitude since I left," he observed.

"Comes from being knocked around and knocked up." She stared at the ceiling before leaning forward and asking very earnestly. "Now if we did the horizontal mambo, was there a reason why I'd be pregnant?  Did we not use a condom? Did it break?"

Jim shook his head. "We used protection, every time. Including in the shower."

Her cheeks went bright red at his comment, but she pushed forward. "Then it makes no sense. It couldn't be you. If...you know, we did what you said."

"It can happen. Condoms aren’t fool proof, and we were pretty enthusiastic." His stomach was in knots. Jim paused. He wasn't trying to get out of his responsibilities, but it would be stupid not to get all the details. "You had the accident the day after I left. Not to be indelicate, but have you been with anyone since?"

She snorted. "Are you freaking kidding me? I’ve been lucky to go shopping without supervision. Jim nodded. "I can believe that. Okay, then. Mystery solved." He dragged a hand through his hair, wondering if he should go hug her or kiss her, or do something other than sit like a bump on a log as he attempted to get over the shock.

Y/N grimaced. "Urn..."

He saw her, heard her, but his brain was racing a million miles an hour.

A baby.

Sweet mercy, he’d had one night with Y/N, and they'd gone and got her pregnant. There was so much wrong with that in so many ways he could barely put one thought behind another. He wanted her. Wanted to care for her, and be there for her. Being a father? Not on the list of things he had planned. Not today, maybe not ever.

Time to think was good. Jim resisted glancing at his watch, because he didn’t give a fuck it wasn’t even noon. His thinking time was going to require a couple hard shots of liquor. "I'll call you this afternoon."

She shook her head. "Tomorrow."

Blast it all. Jim took advantage of his height and crowded her. "Look, I'll admit it. I'm more than a touch floored right now, but that doesn’t change what’s important. I care about you, and whether or not you believe me, I know there is a good possibility I'm the father of your baby. So we can think things through, and talk about them, but there is one thing I want to make clear right now. I will be in your life, Y/N. I will be there to help you, and there is nothing you can say that will change my mind."

For the first time since their strange conversation had begun, a faint hint of a real smile teased her lips and the lines at the corners of her eyes softened. She laid a hand on his crossed arms. "Thank you."

He didn’t remember leaving. Next thing he knew he was in his truck tearing down a quiet back road. The radio remained silent while the snow blanketing the fields rose and fell like an endless sea around him.

Y/N was pregnant, and he was going to be a father.

Flash back to 1 year ago…

Y/N started on her favorite thing at breakfast time. The waffle house. She had finished the structure then was having trouble with the door. The piece fell in the house and Y/N  was digging it out carefully with her fingers. Oh no. please don't ruin the house She pulled the piece out and tried again and almost lost it again.

All of a sudden she heard a voice, "Y'know, why don't you try this?" She saw a toothpick go through the piece of waffle house to be the door. She looked up at where the voice came from and saw a guy about her age looking at her. "Now why didn't I think of that?" She said kind of shyly. She kept avoiding eye contact with him. "Well you're too close to the project, don't be too hard on yourself."  "You're right." "Sometimes you need an outsiders perspective."

Jim looked at her and smiled. "A fresh eye never hurts." "I'm Y/N." She looked in his eyes and was waiting for his hand to meet hers. He stretched his hand out and grabbed hers with both of his hands. "Yes." "I'm Jim Mason." "Nice to meet you." Their hands let go and they kept staring into each-others eyes. Then Henry broke the silence by saying, "It's pretty, keep up the good work."

"I see you're sitting there alone." "Um, do you want to come sit down?"  "Sure, Sure." "That would be great." Jim whispered. "So are you an architect?" She looked into his eyes. "I am not, I work at an aquarium." Y/N smiled. Then looked at him. "Oh, so that's where the smell is coming from." She could see the embarrassment in his eyes. "Yeah, yeah I was feeding the walruses this morning and I thought I got most of it off of me, but I guess not." She saw him take the lemon out of his water and rub it on his hands. She kept staring down at his hands thinking in her head. She then smiled. "I love that smell." "No you don't." "Fish don't even like that smell."

"The best smell in the world." Jim's eyes met Y/N's again and then..."Well, my fingers are available for your sniffing pleasure anytime you need them."

One year seemed like ages ago, Jim held down a job at the time at a local aquarium in PV. The first time he had ever met Y/N was at a local diner, a fond memory but one she may not remember. Jim was deep in thought during the drive, if she didn't remember then he guessed that if he recreated them maybe it might jog her memory.

It was like some nightmare she couldn’t quite wake up from. The only thing keeping her from flipping out completely was the knowledge she had a roof over her head for the long run. The house was hers, lock, stock and barrel, an inheritance from her mom, along with enough money to make being a single mom bearable until the kid was in school and she could work more full-time hours.

And... It wasn’t right, but the other thing grounding her? The expression in Jim's eyes the other day-So serious. So determined and solid in spite of his surprise about the baby.

She leaned on the wall and practiced breathing out her frustration in time with the slow, steady scrapes of the shovel outside her door. Whoever had been clearing her driveway, and the even rasps were strangely calming.

Eventually the noises stopped, and the doorbell rang. She  expected to see one of her brothers, although they usually stormed in, no matter how often she asked them to knock. Instead it was Jim who leaned on the shovel he’d just finished using on the sidewalk. Somehow he still managed to look all dangerous and sexy even considering the pink plastic handle.

He grinned. "Morning."

Y/N glanced past him at the walkways. "Morning. You've been busy."

She opened the door and let him pass. He'd toed off his boots and followed her into the living area.

They settled across from each other, his gaze staying firmly on her face. Y/N ignored him best she could as she gathered the papers strewn on the table.

The silence stretched on for far too long.

"So..." Jim broke off then cleared his throat. "I hate that there's this wall between us. I'm not going to walk on eggshells anymore, so if I step over a line, tell me to go to hell, okay?  We can stop this stupid awkwardness and be honest with each other."

"Fine by me." Y/N leaned back and waited for whatever bomb he wanted to drop this time.

She shrugged. “Life goes on as usual. I try to get over this stupid amnesia as it relates to numbers so I can go back to working at the garage. I take it you'll be starting up at the shop?"

Jim  frowned. "I meant what about us?"

Oh boy.

"I..." He wanted honesty. Y/N lifted her eyes to meet his square on. "I like you, Jim Part of me really hopes what you're saying is true because I've would like to get involved with you. I am just frustrated I don't remember anything about us.Of course, that means if we did fool around and I've forgotten, I'm doubly pissed off, because I'd been waiting forever, and it's just wrong to have lost those memories. "

His smile had widened the sexy one that melted her butter faster than it should. "Trust me; I can hardly wait to make some new ones."

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. She held up a hand as if to ward him off. "But we can't. Not yet."

Confusion crowded his expression. "If you want to be with me, and I want to be with you, then why aren’t we getting together, Y/N? Why aren’t we facing the future, and your pregnancy, as partners the way we should?"

A wave of sadness and frustration rolled over her leaving her exhausted. " I admit that I do like you, Jim, but as far as I know we've never even kissed. How on earth can I simply go 'hey, okay' and dive headfirst into a long-term relationship with you? None of it makes sense, and not being sure is frustrating me more and more."

Anger boiled over, and she whipped the pillow from her hands. It spun across the room, narrowly missing a table lamp. Y/N  pressed her fists against her temples as she fought to settle down.

Stupid hormones. Or maybe the "new Y/N ” had triggered her over-the-top response. The one with far too much vinegar in her blood.

Jim hadn’t taken his gaze off her. Jim was on his feet in an instant, gently rubbing her upper arms as he made soothing noises. He pulled her against his chest, and it wasn’t sexual, just comfort and understanding.

Y/N twisted her face to the side, slipped her arms around him and accepted his hug. Let the warmth of the embrace twine around them. Let the smooth repetitive touch of his hands down her back relax away the tension. She stood there in his arms for a good five minutes before all the frustration and fire had eased off enough that she could finally take a deep breath.

Jim squeezed her a little tighter. "I'm here for you. Like this, if nothing more. My commitment has no agendas, no deadlines. Just one moment after another until we make it through."

Under her cheek his heart pumped out a smooth, even tempo, and Y/N clung tight. To the firm support of his body and gentle touch of his hands. While she wants him  in some half-dreamed-of sexual-fantasy world, right now things were still so unsettled.

It was nice to have one solid place to stand. One solid individual she could lean against who helped stop the spinning, even for a moment. She stepped away from him reluctantly. As nice as it was to have his support, she wanted to get her life back .

Credit to @carolthors

[weeklyhumorist]

Everyone Gawking at Me at This Skate Park is Failing to Focus on the 47% of Bones I DIDN'T Break

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I am so pumped! Yesterday was an amazing victory for me, as I attempted a very simple skateboard trick, flipped into the air a thousand times, crashed face first into the cement, and managed to not break 47% of the bones in my body. I think I speak for everyone — from the girls at the skatepark who wept in horror at the sight of me to the paramedics who vomited when they saw my mangled body — when I say HELL YES, this was a complete and total victory for me as a skateboarder and anyone saying otherwise is fake news.

  And yet today, all anybody is talking about is how I broke about 53% of the bones in my body and lost what the doctors called “all of my good skin.” These complete idiots, like especially the doctors and my mom, have totally lost sight of the fact that this is obviously exactly what I wanted to happen. Also does anyone have a torso sized band-aid? My spleen keeps getting out.

  For anyone who still doesn’t get it, let me spell it out for you: EVERYTHING YESTERDAY AT THE SKATE PARK WENT EXACTLY AS PLANNED. I WANTED to put my skateboard on the ground, I WANTED to look around to make sure everybody was watching, especially Stacy, who I have a huge crush on, and I WANTED to yell, “PAY VERY CLOSE ATTENTION TO ME, BECAUSE I’M ABOUT TO DO SOME SKATEBOARDING,” and then start to put my toe on the board, stop one more time and say, “MAKE SURE YOU ARE SPECIFICALLY WATCHING, STACY” and then put one foot on the skateboard, push off gently with the other, and then, somehow, on a flat smooth surface with no obstacles in sight, dramatically fall off my skateboard so hard that I spun in the air a thousand times, and, while suspended in air, simultaneously scream, cry, fart, and quote the most intimate pages of my diary, until crashing to the ground so violently that the park is now rated R, which is not something that has ever happened to a park before as far as I’m aware. I can’t believe I have to spell this out for you dummies, but, uh, YEAH: obviously, this was a win for me.

  My performance at the skatepark was a referendum on my skateboarding skills, and the results are in: GOOD AT IT.

  Yesterday, as everyone watched my body flailing wildly in the air, hands desperately snatching for something — anything — to hold onto, but finding nothing, they were all so smug, saying to themselves, “Oh my God, he’s going to break every single bone in his body.” But guess what, idiots? Today, x-rays of what doctors have been referring to as “my salvageable parts” have revealed that I absolutely victoriously only broke a mere FIFTY-THREE PERCENT of my bones, and that’s why today is embarrassing for them and great for me, the person whose femurs have somehow “dissolved” and whose legs the doctors say are now “legally considered Pixie Sticks.”

  You know what else those doctors said when they were trying desperately to comfort my mom? That usually when you have a horrific skating accident like I did, you expect to lose a number of teeth, and yet I appear to have somehow GAINED several molars. Don’t ask me how that happened, and don’t bring up the fact that it’s weird that while teeth are technically bones, they aren’t counted as part of the skeletal system! What we SHOULD be spending this amazing day focusing on instead is the fact that my arms broke so completely that if you flick my forearm, it’ll spin around like a pinwheel.

  I was talking to the little birdy I see on my shoulder now that my brain is 90% blood, and I said, “Just you wait, little bird. My mom is going to call my dad in a horrified panic, and she’s not even going to MENTION the 47% of bones I didn’t break.”  And I was right: typical frenzied “he broke 109 bones, what do we do?!” mom-type panic. And do you know what my friend, that little birdy with the spinning eyes said to me? I thought it was so wise, he said, “Trevor. TREVOR. Trevor, can you hear me? Oh, geez. Hey Bob? Hey honey? Bob, he’s zonked out again, I really think we need to call Dr. Rossenstein back.”

  THIS IS A CELEBRATION. Say it with me, all my spinny-eyed bird friends: Forty. Seven. Percent. Of. my. Bones. Are. Not. broken. Except. For. a. Few. that. The. doctors. Say. are. At. least. Fractured. And. we’ll. Need. to. Wait. for. Some. further. Results. But. to. Be. clear. I. should. Not. take. That. information. As. a. Good. thing. As. the. Bones. In. question. Are. not. Bones. You. should. Have. been. Able. to break. And. so. Even. a. Fracture. At. this. Point. Is. pretty. Serious. Are. you. Even. listening. Trevor. Trevor. I. really. Need. you. To. trevor. Hey. trevor.

  Those body parts that worked with me while I was suspended mid-air, screaming, “I want my mommy!” and doing loud fear farts, did very well. Those body parts that did not work with me, say goodbye! Actually “say goodbye” is literally what Dr. Rossenstein said I should do with to most of my organs, who he says are now what the science community refers to as “medically smashed.”

  To any of the doctors or moms who do not give me proper credit for this great skateboarding trick, I just have one thing to say: please get me a Kleenex. After successfully skateboarding my face into the ground, my nose just has one big, open nostril now.

  My mom won’t say this, so I guess I have to: I just wanna re-state how truly enormously proud I am of myself and what I accomplished by only breaking 53% of the bones in my body. For all my enemies, especially Dr. Rossenstein and my mom — YEAH, the Kleenex with aloe, Mom, what the hell do you think?!

  Sorry. And I just wanna say how truly happy — YES OF COURSE I WANT THE WHOLE KLEENEX BOX. I really am so — WHY AM I IN SUCH A BAD MOOD, MOM?! I DUNNO, MAYBE CUZ I JUST FULLY SMASHED MY ENTIRE FACE AND BODY EXACTLY LIKE I PLANNED ON!

In conclusion, I’d just like to say, tremendous success out there, also I never actually wanted to be a skateboarder, I just wanted to wear baggy pants and lean against stuff and now my bones are gone and I’m so unhappy. Thank you all!

  Everyone Gawking at Me at This Skate Park is Failing to Focus on the 47% of Bones I DIDN’T Break was originally published on Weekly Humorist

[chronicbatfictioner]

Theater of the Soul - Chapter 20

Thanks to Barbara and Dinah — and to no small extent, Diana Prince's — collective efforts; the news of Napier's death and investigation were kept to a minimal. As Barbara predicted, the local police had started with the more 'obvious' suspect: Jason. That, too, was kept out of the news. At least in Gotham.

When Jason was finally able — and allowed — to tell and reveal the things he remembered of the times following the accident, he was accompanied by Bruce, Barbara, and Dr Kent Nelson. The whole questioning by the police took part at the hospital, in Jason's room. Although Jason had asked for Tim to be there, too, Tim had to miss it - the police came at seven a.m.; clearly expecting Jason to be alone. None of them must have predicted Bruce and Barbara coming from the Wayne Tower penthouse - located right next to the hospital. Nor did they expect the insistence of Nurse Crystal Brown — Stephanie's mother — to not leave Jason unsupervised by an adult until Dr Kent Nelson arrived, mere minutes before Bruce and Barbara came in.

Jason's smile at Stephanie when Tim brought her in was majestic.

"Thanks for having your mom look out for me, Blond-- Steph." he said, quickly correcting himself.

Stephanie shrugged. "I told her it was you who'd gotten me to theater. All she said was not to follow your footsteps further." she grinned mischievously. "...and you still may call me Blondie. I liked having a nickname."

Jason laughed. "Ha! Yeah, I agree. I'd tell me not to follow my footsteps, too. But it would be kinda moot. Besides, this adventure is far from over, I think."

And oh, boy, was he right. Again, Tim had to give Barbara credit for somehow being able to manage the company while running an investigation under the radar.

They had eventually decided to hire Victor Sage, who had ended up interviewing Jason only with Tim present - by Jason's own consent. There was virtually no gaps from what Jason told Dr Nelson and the cops with what he'd told Sage.

Jason had recalled a few fights while he was somewhat unconscious, both involving Danny or Ellie; and Tim was certain that if Sage — or the cops, for that matter — would cross-check Jason's words against Danny or Ellie, they would corroborate the stories. Sage confirmed it a few days later, as he called with the report of having chatted with Danny and Ellie, and their mother.

What Sage brought along was the news that the local police had not come to either Danny, Ellie, or their mother. That, in Tim's mind, confirmed his suspicions that the cops would likely blame Jason for Napier's death, and blithely overlooking the underlying issue of Napier holding Jason prisoner and neglecting his injuries.

For the legal defenses, though, Barbara finally decided on Kate Spencer. Spencer, a former ADA of Gotham City before she 'crossed over to the other side' and became a Public Defender, was well known to be a ferocious defender of the wrongly accused. She was also known to flat out refuse to defend criminals or those she knew to be guilty. In spite of the numerous complaints from said criminals, she did not care, adamant on only defending the innocent.

"We need to come up with a different angle." she said when they gave her Sage's report.

"So relying on the lost street kid with daddy issue is no longer in the books?" Dick quipped.

"Definitely not. That might work for you, Grayson. But not in this case." Spencer said. "I would like your permission to dig through Wayne House's business deals." she directed the comment to Barbara.

"What are you looking for? I'm not going to forbid you from looking, just maybe I can help if I know what you're looking for." Barbara replied.

"That's what I don't know, actually. There could be something in the papers — finances, deals — that lead to Napier or, presumably, the person who wanted Napier dead. There has to be a cross in there somewhere. There is just no rhyme or reason why Napier would zoom in to Jason instead of Grayson here, for instance. Or maybe even to young Drake here - he's got some assets of his own that Napier could assimilate without much fanfare or effort."

Tim blinked as a schematic started to appear in his brain. "Oh, I think I know what you're looking for. The first question of a murder is not 'who did it', right? It's 'who benefits'." he said. "You want to see if anyone other than Napier would benefit from his own death."

Spencer glared at Tim with such intensity that Tim reflexively curled back into himself and kind of hide behind Jason. "You... I think you would've been a more beneficial hostage, but I can also see why you'll be more of an effort. You're smart..." she paused and looked at Jason. "not saying you're not, just..."

"No need to backtrack, lady, Timmy is a genius. Not smart. He'd seen a scheme from miles away even before anyone come close." Jason waved her off. They have decided on having the meeting in Jason's hospital room, and Jason was quite happy with it, he did not feel like he was being left out. But for Tim, the main reason would be the fact that Barbara has full control of all kind of surveillance devices within the hospital. If there is an anomaly - i.e. a bug or a hidden camera; she would know right away. "What scheme then, Timmers? Care to share with the rest of the class?" Jason prompted, prodding Tim to get out from behind him.

"I'm not sure yet.." Tim admitted reluctantly. "It's just... I thought it a bit-- kind of jumping the gun with the way Napier had built his scheme. He would not need to get you seen in LA's theater industry like he'd done. He would not need to make you visible in the industry, even by booking you the shows you've deemed to be small gigs. He could just get you there, and then ditch you, banking on the idea that you won't call Bruce to get you home out of shame for doing small gigs instead of 'major' LA shows." he explained.

"Even if he wouldn't call Bruce, Jay would've called me." Dick pointed out. "Or Babs, or you."

Jason nodded. "Yeah. Probably Dick, though - he owed me fifty bucks. Still owe me, actually." he said, pointedly ignoring Dick's dirty looks at him. "I'm not stupid enough to not know how to call collect." He added, maturely emphasizing his statement by sticking out his tongue at Dick. 

"Or he could've gotten you hooked to drugs or alcohol - quicker still even with you resisting." Tim pointed out. "I'm just reading out all kinds of scheme here - maybe more of the 'fallen angel' trope of Hollywood."

"I don't and won't do drugs, ever." Jason replied. Then he paused, looking at his IV line. "Okay, maybe once my pins are out, I'll stop. But this thing is prescribed." he added defensively, pointing at the IV.

"That's just saline, you only have painkillers when you go to sleep, and the next painkillers are on standby for physical therapy sessions." Barbara told him.

Jason glared at her in surprise. "What?? You mean I can ask for painkillers after physical therapies?? Why didn't you tell me this yesterday?" he demanded.

"Well, you didn't look like you need it." Barbara pointed out. "They did give you one at night, didn't they?"

"I was miserable the whole day!" Jason protested.

"Guys? Focus?" Dick groaned. "Tim was giving us his theories here."

Jason pouted, but returned his glare to Tim. "Go on. I might be persuaded with alcohol, though. But turning someone to an alcoholic can't happen overnight."

"Right. Worst case, but simpler scenario, still, he could just trafficked Jason out of the country." Tim continued. "Instead he just drugged Jason and dumped him out of the way. I'm still not... clear on why."

"I think he just wanted to destroy Bruce." Jason shrugged. "I mean, we all know who Bruce's favorite son is." he added with an waspish grin toward Dick. "And by that I mean the one Bruce would move mountains for. Taking me would not make him move mountains."

"He would, too!" Dick protested. "But, anyway. Regardless of the 'why,' you're still not answering the 'who benefits' question." Dick reminded.

"That's just it. I can't see Napier benefiting much from destroying Bruce. If he wanted fortune, he could just... collaborate, maybe?" Tim mused.

"...on Burlesque shows?" Dick scoffed. "No offense, but he should've collaborated with the Kane House for that. Not us."

"I agree," Jason nodded. "So when did Kane House asked to join again?"

"You're not expecting Kane House to..." Dick gasped.

"Oh no, no. Just curious." Jason clarified. "I mean, I've told you before I left that at this rate, the only houses that would remain in Gotham would be the Wayne and Cobblepot--"

"That's it!" Tim suddenly exclaimed, startling Dick and Jason.

"Jeez, Tim, warn a guy!" Jason retorted.

"Sorry, guys. Just... that's just it. No one would benefit if the Wayne House is destroyed but two: Kane House or Elliott House." Tim said. "Kane House had opted to join Wayne House, due to their familial ties. Elliott House?"

"Mama Elliott have been whistleblowing that she would rather merge than vanish..." Barbara said. "But her son... not so much."

"I thought Tommy Elliott is a physician?" Jason said. "Why would he care for theaters?"

"I don't know. Buuut..." Dick shrugged. "It's the most... well... plausible thing I've heard."

"Right, so we'll bookmark that theory for now and look for supporting evidence." Spencer remarked. "I need to be in court in an hour, folks, so if you'll please excuse me."

They thanked Kate and ordered some Chinese food for their dinner - even after the protests of the nurses. Hey, Jason has problems with his legs, not his tummy. And he's a growing boy. Or so Jason claimed. Plus, it's not like he wouldn't eat the hospital food, anyway. Not even the threat of gaining too much weight to hinder his physical therapy session could deter him from eating.