#also when i went to a county fair and almost the same shit happened
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comfycozycrossfox · 1 year ago
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anyway no fucking solidarity like nic addicts. it’s a COMMUNITYYYYY
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the-grubdog · 1 year ago
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Bigass Bernard Backstory Headcanon Because I Can't Be Stopped
Bernard was raised by just his dad. IDK what happened to mom, nor do I care to explore that. He was just raised by his dad. And his dad worked for a space company of some sort as a janitor. Took his son with him to keep an eye on him, as the company had a daycare service on board for travelers and employees alike. This allowed Bernard to travel around a lot at a young age, which utterly fascinated him. He's probably bothered a lot of the crew members when he sneaks away from daycare, always wanted to go see the pilots but was always stopped. They'd spend a little time at home, during which Bernard would go and see Santi (who he considered his best friend; Santi barely knew him and just thought of him as that one weird kid who showed up on occasion). His schooling was almost entirely homeschooling during this time.
But when he turned 13, he aged out of the company's daycare program. His father was panicking trying to figure something out, but ultimately ended up having to just. Leave him at home.
Fortunately, though, he had help. See, they lived in Bumfuck Nowhere, Nijo. The entire county went to the same school district, and each grade level was still only a little over 100 students each. His neighborhood was literally three houses with 5 minutes of walking between them, all smack dab in the middle of the woods. His neighbors kept an eye on him, best they could anyway. In one direction were the Lawrences, an old couple who's own kids were adults by this point. They were grumpy, stubborn, and traditional, but they cared for Bernard all the same. They raised chickens and a vegetable garden, and would provide him with free food (veg and meat). Even taught him how to do certain tasks relating to gardening and animal care. Mr. Lawrence's rule on food was that you could take as much as you could carry. Bernard would strain himself carrying as much as he could, which did lead to him building a fair bit of muscle.
Celestine was new to the area, so they helped each other figure out stuff like where to go for the best food and what not. She was much sweeter and soft spoken, raised rabbits and a smaller vegetable garden. Again, shared her veg and rabbit meat with Bernard. Taught him how to cook and preserve food, generally dotted over him more than the Lawrences. She's also part Nijonian, part Karutian, and was born + raised on Hocotate. She came to Nijo looking for an idealistic country life that doesn't exist, but she did get a life she was satisfied with. Adored getting to help care for Bernard while his pa was away. Led to him calling her "auntie", which she rolled with.
Santi was a 30 minute walk away, but Bernard did it anyways for the company. He always visited Santi, never the other way around. Santi ended up having to be the one to help him adjust to his new school, since traditional schooling is so different from homeschooling. Bernard was desperate to make friends, was really sweet and outgoing as a result. And Santi maybe got a little jealous when this random guy showed up and managed to become fairly popular whereas Santi struggled with that.
Bernard got into a lot of trouble, to put it bluntly. It started small: would play in the coyote infested woods (Celestine told him not to), build not-so-stable structures, get into shenanigans with Santi (practically dragged the other kid along with him), collected random shit that was rather sharp, and so on. Typical dumb childhood things for someone growing up in the countryside.
But as he got older uh. The lack of supervision mixed with his need to be liked led him to get into deeper shit as he got into high school. Drank under aged a few times, never enough to become an alcoholic though. Someone did get him hooked on cigarettes, which he'd have to find ways to obtain in decidedly illegal ways since he, again, was under aged. Smoking is something he's still trying to overcome, though being in Yonny's care has helped a lot. All the while Santi was worried for his… Friend? Santi didn't know what to make of the guy. Lawrences never knew but his Auntie was very aware and very much always on his case.
He calmed down by the time he graduated high school, though, and soon began job hopping. Moved to the nearby city and started at a company that happened to be in competition with the one Santi ended up working for. When Bernard inadvertently made a product that put the company Santi worked for out of business, it sort of solidified this weird tense relationship Santi had towards Bernard. Which, of course, Bernard never picked up on and always assumed Santi cared for him just as much as he cared for Santi. Because I cannot overstate how much he adored Santi.
They both hopped jobs a bit, Santi trying to figure out what he wanted to do and Bernard trying to save up for flight school. Much of this is canon so I won't really get into it. Just know he got into flight school, got into a good company, and was then scouted by Shepherd. Now he's working for the rescue corps.
Side notes I didn't get to mention:
Bernard has ADHD and it absolutely heavily influenced his childhood heavily
Because of ADHD, he either can't focus at all or focuses so hard on something (that something usually being flight) that he forgets about everything else. This is pure self projection on my part.
Sometime either during late high school or soon after graduation, he realized he was gay.
Has tried to settle down in a relationship but struggles a lot for a variety of reasons I can't quite articulate. Been in many flings and the like as a result
Got into doing drag performances some time after graduation, he puts a lot of effort into it and has a lot of fun with it
Loves reality TV, eats that shit up
is definitely struggling with if he just likes Santi as a friend or if he's actually always had a crush on him and didn't know how to process it before
I mean, he only ever wanted Santi's constant undivided attention. That doesn't mean anything. Right? Right?
his childhood house is a cheap little trailer. It's not in disrepair by any means, but it's not a quality house either. Not the kinda place he's exactly eager to show off.
his relationship with his dad is perfectly fine, he adores his old man. Sends money to his dad and auntie now that he has the spare cash to send
An incomplete list of foods he won't eat due to flavor, texture, or both: lettuce, brussel sprouts, cucumber, eggs, pickles, oranges, peanut butter, pork*, cabbage, any other leafy food tbh, asparagus, celery, pineapple, shrimp, turkey, mushrooms, mayo, raisins. There's absolutely more than this.
*alright pork is on THIN ice but it's ok if made in very particular ways
Food mad by his dad or auntie is usually fine with him
He drinks way too much caffeine to stay awake. Always has a coffee or a redbull on hand.
EDIT: something I forgot to mention in my first posting, he is multilingual. He knows Nijonian (Patois), Giyan (English), Enoheean (French), and Galactic Sign Language (American Sign Language). I represent the languages with irl languages for a multitude of reasons that are a little beyond the scope of this post.
Bernard has a few meme responses to say in Enoheean to mess with folks, just because he can.
These include being able to Rick Roll people in Enoheean, being able to recite the Loss poem in Enoheean, and telling people that they lost the game in Enoheean.
Bonus round: Random Santi Facts That I Don't Have Enough of for Their Own Post Just Yet
Santi's rivalry with Bernard is super complicated. He has reasons to feel some resentment, mainly how Bernard inadvertently one ups him at every turn.
Santi has a lot of internalized homophobia from his parents and hometown. So some of the resentment is also from him misreading his own feelings towards Bernard
"Seeing Bernard with that woman makes me feel jealous. Clearly, I'm in love with the woman and Bernard has one upped me again. Ignore the fact that I barely know her and have said this for the past five girls I've seen him with."
eventually he and Bernard will reconcile
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theladyofdeath · 4 years ago
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Scary Movies {Elorcan}
31 Days of Halloween: Day 11.
All installments co-written with @snelbz​
Based on a prompt sent in by anon: “ever since we were kids its been our tradition to binge watch horrible scary movies on halloween, go get the popcorn ready, wait this is much scarier than I remember, hold me”
Autumn/Halloween 2020 {Collection}
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Elide looked at her coffee table and smiled. Pizza, popcorn, red vines, and beer. It was the same food, every year, except Coke had eventually turned into alcohol. 
A tradition.
Elide’s favorite of the entire year. 
It had started in middle school, when they decided that they were too old and cool for trick-or-treating. A scary movie, they took turns deciding. Between getting terrified and getting stomach aches from all they consumed, it created a magical evening.
Now, ten years after their first scary movie night on Halloween, Elide was hosting, and Lorcan was running late.
She looked at the clock on her apartment wall and sighed. If he didn’t show up soon, she’d call him, and yell at his ass.
Elide was on her way back from the back bedroom, having grabbed a couple of blankets from the spare room’s closet when a knock came on her door. She slowed and came to a stop.
Lorcan had a spare key, he could— and would— just let himself in. Not to mention, she’d left it unlocked for him. That realization left her all the more wary with what time of night it was.
Making her way over to her door, Elide reached up on her tiptoes to look out the peephole and she saw—
Nothing.
There was nothing and no one in the breezeway.
Cautiously, Elide opened the door and as she took a step out—
Heavy boots stomped on the concrete next to her as someone jumped out and yelled quietly.
The scream that left Elide was decidedly not quiet.
She threw the blankets up and when her heart rate had decelerated enough that she could breathe, she found Lorcan doubled over, hands on his knees, laughing his ass off.
“Not funny, asshole,” she muttered, not stopping to pick up the blankets.
“Very funny, actually,” he said, taking a deep breath as he righted himself and followed her into the apartment.
“I thought you were a…” Elide’s words trailed off as she shook her head.
She was flustered.
“A what?” Lorcan asked, still grinning as he snatched up the blankets and carried them inside. “A late trick or treater? A murderer? If I was a murderer, I wouldn’t come here on Halloween, El. Way too cliché.”
Her lips pursed together as she shut the door.
And locked it.
Lorcan kicked off his boots just inside of the door before passing into the living room and whistling at her set up.
“You’ve spoiled me,” he said, falling back into her couch. “Now I almost feel bad for scaring the shit out of you.”
“You should,” Elide pushed. “I’m almost thinking about tossing the red vines.”
Lorcan’s grin faded. “Don’t you dare.”
She couldn’t stay mad at him, not if she tried, so instead she flopped down next to him, tucking her Halloween-themed, Boo! fuzzy socks underneath her. “Alright, house rules apply. What movies did you bring?”
Once they got their own places, they added a few more nuanced rules to the list. The person who’s house the movie was at got to make the final decision, but the other got to pick the three choices.
Lorcan ticked them each off on a finger as he named them. “The new It, the original Halloween, or Teeth?”
“Not It,” Elide said, shaking her head vehemently. “And you’re an asshole for putting it in the lineup.”
An unfortunate incident at a county fair had scarred Elide for life and now she was terrified of not only clowns, but also the Tilt-A-Whirl and she couldn’t eat cotton Candy anymore. It was a long story and Lorcan knew every second of it, because he’d been there, laughing his ass off then, too.
Lorcan chuckled and said, “Fine, not It.”
“And we watched Teeth when we were like fifteen. I was convinced you weren’t ever going to look at a vagina the same.”
“My fifteen-year-old boy hormones overrode the horror very quickly,” he chuckled. “So Halloween?”
“Halloween,” she agreed. “Put it in.”
“So demanding,” he mumbled, but did as she asked, nonetheless.
He was sitting back beside her as the menu played in no time. After selecting play, he had a beer and his red vines open. 
“Don’t get too scared,” Lorcan muttered, mouth full of candy. “I want you to be able to sleep tonight. Remember, it’s just a movie.”
Elide nudged him with her foot, fluffy sock and all. “Shut up.”
He grinned, unable to control himself. “Don’t you remember our first scary movie night?”
Elide groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
“You nearly pissed yourself,” he said, reminding her, anyway.
Elide scoffed. “I screamed once.”
“And cried twice and begged me to turn it off,” he said, chuckling.
“Why am I friends with you?” She muttered, snuggling back into the blankets and pillows, propping her feet up on the couch. The bottoms of her feet pressed up against his sweatpants-covered thigh.
Lorcan didn’t say anything else, just quietly laughed to himself as he leaned over and turned the lamp off, plunging the room into near darkness.
The beginning of the movies were never scary to Elide, even if the killing started out right away. At the beginning, she could still tell herself it was just a movie. It was as the movie went on, when she found herself immersed in it, that she began to get nervous.
That nervousness continued as she laid awake in the middle of the night, alone. 
Every few minutes, she glanced over at Lorcan. At one point, his eyelids were drooping, and she had no idea how he could be relaxed during such a suspenseful film.
Elide had just cracked open her third beer when Lorcan mumbled, “Crying yet?”
“No, jackass,” she muttered, sipping from the can and clinging to her blanket. She couldn’t help but glance at her living room windows to make sure no one was standing just outside.
Elide didn’t realize just how buzzed she was until she stood to use the restroom. She took one unsteady step before Lorcan paused the movie. “Where are you going?”
“I’ve just got to run to the bathroom, you can let it play,” she replied.
“No, I can’t,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You’ll miss something.”
“I’ve seen it,” she replied, chuckling.
“Yeah, but we haven’t seen it together. That’s a crucial point.”
She rolled her eyes and said, “Fine, I’ll be right back.”
She heard him get up and rifle through her kitchen cabinets, probably looking for something else sweet. As if the entire pack of red vines he’d already consumed wasn’t enough.
When she came back though, she paused. He was in her spot, with his feet propped up, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world as he drank a beer.
Elide cleared her throat.
“Hmm?”
“You’re in my spot,” she said, hands on her hips.
Lorcan looked over at her, one brow raised. “We have spots, now?”
“I’ve always sat in that spot literally every time you have ever come over here. Which is a lot.”
Lorcan shrugged. “I figured we could change it up a bit. I have longer legs. I should be able to stretch my legs out.”
“Your legs are practically hanging off,” Elide protested.
Lorcan blinked. “Not the point.”
With a loud, dramatic sigh, Elide was stumbling back over to the couch.
Lorcan snorted. “You’re drunk.”
“I'm not drunk.”
“How many beers have you had?”
She paused. “A few.”
Lorcan’s grin widened. “You’re drunk.” 
“Am not.”
“Had to get drunk to make it through the scary movie, huh?” he teased. 
Elide was caught between saying am not and fuck you, and her statement ended up coming out as, “Fuck not.” 
Lorcan tossed his head back against the cushions as he laughed. “Drunk Elide has arrived.” 
She sat down in his spot and kicked her feet up on his lap. She was expecting him to shove them off or make a joke about them stinking or something else classically Lorcan. So when he gently took one in his hand and began massaging it, she stopped paying attention to a single thing happening in the movie.
His hands on her were enough to cause that, and if she could just—
A scream rang out from the tv and Elide gasped, turning her attention back to the movie, as Jamie Lee Curtis tried to out run Michael Meyers.
When Elide looked back over at Lorcan, he was looking decidedly smirky.
“Fuck off,” she muttered.
“Don’t you mean fuck not?” he asked, those hands still massaging her sore ankle. 
Elide hated herself for smiling at him. Hated that she loved the way he was smiling at her. She hated his little jokes and snide remarks. Hated that his massages felt so damn good.
The movie on the screen continued, and Elide had found Lorcan’s hands on her ankle incredibly interesting as the tense music played loudly from the surround sound speakers.
Soon enough, the movie was over and Elide was wondering how an hour and a half slipped by so quickly.
“Do you want to watch another?” She asked, as he stood and stretched. “Since it’s a Saturday and everything.”
That smirk was still in place, but she could see a softness in his eyes. “Can you handle another two hours of sheer terror?”
“I wasn’t that scared,” she mumbled, crossing her arms.
Lorcan only grinned and flopped back on the couch, laying out and cracking open another beer.
She rolled her eyes before turning on Cabin In the Woods, and making her way back over to to the couch. “Where exactly am I supposed to sit now?” She asked, pointing to where his feet were in her vacated seat. His entire frame barely fit on her couch.
He wiggled his sock covered toes. “My turn for a foot massage.” He winked at her.
She scrunched her nose. “I don’t wanna touch your feet.”
He pretended to be offended. “And why is that?”
“Your feet are gross.” She chuckled as she sat on top of his shins. “They stink.”
“They do not. They’re cute as fuck and smell like roses.”
Elide giggled. “You keep thinking that. They stink, and they’re massive.”
“What does their size have to do with them?” he laughed. “Isn’t size a good thing? You know what they say about big feet.” 
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, amused as she shook her head.
Lorcan didn’t say anything else, just wiggled his feet free from under her and drank his beer. When he finished, he stood and started collecting the cans.
“What are you doing?” She asked.
He shrugged. “We killed a twelve pack. I’m going to get the rest of the beer out of the fridge.”
Elide rolled her eyes, but she resituated and got comfortable on the couch. When Lorcan returned, he handed her a fresh drink and sat down in the middle of the couch. His arm was draped over the back of the couch, his hand right behind Elide’s head. He began to play with strands of hair coming out of the back of her ponytail.
Elide had to resist the urge to purr.
He handed her another full can.
She didn’t hesitate as she took it, popped it open, and downed it. She hated the taste of beer, but as the night went on, she tasted it less and less. 
Lorcan continued to play with her hair.
Elide had no idea what was going on in the movie, but she didn’t care, and wasn't scared at all as Lorcan continued to play with her hair. 
To her surprise, he let her relax, didn’t try to scare her, didn’t try to tease her, not anymore. The movie was about half way done when Elide looked over at him to find him already watching her. 
“What?” she laughed, quietly. 
“You like me playing with your hair,” he whispered, and he wore no smile. 
“Maybe,” she admitted.
“I’ve been playing with your hair for thirty minutes,” he continued. 
“I noticed,” she said, her voice small as she tried to concentrate, tried to notice if she was slurring her words or not. 
She sure as hell couldn’t tell if he was.
They’d danced around this for years, the feelings they had for each other, the other never seeming to return the feelings that they had. Everyone else constantly gave them shit for not just being together.
Elide always touted off the same response about Lorcan not looking at her that way. What she didn’t know is that he always said she deserved better than a bastard.
She tried to look back at the movie to concentrate on who was on screen, what was happening, but those lithe fingers just kept slipping through the strands.
And then her hair came loose, as he pulled the ponytail out of it and flicked it at her.
“Hey!” She cried, looking for it in the piles and piles of blankets.
Lorcan only looked at her, a self-satisfied look on his face. “What are you thinking?” 
Elide stilled. “What do you mean?”
“You were thinking something, I could see it,” he followed. “What was it?”
“Nothing,” she replied, a little too quickly. 
“Nothing?” he asked, one brow raised. “Liar.”
“Am not.”
“You just don’t want to tell me.”
“And if I don’t?” Elide asked.
He was grinning. “You’re drunk.”
“So?” she asked.
His grin faded. “What were you thinking, El?”
That we should get over ourselves and see what we could be. “That I have no idea what’s going on in this movie.” 
“Neither do I,” he admitted, his voice quiet.
His eyes were on her mouth. When she bit down on her bottom lip, his nostrils flared slightly and he wet his own lips. She breathed, “Are you staring at my lips?”
If it weren’t for the alcohol in her veins, she never would have had the nerve to ask. He nodded once.
“And what are you thinking?” She asked, quietly.
“You have nice lips,” he confessed.
Elide hesitated. “I have nice lips?”
He nodded, once, yet again. 
“Interesting,” she said, when he said no more, her voice remaining small. 
“Interesting?” he repeated.
“Interesting,” she agreed. 
They both stared at one another, the movie playing quietly in the background. It was strange, how Elide’s heart was beating uncontrollably throughout the screams and shrieks from the t.v. screen, but not from fear.
Not at all from fear. 
From exhilaration, from disbelief, from wondering if she was picking up the wrong ques. 
“You’re still looking at my lips,” she said. 
“You’re looking at mine now,” was his response.
He was right, of course. She was.
After a second, she cleared her throat and looked back to the television, but she could still feel his gaze on her from time to time.
During one of the bloodiest scenes she’d ever seen, Lorcan suddenly paused the movie. “Do you hear that?”
Elide snorted. “I’m not falling for that.”
“I’m serious,” he said, looking behind them, towards the window. “You don’t hear that?”
The tone of his voice was unsettling. She pulled her feet up onto the couch, even though she had no idea what he was hearing. She couldn’t hear anything. “This isn’t funny, Lor. Stop it.”
He quickly got up and went to the front door, making sure it was locked, before looking out the window. Elide’s heart was racing. She still hadn’t heard anything, he hadn’t-.
“Oh gods, I was right,” he said, hurrying back to the couch.
She was pretty sure she was going to have a panic attack. “What is it?”
“It’s the… the…” He swallowed harshly and looked at her. “The tickle monster.”
“Damn it Lor-.”
He was flying to her side of the couch and tickling her sides, making her squirm, making her laugh, making her scream before she could even finish her sentence. 
“Lorcan!” She cried, trying to push him away, but he was massive and when he was on a tickle mission, he was going to see it through.
“Lorcan!” She said, again, getting a good hit on his chest this time.
Lorcan’s laugh was contagious, his smile bright, and it wasn’t until Lorcan’s fingers stopped dancing along her sides that Elide realized how they were laying.
He was on top of her, his chest across her legs, his head just above her waist. His body wasn’t completely pressed up against her, but it was pressed up enough.
His fingers sat on her bare skin, her shirt having just barely ridden up during his onslaught of tickles, and her skin felt like it was on fire where he touched her. Sitting that close, she swore she could see bits of blue in the depth of his black eyes. His thumb began to rub a slow circle over her hip.
She sat up, at the same time and when he pulled her closer, she breathed his name.
They were close.
It wasn’t that she had never been close to him, but this was a different kind of close. She could feel his warm, alcohol-scented breath on her lips.
Lorcan.
Her Lorcan.
Her best friend.
The movie was still playing, Elide was certain, but she couldn’t see it, couldn’t hear it.
There was nothing in the world except for him.
“You’re drunk,” Lorcan whispered.
“So are you,” Elide agreed.
Lorcan nodded, slowly, his nose nearly brushing along hers. “Yeah.”
And then he was kissing her, slowly, gently.
She didn’t hesitate, her lips moving against his as if they were made for each other. One of her hands gripped his arm, they other still pressed against his chest and she bunched the fabric up in her hands.
A scream from the tv had them pulling apart and both breathing heavily as they looked at each other.
Elide breathed, “You know, if you were scared, all you had to do was say so.”
Lorcan looked at her for a moment before tipping his head back and laughing. 
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consumedkings-archive · 4 years ago
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WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic.
chapter eight: the living sea of waking dreams
word count: 10k
rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.
warnings: emotional manipulation/some weird humiliation tactics (joseph is a fucker), some weird/uncomfortable relationships getting dredged up, john is a jealous little shit. some spooky scaries go on, blood and body horror (i think? tagging just to be safe).
notes: we've got some ~things~ going on here in this next chapter. i feel really excited about where this story is going and how we're going to get all these little threads put together, but mostly, i hope you enjoyed this chapter! we've got a lot going on but i promise, it will all (hopefully) be worth it in the end. and also, a tiny reprieve: some soft elliot, as a treat, because we deserve it.
thank you to everyone reading and giving me your feedback!! i love hearing from yall <3 special thanks to @shallow-gravy​ and @vasiktomis​​ for listening to me slog through this chap : ))))
“Knock-knock!”
Isolde took in a deep breath, closing her eyes and willing patience to the forefront of her mind. It had only been an hour or so since she’d left the chapel, Joseph’s words ringing in her head, a death knell.
Not after the things I’ve done for you.
Even still, even now—he knew how to get under her skin. She thought she’d never wanted to kiss and throttle someone in equal amounts, in the entirety that she had known them; to think that once, she had let Joseph take her in an embrace, sweep the hair from her shoulder and bury his face in her neck and whisper sweet things into her skin.
He wasn’t the same, anymore. And neither was she.
“Come in, Santiago,” said Arden, from where she had set up her little space across the cabin’s modest room. The heater on the floor rattled laboriously, clicking and chugging away. Isolde swept her eyes over Arden’s space—a small makeshift bed on the couch, the table stacked with a few books and a notepad she was scribbling dutifully on. Isolde had politely offered her the bed, even though she didn’t want to, and the woman had waved her off and said it was no trouble at all, that she often fell asleep on the couch at home anyway.
It was still weird, thinking that someone was—with Jacob. For a long time. But, she supposed if there was any Seed boy she thought would be in a long-term relationship, then—
The door to the cabin swept open, revealing the dark-haired boy from before. Well, perhaps not boy, but young man. Certainly too young and good-looking to be wasting his time with the likes of Eden’s Gate, wasn’t he?
“You don’t have to babysit me anymore, do you?” Arden asked, not once looking up from her writing.
“No, no. Unfortunately, our time together has drawn to a close.” Santiago lifted his arms, spread in defeat. His eyes, a vibrant blue, turned to Isolde. “I am actually here for you.”
“Me?” Isolde’s eyes narrowed. “For what?”
“Joseph has asked me to fetch you.”
“And you’re a good boy, so you do whatever he says,” she replied tartly.
Santiago flashed a grin that was all teeth-pearly, perfectly bleached teeth. He was far more groomed than any of the others she’d seen trawling about the compound. “I am nothing if not loyal, princesa.”
Isolde sighed, passing a hand over her face as a headache began to fester and bloom behind her eyelids. She thought she might have been more willing to kick up a fuss if she thought it was worth the drama—but it probably wasn’t. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Joseph was right; she couldn’t be of any help to them if she was being contrary just for the sake of her own spite. Even if she didn’t know where Joseph got off summoning her like she was part of the peasantry.
“Coming,” she sighed, picking her coat up off the bed and sliding it back on over her shoulders.
“A sweet word, coming from even sweet lips.”
“Alright, Romeo.”
She trudged out after Santiago in the snow, casting a quick glance around the compound. Though evening had fallen, the fluorescents surrounding lining the edges of the compound cast a cold, brutal light across it, highlighting every single pore of the place, every ragged inhabitant shuffling into their bunkhouse as watch switched and folks went to retire for the evening. Some of the roofs sagged with the weight of the snowfall, which trundled on without any kind of end in sight. Isolde couldn’t remember when she’d seen real, unadulterated sunshine last. In Georgia? Had it been that long?
None of it was anything like what John had told her. Of course, she had expected some differences—the man liked to embellish, to be sure—but the members of Eden’s Gate seemed to have lost their fire. They were wayward, adrift at sea, among waves of freezing cold water and what now seemed to be a resurgent threat that they had hoped to be rid of.
And Joseph, having comforted them so very little.
“Icy,” Santiago warned, offering her his hand as he opened the door inside with his other one. “Careful.”
“Thanks,” she muttered dryly. She took his hand anyway, pulling herself into the sputtering warmth of the chapel where—at the front—the silhouettes of Jacob and Joseph stood.
The two of them were suffused in a warm amber glow, but there was nothing warm about the mood in the room; the closer she got, she could hear Jacob’s insistent words—the firm, assertive gestures of his hands, the words, just didn’t feel like it was pertinent at the time, coming out of his mouth—the more she thought, I shouldn’t be here for this. Whatever they’re arguing about, whatever it is that’s gotten them to this point, I’m not supposed to be here.
Joseph didn’t respond to whatever it was that his brother was saying, but instead turned to look at her as she approached down the center aisle of the chapel. Despite the rattling warmth coming from several heaters placed throughout the chapel, Isolde felt a chill sink deep into the marrow of her bones.
“Thank you for coming,” he said by way of greeting. He lifted one hand and beckoned her forward when her feet slowed.
“I just hope this is something I need to be here for,” Isolde ventured cautiously, her gaze flickering to Jacob’s face. The redhead’s expression was drawn tight and hard, and not the way it normally was; it wasn’t calm and focused, but strained, like he was holding himself back from saying something to Joseph that he thought he might regret later.
She had never known Jacob to bite his tongue very much, but from her own experience with Joseph, well—he was apt at bringing out the worst in people.
“Did you know?” Joseph asked when she had finally come to a stop. “About my brother’s...” He wet his lips for a moment, his gaze darting across the empty space of the floor as he looked for the word he wanted to say. And then he landed: “Pursuits?”
Isolde blinked. “If you mean the woman he says is his partner—”
“Yes,” the blonde interjected, before she could finish—a thing he knew that she hated but he seemed unable to refrain from doing. “I do.”
Sol’s eyes narrowed. When she turned her gaze from Jacob to Joseph, she was greeted with the typical unreadable expression; as untroubled as the blue sky over a sunny sea.
But there were storm clouds. Somewhere, in there, on a horizon Joseph would not let her reach now and perhaps had not ever.
“I only knew of her today,” Isolde replied after a moment. “After we saw our little hunter out in Fall’s End, I imagine he felt it pressing that he retrieve her sooner rather than later.”
Joseph made a low noise. It was like a hm, but threatening. Hm, he said, interesting, that. But what it was he felt was so interesting about that particular line of information, Isolde couldn’t only venture a guess; and if she had to venture a guess, she would have said that it would probably be that he felt it was interesting that something was going on that he had not been aware of.
If there was one thing that she knew about Joseph, affirmatively, it was that he did not like not knowing.
“Isolde, why are you here?”
A familiar spark of anger lit, hot and fetid, in her belly. “Pardon me?
“Why are you here? In this compound? In Hope County?” Even as he spoke, Joseph’s gaze was fixed on the eldest Seed, the lines of his face peaceful and serene despite the idle venom burning in the timbre of his voice. “What did John send you here for?”
The anger burned up into soot, into dread, and sat just there, curled at the base of her neck. Isolde could not shake the idea that she had been brought in here to make a point, and that she really shouldn’t be there—that this was something Joseph and Jacob needed to settle between themselves, but that was never how Joseph had operated: fair had never been a stratagem in his playbook.
“Isolde,” Jacob said, his voice a low caution when she looked at him, shaking his head very slightly. It’s not worth it, he was saying, fighting, it’s not worth it.
“Joseph, this,” she plunged on pointedly, “is not something that I need to be a part of. I’ll go, so the two of you can—”
But when she went to depart, Joseph lifted his hand and pointed at her and ground out between his teeth, “Stay. Put.”
The poison in his voice was so potent it almost made her flinch. Almost. And then the indignation started to bloom: who do you think you are, to be talking to me like that? But they wouldn’t come; the words wouldn’t come, because when she lifted her gaze to Joseph’s and saw him looking at her, it was—
“I want you to say it, out loud, in front of Jacob,” he continued, the muscle of his jaw flexing viciously. “Tell him why John needed you here.”
Jacob said, raising his voice a little, “We all know why—”
“Because you are useless unless you are aware of what’s happening. Every detail. Isn’t that right?” he prompted. “Isolde?”
She felt her molars grind. It was clear, now, why he had asked her here. “Yes.”
Joseph turned his gaze to Jacob. “Is that what you want us to be? Want me to be? Ill-informed?”
The redhead was silent for a long heartbeat. He sucked his teeth, and said, “No, Joseph, I don’t—”
“No. More. Secrets.”
The blonde’s voice had pitched so low that she nearly couldn’t hear him, so close and low and intimate was it that he was speaking to his brother, so little space between them. Joseph looked to be controlling himself quite tightly; so very little of the leash available to himself, digging the choke chain deeper and deeper into him in an effort to remain intact.
“Joseph,” Jacob began, “I only—”
“A whole year?” the blonde bit out viciously. “An entire year you spent devoting your time to this—this—”
Isolde was familiar with the precipice at which Joseph was teetering. Right on the edge of saying something vicious and mean and unendingly cruel. She had pushed him there a few times before, in their brief few months together—had seen the way he pulled himself back time and time again, seconds away from grinding out some wretched insult.
“I won’t,” Joseph bit out, lifting a hand as though to temper himself, “tolerate it, Jacob.”
Silence stretched between the three of them for a moment, pulled taut as a rubber band. Though she knew why Joseph had wanted her here—to make a point, but also to put someone there to witness the verbal lashing—looking at the two of them now, she felt more than ever like an intruder on a world she knew so very little about.
John had done nothing to prepare her. He had given her the rosy version of the story, and even that included the cult and the killing and the residents of Hope County. It still hadn’t been enough.
The silence broke when Jacob said, “I understand, Joseph.”
For a second, there was nothing; just Joseph, sweeping his gaze over Jacob for a long moment, like he was trying to wring out any deception or sign that Jacob was being disingenuous—and of course, he could find none, and that meant there was only the tense, uncomfortable silence wadded up between them, in their own fists.
Finally, Joseph said, “That will be all,” and turned, tilting his face to the lukewarm light of the candles at the front of the chapel and closing his eyes.
The eldest Seed lingered for only a moment longer before he left; his eyes met with Isolde’s for a heartbeat before he made his decision, turning down the center walkway and heading for the doors. It wasn’t until they clicked shut that Isolde felt a tiny bit of relief—if only because the source of Joseph’s ire had now departed, and she could get a better look at him.
It was her job to make sure things were under control. John had asked her here for that exact reason—and this kind of in-fighting would be the kind of thing that would, eventually, be their unraveling if they didn’t get it under control. She had only seen Joseph so angry once before, almost over a year ago now, back before he was the Father of Eden’s Gate. Back when they had been—
There are things that I want to accomplish, and they’re best done with a wife—
“Joseph,” Isolde said, leaving the memory somewhere else—somewhere dark and deep she would never find it again, “what’s going on?”
The blonde did not open his eyes when he replied, “I cannot have secrets kept from me.” After a moment, he added, “And in that vein of thought, I should get in touch with our wayward brother.”
“Do you really think it’s that big of a deal?” she prompted again. “To have started a fight with Jacob over a woman that he—”
“Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O Lord, you know it altogether. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.” His eyes fluttered open, the flicker of dark lashes illuminated by the amber glow, and he tilted his head to look at her. There was a hardness in his voice when he said, “God is perfect in knowledge, and I cannot be less. Not when He speaks directly to me.”
An unpleasant little thrill crawled down her spine when his eyes fixed on her, darting over her face like he wanted to savor her. “Then don’t use me as the whip you want to lash your brother with,” she snapped. “I’m not a humiliation tactic. You do know better than to do that to me.”
Joseph let out a little sigh. The corners of his mouth ticked upward, the shift in mood almost palpably changing the energy in the chapel—just like that, it was different. Not lighter, not better, but different.
“You’re right,” he agreed after a moment. “I do know you better than that.”
Isolde’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Deciding to forego that comment, she took a step forward, cinching her jacket in more securely around her waist. “You know what you cannot be, Joseph?” she asked. “You cannot be fighting with your brothers. Especially not the only one that’s here. Your people out there are disgruntled, and scared, and you can’t afford to be picking fights with the people who are the most loyal to you.”
“They are all,” Joseph replied, “loyal, Isolde." And then, after a moment of watching her: "Is this what you want to be doing? Herding us? Mothering us?”
“My professional opinion is that the image of your convent is severely lacking,” she bit out, once again ignoring the bait, “and the last thing you need to do is have them noticing that there’s a rift forming between the ones in charge. And yes—that is the only thing I can do for you lot at this point, and like an idiot, I agreed to come here and do it.”
Because I can’t say no to John, something tired inside of her said. Because I couldn’t say no to any of you, even if I wanted to.
The blonde reached up, and it took that gesture for Isolde to realize how closely they had drifted—it was so little effort, so little time between the movement of his hand and the time at which his fingers made contact with her cheek, brushing the hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. He moved so confidently and leisurely that Sol couldn’t think to pull back; and when she didn’t, the calloused fingertips trailed down the pillar of her throat, his eyes following their journey.
It was intimate; too soon her brain said, even though it had been so long since they had been in the same room, let alone regarded each other in even a passive capacity. But it was too soon enough that her brain fizzed out, the air moving thick as molasses in the journey between her mouth and lungs, the violent flashback of their closeness overwhelming her.
She said, “Joseph,” in a don’t kind of voice, and he dropped his hand from where it had come to a stop at the juncture between her neck and shoulder.
“It was smart of John, to ask you to come and shepherd us in his absence,” Joseph said, blithely ignoring the desperate little barb in the way Isolde said his name.
“I always thought you’d make a perfect Mother.”
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
It had been several days since their conversation in the hallway that night, and John had barely seen hide nor hair of Elliot.
Honestly, it would have been impressive how quickly she could make herself inaccessible, were it not so frustrating. He couldn’t help but wonder what the implications there were—had she known she could do this all along, and had been indulging in him for some reason? Had she simply decided to be done and that was it, meaning that she hadn’t been done before?
Not that she was done now, anyway. Not if John had anything to say about that. But for a few days, she barely spared him a glance—passed him in the hallway when she got home with a muttered greeting on occasion. She woke before him, left to the stables without him, and left him alone in the house. Left him alone without her venom, without her eyes on him. With her mother, no less.
Scarlet was, on paper, exactly the kind of woman that John felt confident in his ability to charm. Single, wealthy by inheritance, a little older and always with a martini in hand by ten? If he couldn’t impress her, he had to be doing something wrong. But in a way that seemed to be very typical of the Honeysett women, Scarlet remained veritably unimpressed and even disdainful of his presence—even though she had insisted he stay with them.
More and more, he was becoming convinced that it was not going to be to his benefit.
“Good morning, Mr. Seed,” Scarlet greeted him from where she sat at the table, perusing her magazine. Not once did her eyes lift to meet his, and not once did an ounce of enthusiasm enter her voice. “You are missing from the stables again today, I see. Not a horse person?”
“I might find myself to be one,” John replied with a leisurely sort of bitterness, “if Elliot would only allow me to come.”
“Yes, it’s very annoying, isn’t it?” The blonde mused idly, over her cup of coffee. “To not be handed exactly what you want when you want it?”
He sucked in a sharp breath, pouring himself a cup of coffee and trying to remind himself that this was all temporary. This house, this town, Scarlet and Sylvia and Wyatt—it was all temporary, and soon enough they would be the least of his concerns. All of his time and attention would be wrapped up in Elliot and the baby, and what their lives would look like once the end had come.
Because it would come, and then she would see. She would understand that everything he’d done had been for them, for her and their baby and—
“I only want to spend as much time with her as I can,” he replied, managing to keep his tone pleasant. “Before I go back home.”
“And when are you?” Scarlet idled. “Going, I mean?” And then, in what he could only think was a stretch of graciousness: “Not that you’ve overstayed, because I am sure you would never, and Delia is quite taken with you—”
“Surely.”
“—as is Elliot, despite her best efforts to act otherwise.”
“What?” John’s head snapped to where Scarlet was still browsing her magazine, and he cleared his throat at her arched brow to try and gather his scrambled thoughts. “What I mean is, has she—said anything to you about me?”
The blonde at the table, swathed in her silk robe and curls primly pinned back away from her face, made a sound that might have been amused. Might have been, anyway, had he not turned to look at her and seen the way her face remained serene and unexpressive.
“I am not blind, Mr. Seed,” Scarlet idled. “It takes very little investigation to find that my daughter is fond of you, against my wishes and her own.”
Before John could open his mouth to respond—and press for more information while his stomach did victorious little somersaults—she turned her head to the window, when the sound of a vehicle rolling up the drive spurred Boomer on to barking in the front room.
“Oh, would you look at that,” she murmured with a little sigh. “My prodigal child, returned home at last.”
He glanced out the window to see an unfamiliar car pulling up, a black truck that took the fresh snow of the unplowed drive to the Graves-Honeysett home with ease; from the driver’s side hopped a familiar face.
“Didn’t Elliot drive there this morning?” he asked, frowning as he watched Wyatt jog around to the passenger side despite Elliot’s waving from the front for him to stop. The man had been nothing but polite—even enthused—to meet him at the bar the other night, but that didn’t mean John had forgotten the way he’d gotten comfy enough to try and touch Elliot’s face and her hair. Even now, the man grinned, all sunshine, as he opened the passenger side door for her and offered her his hand.
Scarlet replied, her attention already having departed the window, “What a silly question to ask out loud, Mr. Seed. You're not stupid, so I would beg you—try not to give me that impression.”
His eyes darted to Scarlet for a moment, briefly grateful that she wasn’t looking at him to see the spark of irritation winding its way across his face; he could feel it furrowing his brows, drawing his mouth into a hard, tight line. Setting his coffee cup on the counter, John made his way out the front door just as Wyatt and Ell were nearly there.
“Oh, hey John!” Wyatt greeted him. His eyes swept over him briefly. “Boy, you’re really put together any chance you get, huh?”
“You can never be overdressed,” John replied as amicably as he could. “Watch the steps, Ell, they’re—”
“Icy, I know,” Elliot said. She puffed out a little breath of air and brushed his offered hand aside, instead favoring the railing with one hand and the top of Boomer’s head with the other, still refusing him the courtesy of meeting his eyes. It had been days. She had never once held such a grudge against him—not really, not where he couldn’t at least get her to give him the time of day.
“Where’s the Jeep?” he asked, his voice coming out a bit tighter than he would have liked as she brushed past him. “Surely you didn’t have Wyatt ferry you out here for fun.”
“Tire’s flat,” she snipped. “Would you prefer I walked?”
“You could have called.” He took in a sharp little breath, willing the accusation away. “I would have been more than happy to pick you up, Ell.”
“Don’t have a cell phone,” Elliot replied flatly. “And Wyatt was already there.”
“It wasn’t any trouble,” Wyatt interjected hurriedly, smiling at John with pearly whites on display. “I had to come into town anyway, and it was gonna be hours before the mechanic could get out there.”
“Well, it was very kind of you all the same,” John said with a smile that felt like it pulled too tight across his face, a smile that was harder and harder to maintain with every passing second that Wyatt West put his baby-blues on Elliot. And that was often; the blonde looked a little sheepish when his gaze met John’s, drawn away from the redhead who was readily retreating into the house.
“Like I said, wasn’t any trouble. Always happy to help,” the blonde insisted, hands tucked into his jacket pockets.
“Yes,” John replied pleasantly, “I can see that.”
Wyatt blinked, flushing. “Anyway, uh...Have a nice day, John. And you too, Freckles!”
He waved before turning on his heel and heading back to the truck. As soon as the driver’s door closed and he was starting to pull away, John turned to see Elliot watching him, her eyes narrowed.
“‘I can see that’?” She scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, are we talking now?” His brows lifted, head tilting. “So kind of you, to grace me with eye contact when you’ve been storming around the last few days—”
“Don’t be a fucking baby,” Elliot snapped. “My life does not revolve around you. Especially when I can’t seem to figure out why the fuck you drove all the way here just to sulk around.”
“Perhaps it should at least be in my orbit,” John replied tersely, “considering that we are having a child together.”
“You—”
Elliot sucked in a sharp breath, clamping her mouth shut as she looked at him. There was a very brief moment where she looked like she wanted to say something, and very badly, but instead, the corner of her mouth ticked upward and she turned on her heel to walk inside without saying a word.
“It’s a cute nickname,” John continued tartly as he trailed after her. Don't walk away from me, don't, you owe me at least your attention. “Freckles. Do you prefer that one over Miss Honey?”
She closed the door behind her, promptly and without hesitation, letting it rattle in the door frame and in his face. He sucked in a sharp breath, passing a hand exhaustedly over his face.
Impudent. Surly. Ferociously, viciously, wretchedly stubborn. He knew this about her—had known this about her—and yet at every opportunity, she proved his idea of her correct, and he found himself getting more and more frustrated. It wasn’t fair, that even those moments of her attention still felt good, that the sting of her venom held some satisfaction for him, like he was addicted to it.
If she would just, came the thought, rolling over and over. If she would, if she would just, if she would just—
But just what? Just stop being that way? Would he have even liked her if she were not this purposefully obstinate problem to solve?
“No,” he sighed to himself, raking his fingers through his hair. “No, I wouldn’t.”
The reward would just have to be all that much sweeter in the end.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Three hours later, Elliot had forced herself to come to a decision.
She waffled on it for a while—going back and forth as she showered, scrubbing her hair and trying to let the hot water ease some of the growing aches and pains—and did her best to ignore the way something a little wicked chattered happily inside of her at the knowledge that John’s eyes had been sparking with jealousy. It felt immature, to like watching him squirm; more apparent than ever, too, was that old habits died hard.
There was a sick kind of satisfaction that came with finding John’s buttons and pushing them. It had felt the same way, back in Hope County—when he’d been burning with irritation and jealousy that Joseph had gotten her confession, not him, that she wouldn’t tell him what it was, pushing and pushing and jamming her finger into that button until he finally snapped and—
Kissed her.
That’s not what I’m trying to do, she thought, a little defiantly as she looked at herself in the mirror of the bathroom; tracing the WRATH scar, looking down to realize that there was, in fact, a baby bump. Oh, God, wasn’t that something fucking dreadful? Too real, but even still she’d known it was coming—worn looser, heavier clothes. She’d tried so hard not to look at herself in mirrors as of late that doing so now made her feel like she was looking at a stranger.
I’m not trying to get him to kiss me—the opposite, actually, I’m just trying to get him to fucking lay off for a minute—
And yet, as she found herself standing outside of the door to John’s room, her chest felt a little tight and her heart was doing that funny thing it liked to do when he was around; fluttering, leaping against her ribs, begging for attention. Elliot could have argued that it was just muscle memory at this point, that she had spent enough time around John letting him touch her and kiss her and say sweet things into her neck that her body was only working off of its basest instincts, and that was why she was feeling this way.
Clearing her throat, Elliot knocked on the door and said, “John?”
There was the sound of shuffling on the other side, and then his voice drifting to her: “Yes, Elliot?”
“It’s time for my appointment,” she managed out lamely. It felt even more stupid, saying it now, after she’d made such a big show of marching off after he’d committed to his display of jealousy. “Since the Jeep’s still waiting to get the tire fixed, do you think you could—”
The door swung open; John’s eyes flickered over her for a moment, his head tilting just before his mouth curved into a pleasant little smile that was two parts triumph and one part spite.
“What’s this?” he asked. “You need my help with something?”
Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “Don’t be an asshole, John.”
“I would never.” He propped himself up against the doorframe, folding his arms. “Wyatt’s taxi services currently unavailable?”
Already, she was regretting her decision—it had felt important, to have him along, but now she thought maybe she had been too forgiving for having forgiven anything at all.
“The appointment might be the one we figure out the baby’s gender, fuckface,” she snapped, “and since Wyatt’s not the baby’s father, I figured maybe you’d want to come in for this appointment, because it wouldn't feel right not to at least ask if you wanted to. Don’t worry though, I wouldn’t dream of inconveniencing you.”
“Wait!” The exclamation stopped her mid-turn from his door, the feeling of his fingers brushing the palm of her hand making her jerk out of his reach instinctively. John exhaled through his nose, and when she looked him with narrowed eyes and her arms crossed, he said, “I do want to—I want to come.”
“You sure aren’t acting like it.”
“I—Ell, I haven’t heard the baby’s heartbeat a single time,” he insisted, a little frantic. “I’ve respected that you didn’t want me there the last time, and you know, when I wasn’t here before is another thing, but finding out the gender and getting to hear the heartbeat—” He stopped, sighing. “I’m...”
Though there was a bit of pain stinging in the cavity of her chest at his earnesty, Elliot steeled herself, keeping her expression tight. “You’re what, John?” she prompted. She half-expected another blow-up; I’m the baby’s father, that baby is mine, I deserve this, it’s mine.
But instead, John’s mouth twisted and he said, “I’m—sorry.”
Elliot blinked. Had she ever heard John apologize? For anything, ever? And sincerely? She couldn’t recall a day or time in memory—and though her memory was spotty at best these days, she thought for certain that was something she would have remembered. Even when they’d been going to bury Joey, she wouldn’t let him get the words out.
“Uh,” she said very intelligently, “what?”
“I’m sorry,” John repeated, appearing a little frustrated at having to repeat himself. He shifted on his feet. “I want to come to the appointment. I mean—” And then, in what surely must have been pure agony: “Please let me come to the appointment.”
It felt so odd to hear the words coming out of his mouth that she could only blink rapidly and say, “Um, okay,” before turning and quickly heading down the hall and to the stairs. It had been her intention all along to ask John if he wanted to come to the appointment, to see the baby on the screen and find out the gender together—because despite his petty jealousy over someone he didn’t need to be concerned about in the least, and despite his insistence that he was the only person capable of loving her, she did see him making an effort instead of yanking her all the way to the other side. Even if it was a minute, tiny effort; it was an effort nonetheless.
“We’ll have to take your car,” Elliot said uneasily over her shoulder, pulling on her coat quickly. “And it’s soon, so—”
“Making haste,” John agreed from beside her. He reached over her shoulder to pull his own coat off of the rack. It wasn’t lost on her, then, that weeks ago he had gone to reach for her shoulder and she’d about jumped out of her skin; now, the smell of his cologne and his voice close to her ear was almost comforting, in an entirely self-indulgent way.
If she just broke it down to the piece of John she loved the most—his voice and the way the cologne smelled when it was on him, and the way it felt when his hands traced the scars on her hips, and the boyish grin he’d flash her—then maybe it could work. Then, maybe, things would have been fine.
But that’s not love, something inside of her said, as she made her way out the front door and to the car. John says he loves all the wretched things about you. Did you forget?
No. No, she had not forgotten the way John had kissed her when she had blood on her mouth, or the way he’d said, I would’ve fucked you there, or how it felt when he buried his face into her neck and said her name in a voice so broken she thought she might be holy.
“Too hot?” John asked, and she realized she was sitting in the car—that she had checked out halfway out the door—and they were now down at the end of the drive.
Elliot swallowed. Her face felt hot, and now it was not only because of her mind’s wanderings but also because she had been caught daydreaming.
“No,” she said, sinking back against the passenger seat. “No, it’s fine.”
He watched her for a moment before pulling out of the driveway and onto the street. She took a quick glance around the car; it was older, and sort of a beater. The kind of shitty Honda civic she’d see peeling out on the highway at 3AM because some idiot teenager thought she wouldn’t pull them over if the roads were empty. He’d probably lifted it on his way out of town to keep a low profile.
Her foot nudged something solid as she stretched out. Over the sound of the radio rattling and fuzzing tiredly, she heard a dull thunk. She squinted. It was a book. Unconditional Parenting.
“Jesus,” John muttered, “for a town this small, this traffic is a nightmare.”
“What?” Elliot asked, quickly averting her eyes from the book, feeling like she’d just rifled through someone’s personal drawer. “Oh, um—it’s a tourist town. People come here for the Christmas lights. They do like a whole lighting festival with that big tree in the square every night for weeks before Christmas.”
“And that’s why I can’t find parking.”
“That’s why you can’t find parking.”
He shot her a wry smile, taking a second loop around the square and a bit slower this time. Elliot turned her attention back out the window, but she couldn’t stop thinking about it—Unconditional Parenting. How long had he been reading baby books? Why was he so confident he’d get the chance to be a parent, anyway?
When he finally pulled into a parking spot, he let out a breath of relief. “How are we on time?”
Ell glanced at the car’s radio. “Ten minutes early,” she replied after a moment. “Right on time.”
“Great.” John paused. When neither of them moved to get out of the car, he cleared his throat and said, “So, what do you think?”
“About?” Elliot prompted. “The lighting festival?”
“What do you think baby is?” he clarified. Absently, he worried his thumbnail into the rubber of the steering wheel. “The lighting festival in a tourist town is the last thing on my mind right now.”
“Well, it should be on your mind,” she replied, a little petulant. “I think it’s nice, for the record. All of the vendors come in from out of town and even though the traffic’s a nightmare, it’s good business for the town and everyone’s always been respectful of it. Plus, the lights are nice.”
She paused, and when she looked at John, he was grinning at her. He seemed to be enjoying her firm defense of the lighting festival.
“And I think baby is a boy,” she added after a minute, pulling at a loose thread on her sweater. “Just my gut feeling.”
He seemed pleased by her answer, but if he actually was she couldn’t have said why; it was nearly impossible to read John sometimes, but especially in moments like this, in uncharted waters for them both. She lingered for a moment before she unbuckled and said quickly, “Anyway, we should probably go,” pulling herself out of the warmth of the car and into the chilly afternoon.
She wanted to go back to being angry. She wanted to go back to hating John, to being disgusted by him, to relishing in making him suffer, even just a little—but it was like her brain had reverted back to her neanderthal roots. Baby daddy reads parenting books, makes him a good father.
The sooner the moment was over and done with, the sooner she could go back to wallowing on the ways John had wronged her, instead of the ways he made her happy.
By the time they were back in the room, Elliot sitting on the end of the little bed and John in the chair under a pregnancy poster—Pregnant or thinking of getting pregnant? 3 things to discuss!—she had nearly steeled herself. If she just sat there, and replayed the last three months in her head, and reminded herself of all the reasons why she had left John behind in the first place, she would be just fine.
And then the door opened, and Dr. Harding stepped inside, and looked between Elliot and John with surprise.
“Hello, Elliot,” Harding greeted. “I see we’ve a guest today?”
“This is John,” Elliot said, trying not to sound too miserable given the riotous state of her brain. “This is the, uh—he's the father.”
John stood quickly, holding out his hand. “John Seed.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Harding,” she said, reaching out and shaking his hand. “Excited? Elliot’s told you we might find out the gender today, yes?”
“Yes and yes,” John confirmed, sounding more and more like the kind of man she had fallen for and less like the egotistical psycho she’d turned in to the government. Right, the one that had lied, and coerced, and perhaps knowingly drugged her. She couldn’t afford to forget that bit.
As Elliot went through all of the normal questions—have you been eating well, yes, I see you haven’t lost weight, yeah, how is the sleep, it’s fine—she held on tight to that little thread of knowledge. John was here because she was letting him, not for any other reason, and it did feel good to know that this whole time he’d played by her rules. As much as he could have, anyway, showing up at her house unannounced.
She settled back against the propped back, grimacing as she shimmied the hem of her sweater up and Harding put a generous amount of gel on the swell of her stomach. Between doctor’s appointments, it was easy to pretend like maybe she wasn’t pregnant. The morning sickness had faded, her appetite had come back, she was getting fine enough sleep; if she didn’t look at herself in the mirror, if she ignored the pervading aches and pains, the roundness to her features then she could pretend like things were normal.
But then John pulled the chair over to the side of the bed, his fingers brushing hers, and nothing felt even remotely close to normal.
“Alright, let’s take a look at baby, shall we?” Harding said, settling in as she began to glide the instrument across Elliot’s stomach.
“Okay,” Elliot said, feeling uneasy. John’s eyes flickered to her, and while she chewed the inside of her cheek, her fingers curled around his—a thoughtless, absent-minded gesture, like she was a heat-seeking machine and the only heat that would do was his.
He didn’t say anything, but laced their fingers together just as Harding said, “Oh, there’s baby!”
The dull, steady heartbeat echoed. When she stole a glance in his direction, John’s eyes were transfixed on the screen as Harding went over where the features were, pointing them out on the screen to him.
“Your little one is about the size of a peach right now,” Harding was saying, “and let’s just see here...”
Oh, God, she thought, feeling her stomach roll. It was so real. Too real, to be laying there, after all of this time feeling so disconnected from her own body—like a vessel, but now with John’s fingers tangled with hers and the baby’s heartbeat and a fruit analogy regarding the size it felt too real. She could no longer act like it wasn’t happening.
“It looks like we’ve got a perfectly healthy baby boy,” were the words coming out of the doctor’s mouth when Elliot’s eyes drifted from John’s face. “It might be a bit early, but that's my educated inference. Congratulations, Elliot. And daddy too, of course.”
A boy. A boy. I’m having a boy.
A perfectly healthy baby boy.
The room felt a little like it was swimming, her throat tight and a steady burning behind her eyes and nose. She sat up a little and swallowed thickly. John had come to a stand too, to get a better look at the screen, but when she squirmed and moved he looked at her.
“Ell?” he asked, sounding very far away, or like he was talking to her underwater. His hand not interlocked with hers came up to her face, and she couldn’t find it in herself to pull away—not only because of the effort it would take, but because of the way it felt to have him right there when she thought she needed him the most. “What’s wrong? Hey, baby, are you—”
“I’m okay,” Elliot managed out, her voice thick and wobbly. “I’m f-fine, I just—um—”
I’m having a boy. Oh, God, it felt so fucking real, too fucking real, but in a good way—for once, her nerve-endings felt alive, and not with anxiety and dread but with happiness.
Sounding panicked, John tilted her face up and asked again, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said, a wet, raspy little laugh bubbling out of her, “nothing’s wrong, I’m just—I’m just really happy—”
It took his thumb sweeping wetness from her cheek for her to realize that she was crying. Some unshed emotion hiccuped in her chest, and she swallowed thickly, fingers wrapping around his wrist in what she understood too late was an effort to keep his hand there; skin to skin, pulse close to pulse.
I want a home with you, she’d said to him, that night, and he’d looked at her and said, You have it, Ell, I told you.
He’d said, I’m all yours.
He’d said, Take what you need from me.
Dr. Harding was saying something, speaking softly to John. It was another reminder that it had been idiotic not to let him come in the first place—there was something so inherently endearing about John mmhming and nodding along, listening raptly as the doctor went over what they would be expecting in between this appointment and the next while his thumb swept affectionately over her cheek. She was sure that she heard the reaffirmation that she needed to be getting good sleep, staying as relaxed and unstressed as possible, but she couldn’t think about that. Her brain was going on loop, on repeat.
I’m having a boy, she thought, a perfectly healthy baby boy. My baby.
When Harding patted John’s shoulder and said, “I’ll give you two a minute,” before exiting, she felt John’s fingers threading through the hair at the nape of her neck; in a gesture that was painfully intimate, his forehead pressed to hers.
“Holy shit,” he whispered. “I can’t believe that—”
“I know,” she said, sniffing. “I can’t either.”
“You were right.” He grinned, their noses brushing, giving her hand a squeeze. So close to a kiss; she felt her lashes fluttering, the warmth of his hand spreading along the slope of her neck. “We’re having a boy. My God.”
Yes. We are having a boy. A perfectly healthy baby boy. Without her permission, the thought populated, permeating her brain.
Our baby.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
“Yes, I have him right here.”
Staci blinked. A quick intake of his surroundings reminded him that he was sitting in the cab of one of Eden’s Gates trucks—lifted from the F.A.N.G. Center. Footage of him with the cultists—the other cultists—would now be available. Footage of him walking past the corpses of Jacob’s gutted chosen would now be available.
Jacob is going to kill me, he thought, lifting his eyes from the back of the seat to look at Helmi. The woman was watching him as she spoke on the phone, with Dani sitting next to him on the backbench. Helmi had been on the phone with someone for quite a while; he’d stopped paying attention what felt like eons ago. If he just let his brain drift off, he wouldn’t think about the bodies. Fucking God, their bodies—
Jacob’s going to fucking kill me.
Helmi's hand moved. On instinct, Staci flinched, and she rolled her eyes.
“Say hello, doggy,” she said, shoving the phone against his ear. He fumbled with it for a minute before he swallowed thickly.
When he looked at Dani frantically, she frowned, her brows furrowing, and she whispered, “Don’t embarrass me, Staci.”
“Um, h...” His mouth was painfully dry. “Hello?”
“Hello. Is this Staci Pratt?”
The voice on the other end was painfully pleasant. She had the same kind of accent Dani did—Norwegian, maybe, or Swedish—but her voice was a bit deeper, a rich timbre to it.
“I am,” he replied uneasily. “I-I mean, yes. It is.”
Helmi had faced forward in the driver’s seat again and started pulling away from the F.A.N.G. Center, turning the heat down low. As the truck pulled out onto the snowy highway, she flicked the headlights off and slowed to something close to a crawl.
“S-Sorry, but—”
“You do not have to apologize to me, Staci.”
“I just don’t know—um, who you are,” he managed out. As soon as he said the words, Dani dug her elbow into his ribs; he barely stifled the yelp, looking at her as she mouthed something he couldn’t understand.
She hissed, “I told you, she is—”
“My name is Kajsa. Helmi, and your Dani, and many of our brothers and sisters are...” Her voice trailed off, and she made a thoughtful hum. Pratt tried to ignore the way she said your Dani made his heart jump in his throat. “They are my charges. It is my responsibility to take care of them.”
“Oh,” Pratt said. “So what...What do you want with me?”
“Helmi says that you have made a very good impression,” Kajsa replied sweetly. “You have important knowledge, and I want to make sure that you are safe, and taken care of. Just as I would any of the others.”
He fought back a grimace. The words sounded sweet and enticing, but he couldn’t shake the way Dani had looked at the gutted corpses on the screen and said delightedly, It will happen to us all. If we are lucky, Helmi will be the one who does it for us.
Pratt’s gaze darted up to the front. Helmi’s dark eyes fixed on his in the mirror, like she had been watching him all along.
“It is my understanding that the Seeds have not endeared you to their cause? That you know what your colleague did, that your friends have left?”
“No,” he replied quickly. “I mean—that’s right. Um, I was working for Jacob, but it was more like—”
“Do not trouble yourself with recounting. I believe you,” Kajsa interrupted. And then, gently: “It must have been horrible.”
His chest tightened. Oh, no, he thought, shaking his head and pressing the heel of his hand against his left eye. No, fuck no, don’t listen to her, Pratt, you fucking idiot.
“By now you must have some grasp of what is going on,” the woman continued, “but in case you do not, I will tell you. Are you listening, Staci Pratt?”
Pratt’s head pressed against the back of the seat. He didn’t want to; he didn’t want to listen to her sweetness, her sympathy, the way she clicked her tongue and the timbre of her voice warming him down to the marrow of his bones when he felt like he’d been freezing this whole time.
“Yes,” he whispered. “I’m listening.”
“We are well-armed. We are organized. We have a common enemy with you. And a common friend, too.” She paused, and he thought that he could hear a smile in her voice when she said, “I can tell that you want to live, my darling. That you don’t want me to have Helmi pull over and gut you open, leave you for the crows and the wolves and the woods to take you.”
Opening his mouth did nothing to inspire the words to come out of him. Nausea rolled violently in his stomach—but there was nothing left to puke up, even if he’d wanted to.
He did want to live, but not like this. Not terrified. Not. Like. This.
“I want you to live too,” Kajsa murmured on the other end.
“But you’re going to have to do something for me.”
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
When Elliot opened her eyes, it had gotten dark outside.
It took her a minute to collect her bearings, sitting up in a bed in a dark room. At her feet, Boomer huffed and sighed at the disturbance, and then she remembered; she was in her bed. Back at home. John had driven the both of them back to the house, and she’d said that she needed to lay down—and he’d let her, without protest or complaint. He hadn’t even tried to insinuate she could use a napping companion.
Pulling herself out of bed, she rubbed her eyes tiredly and glanced out the window. Everything felt a little foggy. How long had she been sleeping? Had she really been out until late into the night?
She reached absently to her bedside table, blindly fumbling for the lamp switch; after what felt like an eternity of not being able to find it, Elliot sighed and skimmed her hand over her face, looking out the window. The night outside was brighter than it had been in a while, with no clouds in the sky and the moon illuminating the snowy landscape in an unforgiving blue-white, stretching out far and far and far until it hit the treeline.
Something darted on the horizon. She blinked rapidly, taking a step closer to the window and pushing on the glass pane until it started to slide up, grinding laboriously. The longer she looked, the longer Elliot thought maybe she had just been zoning out—but then she saw it again; a flash of something, pale and long, like spider bone-white in color skittering up the dark wood of a tree in the distant treeline.
A glimpse of pale limbs. Tangled, dark hair—she couldn’t make out the color, it was too dark—but it looked wet, it looked matted, like someone had hurt it. Like someone had blown its skull open.
Something metal rattled. The trash can, she thought, her attention snapping to the front of the house. When the sound of metal crashed in the night, the motion-activated light in the front kicked on. A shadow stretched along the snow, cast long and deformed by the warping of the light.
“Hey!” Elliot shouted, but the shadow did not twitch or move in response; just the sounds of rustling, like whoever it was found themselves too preoccupied with digging through the trash can. Her heart was pounding violently in her chest; the terror that had been knotting in her stomach was doused by something hotter, redder, angrier.
Rage.
She pushed herself away from the window and out the door into the hallway. As her feet hit the stairs, there was almost no noise—just the rushing of her movements as she pushed the front door open and hurried down the front steps, turning the corner to where the garbage can sat.
“Hey, listen to me!” she snapped, propelled by the anger when she saw the figure hunched over the garbage can. “You can’t be in—”
The figure lifted its head. From the back, her eyes swept over what looked like fur, a tail, up and up to the back of a head that had two ears perched on it, until the figure’s head turned—
Fury disappeared. It was now only dread, only pure, cold dread and terror sitting in her, gutting her, washing her out as the dog with a man’s face turned and looked at her and smiled.
The square teeth, gapped and pearly, oozed with the same dark liquid as she had thought she’d seen before. In the yellow light from the porch, it glittered dark as garnets, dropping into the snow and spreading out crimson.
Move, she thought, I have to move, I have to fucking move, I have to go I have to run I have to—
“Hey!”
It was her voice. It was her voice, but it wasn’t coming out of her—it was thrown, echoing from somewhere in the trees, the dog with the man’s face spreading its mouth wider. Somehow, she knew deep in the marrow of her bones that It was making that sound.
“Hey? Listen to me?”
The pitch was all wrong. Elliot felt a moan bubbling up in her, and It turned on its hind legs, feet hanging loose around its ribcage, and faced her fully. She managed one step back before It tilted its head, as if to say, where are you going?
“Hey, listen to me!”
There was something else in its teeth. Something else, wiry and golden, and even when she willed herself a step back
(whereveryougowhereveryourun)
her body would not move; she was trapped, frozen, watching as It stepped closer
(ItwillwaitforyouItwaitsforusall)
she realized that it was hair, in It’s teeth
(ITWAITSFORYOUITWAITSFORUSALLITWILLHAVEYOU)
her hair.
A hand landed on her shoulder, and she screamed.
When she lurched and twisted around, she was not met with a familiar face. It was a woman, hair dark and bundled up in winter clothes, watching her with concern furrowing her brows as the headlights of her car made Elliot squint. She immediately jerked away.
“Are you alright?” the woman asked, her hand dropping back to her side. She was tall—she had to be at least six feet tall, and her face was sharp and angular, her eyes nearly black without any light to show their color.
“Where—” Glancing around wildly, Elliot forced a swallow. She was not in front of her house. She was not even close to the front of her house. She was all the way at the end of the drive, standing in the—
“—found you in the middle of the road,” the woman said, the lilt of her accent jarring Elliot back to reality. “I was on my way home when I nearly hit you. Are you quite well?”
Her gaze snapped back to the woman. The dog; where was the dog with the man’s face? Where had she—
Every nerve-ending felt fried, like they had become pure static; she felt like she was vibrating. She stared at the dark-haired woman with the strange, rich accent, wondering why it itched at her. Weyfield was small. Too small for her to not know about someone with an accent living there.
“Who are you?” she asked after a moment, nails digging into her palms. “You don’t live around here.”
A smile stretched across the woman’s face. She had pearly teeth, and the kind of full mouth that looked pretty, sculpted—but in the smile, Elliot only thought, broken glass, her smile looks like broken glass.
Vaguely, she was aware of John’s voice; he must have heard her scream, or seen her down the driveway, the headlights of the unfamiliar car illuminating her in the dead of night. And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling. Paranoia spread along her spine, worming into her lungs, a most effective parasite.
“I know you don’t live here,” Elliot managed out, her voice trembling as she took a step forward. There was a tiny pinprick of relief when she realized she’d regained her mobility. “Why are you driving around this neighborhood? Who are you?”
The woman turned and headed back towards the driver’s side of her car, hands tucked politely into the pockets of her coat.
“You should be more careful of your sleepwalking. Someone else might not have been so kind as to stop,” she called over her shoulder. “And—”
The woman paused, the smile still rooted firmly on her face as she opened her car door.
“I hear stress is bad for the baby.”
Something wretched and vile twisted in her stomach, hot as a branding iron. The panic that shot through her system was so vicious, so potent, that for a second she felt like the air had been sucked out of her lungs; it crashed over her in a wave so powerful that her vision swam and she thought, I’m going to pass out.
But there was another thought, too, squirming around in there, blinking its little emergency light:
My baby, my baby, you stay away from my baby.
“Ell!”
John’s hands landed on her before she thought think to pull away, even if she’d wanted to, as the headlights of the woman’s car turned away and began to drift down the drive. The idea that she ought to chase the car down occurred to her, but the tremble in her legs and the hitch of her breath reminded her that it would only serve to make her feel worse.
The brunette frantically checked her over, panting and out of breath as though he’d just sprinted down the drive; when his hands finally came to a stop, they were cradling her face, his eyes searching hers. Over his shoulder, she watched the receding red light of the woman’s car drifting in the dark, aimless in a sea of inky black, and she wanted to throw up.
“I heard you scream,” he said, breathless as his brows knit together at the center of his forehead. “What are you doing all the way out here? Baby, look at me, what’s wrong?”
“She knew,” Elliot managed out. Her voice felt like sandpaper grinding out of her lungs. “She knew I—she knew about our baby.”
“Who?” John looked over his shoulder, and then back at her, his thumbs smoothing over her cheekbones. “Elliot, who?”
I don’t know, but the words wouldn’t come.
I don’t know who she is,
but she knew about our baby,
and she has a smile like broken glass,
and a mouth as red as blood.
17 notes · View notes
smol-and-grumpy · 5 years ago
Text
Something Just Like This - CH34
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.
Warnings: There’s so much angst in this I’m still sorry.
WC: 4685
SERIES MASTERLIST
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..A YEAR LATER
.
.
“A Lambo, Cas? Really?” Dean’s laughing as Cas shows him his newest buy. “I didn’t give you so much money to waste it on a Lamborghini!”
“Thank you! That’s what I was thinking too!” Anna chimes in, “We almost had a fight when he came home with that...thing!” Anna gestures at the car in their driveway. 
Dean’s invited for dinner at Anna and Cas. Right after Y/N left, Cas stayed behind for a bit because he was worried about Dean. It was hard to get out of the funk but Dean also mainly did it for Cas. He didn’t want his friend to be worried about him. Anna and Cas have moved out of the city, pursuing the happiness Dean still chases.
And now he’s here because Cas wants to go through the details of his wedding which will take place in two months and Dean is his best man. Dean couldn’t be happier, really. If anyone deserves a fairy tale ending, it’s definitely Cas. 
“Yeah, I know now that it’s a bad choice.” Cas calls out as Anna’s already making her way back inside to set up the table. He rolls his eyes when Anna doesn’t see but Anna shouts back, “Stop rolling your eyes!”
Cas then turns to Dean, “What do you really think of it?”
“I don’t know, Cas,” Dean says, takes a sip from the beer, “It seems over the top. I don’t think your dick is small enough to drive such a car.”
“Yeah, and now that Anna’s pregnant we should maybe get a family van.”
“What?”
“Yeah, you heard me.” Cas chuckles.
“Wow,” Dean huffs out, “Congratulations, man!”
“Thanks. I’m terrified, though.” Cas says, half smiling.
Dean has to laugh at Cas’ expression. “I can imagine.”
“And you? How are you?”
Not a question Dean likes to answer but he does because it’s Cas, “Good,” He says and takes another sip, “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Good.” Cas nods, but doesn’t say more and Dean appreciates that. “Come on, let's go eat.”
 *
 When they reach dessert, Dean’s phone vibrates but he doesn't want to be rude and pick it up until Anna asks him if he doesn’t want to take it.
Dean fishes his phone out of his pants and looks at the caller ID. It’s a number he doesn’t recognize. He looks at Cas and Anna and nods, stands up to take it in the hall. 
“Hello?”
After that, everything’s a blur. He feels nauseous and all he can answer is “Yes, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He goes back into the dining room, his hands are shaking and he breaks cold sweat on his forehead. 
He doesn’t even know what to do so all he does is stand there, his hands on the back of a chair, holding it real tight because if he doesn’t, he thinks he’ll fall.
“Dean, is everything okay?” Cas asks.
“Yeah, you’re a little pale.” Anna adds.
“Huh?” Dean grips at the chair, his knuckles are turning white. “Yeah.” Dean says but then he looks around, not sure what to do or say.
“Dean.” Cas stands up, is about to walk over to Dean.
“Y/N’s in the hospital Cas. Car accident.” 
“What?”
“Yeah, exactly.” Dean tries to smile, it doesn’t work.
“Will you go? Is she here in this County?”
“I-I...I don’t know. And no, it’s two hours from here. She’s still in surgery. They found my name as her ICE contact on her phone. Could just be that she forgot to change it.”
“You should go.” Cas lays a hand on Dean’s shoulder. 
“And tell her what?”
“Well, if you wait too long, chance is you might not be able to tell her anything at all.” Cas says and fishes a key out from his pants pocket. “Take the Lambo, it’s faster than your Baby.”
Dean chuckles, “Fuck off.”
“Now get out of my house, Winchester!”
 *
 “Why did you leave?” Dean mumbles to himself as he goes through what he wants to say to her. There’s also, “What are you doing now?”, “Are you happy?”, “Why did you think running away was your only option?”, “Did you think I would have killed you?” and also there’s “Did you really love me as much as I loved you?”
He parks in the parking lot and runs in, almost knocking someone over. Dean gives his name at the reception and to his surprise, he was given the room number without further questions.
Dean takes the elevator, his heart’s thumping super fast in his chest.
The door to her room is open, there’s a nurse and a doctor helping her settle in. Dean feels a strong sense of deja-vu. 
“Mr. Winchester?” The doctor approaches him when he sees Dean.
“Yes,” Dean manages to say even though his throat feels dry.
“The surgery went well. She suffers from a trimalleolar fracture on her left side, meaning her ankle is fractured in three different places. There’s dislocating of her shoulder and some bruises.”
“How long does she have to stay?” Dean asks.
“When she’s awake again by tomorrow and wishes to go home, she can. They will need to check her before she goes and the police will need a statement.”
“Okay, good,” Dean says, he still doesn’t look at her, “Because she hates hospitals.” Dean adds.
“That’s understandable.” The doctor says and walks out of the room, leaving Dean behind.
And there’s really no going back now, he’s here and he has to face her.
Slowly, he walks over to her bed, there’s a drip going into her hand and her leg is elevated. A bandage around her arm, another bigger band aid on her forehead. 
“Shit,” Dean curses, and he gets angry, feels like punching something, but he’s not angry at her, never at her. Right now, he’s mostly angry at the guy who drove into her. 
For the first time in over a year, Dean lets his fingertip skim over her face, tucks in a strand of hair. She looks the same as she always does and that makes him angry too. She hasn’t changed and he was still not able to find her. 
He makes himself sit down in the chair, takes her hand and squeezes it before he places a kiss on her knuckles. He lets go, sniffs once, pinches the bridge of his nose, tries not to cry.
Dean leans forward, rests his forehead on her arm, feels the warmth of her skin. “Baby,” he whispers and he closes his eyes.
 *
 The next day Dean’s back at the hospital as soon as visitor hours open. 
She didn’t wake up before the hours were over yesterday so he had to go home. She’s awake now, sitting on her bed, head propped up on the pillows, staring into nothingness.
Dean stops before he goes in, lingers at the door. His heart is beating stupidly fast.
Y/N tilts her head, flinches quickly before her gaze settles on him. “Dean?”
He exhales, feels like he’s been holding his breath since last night. “Yeah, it’s me.”
“How? Why?”
“I’m apparently your emergency contact.” He walks closer, sits down on the chair he’s been in last night.
“Oh, no.” She closes her eyes and clasps her hands over her face. “You shouldn’t have come.”
“Too late now.” Dean shrugs, doesn’t mean for it to come out as snappishly as it does.
“Look, I’m okay.” Y/N says and adds, “There’s no need for you to be here. I can manage.” 
“Can you?” He raises an eyebrow at her and his gaze falls on her broken ankle. “Go on, call someone else to come take care of you and I’ll leave you alone.”
He watches her purse her lips, watches her nibbling at her bottom lip and then she pouts and it’s not fair. It’s ridiculous how much he’d missed that fucking pout. 
She lets out a frustrating groan, and slams her good fist without tubes hanging out of it on the bed. 
Dean looks at her, amusement in his eyes. “I thought so.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know, but let’s not talk about it. Let’s get you out of here first.”
“No,” She says, “I’m sorry they made you come out here. You must have more important things than being here.”
“That’s my problem, and not yours.”
“But,” She pauses before she adds, “thank you.”
Dean just nods and takes out his phone, thumbs through it and he doesn’t really know what he’s looking at but he knows that if he doesn’t occupy himself, he’s going to have to hug and kiss her because that’s all he really wants to do, and that’s not going to happen. Not now. 
“Don’t you,” She starts then stops and Dean looks up, sees the flush in her face and then she starts to speak again, “Don’t you have more important things to do than being here?”
Dean purses his lips, it’s not quite a smile but also not a sulk. “Would I be here if I had anything else to do?”
She stares at him, her forehead creases but then a police officer stands in the door.
He listens as she tells the policeman what happened (she left work at the library — so she works! In a freaking library too! The one place he doesn’t think to look!), a white truck drove right into her at an intersection (Dean’s still fucking angry at that driver — He can still make it look like an accident. But then he thinks, without the reckless driver, he probably would have never seen her again). The policeman took down her data, her address (a fucking two hours drive from his place!) and then he leaves and Dean is pissed. Not at her. Never at her. At his own futile attempt on tracking her down and at the guy who broke her fucking ankle. 
They didn’t have time to talk because her next check up is around the corner. They wheeled her out and he waits until she’s back and then they wait together in silence until she gets the all clear from the doctor.
She’s discharged with a shit ton of painkillers and needs to be back for a check up in six weeks. 
“Shit,” She mumbles.
“What?”
“I don’t have any clothes.”
Dean grins, “I got you.” He takes the bag he had with him which she didn’t even notice. Pulls out a shirt and her pj pants she left behind.
Y/N looks at the shirt. It’s another Led Zeppelin shirt from him, not the one that she used to wear. 
“I couldn’t find the other shirt.” Dean says as he notices her staring a little too long at the shirt he brought.
“Because I took it with me.”
“Ah.” 
Dean lets her change, turns around and looks out of the window. If she wants him out, she doesn’t say, accepts the little privacy he gives her.
“Done.” She says and he turns around, swallows hard because it’s a sight he never thought he’d see again. 
She gets a crutch and it takes them an eternity to reach the car, and in hindsight, he could have let her wait and walk to get the car and pick her up at the entrance but his brain is not really capable of thinking right now.
He pushes a button and the car lights up.
Suddenly, she starts to laugh out loud. 
“What?” Dean asks, trying not to laugh with her at the sound that makes his heart skip a beat.
“A Lamborghini? Seriously?”
“It’s Cas’ car. I was at his place when I got the call and he gave me the car because it’s faster than mine.”
“Oh good, because I was gonna say that your dick’s way too big to drive such a car.” She’s still laughing but then she realizes that she might have crossed the line and then she stops.
Dean didn’t mind, didn’t even think that it was insensitive, given the circumstances of what they aren’t.
“Sorry.” She apologizes.
“It’s okay.” He walks around, helps her get in before he settles in himself.
“So,” He says.
“So,” She repeats.
“Where do you want to go?”
“My apartment.” 
Dean raises an eyebrow and looks at her suspiciously. “Do you have someone who could look after you?”
Y/N lowers her head, looks down at her hands. 
“Good, my place it is then.”
“Bu—”
“—You shush. You can’t even walk or lift things. How should you do it alone?”
She shuts her mouth, knowing full well that Dean’s right.
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  The road begins to get familiar and Y/N notices that Dean drives to his apartment building. 
He parks in the garage and she notices that her car’s still there. Dean doesn’t say anything when he notices her seeing the car. 
Dean helps her out but instead of handing her the crutch, he picks her up and scoops her into his arms, carrying her to the elevator. She looks at him perplexed and he only shrugs, “It’s faster like this because you’re an awfully slow crutch walker.”
She doesn’t say anything, clings onto him and it makes her heart race. It’s the first time they’re so close.
He drops her off, to be able to open up the door but then picks her up again and carries her to the couch. Nothing’s changed. Her painting is still on the wall. Everything still looks like the day she left.
Y/N looks at Dean as he unpacks the painkillers and sorts them into piles of morning, lunch and evening. “You didn’t move?”
He turns around and looks pained. “I did.”
“Why did you keep this apartment?” The answer comes out before realization hits. “Oh,”
She still has a key to the apartment, and forgot to leave it behind when she disappeared. And then she has tears in her eyes. He really stayed here in the hopes that she’d come back? 
“Yeah.” Now he’s doing the freaky thing again where he reads her mind. “Never really gave up. Thought it wouldn’t hurt if I kept it and was hoping that you’d come and at least get your car. Guess I was fooled twice.”
“Dean,”
“Don’t,” He says and walks around to sit down, there’s a safe distance between them. “We can either pretend nothing happened between us and I’m just a friend. As soon as you’re better, you can leave, that’s up to you. No hard feelings, okay?” He pauses before he goes on, “Or we could address the big elephant in the room while you’re here, and at least get that out of our way to make it all a little more bearable. It doesn’t have to be now, or today, but we both know that we have to eventually — or at least I know that I want some closure. What do you say?”
“Okay,” She nods and when she wants to look at Dean again, Bubbles jumps on the sofa and nuzzles her face against her hand. “Hey, you,” She says softly before she looks around to see if Cuddles is walking around somewhere.
“He’s gone.” Dean mumbles. 
“Gone where?” She asks and then it hits, “Oh.” Now, she really has tears in her eyes. “Is it because of me?”
“You mean, you’re asking if you broke his heart so that he doesn’t have any will to live anymore and decides that he’s better off dead?” Dean chuckled darkly, “No, that’s probably only me. But seriously, he was an old cat, his liver gave out, couldn’t even eat properly anymore. I had to put him out of his misery.”
“You brought him to the vet?”
Dean frowns, “Of course I brought him to the vet to put him down, I’m not a monster, Y/N for fuck’s sake!”
It’s not that she doubts him, it’s… she doesn’t know what it is. She’s emotionally not stable at all. “I’m sorry,” She can’t help it, she’s full on sobbing. “So sorry.”
“Hey,” Dean moves closer, holds her face in the palm of his hand as he makes her look at him. “Look at me, sweetheart. Look at me. It’s not your fault, okay? Nobody saw it coming.”
She nods, but she can’t stop crying. “I should have been there.”
“Yeah, you should have,” He says drily, but adds in a softer voice, “But we don’t usually get what we want. It’s okay.”
“It’s not.” She whispers, “What are you doing, Dean? You were supposed to move on, get out and live a happy life. You were supposed to forget about me.”
And there it is, the chaste kiss on her forehead, while he still has one hand on the back of her neck. 
She’d missed that. 
She’d missed him. 
“I could never forget about you. Not even if I’d try.” Dean lets go of her, sits back up and clears his throat. She doesn’t look at him, can’t possibly do it. But the way he sniffles, he must have been crying too. 
“How are you feeling? Want anything to eat?” 
She doesn’t know what to answer about how she’s feeling, so she doesn’t and says, “No.”
“Okay, let’s get you to bed. You need to rest.” Dean actually doesn’t wait for her to protest, scoops her up and walks her to his bedroom. It used to be hers too. She wonders what changed. 
He tucks her in, levels her leg and then he leaves, telling her that he’s preparing her pain meds. 
Y/N looks at her bedside table, her heart is doing some weird things when she sees that nothing had been moved. Her hair tie is still there. The book she started to read. His cheesy card that she propped there. But then she notices something. The drawing of them together with the cats is gone. 
Dean comes in and holds out two pills, drops them into her palm. She downs them with the bottled water he gives her. “Do you need anything?” 
You, she wants to say but doesn’t. 
She hates that he does that. By that she means looking at her as if he tries to read her mind. 
“No, thanks. I just feel tired.”
“Yeah, rest. We can talk later.” He walks out of the room but leaves the door open and she knows why. He’s afraid that he won’t hear her if she needs anything. 
 *
 She falls asleep soon after taking the medications and wakes up again to Dean walking into the room with a tray of food. He puts it at the end of the bed to help her sit up before he places the tray in front of her and proceeds to sit next to her on the bed. 
“I don’t have a lot of food at home nowadays. And I didn’t want to leave you and since I don’t have anyone to boss around anymore, you gotta make due with it. So, have a Winchester Delight, which basically consists of all the things I could find that are still edible.”
Y/N drives her fork into the mess. There’s no other word for it. It smells good, though. So it must be good too. She’s not even that hungry but she knows that she needs to get something in her belly if she has to take so many pain meds. 
Dean watches her fork up a little and puts it in her mouth. She chews and she looks over, sees him holding in a laugh.
“It’s awful.” She swallows the one little bite but lets her fork drop into the plate.
“I know.” He’s full on laughing now. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to eat it. I found Ramen, and already made it. Just wanted to see your reaction.” 
She rolls her eyes. He’s a fucking kid. Always have been, always will be.
He takes the plate and disappears, comes back with Ramen and she welcomes the warm soup. 
Afterwards while Dean’s out cleaning the kitchen, she gets up, needs to go pee and brush her teeth. It’s already late and she just took two more painkillers. The crutch is right next to her bed so she takes it, but then she forgot that she’s not supposed to put weight on her ankle and of course she has to fall. 
She’s angry at herself. Angry that she can’t even do a simple task of going to the bathroom on her own. Angry that her ex-boyfriend has to help her do the simplest of things. 
“Jesus, Y/N, you okay?” 
Of course Dean heard it. 
“I’m fine.” She says, attempts to get up but fails. 
“I can see that you’re fine.” He stands a couple of feet away, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he watches her trying to get up. “What did you wanna do?”
Y/N’s grumpy. “I need to fucking pee, I can do it myself, thanks.”
Dean walks to her, scoops her up, carries her to the bathroom and makes her stand right at the toilet. “Go on.”
“I need some privacy.”
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, but go off, I guess.” He turns himself around and plugs his ears up with his fingers. She rolls her eyes but she takes it. It’s still better than if he would watch her pee. Because that would be really creepy.
When she’s done, and Dean hears the flush, he turns around again, lifts her up and puts her in front of the sink. She can see that everything’s still there. Her brush, her toothbrush, her crazy amount of hair ties. She doesn’t say anything, though. Washes her hands and brushes her teeth while Dean waits with his head resting against the door frame. 
He carries her back to the bed after, tucks her in wordlessly before he slips out again. 
She lies awake even though she’s tired. It’s weird. Weird being back. Weird being here and in his bed. Weird having him looking after her when she’s been the one who ran away.
Dean comes in about an hour later, takes a shower and then he walks to the bed, slips in with her. “Is it okay if I sleep here? I just don’t wanna be far away if you need something during the night.”
“Sure, it’s your bed. If anyone shouldn’t be here, it’s me.”
Y/N hears him propping himself up, doesn’t really see it because it’s dark and she welcomes that they’re in the shadows. It makes everything easier.
“Don’t say that.” Dean exhales but doesn’t say anything else and the silence is killing her. It’s about another year (at least it felt like that) until Dean speaks, “Can I ask you something? I mean, can we talk a little? Are you up for it?”
“Okay,” She replies, because she knows that they eventually have to and what’s better than to get it over with. 
He tilts his head to her and she can see him squint, as if he’s trying to make out the shape of her face. “Why did you leave?”
She’s surprised by the question. “You didn’t find out?”
“Of course I did. I’m not a fucking idiot, Y/N,” Dean huffs out, “I… I just can’t wrap my mind around why you thought that running away was the only option you had.”
“Dea—”
“—Don’t Dean me.”
She takes a deep breath before she speaks, “I betrayed you. I know what you do with people who betray you, even if you don’t want to, but you have to keep up the facade. And I was scared shitless. Not because I didn’t deserve what would have been done to me, but more because you didn’t deserve it. I know that you did love me and I wanted to help you. I wanted you to be able to get out, have a life you really want. A life you deserve. So I made a deal.”
“What was the deal?”
“If they would catch you, they would have made a deal with you. One you would take because I know that you would. You’ll be able to walk free, everything against you would have been dropped, but for it to happen, I had to go away. They didn’t want me to interfere with them catching you because I could jeopardize their operation.”
“Nothing happened. They didn’t find out. Because you already made sure of that. You already helped me.”
“I couldn’t take that chance! Even after all the information I gave them, there was still a chance that they would catch you and if they knew that it was me all along, they would not offer you the deal. So I went away before they could even find out.”
“You took the easy way out, Y/N.”
“What did you expect me to do? Sit here and wait until they get you? Watch as they destroy your existence? You were too important to me.”
“You know,” Dean exhales audibly, “I thought that it would take me a long while to put two and two together but no, I got it straight away. I thought back to our conversations, played them over and over in my head. And then I realized that I chose to ignore all the red flags. I realized that I deliberately chose to ignore all the red flags that have been thrown at me because I wanted to hold on to that happiness I felt in my heart. I have never been as happy as when I was with you.”
She’s crying by now and she knows that he is too, from the way his voice gets softer and starts to vibrate.
“I’m sorry.” She says, because it’s the only thing she can say, the only thing she can think of. “Like I wrote in that letter. I hope that one day you will be able to forgive me.”
“Oh, I forgave you a long time ago, Y/N. I forgave you immediately after I read the letter.” He clears his throat, then he goes on, “The question is if you can forgive yourself. And I want you to, I really do. Maybe we can work on that, too while we’re at it. I don’t hold a grudge against you. I was never angry at you. I was angry at myself for not seeing it sooner. But then again I was asking myself what then? What if I saw it sooner? Would I have left you? Would I have locked you out of my life? Or worse, would I have killed you?”
She swallows the lump in her throat that’s building up with every word he says. 
“But the answer’s always no. I could never have done any of that. Not after you’ve helped me. Because after all, you’ve kind of picked me up from a dark place and gave me something to look forward to. It’s not only that, but you also saved my life. Twice. And it was you who suggested the trucks, you always helped me, and sometimes you knew that you were helping me, but most of the time, you didn’t. You made life better, more enjoyable, you cured my nightmares. It’s you. It has always been you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Can you do me a favor?” Dean asks and he lies down, turns to the side to look at her. 
“What?”
“First of all, you’ve got to stop apologizing,” He says and helps her adjust by taking the extra pillow away from her head so now she’s lying comfortably too. 
“Okay.”
He flashes a smile, it’s dark but she can still see the white of his teeth. 
“Let’s sleep, you must be exhausted.” He whispers now, his hand skims along her cheeks, as if he still doesn’t believe that she’s real. 
He didn’t dare to touch more of her than he really has to. And she knows that he’s giving her space. Because after all, she’s the one who left and even though she told him not to, he took her home and pushed himself back into her life. 
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CH35
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235 notes · View notes
western-writer · 4 years ago
Text
Betrayal Beyond Forgiveness
Fandom: Far Cry 5
Warnings: cussing, descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood and death
Summary: The Whitetails conspire against Rook out of fear but things don't go the way they expected them to go.
A/n: Finally! I've been trying to produce content for the longest time but I couldn't finish anything to save my life. But here this is and I'm very happy with it. I also didn't proof read this but will be going back through as time goes on to edit things. Enjoy!
Betrayal is a funny thing. The stinging, burning sensation that pools and spreads like electricity throughout your chest and settles into a pit in your stomach. How it feels when that first jolt of Earth shattering realization leaves you reeling. Questions racing in your mind, yet somehow you’re unable to think or choke out the words caught in your throat. It’s funny because betrayal always comes from those you would least expect. That's what betrayal is. You enemies... you expect that much from them. You expect them to try to hurt you. You expect them you screw you over. But when it comes from those closest to you... it cuts deeper than you could imagine. 
Rook would’ve expected something like this from Jacob - a set up. But the Whitetails? Eli? Rook couldn’t wrap her head around it. 
It was just supposed to be a simple extraction of supplies the cult had taken. Stealth is her specialty, after all. Rook dropped the Peggies quick - almost too quick. To Eli’s dismay, this only drove his point forward and confirmed a suspicion he had for quite some time. Jacob’s trails had changed her and, the cult having been mostly under control, it was time to put her down. 
Eli and Tammy watched her on his cameras as she worked. Tammy wore a “I told you so" look as Eli ignored it. With a heavy sigh, he raised his walkie talkie to his mouth and spoke. “We proceed as planned. I’m sorry, Dep.”
Having no idea of this so-called plan, Dep went through the plan as she was told. The area is secure, now she needs to check to see if the supplies are there. 
This part felt a bit strange to Rook. Why should she check to make sure the supplies are there? If they sent her out on his mission, wouldn’t they already be sure they’re here?
Rook ignored her warnings going off in her head and she opened each container. Her heart dropped as she heard the familiar click and she knew what was coming. She had just triggered a count down to a bomb explosion. 
Thinking quickly, Rook turned and sprinted away as fast as she could, but she wasn’t quite fast enough. The explosion went off behind her, sending Rook flying through the air. 
Eli thought the plan had gone off without a hitch as a Whitetail checked her pulse and found no sighs of it. “I think she’s gone, boss. I think the plan worked.” Eli could only hope that she died a quick death. Tammy breathed a sigh of relief. 
“It’s better this way, Eli. She would’ve been a danger to us all. I’ve seen what happens to people after they go through those trails. Now it’ll look like she went down a hero. No one will know.” 
Eli sighs, getting ready to announce her death, but there’s one problem. 
Rook didn’t die in the explosion. She was knocked unconscious and came to just in time to hear about the conspiracy to kill her. She laid there for who knows how long just letting it sink in. Her head throbbed, probably due to the conclusion and she’s pretty sure she has a few broken ribs. Rook was pelted with shrapnel and is bleeding from multiple wounds all over her body. Multiple bones are horribly damaged.
Jacob, she would’ve expected to do something like this. Not the people she called family. Not after all that she’s done for them. The Whitetails are playing with fire and if she lives through these injuries, they’re gonna get burned. 
“Deputy, Deputy, Deputy...” Jacob’s disapproving voice rings in her ears. “Bet you wish you listened to me now, huh?”
Rook opens her eyes a little bit, fighting off the drowsiness threatening to take over. Her vision is blurry and her ears still ring intensely from the explosion. She'll be surprised if she doesn't have some sort of hearing loss, even despite the ear plugs she wears.
It was sad seeing the fearsome Deputy laying here in a pool of her own blood. Having been betrayed by none other than the Whitetail Militia. Pathetic, really. 
Rook, being the stubborn woman she is, struggles to sit up, only to have Jacob slowly push her back down. He cracks a smile, finding a bit of amusement in this. 
“What do you want, Jacob?” she tries to hiss, but it comes out weak. 
Jacob sighs. “I tried to warn ya. You didn’t wanna listen. Now look where you are. Alone. Dying. How does betrayal feel?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Rook manages to growl. 
Jacob laughs. “I’ll hand it to ya, kid. You’ve got some real nerve. I can respect that."
Rook coughs, blood ozing from between her lips and she rolls over. Jacob watches her, almost like he's studying her as she spits out the blood. There's not a lot, but it's enough for Rook to be concerned.
"You have blood in your lungs," he tells her.
"No shit," she rasps. "Why... are you here?"
Jacob chuckles, wiping some blood from her mouth. "I hear everything, Deputy. These are my mountains, after all. I heard the whisperings. I'm honestly surprised they followed through. Their plan would've worked perfectly had someone bothered to confirm that you were dead. They just screwed themselves, didn't they?"
Rook nods slowly, beginning to wheeze. Jacob sighs.
"I guess I've screwed with you enough. C'mon." He extends his hand down and slide it under her back, lifting carefully.
"W-what're you doing?"
"I can't let them go and kill my best weapon, now can I?" He puts his other hand under her back and lifts her up. Rook doesn't bother with trying to struggle or fight him. She doesn't want to die. Not yet and certainly not because of people she would've given her life for.
Jacob picks her up, carrying her as gently as possible as to not injure her further. She rests her head on his shoulder, feeling oddly comforted.
Jacob felt oddly bad for the Deputy. It was never a feeling he expected to feel toward the young rookie. He felt her breathing against him, slow and raspy, pained. Anger burned inside him. Maybe he had a soft spot for her. He has to admit he holds a fair amount of respect for her. She's doing what most people couldn't, wouldn't, or would die trying to do. If he's being honest, he feels responsible for putting her in this situation, but at the same time, this is exactly what he wanted so why does he feel so guilty?
News of Rook's death shook the county. Everyone felt the sting of the loss all while she laid at the Vet's Center recovering and healing. Deputy Pratt stayed by her side the whole time in utter disbelief that the Resistance would do that to her. It took months for her to be well enough to stand and walk around but once she crossed that threshold when healed quickly, though, her loyalties had shifted just a bit and she would never be the same again.
Jacob tried to persuade her to forget about the Resistance. "After everything they've done to you," he said.
"It wasn't the whole Resistance, Jake," Rook defended them. "Just the Whitetails. And that still doesn't change the fact that what you and your siblings are doing is wrong."
Jacob just rolls his eyes. "If one part of the Resistance did this, the rest could easily too."
"The actions of the Whitetails don't speak for everyone, Jake. There's still parts of the Resistance that have fought beside me and some people have given their lives for me. I can't just forget that."
"Sometimes I think you're too loyal, Rook. I really do."
Now it's Rook's turn to roll her eyes. "Whatever you say, Jacob. I need answers and I intend to get them, whether you like it or not."
As Rook made her way out of the room, Jacob felt compelled to call after her, so he did. "Hey!"
Rook stop, turning to face him, seemingly annoyed. "What?"
"I just don't want them to burn you again. I don't want you to waste your energy on people that would literally murder you after all you've done for them. What if when you show up, they freak out and actually do kill you? I didn't save you just to have you be killed."
Rook would've be irritated with him if it weren't for the shock overriding her senses. This kind of vulnerability was incredibly uncharacteristic for Jacob, yet here he was. He showed her a side not many people had ever seen. His caring side. A side to him many people would argue is nonexistent.
Rook was confused at where the sudden concern came from but decided to brush it off - for now.
"It'll be okay, Jake," Rook responds, using her nickname for him to ease the tension. "They'll be too shocked to do anything."
Jacob watched her leave and sighs. At this point he feels a sort of obligation toward her and keeping her safe. The feelings confuse him greatly and he's unsure what to make of them. All he knows is that he hates it.
Rook stands in the doorway behind Eli, waiting for the perfect moment to make her presence known. She fights the angry trying to explode in her and reminds herself: you're here for answers, not to start a fight.
"Hey, Eli..." Rook says softly, making the man stop dead in his tracks and turn slowly.
"Deputy...?"
"Hey..."
With just a few strides Eli had closed to distance between them and hugged her tight. He was genuinely relieved to see her and know that he hadn't killed her. Guilt thumped in his chest like a drum as he held onto her.
"I thought you died..."
Rook had to admit, his embrace felt good. She wished she could forget the deception.
Eli pulls back and looks Rook in the eye. He notices that one has obvious damage to the cornea. Rook catches onto what he's looking at.
"Some, uh, some metal shaving managed to find their way into my eye during the explosion. Don't worry, it only took about 30% of my sight in that eye. My hearing though... I have about half of what I had."
"Dep - I am - I am so sorry."
"I also lost about 25% of my breathing capacity. Major concussion that will effect my cognitive function for the rest if my life. Broken skull and major brain bleeding. My left knee cap basically had to be rebuilt because of how shattered it was when I landed on it after the explosion threw me. My right ankle was broken, both wrists, my left femur, and both my radius and ulnar were pretty well mangled. Did I tell you that not only were multiple organs bruised, but my kidney had ruptured just a little bit? Oh and I had a ton of tissue damage, but I pulled through."
"If anyone could've done it, Dep, it was you."
"Yeah, it was me," Rook chuckles humorlessly. "After being left for dead on the ground... left to bleed out or die of organ failure... you'd never guess who found me but that doesn't matter right now." Rook takes a few steps into the Wolf's Den and looked around. The place was seemingly empty. "What matters is..." she trails off, turning to face Eli. "why'd you do it, Eli?"
A look of shock is plastered of Eli's face as he takes a step back. "D-do what?"
"Set me up, Eli. Why did you set me up? Why did you try to kill me? After everything I've done for you and this fucking county."
"I-I'm sorry, Dep. I really am. You were dangerous, or at least that's what they told me."
"You're smarter than that, Eli. Or at least I thought you were. Letting someone manipulate your thoughts like that... Who was it, hm? Was it Tammy? You know she never liked me."
"After the trials Jacob put you through-! She was terrified that he would use you against us. And I saw it Dep. How you took all those cultists down... it was unnatural."
"Are you fucking kidding me!? Seriously!? I have been fighting for my life, Eli! I've had to change to adapt my methods to fucking survive and you wanna say I'm dangerous because I had to get better? You really don't understand what I was up against. While you got to sit in here I was out there doing anything and everything you wanted me to do." She points to the door. "I was being kidnapped and shot and beaten. I killed for you and I wpildve DIED for you but THIS is how you repay me!? Fuck you, Eli. I thought you were family. I THOUGHT I could FUCKING TRUST YOU."
Rook steps forward, shoving Eli hard and he stumbles, falling to the ground. Rook stalks over, kneeling down next to him.
"You thought I was dangerous before? Get a load of this. Jacob saved me. That's right. Jacob. You know how much damage I could do if I wanted to? All I'd have to do is tell him where this precious hideout is and he'd come down on all of you so fast and so hard that you would never know what hit. You all would be dead before you could get your radio out. The Whitetails would be extinct and all it'd take is just a few words."
"You wouldn't dare," Eli hisses, glaring at her.
"Wouldn't I, though?" Rook answers dangerously. "All it'd take is a few words and your life would be snuffed out much like you tried to do to me. You involuntarily gave me so much power, Eli. Guess next time you'll check my pulse yourself, huh?"
"Dep... please."
Rook sighs, standing up and turning away from him. "And even though you'd fucking deserve it, I won't do that. But I will tell the rest of the Resistance what all of you did and let them decide what to do with you."
A crushing weight falls onto Eli. "I'm sorry, Dep. I really am. I never wanted any of this to happen."
Rook sighs and places her hands on the table in the main room. "You know I can never forgive you or any of the Whitetails for this, right Eli? I would've given my life for you guys... How am I supposed to forgive this? No. I can't. I just can't."
"I understand, Dep... I don't blame you."
Rook takes a deep breath and turns to him again, seeing that he has gotten to his feet. "I've been doing some talking and I've managed to talk Joseph down. They're not leaving but they'll stop targeting and recruiting unwilling participants as long as the Resistance leaves them alone."
"What does that mean for you, Dep?"
She smiles a bit. "I don't know... I mean I just experienced life altering trauma, both physical and mental. I have permanent brain damage. Another bad hit to the head could kill me. So I guess... early retirement. I'm partially blind, can't bear for shit anymore and get winded by walking for extended amounts of time so it's really my only option."
He wanted to say it again. He wanted to apologize until he lost his voice. He couldn't believe he had been so dumb. She will never forgive the Whitetails and neither will he. He will never forgive himself.
"Goodbye, Eli," Rook muttered as she left the bunker. All Eli could do is watch her leave and prepare for the chaos that is about to erupt. The Resistance will be furious with them. They'll be luckily if the rest of them don't kill them.
Rook found herself back at the Vet's Center and questioned herself for a moment before going inside. She could've gone anywhere but she chose here. She chose to come back.
Jacob is waiting for her as she enters his office.
"They thought I was a danger to them..." she mutters.
"Why?"
"Your trials... they thought you'd use me against them."
Just as Jacob feared, they had caught onto his plan. But she would never know that.
Surprisingly, Jacob walked over to Rook and hugged her.
She was stunned and almsot pushed him away before accepting the affection. God knows she needed it after the last few months she had. She never thought she'd find comfort in Jacob Seed but here she is.
And as for Jacob, feeling the younger woman in his arms did something to him. He didn't want to let go. He didn't want her to go. And he would do anything to make sure she didn't.
Some things are better left unsaid and Jacob is sure that this is one of them.
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gustafsnightangel · 4 years ago
Text
A Softer Side Part 2
Hunt and Strand lived, breathed, and ate the case until they had exhausted all avenues, only then did they decide to stakeout Donovan’s place.
“It’s like four days until his kids birthday and he’s still in town, what gives?” Hunt asked from the back of the van as he watched Donovan’s car pull up.
“A few options, he isn’t our guy, he’s snatching closer to home, or he’s paying someone else to get their hands dirty as he’s retired living the life of luxury.” Karl quipped sarcastically.
“In a run down duplex. Sorry, I’m not buying.” Jerry huffed.
“Me either. He’s dirty, we just gotta find the dirt.” Karl’s eyes narrowed as the trunk of Arthur’s car opened. Snatching the camera with the telephoto zoom lens he zeroed in on the shopping bags.
“You got something boss?”
“Shopping.” He stated and clicked away as Jerry watched the images come up on his laptop screen. “Hmmmm.”
“Hmmm indeed.” Hint said scanning the photos. “Why would a guy in his sixties, living alone need feminine hygiene products and diapers?”
“Damn good question.”
“He’s stocking up.” Jerry said quietly.
“He is, hey run the plates.” Karl smiled. “He’s changed cars, that’s not the same one he had last week when we came here.”
“Derek Strider, age 57, black hair, that’s dyed because it was a sandy blond when we met last week. Says here he’s a retired school teacher. Helps out at, oh fuck me.” Jerry said a moment later, and spun the laptop around for Strand to see.
Karl almost went nuclear. A fucking orphanage, is this guy for real? “Get Meekland on the phone, right the fuck now.” He snarled and Jerry opened a line.
Strand relayed the information and Jerry, wisely, kept his mouth shut.
“I’m not asking for a warrant yet ma’am, I’m asking for someone to go sit on the orphanage over the next few days to see what this guy does.” The line went silent for a few moments.
“You’re sure?”
“Somethings off Sarah, we can’t ignore it.”
“Very well, I’ll have someone assigned to you this afternoon.” She snapped.
“Thank you.” The line went dead.
“You guys really hate each other don’t you?” Jerry said quietly.
“No, just... we irritate each other, oil and water.” He chuckled, let him think they hated each other, it was better than I’m banging the boss. “What type of security do you think he has on that house?”
“Considering what he’s hypothetically hiding, I’d say a lot.”
“Hmmm.”
“What hmmm, I don’t like that hmmm.” Jerry said cautiously.
“He’s going to go out at some point and I want to have a snoop around.” Strand murmured.
“You can’t go in...”
“I didn’t say I was going in, I want to look around.” He shot back. “You knock on the front door while I wander around the back.”
“If we go in without a warrant.”
“I’m well aware of what happens, don’t sweat it kid, I’m not about to blow this lead by entering without a warrant.” Not yet he thought.
“Ok then, when?”
“Discretely call the orphanage and ask what time the volunteers come in, tell them your interested in helping out.” Karl lifted the camera back up as Arthur ventured out to the car again as Jerry made the call.
******
“He’s heading to the orphanage.” Jerry confirmed.
“And you know this how?” He asked sarcastically.
“Because Wainwright just texted me that he’s over there and our boy just got out of his car.” Hint smiled.
“Good, let’s go.” Karl stalked to the house with purpose, his long legs eating up the road. Signaling to Jerry, he went around the back. He heard the kid knock on the door and wait, the polite investigator just tying up loose ends. Strand committed the layout of the rear of the house to memory, the storm shelter door which was oddly out of place against the abandoned garden shed along the back fence. Glancing at the neighbors yard, their storm shelter was against the house. Hearing Jerry’s second knock and polite call of Mr. Donovan he ventured along the rear of the house, studying every weather beaten board, every window. Nothing out of the ordinary. Taking out his phone he snapped a few photos and walked toward the garden shed, now here was some security. “What are you hiding behind a rusty tin shed Arthur that needs a high end, high priced military security system?” He muttered to himself and snapped a few pictures of the lock and the storm shelter which also has a lock. The back entrance to the house was also tightly secured, he needed blueprints and a warrant.
******
Climbing back into the van Karl uploaded the photos from his phone to Jerry’s computer and gave him detailed information about the locks and where to find someone to break them. He also had him pull the county blueprints of the area.
“Ex military.” Strand said as if that alone explained everything. “They don’t ask questions and get the job done. It’s our last resort if we can’t get the warrant.”
“We’ll lose our asses if we go in without a warrant.”
“I will, you won’t be coming in if it gets to that point, because I won’t be arresting him.” He said darkly and let the kid see the rage and hatred simmering beneath the calm facade that was Karl Strand. “If it is who we think it is, I’m not letting him slip through again. This time I’ll end the fucker.”
“Fair enough.” The kid gulped.
“Set up one of the remote wireless cameras on the house and we can monitor from the office for the night. I want food and a fucking shower.” He was beat. They’d been jammed in the van for nearly a week but it was paying off, they had leads, they were following cautiously.
“Can do boss.” Karl climbed into the drivers seat while Jerry took care of the camera and they headed out once everything was online.
******
Strand went out for burgers again after his shower and walked into the conference room as Jerry was finishing up with Wainwright on the phone, the camera they’d set up showed Donovan’s car back in the driveway at the house.
“Our boy home for the night?” He asked placing food in front of the rookie and taking a seat.
“Yeah, got in about ten minutes ago. Wainwright’s gonna hang in case he scouts the orphanage out tonight.”
“Good.”
“He also setup a wireless camera so we can see the building, front and back.”
“Even better.” Karl studied the orphanage, entries, exits, windows. “Pretty secure.”
“Reasonably, the younger kid section more than the main building.” Jerry said biting into the burger.
“Begs the question of how? How’s he gonna do it Jerry?”
“How much does it cost to legally adopt?”
“Chump change to what he’s getting for them. But no, not legally adopt, too much of a paper trail, too many questions.” Karl chewed on that thought. “I wonder...”
“You wonder what?”
“I wonder if he’s visiting other orphanages.” Strand mused out loud.
“Fuuuck! I didn’t even think of more than one. It would be a bold fucking move to snatch them from the orphanage though.”
“Yeah.” Karl said wistfully as his brain ticked over each scenario. “I’d wait.” He murmured.
“Wait for what?”
“I’d wait for the kids to be adopted.” He sat up abruptly and started typing. “Cross check all the orphanages in the last few states he’s hit with parents that have adopted only to then have the child kidnapped a little while later. That’s going to be a short fucking list, at least I hope it’s shorter than the list we have.” They sat and tossed theories around as the computers churned through data. They both fell silent as the chime from the computer informed them of a hit.
“Shit.” Karl scrubbed his hand over his face. “I was hoping I was fucking wrong.”
“Me too, but it’s more weight for a warrant.”
“Ok let’s get to work.” He sighed as the hits came in, a slow trickle of more names he’d add to his list.
“He used more than one orphanage in New York State, Ohio, and Colorado.” Jerry said in awe at the amount of names popping up. “This is crazy.”
“It is, but what’s the bet you just found your milk money.”
“No we found their prime merch, the milk money will be the homeless that can be cleaned up and sold for a quick $20K.”
“Let’s get it together, I’ll call Meekland in the morning and disturb her weekend.” He grinned, in more ways than one.
“Oh she’ll love you for that.” Jerry said sarcastically.
“You sassing me boy?” Strand growled.
“No sir absolutely not.”
Karl couldn’t contain the chuckle, the kid was all right for a rookie.
******
It was 3 am Saturday morning when Strand called it a night. They were both wrecked.
“Go home, get some sleep Jerry. Good work these past few weeks.”
“Thanks boss but if you’re staying so am I.”
“I’m not, I’m heading out. We can’t help these kids if we’re falling asleep mid-takedown. Rest.”
“You too.” He said and collected his coat and headed out.
Strand was kicked back staring at his board when Meekland stepped in. “Making progress?”
“Slowly, but yes.” He eyed her carefully, damn he was in the mood to fuck her hard. “If he sticks to pattern he’ll move on the 17th kidnapping the first kid.”
“We can lockdown the orphanage.” She assured him and he smiled.
“He won’t take the kid from there, it’ll be from the family that just adopted their new baby girl.” He snarled.
“Oh fucking shit Karl.” She breathed. “Seriously?”
“That’s how I’d do it and there’s a pattern with previous states and families that have adopted.”
“Who’s he going to hit?”
“I don’t know. There are multiple adoptions each day and he visits more than one orphanage, each with a different ID. We’re still working that angle. It wasn’t until a few hours ago we were thinking it was just him and a lone operator, now I’m thinking mob or syndicate.”
“Jerry heading home?”
“Yeah, as am I. We need sleep. There’s nothing more I can do for her tonight.”
“You really think she’s still with him don’t you?”
“I heard her screaming when we were close fifteen years ago Sarah, I fucking know she exists.” He stood and pulled his coat on, jamming his hands into the pockets.
“Want to hit the bar?” Which was their code for take me home sir?
“I do, but I’m beat to hell. I need sleep.”
“Go and sleep, we can swing past after lunch.” And with that settled she turned on her heel and left.
******
He knew he should have said no to Sarah, but damn it a man has needs and she was more than a willing participant. The drive home to his downtown apartment was blissfully short given the time and for once the doorman wasn’t at his post to talk his ear off. He needed his brain to shut down for a good twenty four, a solid eight and a good fuck would suffice. Once inside he darkened the room, took a long hot shower and let the day and the case fall away. Crawling naked under the covers he let sleep claim him hard.
******
Her text tone woke him, Sarah was on her way. Slipping on a pair of lounge pants that hung low on his hips he padded out to fuel up with coffee and eggs he hoped were still good. He was clearing his dishes when Sarah knocked.
“You look like shit.” She said gruffly and handed him a bag of fresh bagels.
“Good morning to you too sunshine.” He chuckled and let her in.
“Eat your bagels.” She smirked.
“I’ll save them, I just had eggs. What is it you want Sarah?” He asked sternly.
“You.”
“I thought you had a someone special?” He joked.
“Apparently not as special as the blond bimbo on his arm last Thursday.” She snapped. Ahhhh he thought, that would explain the moodiness these past few days.
“I’m not relationship material Sarah you know that, this is just sex.”
“Sex is all I fucking want right now.” She spat and his eyebrow raised.
“On your knees.” He growled. “You forget your place little one.” She dropped to her knees, eyes never leaving his. “Bedroom.” He barked when she went to touch him, the slight flinch reigning her in. He knew what she needed from him, what she craved when she was like this. Watching her crawl on all fours to the bedroom he finished his coffee and devoured a bagel, she would wait, time it’s own restraint.
She was kneeling at the side of the bed, her usual spot, when he came into the room and shut the door. Belt in hand he stood behind her, looming, his presence enough to have her submit to him. When her head bowed he sat on the bed in front of her and hooked a finger under her chin forcing her to look at him.
“You know not to take that tone with me little one.” He growled. “Across my lap, you get ten.” He saw the realization in her eyes that they wouldn’t be a soft ten either. “Stand.” He commanded. Once she stood she kept her head bowed, hands nervously twitching in front of her. “Take your shirt off.” He purred, the slight smile tugging his lips as her hands shook while fighting the buttons. It was arousal over fear, Sarah had never feared him, nor should she. This was their game, mutually beneficial, equally satisfying. He drank in her curves, the swell of her breasts as she stripped the blouse from her body. “Now your skirt.” His voice husky with need of his own as his eyes followed the fabric down her legs to pool at her feet. She waited, knowing he was in control, he would tell her when to move.
“On the bed, across my lap.” He said after he took his time devouring every inch of her with his eyes. Holding out his hand she took it to steady herself as she got into position. “Hands.” He murmured, the command in his tone unmistakable. Binding her wrists with the belt he secured them comfortably in the swell of her spine. She’d come prepared with her hair already in a tight braid, the long rope like tail enough for him to wrap around his hand for a good grip when he was ready. “Count them out little one.” He soothed as his hand circled her ass cheek ready to strike.
He drew his hand up and back and slapped her hard. The crack of skin against skin echoed around his bedroom.
“One sir.” She said defiantly.
The second strike caused her to whimper, the large red hand print blooming on her skin.
“Two sir.”
With each strike she relinquished control, he could feel her submit to him further.
“Five sir.” She choked as the tears came. He didn’t hesitate, knew that this was what she needed. Wrapping her braid around his hand he fisted it and pulled her head back gently before striking her again.
“Six sir.” She sobbed, tears streaking her cheeks.
“Nearly there little one. He purred and brought his hand down sharply.
“Seven sir.” He felt her let go, the last of her stress and tension falling away as he soothed her ass cheek before striking again.
“Eight sir.” Her sob shook her body.
His fist tightened in her hair as he gave her the last two strikes, both harder than the rest of them.
“Ten sir.” She cried, as he released her hair gently and soothed the pain from her scalp and her glowing hot cheek.
“Will you talk to me in that tone again little one?”
“No sir.” She whimpered.
“Up you get.” He urged and he helped her up and into his lap, her wrists still bound.
“I’m sorry sir.”
“I know you are.” He kissed her forehead, the need for her to feel safe was as important as the release the rough session would bring her.
“Be a good girl now and hop up.” He said, his hand steadying her as she unfolded herself from his lap. Fingers stripped the remaining lace from her body, those curves enticing him to play. Once she was naked he cupped her face in his hands and devoured that beautiful mouth. “Such a good girl.” He purred as she stood there and let him take her as he wanted, touch her as he wanted.
He wasn’t a gentle lover, and never had been, he didn’t do it with the premise of intentionally hurting someone, but his handling was rough. Gripping her wrists he held them forcefully as he took and touched. Releasing them he positioned her face down onto the mattress, his huge frame towering over her. Nudging her knees to widen her gripped her hips hard to bring her up on her knees, that perfect ass presented ready for him to fuck. “Wider.” He growled and nudged her knees open, the whimper making him smile. She’d been begging for him to take her like this and hard for weeks. He left her there, poised for the rough hard fuck she’d asked for while he stripped, his cock aching to be buried inside her, to feel her. He opened the nightstand drawer and placed the vibe on the bed for later, she would come and come hard today.
She wiggled her ass as his tip pressed against her entrance and his hand coming down sharply on her ass cheek. “Don’t test me.” He snarled. He teased her, tormented her to breaking point, the tears and whimpers fueling his own lust. With a sharp thrust of his hips he buried himself deep, her body shaking with the force of their pelvises meeting. Hers was a guttural groan at finally being filled with him, his own grunt equally as loud as he held her hips painfully tight and began to take her.
Strand fucked her hard, his own tension and stress of the weeks past eager to find its own release, the need to fuck it out of his system taking over. Pounding into her he gripped the leather at her wrists and rode her, the sound of their bodies colliding mixing with the grunts and groans of fucking filled the room. He felt her peak, the tightness of her pussy caressing him. Just as she was about to shatter he pulled out, her release ebbing away. His throaty chuckle at her whimper of frustration only spurring him on. “I warned you not to test me.” He snarled, the slick tip of his cock pushing at her puckered hole. It wasn’t often he gave her this pleasure, knew she relished it as much as he did. “So wet for me.” He cooed, the spanking earlier doing its job, her heightened arousal obvious. “You want me there don’t you.” He teased. “Want me buried in that pretty ass.”
“Please sir.” She begged and pushed back slightly to try and force him inside her, desperate to feel him fill her again. The hard slap to her already red ass cheek made her yelp.
“Patients little one or you’ll get nothing.” He growled. “I’ll take my fill and leave you wanting.” She stilled and waited. “Better.” He stroked his engorged cock and made her wait longer, the game drawn out for her pleasure as well as his. Slipping inside her soaked pussy he gave her a few thrusts before pressing against her back door, the tightness around his mushroom tip making him groan. He fed her the tip, her muscles contracting around his head like a vice, her body trembling as she fought the urge to push back onto him.
“Please sir.” She whimpered.
“You want it all don’t you little one?” He inched into her slowly, her breath erratic as she struggled not to come.
“Please sir.” She whimpered.
Once he was seated in her tight ass he drew out and began to thrust, the ease of which he knew she’d prepared for the evening in advance. Working into a rhythm he plunged in taking her hard, the slaps to her ass adding to their mutual pleasure. Leaning over her he placed a hand either side of her head, above the shoulders and fucked her, that soft whimper making him lose his mind as he dominated her. In a swift move he straightened, wrapped her braid in his hand and pulled her head back so her body was bowed back, the other hand at her throat. She was at his mercy, bound and being fucked relentlessly.
His hand dropped from her throat momentarily and reached for the vibe he’d placed there earlier. Switching it on he held it over her clit, the cry of shock and extreme pleasure sharp to his ears. He slowed his rhythm as he eased it inside her pussy, the curved section long enough to sit against her clit. Taking a hold of her throat again he plunged in and felt the vibration ripple up his cock, the groan primal. He took her, hips snapping, pushing him deep into her ass, she was almost screaming in ecstasy.
Feeling her peak he pistoned his hips and fucked her like the primal animal he was, taking what he wanted, everything she had to offer him and more. “Come.” He snarled and squeezed her throat as she exploded. The feel of her milking him had him roar before he spilled his seed, his thrusts erratic and powerful. Both spent he pulled out and released her wrists, her body lax and unmoving as she caught her breath. “Color little one.” He said as he climbed off the bed.
“Green sir.” She panted.
They weren’t one for cuddles and snuggles afterwards, they both got what they needed out of this session and Karl headed to the bathroom to shower. She joined him as he was stepping out to take care of her own personal hygiene. With a towel wrapped around his hips he cleaned up and stripped the bed, virtually erasing the fact they’d fucked here at all.
******
“You know this can’t be a regular thing Sarah.” He said as she stood on his threshold, finger stroking down his crisp blue shirt. “I can’t go through all that shit again.”
“Pity.”
“Were no good for each other.” Except for a quick fuck he wanted to add but thought better if it. He needed to be clear with her again. They had rules and limits for a reason, especially after the crash and burn of their actual relationship years earlier.
“I know Karl, it’s just...” She sighed. “I know.” Leaning in she kissed him sweetly. “Thanks for the session, I needed it.”
“So did I.”
“You know it’s Sunday, you don’t have to go in.”
“I want to see what the our databases spat out.” He said abruptly. He wanted to chase down leads and get ahead of this fucker. “And I think better when I’m staring at the board.”
“I’ll see you around then Strand.”
“Yes ma’am you will.” He said softly and closed the door before she could worm her way back into his heart. He’d loved her once, if a man like him was able to love, but they were just fuck buddies now and it suited him just fine.
******
He didn’t expect to see Jerry at the conference room table, downing coffee and typing furiously.
“You look like a man possessed.” Karl chuckled softly as he shucked his coat and sat to look at the names the computer had pulled, he was loose and relaxed and ready to dig in. “And you shouldn’t be here on your day off kid.”
“You’re here.” He said flatly, continuing on his current train of thought.
“I’m on my own time Hunt, I don’t expect you to be.” Strand said gruffly, he wasn’t a complete asshole to drag the kid away from his scheduled time off.
“You’re here, I’m here.” He said simply. “I’m not looking for overtime, or a pat on the back. I want this prick.”
“It’s personal for you.” Karl said quietly, his gaze studying the rookie as he worked. “Not my business.” He added when the silence stretched. Yes, he thought, you’ll do kid.
“My sister.” Jerry said after a moment as he kept working, though Karl could see the pain and grief etched deep in the kids face when he mentioned her. It had aged him in a heartbeat. “Not this case.” He added quickly. “But you never know, this might give me answers into hers.”
“Unsolved?”
“Stone fucking cold boss.”
“Tell me.” He commanded, he needed to know where the kids head was at.
Strand looked at Jerry and rage looked back, that was something, Karl thought. Anger was good fuel when you had to push through the shit haunting your every step.
“Nutshell version. My sister, Eva, is 16, seven years younger than me, or she would be if she was still alive. I’m not sure she is. She ran away from home and or was kidnapped when she was 10. My mother was adamant she was taken. I’m more inclined to believe Eva took off on some hair-brained fantasy of a better life on her own, even at ten she was a hellion. Cops looked into it and shuffled it to a cold case after not so much as a we’re chasing all leads. They don’t give a shit.”
“Which is why you’re with this agency and not a cop.” Strand added.
“Absolutely.” He said vehminantly. “I’d like to believe she’s still alive, but reading this case and the possibility of her being sold, I’d rather she be dead.”
“Can’t blame you there.” Karl studied the rookie closely. “Is this going to be an issue for you?”
“No sir.” He said strongly. “These kids, the women they are now, deserve everything of me to catch this guy and nail his balls to the fucking wall. If it leads me to answers about my sister then great, if not, I’m ok with that too.”
“There’ll be other cases that blur the lines with your sister.”
“Yep, and it’ll be the same answer then too.” He said matter of factly.
“Good to know.” Karl was pleased with the rookie’s answer. A lot more grit under the shiny new investigator badge than there appeared to be. “What have you got?” He nodded at all the names and figures on the screen.
“I need to figure out what’s driving this and it’s usually money. I set up a phony encrypted account and signed up for all these websites that offer girls of all ages to be purchased. I needed to be in their system to have a snoop around. It’s my guesstimate of the different levels of, dare I call it, merchandise, and payments for each girl, for each username or seller.” He explained.
“You’re looking for a pattern.”
“Exactly.” He pointed at Karl and went back to the printed out spreadsheet in his hands.
“How far does this go back?” Strand asked, the cogs in his head turning with this new information.
“So far only three years. I can get more but it’ll take some time. I’ve already set my computer to pull data.” He turned the laptop around for Strand to see, numbers and names flicking past at an alarming rate.
“How may girls per year?” He asked softly.
“Per user or per website?”
“Both.”
“Gimme a sec.” Jerry’s brow knit in concentration as he fiddled with the spreadsheet on the big screen. “Holy shit!” He breathed out in disbelief.
“Yeah that sums it up.”
“130,000 plus girls a year over the site. 1 to 2 thousand girls, give or take per user. Some users rank higher than others.”
“We look into them all. Split the list of users in half, we run them all. Let’s build the case from our side so when we put these assholes in a cage they fucking stay there.” Karl growled.
“I’ll dig for personal information first to give you a name and username on the site.”
“Do that. I’m calling Meekland, we need more people on this. It’s not just our buddy boy Arthur, not just this handful of sites.”
“We going after them all?”
“We shut Arthur down first, that’s our priority, find the girl, his first girl. We can run the rest in the background.” Karl said as he got some notes together.
“I can set that up. Can I have Wainwright? He knows his shit when it comes to computers and hacking and tech.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” He looked at the kid. “I know you’re not in it for the pat on the back, but this deserves one. Good job.” He grabbed his phone and made the calls to Meekland, secured Wainwright for the support and began to dig into the usernames.
******
“Question.” He said into the silence, the hum of the computer fans the only other sound in the room a while later. “Did you cross the sell dates with anything?”
“Not yet.” Hunt answered. “The snatch date would be different to the sell date and we don’t know how long he keeps them.”
“Search for sell dates on our boys three anniversary dates.” He said on a whim.
“You got something boss?”
“A hunch maybe.”
Jerry ran the search on the sellers websites and the spreadsheet on the big screen. “That’s still a lot of girls.” He blew out.
“But look at the ages.” Strand grinned. “That’s the only thing that matches for three of the sellers. The girls are all 16.”
“So he keeps them from infants to 16?” Jerry’s voice choked.
“Grooms them from birth to be the whores they’ll be sold as.” Strand ground through his teeth. “Those are your prime merchandise.” He nodded to the screen. “Look at the price they were sold for.”
“3.7 mil, 6.2, 1.3, 5.4. Auctioned off, not just sold.” Jerry said reading the site.
“Can you find pictures of the girls?” Karl asked.
“They usually don’t have pictures up of prior transactions but I can look. You thinking these are Arthur’s girls?”
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”
“There’s three usernames though.”
“Oh I bet it’s all his, one for each anniversary.” Strand was deep in Arthur’s head now. “I wonder?” He whispered to himself and opened up his file on the wife as he scanned the account and username list.
“Got something boss?” Jerry asked and grabbed their cups to refresh the coffee that had gone cold.
“Maybe.” He mumbled, brain locked onto the current task. “Did you happen to glance around the inside of his house when you talked to him?”
“A little, I didn’t want to be too obvious.” Jerry sat the coffee in front of Karl and took his seat again.
“Were they’re any pictures or anything of his wife that stood out?”
“He had a portrait of her and a child, well I’m assuming it was his wife and a depiction of their child.” Jerry closed his eyes as if to bring the memory back. “Oh and a strange poem line under the portrait painted on the wall or something. You know how people have those chic signs and sayings and shit? He had one that said.... oh fuck me... wait.” Jerry’s eyes went wide and he scrambled forward to use his laptop. “Fuck! Fucking fuck I missed it before. NevermoreRaven that’s his fucking account username.” Jerry spat. “And he lists all three separate usernames under that one account name. Son of a bitch.”
“So our boy is into some Poe is he?” Karl grinned. “What was the poem line on the wall?”
“Sorrow for the lost Lenore.”
“The Raven by Mr. Edgar Allen Poe.” Strand stood and scrawled it across the board. “What’s the bet Lenore is his wife’s real name. Add an amendment to your report on the Peter Jensen case, tie it in. It’ll give us cause and a bit of weight.” It was a good solid lead and something he could now got to Meekland with to secure a warrant. “Damn good work Jerry.”
“I was stupid, I just thought it quirky and should have followed up, we could have known this earlier.” He spat, angry he’d made a rookie mistake.
“Live and learn kid. Without the website info it wouldn’t seem like much.”
“It would have to you.” He huffed.
“Kid I’ve got nearly twenty years on you.” He snorted as he pulled out his phone to call Meekland again, thing had just swung in his favor. “Run and focus everything on EvermoreRaven. We nail Arthur first, then we go after the others. Let’s not spread ourselves too thin and lose him.” Which is what had happened last time, Karl thought. History would not be repeating itself, his case, his op, this time around, his rules.
“When’s he due to strike again?” Meekland asked, annoyance in her voice at being disturbed again on a Sunday.
“Tomorrow is his kids birthday and the day his wife died. He’ll have his information on who he’s going to snatch and the 16 year old he’s about to sell.”
“Jesus Karl, this is a can of fucking worms.” Her sigh was one of frustration.
“Yeah and it’s going to get messy if we don’t do it right. As much as I want to bust in there and nail his balls to the wall we need to catch him in the act. The snatch and sell needs to go down, transactions completed for it to be worth anything in court, for us to dig deeper and get them all. I need to know where he’s getting all the girls and housing them. I need the warrants, I need a team.”
“You’ll have it.” She said without question. “Send me the list of who you want on this, hand pick the team. I know you Karl.” She said, that unspoken approval of they don’t all have to be department employees.
“Thank you ma’am.” He said gently, and he was thankful, she was giving him free reign which if the op went south it would be her ass too. He’d keep Hunt and Wainwright, the rest would be a team he trusted and knew wouldn’t let shit fall through the cracks. Time to color outside the lines a little, he thought as, he put in a call to Wainwright and was surprised when the guy walked into the conference room ten minutes later. “You working today?”
“I was yeah. Nothing that can’t wait. What do you need?” Karl liked Steven, blunt and no bullshit, much like himself.
“Get with the kid.” He nodded in Jerry’s direction. “He’ll get you up to speed, I have an op to plan.”
“Sweet.”
“You up for a tail?”
“On Arthur? Sure, where and when?”
“He’s going to leave sometime tomorrow for the snatch. I need you to follow him and get it on record, the snatch, the location he’s taking the kid to. It’ll be an infant going in and likely a 16 year old coming out.”
“I don’t think the teen will come out that day boss.” Jerry said softly not really sure if he should speak up.
@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden
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4birds-of-a-feather · 4 years ago
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Chapter 27 - Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight (when it’s exactly twelve o’clock that night) [part 3]
Birds Of a Feather
(In the previous chapters: after a wild match of a new game called I Have a Ball, the gang can finally start the party; among the guests there are Chris and Matt of Soundgarden, Layne and his girlfriend Demri and a couple of Mudhoney guys; to avoid an embarrassing situation, Sara suggests a game of Never Have I Ever which, despite Stone’s objection, is endorsed by several guests: now they can finally get to the heart of the party)
At this point the guests had basically split in three groups: some of them were stuffing their faces in the kitchen, others were dancing and listening to the music and some were taking their seats in a circle in the middle of the living room to play the game. “I can’t believe I’m doing this!” whined Stone as he sat down on the carpet “What did you plan for midnight? Musical chairs or broom dance?” “Stop complaining Gossard, nobody forces you to play if you don’t want to!” Cornell retorted to him and then went on “And actually I planned something great for midnight… you’ll see” “Should we be scared?” Layla wondered aloud as she noticed the devilish grin on Chris’s face. “Not much more than usual” Mike shrugged as he sat on the couch between her and Lukin. “Anyway, there’s no children games or grown up games: a game is a game, then it depends on how you play it” the girl explained then turned around immediately when she heard someone beside her open his mouth. “Yeeeah, and it depends on how much play you get” Elias spoke like he came out of thin air. “Elias?? Where have you been?” “When you grow up, I’ll tell you all about it, my darling one” the guy gave her a blatant wink “Let’s just say that it involved physical activity with a blonde bombshell…” “I didn’t know that indoor plants could be blondes...” “What do you mean, Mr. Cameron?” “I mean that, apparently, you have a thing for ficus plants and you also find ‘em incredibly blonde; I saw you sprawled between them half an hour ago, but I never took you for a-fuck, what’s the name?” “... Dendrophiliac?”  “Yes, exactly! Thanks, Layla, you’re an angel” the drummer flashed at Layla one of his sunny grins, while Elias began to whine. “Matt, what a low blow! I expected that from everybody in this room – except you and Ed, and look where my admiration for you has led me!” “... What kind of hippie freak are you, O’Reilly? Hell, going at it with a vegetable?! And it wasn’t even a carrot or a pickle, what is your damag-” Jeff had looked at him all perplexed, but he was fortunately interrupted by loud coughs made by Layla. “Soooo, everybody here knows the rules?” the girl asked, but was met by skeptical looks “Jeez, what kind of adolescence did y’all have?” “One that didn’t include fun, apparently” Elias shrugged, still licking his wounds after his previous skirmish with Matt. “Ok, I get it: first of all, grab the poison of your choice” and, as she said it, she filled herself a glass of tequila that had been previously hoarded in the middle of the circle with many other kinds of booze. Soon after Sara had shrugged and grabbed a bottle of beer, while Demri helped herself to a glass of sangria and then, one by one, everybody followed their example and was having something alcoholic clenched in their hands. “Very good” Layla cleared her throat “One by one, each one of us begins their sentence with ‘Never have I ever’ and then proceeds to say something they have never done; if you did the thing that has just been said, you have to take a sip of your drink” “Milady, you had my curiosity, but now you have my attention” Lukin declared, a hand upon his heart. “Now, this is the most important rule, so pay attention: you have to remember that the winners are the ones who have their glasses at their fullest” “... Layla, are you telling us that having a life as interesting as a sloth’s is the key to success?” Cornell scratched his temple, glancing at her in a perplexed way.  “I think she is” “Well, I have a question” Stone, unexpectedly, raised his hand “You talked about glasses, but many of us have chosen bottles, so it would take ‘em more time to empty that instead of a glass, right? Doesn’t that sound like a huge advantage to any of you?” “... he’s right, they have more booze to drink, that’s unfair!” Mike chimed in, pouting and waving his glass of whiskey in the face of everybody. “That’s not what I meant, Cready, lemm-” “But you can always grab another glass after you emptied the first, man! That’s what I’m gonna do” Lukin patted Mike on the shoulder, showing him his own glass of gin, and the guitarist returned to being his usual cheerful self. “Ok, so, who starts?” Layla asked, rolling her eyes. “Well, since you suggested the game in the first place, it’s only fair that you’re the one who goes first” Eddie answered gently. <The fact I’m also eager to know the things you did and didn’t do has got nothing to do with it, of course> “Oh, ok so ne-” the girl was answering but was immediately cut off by Stone. “Err-Ed, it was actually Sara who suggested it. Or the mysterious person she heard it from” “Huh? Oh yeah, you’re right, you go first, Sara” the singer admitted and mentally counted how many rounds were there before Layla’s turn. “Yeah, Sara, you can start” Layla winked at her friend and everybody else agreed but someone else chimed in again. “I have an idea. Why don’t we all drink a glass of something and the one who empties it faster starts?” McCready suggested.  “That’s what I call starting with a boom, I’m in, man! So 3… 2… 1-” Lukin immediately went along with him and brought his glass close to his mouth. “Nuh-huh, we’re gonna take it slow, it’s less funny if we all get drunk before the start” Layla innocently explained. “Now that’s not exactly true, miss” Lukin addressed the girl in a contrived way. “Everybody shut up! Sara will begin, end of the story” Stone took over and everybody simply agreed without further questioning. <Haha, I got the power> “Well, well, well” Sara tapped the bottle of beer against her lips “Never have I ever…” she stopped and looked Jeff directly in the eye “... got a love letter” Layla promptly gulped a sip of tequila, leaving Ed lost in his thoughts: he couldn’t believe that the Boston piece of shit could be able to make such a significant gesture. “Mikey, what the fuck are you doin’?” “Taking a sip, obviously” “... who wrote you a love letter? When did that happen?!” “My love life isn’t any concern of yours, Stoney” and, that said, McCready finally drank a bit of his whiskey, then turned to a pouty Lukin “Dude, why that sad face??” “...”  Lukin didn’t open his mouth because he was already near the stage of an alcohol-fueled coma, but Mike perceived his silence as a sign of possible discomfort and shame. “Don’t tell me that nobody ever wrote you a love letter!” he added, shocked “That is outrageous! But you don’t have to cry about it, if you want I’ll write you one” “... Elias, put that glass down; nobody’s gonna believe you” Stone changed his victim, who rolled his eyes but did as he had said. In the middle of all that noise, Demri and Layne shared a glance full of complicity and drank almost at the same time, while Chris and Matt clinked their glasses and unironically did the same. “Nobody specified if it had to be sincere or a bet would suffice as well, so…” Cornell smirked, then looked at Eddie, who hadn’t moved a muscle “Ed, you’re not drinking?” “Yeah, I-I’m usually the one who writes ‘em” the singer let out a nervous chuckle, then turned to the girl who was sitting next to him and that was muttering something under her breath “Everything ok, Sara?” The young woman’s gaze at Jeff was literal lava, ready to boil all over him. “That piece of shit… he doesn’t even have the balls to admit it, fuckin’ unbelievable” she snorted, then added in a loud voice “Somebody in this room is so full of shit it’s not even funny” When Jeff gave her a perplexed glance, she went on: “Yeah, I’m talking about you” “Man, what does she mean with that?” Elias went near the bassist in order to satisfy his curiosity, but the guy just shrugged. “She must have forgotten to take her medicine, you’ll get used to it” Jeff reassured him as he kept eye contact with Sara. <So what? Only because I’m lucky with girls, it doesn’t mean I gotta receive stupid love letters every day… And since when is this any of her business? Is she jealous? She fuckin’ hates me, how can she be jealous? And why does she fucking hate me anyway? Can’t we just have fun without problems for once?> Seeing the vein pulsing on her temple, Eddie put a hand on the girl’s arm: “Don’t mind him, you know how he is” he paused a second, then beamed with enthusiasm “Now it’s my turn!” “Who said that?” Stone asked after gazing from Sara to Jeff during their exchange like the spectator of a tennis match. “Well, we’re following the order…” Eddie explained pointing at Sara sitting next to him, then at himself, then towards Lukin and the other people sitting on the couch. “Who decided it’s counterclockwise?” Mike wondered. “How can you say cun- cou- caunt- county- oh fuck, how can you say that fuckin’ word when drunk?” Lukin tried to make a point. “Sadly not drunk enough, my friend” Mike wiped invisible tears from under his eyes while the bass player patted him on the leg. “Who cares if it’s clockwise or not, let’s go on!” Jeff huffed at Stone and flailed his arms, anxious to go on with the game, mostly to shift the attention on something else. “So – cough, cough! – can I?” Eddie hesitantly demanded. “Yeah, sure!” everybody prompted him to go on. “Ok so… uhm… never have I ever… got back with an ex” he said looking intently at the carpet beneath his feet. Some people drank, some people didn’t. Mike drank from his glass as Layla left hers untouched and gave him a puzzled look.  “Really, Mike?”  “What can I say? The soul is willing but the flesh is weak”  Layla nodded embarrassed and when she looked at Eddie, he looked down again pretending not to be staring at her, now acting preoccupied with his fingernails. <So she didn’t. But she wanted to. Does she still? She would be back with him already if it  wasn’t for the snow. It’s just a matter of time anyway… Shit, I should have asked ‘Never have I ever WANTED to get back with an ex’. I’ll wait for my next round... Will it be too obvious?> “Guess it’s my turn now” Lukin shrugged then stood up from the couch for no reason. “You don’t have to stand up to say the thing, Matt” McCready reminded him but he acted like he didn’t hear him. “Never have I ever… lied to a friend to avoid a greater evil” he stated then plopped back down on the couch with a burp. “Wait... this is a normal question” Jeff frowned as he, like everybody else, was expecting some senseless stuff. “Isn’t it alright?” Lukin asked and was about to stand up again, not without any effort, but Layla promptly pulled him down right away. “It’s alright, Matt, the question is perfect” she said and proceeded to drink from her glass. Steve, who hadn’t drunk in the first two rounds, did the same, just like Sara, Mike and literally everybody else. “Mikey, you basically did everything” Layne joked. <Yeah, finally something I actually did for real> the guitarist pondered and smiled. “Well, once I said I had troubles at home with my family and couldn’t make it to rehearsal. But I actually went to a party and got shitfaced” “YOU DID WHAT?” Stone and Jeff attacked him almost at the same time while the others just laughed. “You liar! And I was even worried about you” Stone shook his head. “You were worried only because you had paid to book the practising space in advance!” the other guitarist retorted, sticking his tongue out at him. “Do it again and I’ll bust your head wide open” Ament threatened pointing his finger at him. “You’re one to talk! Did you forget when you came late to soundcheck at the Off Ramp and said it was because of a jammed brake pad in your truck you had to check?” Mikey ironically asked “But what you actually had to check out was instead that girl from 7-Eleven?”  “YOU WHAT? GUYS, I’M SERIOUSLY DISAPPOINTED” Stone folded his arms and gave them both a scolding look. “Well yeah, I can understand Mike, but I thought you were more focused on art, honestly” Eddie chimed in with a shitty grin on his face. “Huh, not you too, please!” “What does it mean you can understand me? I’m focused on my art too” the guitarist acted offended “Sometimes you just need a break, you know?” “Come on, give Jeff a break! And you’re right Mike, don’t listen to them! It’s your turn now” Layla tried to bring peace in the gang and asked him to go on with the game. “Thank you, Four Eyes! It’s your turn, Judas” Jeff looked up at the girl, then stared at Mike with narrowed eyes. “Ok, so… uhm… never have I ever flown on a dragon” he said as he brought up his glass as if he was making a toast.  “Hahaha, shut up! That’s not valid, man” Elias blurted out laughing at the guitarist’s face, just like anybody else in the circle. “Why not? You shut up” “Err, Mikey, actually… I think Elias is right in this particular circumstance: you can’t make unreal statements” Layla scratched her head and tried to convince him without irritating him. “Oh sorry, Miss Boulais, I didn’t know this rule. I’ll come up with something else” McCready reassured her and Layla sighed with relief “Never have I ever… been to Mongolia” Everybody giggled and Layla facepalmed. Of course nobody drank. “Mike, the aim of the game is not drinking, you know that, right?” Layla whispered into his ear. “Don’t worry, I’ve got my strategy!” he winked at her and then asked the group before taking the umpteenth sip “So? Nobody? Ok, looks like I gotta drink then” “You seem to ignore other rules too though, did you know that?” Lukin broke the silence right when Layla was thinking about her statement. “Which rules?”  “Once you said your Never have I ever, you can’t actually change it… unless you take a penalty” Matt went on to explain and for a moment Eddie detached from the situation and observed the scene as an external spectator. <Two drunk grown men debating about the rules of Never have I ever, and it’s not even midnight> “He had to change it because it wasn’t valid, not because he wanted to change it himself” Chris pointed out. “Right, Chris, thank you! I love you man, did I ever tell you? Oh, and what was this penalty supposed to be anyway?” “Easy. You had to drink all player’s cups. But since you didn’t want to change it yourself…” Lukin shrugged and Mike suddenly sat straight up on the couch. “OH, BUT I WANTED TO!” “Haha, but you just said-” Layne chuckled at him while Demri muttered to herself she was expecting this comeback. “FORGET WHAT I SAID” “But Chris just said-” Cameron wanted to join in the fun too. “FORGET WHAT HE SAID, FUCK CHRIS, OK??”  “And he said he loved me!” Chris pretended to cry on his drummer’s shoulder and Matt patted his head. “Stop being an animal, Cready, and let Layla speak. It’s her turn” Gossard reproached him and Mike sulked like a child. “Ok so… mmm…” Layla collected her thoughts and then spoke in one single breath “Never have I ever led anyone to believe I liked them whereas I actually had a crush on their best friend and so was just leading this person on to get to their friend”  “This is… very specific, El” Sara squinted at her, trying to understand what her friend was up to. “It’s just an average game question” Layla shrugged but didn’t convince the other girl. <She’s a worse liar than Mike> Only Stone and Jeff drank, therefore getting a reproach from Layla herself. Ed didn’t drink and this was a sort of answer to Layla’s little suspects about him and her roommate. She smiled at him but was almost more shocked about someone else not drinking. “... Mike?” “Yes, babe?” “You didn’t drink” “Sure I didn’t. I’d never be such a jerk to a woman!” he replied with a disgusted face making everybody laugh, whereas Layla beamed and kissed him on the cheek. “Your kindness is stronger than your thirst, I’m impressed” “My turn now!” Elias yelled and everyone focused on him “Never have I ever… thought a friend’s mom, ehm, a friend’s parent was hot”  “Wow, a dirty question, who would have thought!” Sara rolled her eyes but also drank soon after.  “What??” her roommate was sincerely surprised.  “Well, that was really unexpected… color me impressed!” Steve grinned at her, raising his glass high in her honor. “Some dads are really something else, you can’t deny that” Sara justified herself and high fived Demri, who had just taken a sip as well “Let’s just say that this particular man made me re-evaluate the role of hideous Speedo swimsuits in society” “Amen, sister” Demri let out a loud cheer and patted her on the shoulder. “Are you really drinking?” Cameron gave Cornell a weird look. “Don’t you remember the story about Kevin’s mom?” the singer clarified. “Haha right, I forgot”  Mike drank but nobody was surprised. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Jeffrey!” Stone reacted sadly at Ament drinking from his cup. “You’re such a bigot” the bass player grinned broadly. “I’ll never let you anywhere near my house and my mother again”  “It’s not your mom that I find hot, don’t worry” Jeff tried to reassure him but got an unexpected reaction. “Why? What’s wrong with my mom?” “N-nothing, it’s just-”  “So you think my mom is ugly?”  “Not at all, Mary Carolyn is such a nice woman”  “Oh, so now you’re on a first name basis! Do you think you have a connection or something?” “No, you just said that-” “Keep your dirty hands off my mother!” “You’re all making it up. I only meant that-” “Jeff, you’re stuck in a vicious circle. The only way out is to drop the subject and make your Never have I ever statement, since it’s your turn. Trust me” Steve gave precious advice to Jeff, who nodded and focused on what to say.  “Never have I ever burnt bridges with somebody without any reason and without giving them the chance to explain themselves” “... Damn, Ames, you take no prisoners” Chris let out a low whistle, and the bassist shrugged, waiting for the inevitable glasses raised, but they never came. “Fancini, you ain’t thirsty?” he raised an eyebrow and received a middle finger as a reply. <Yeah, there was absolutely no fuckin’ need to hear ya explaining why the fuck you acted like an utter piece of shit – the reasons were all there, so you can put this bottle up your ass!> the girl thought, trying to ignore him. “Seems like nobody’s gonna drink this round, so… BOTTOMS UP!” Layne clapped his hands while Jeff stood up and emptied his cup. “I swear I wanted to say the exact same thing, I had it on the tip of my tongue!” Mike whined – he hadn’t taken a sip because he hadn’t totally understood what the hell his bandmate had said, but if that question had allowed him to gulp down his drink, then he was sure that it had to be something brilliant. “Well… seems like it’s your turn, Stoney!” Layla chirped, a bit in high spirits but with her hands steady, now intent on refilling Ament’s glass.  “Never have I ever avoided to face something important until the problems became bigger and uglier, so I regretted not doing anything about it before” Stone laid it out as simple as that without losing the smirk on his face, looking left and right at the bunch of friends. <That was pretty easy…> Gossard thought <This is not a New Year’s party, it’s a reunion of the Unfinished Business Club... Well, am I the one to talk?> When Stone and Layla made eye contact, the girl thought the question was directed right at her. Everybody knew about her ex boyfriend by now. What they didn’t know was that their relationship was over before the “Eddiegate” and way before she put an actual end to that. She’d always been aware that things weren’t good, that she was just too attached and insecure to let him go. <I chose an allegedly perfect boyfriend who was never actually there over dealing with actual people and the whole process of getting to know each other. I was so scared, and still am, that I’d rather not risk it and preferred a relationship that didn’t make sense anymore> At the same time Layla instinctively looked at her left towards Eddie and stole a quick glance of him knitting his eyebrows as if he was pondering something. He didn’t seem someone who would avoid obstacles to her, she couldn’t imagine him running away from problems, she liked him for being honest and straightforward. <Yeah, I do like him> she said as she figured out she had two reasons to drink and took a sip from her cup. As Stone spoke, for some reason Eddie’s mind immediately went to the mixtape he had sent over to them a few months earlier. All his feelings about his family, his mom, his dad, his stepdad, everything he had kept bottled up for so long and suddenly came out all at once. At times he thought it was too bad or too late, some other times he even believed there was still hope for him. It was always either black or white for him, nothing in between. And he started to think that maybe if he had addressed his issues before, his life wouldn’t be the rollercoaster of emotions it was.  <Thinking about roller coasters…> he said to himself as he looked towards the right and saw Layla drinking. Eddie saw the situation very clear for a minute. How could he blame her for trying to get in touch with her boyfriend again, when he did absolutely nothing about her in the meantime? He had never told her anything or asked her out, except for the failed attempt to go to the movies with her alone. Was it too late for that too or was there any hope left? In doubt, he drank from his glass too. Next to Stone, Jeff had let out a huge sigh and rolled his eyes: leave it to his best friend to pour some lemon and salt over the wound, then worsen the situation by twisting a rusted knife inside of it and letting it fester. He suddenly felt a great wave of fatigue washing all over him, and pinched the bridge of his nose because he had the feeling that a headache was behind the corner; it didn’t matter how many miles he had tried to put between himself and the first half of that particular year they were about to say goodbye to: the past had its ways to come back and bite you in the ass, and his nights spent by mulling over years and years of regrets and lost chances could prove it. Just thinking about Andy was still able to give him nausea, because his mind inevitably drifted to the last time he had seen him – hooked up to the machines, an unrecognizable empty shell where once had stood a bright young man, full of hopes and dreams bigger than his own life. Andy’s addiction had always been the notorious elephant in the room: everybody knew it was there, but nobody acknowledged its existence. They had tried to make him understand how serious his situation was – how jeopardizing it would have been for their careers – and, for a while, it had seemed to work: he had been sober for a few months and was positive about their future, confident about their imminent success. In the morning of that goddamn day he was supposed to go to the gym with him, but instead had called him to say that he didn’t feel good; his voice had been kinda scratchy, but Jeff had thought nothing of it – he was sick and didn’t need a nanny around, the day after he would have been good as new, that’s what he had told himself… that’s also what he had repeated to himself when he had stepped inside the hospital that same evening, cursing himself because he should have understood that something was wrong in his voice and it hadn’t been the sickness talking, but the heroin. He had also cursed Andy for throwing their jobs out the window, then cursed again himself for being a shitty human being who in that moment could only think of financial stability and not the fact that his friend wasn’t there anymore and that the lifeless corpse lying on the bed was a reminder of how nobody – not even the brightest fellows – in the end can save themselves. Now his thoughts drifted to the last New Year’s Eve party he had attended, where Andy had been gushing nonstop over The Miracle by Queen: he had been sober for a while and his eyes were literally sparkling while he talked about the English band’s latest single and eponymous album. Nobody could compete with the level of enthusiasm that Andy always showed when he talked about Queen – nobody, except maybe one person. Jeff raised his head and looked in front of him, where a pale-faced Sara was sitting with her legs crossed: even from his place he could see how in this moment her dark lipstick and metallic eyeshadow stood out on her face. <Avoided to face something important until the problems became bigger and uglier… regretted not doing anything about it before…> Stone had been a direct witness of how messed up he had become five years before, when he had spent a whole week being dead worried and then it had only taken Sara a few minutes to make his world crumble around him, but he didn’t think his friend would be capable of using that piece of information to gain some advantage in a stupid game… right? Unless Stone had suddenly developed some serious telepathic skills, it would have been simply impossible: after all, it was a conclusion he had come to just in the last few weeks, so the deliberate jab at him had to be ruled out. After more than five years, Jeff had finally convinced himself that yes, that infamous day he could have indeed done something more; he could have persisted, insisted to talk to her and demanded some explanations after she had told him to leave her alone forever because, apparently, he had ruined her life and there was nothing he could do to fix it. She had clearly been in distress and he had obviously noticed it but, foolish as he was, he had preferred to indulge her instead of pushing the subject further on and trying to understand how he could help her. Sara had always been a reserved person – one could say that she resembled a vault – but maybe, with the right words and intentions, he would have been able to breach her notorious armor of stubbornness and pride, and she wouldn’t have disappeared for so many years, or at least they wouldn’t have been in those horrible terms. Maybe. He let out a sigh and drank from his glass and, in that exact moment, the girl fixed her gaze on him and noticed that he was already staring at her; she wrinkled her nose and turned her face away, as to avoid his inquisitive gaze: the last thing she needed was someone trying to understand what was going on in her mind. <Fuckin’ Gossrad and his disturbed competitiveness…> He was referring to that goddamn July of 1985, she was sure of it; he hadn’t been there when the outburst had taken place but he surely had comforted Jeff after it: that’s how those two rolled, talking shit about each other but always rushing to the aid of the other one whenever something – someone – terrible had happened to him. And that’s what she had been for Jeff: something terrible – something terribly weird, irritating, plain stupid like only a teenager can be; something to laugh about with his friends, to parade around like a shitty trophy, to forget as soon as the game had ceased to be funny, along with his old fake-ass personality and behavior, and never again to be talked about. It didn’t matter if her heart clenched whenever he laughed because he still got wrinkles around the corners of his eyes, like he used to do… she had to bury that annoying buzz deeper, alongside their old selves – fake or not – that they had so meticulously killed.  No laughter or smile could carry the same meaning of five years before. She couldn’t be fooled: she was the first one whose eyes couldn’t smile anymore, no matter how broad the grins she displayed were. She also couldn’t care less if anybody – her aunt Liliana, Leo, even Eddie – told her that she needed help, that she couldn’t go on like this, always internalizing, always stifling what she really felt, always thinking she had to face everything on her own… they could keep on babbling, she was still the one who in the end got to make the decisions. <Ok, my whole life has been a perpetual avoidance of every fuckin’ problem until it has all become a majestic mess, and there isn’t a single day that passes without me thinking I could have done something better with my life… so what? Does this give everybody the right to tell me how I should or should not live? Don’t think so> The girl finally ended her internal monologue with a scoff and emptied her glass, without the slightest intention of making eye contact with anybody. 
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foofygoldfish · 4 years ago
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faith & alice for the ship meme 💋
General:
Rate the Ship -   Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs
How long will they last? - Till they die, pretty mucy
How quickly did/will they fall in love? - oh, very quickly - alice saw faith and pretty much instantly went oh
How was their first kiss? - 
Wedding:
Who proposed? - You know that one video of the two girls at the zoo proposing to each other at the same time? yeah, that happened with them, too.
Who is the best man/men?/ Who is the bridesmaid(s)? - oh I actually figured this out - for their first wedding, they didn’t have anyone, but for their second... a full list of the wedding party is at the end of this but their bridal parties: alice’s MoH is mary may, and her bridesmaids are hurk, hudson, grace, and claire. faith’s MoH is jane, and her bridesmaids are elizabeth, kim, and carolina! nick walks faith down the aisle, and alice’s uncle walks her.
Who did the most planning? - lol mary may. she was not happy that the two of them were happy with eloping.
Who stressed the most? - Both of them were nervous wrecks, honestly.
How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.
Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - joseph and jake - john was only invited because he’s alice’s brother in law, and she was not happy about that...
Sex:
Who is on top? - Both of them, but usually alice
Who is the one to instigate things? - again, both of them, but usually alice - she’s always delighted when faith does, though
How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now
How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head
How long do they normally last? - Oh, they can go for a pretty long time - they can go quickly, but if they’re able to take their time? they’re very happy
Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - absolutely. faith does like to spoil alice, though
How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.
How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.
Children:
How many children will they have naturally? - Between the two of them? zero. with help from staci, alice has three - david, aria, and nicholas.
How many children will they adopt? - officially? four - carolina, claire, briar, and eloise. unofficially? anyone that passes through hope county, for any amount of time, that needs a home? they have one with them.
Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - faith, but when alice starts getting restless, she gets stuck on baby duty to keep her in prosperity.
Who is the stricter parent? - faith - she worries quite a bit more
Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - faith - alice enables them, particularly claire slkfdj
Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - faith, but mostly because she’s the one who can be trusted in the kitchen lol
Who is the more loved parent? - i’m... not typing out each kids preferences lskdjf - they all love their moms a fairly equal amount, and they adore their uncle staci and aunt stella. however - alice is the one that lets them get away with more, and won’t automatically discourage them from doing stupid shit that she would absolutely do herself
Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - in the no-bomb and no-cult aus... faith, because she is much more patient, and much better at bribing people with cookies
Who cried the most at graduation? - staci sdlkjf (and alice - faith keeps it together until they’re home)
Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - alice, but that’s just because of her connections lol
Cooking:
Who does the most cooking? - Faith, but mostly because Alice can’t be trusted with the stove.
Who is the most picky in their food choice? - Alice will eat a variety of foods, but she can be particular about how certain things (like mac n cheese...) are made
Who does the grocery shopping? - for the no-cult or no-bomb aus - either will do solo runs over to the general store if they need something small/common, but their big stock-up trips to the city are all-day trips that they take together. faith usually does the list, though
How often do they bake desserts? - faith stress bakes. there’s almost always cookies in the house.
Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - faith slightly prefers veggies, but alice doesn’t care either way
Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - alice, for a similar reason to chloe in my sherchlodine post - she doesn’t usually do the cooking. (to be fair - mary may helped her make the meal, alice just made it look nice lol)
Who is more likely to suggest going out? - alice - mostly because she’s so used to going to the spread eagle for food that it’s just... weird eating at home, y’know?
Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - alice.
Chores:
Who cleans the room? - they both will, though... see the next question lol
Who is really against chores? - alice isn’t against chores, but she tends to need to be persuaded
Who cleans up after the pets? - alice - faith loves the cats and boomer, she does, but if she doesn’t have to clean up poop? she’s not gonna.
Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - ....alice.
Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - alice, holy shit. she tells mary may it’s the one thing she inherited from her mom - the need for the house to be clean when there is company coming. faith tells her that nobody cares, particularly in the “canon” verse where it’s the literal apocalypse, but she can’t help it, she’s gotta.
Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - alice, but probably because she dropped something else between them - 
Misc:
Who takes the longer showers/baths? - alice, just because she usually touches up her hair when she takes a shower. though, for baths... faith usually tries to get alice to join her, which makes it take a while lol
Who takes the dog out for a walk? - alice, because faith refuses to pick up dog poo.
How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - oh god alice goes all out, especially for halloween - her excuse for halloween is that it’s the day after her birthday, they have to let her decorate
What are their goals for the relationship? - ...stay alive?
Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - alice. she’s perfectly happy working night shift, honestly
Who plays the most pranks? - alice lmao - she doesn’t do them on faith that often though. she’s gotten a few too many 🥺 faces from faith....
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cliodevotus · 5 years ago
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hello! so, this is my first time writing some content for Tumblr and my first time writing imagine content for the rami malek tag, and i'm kinda nervous hehehe, since i'm a non-english speaker (i'm from Brazil) and i'm not that fluent in english. also, i've never watched The Pacific (guess who can't find it online for free? hehe), so all the character and the trait of Merriel here were based on other imagines i've read about him
so, i think... good lecture, i guess. aaa somebody help my i'm so nervous
word count: almost 2400 words ;
nothing here belongs to me, except the writing and the story, also the video credits goes to l0user (YouTube) ;
Mr. Shelter
《 Snafu Imagine 》
1945
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Nobody was waiting for him at the train station. Even thought it hurted to think about, he knew it would be like this since he entered that goddamn ship that sealed to the Second Great War.
It was past 6PM in the afternoon when the train stopped at New Orleans and let some soldiers get down of it and go back to their family. But Merriel didn't have a family waiting for him, not even Jade was there for him, but he couldn't judge her, he knew it was his fault that she was given to a foster home and didn't even knew he went to war. He didn't even said goodbye to Eugene, because he didn't want to wake the poor boy up. So he get off the train like he appeared, quickly and in complete silence.
He couldn't stop thinking about that situation while he started to walk through the station, passing throught the bunch of couples and families receiving their boys and mans alive from that monstrous war. They at least had someone or a home of their own. But Merriel had nothing and nobody.
Well, he had actually one person, a girl to be more specific, but he was trying hard to not think about that girl. It was just a moony teenage romance, nothing that passed from it. She was probably married to some asshole right now and having to take care of at least 5 naughty children. He didn't liked to think that she was married to another guy, but he knew she wouldn't have waited for him for like... 5 years? God, that's a long time. She didn't even send him a letter. During those 5 years, he haven't received anything, not even a letter. It was hard to see the other boys cheering to some picture or letter that they've receive from their girlfriends and he had to pretend he didn't care.
The day was being consumed slowly by one of those starry nights in New Orleans. The train station looked so dark that Merriel had one hundred percent sure that it was dawn or even dusk, or maybe it was just his mind trying to convince him that being in the battleground was better than coming back "home".
He bumped into something; he was distracted, thinking about the whole thing about coming back home and walking at the same that he didn't even noticed that little kid crying in the middle of the street. With the shock, he let his bag fall and hit the ground, almost making him and the kid fall together. His fast movement allowed him to equilibrate and hold the kid at the same time, before both hit the ground.
"Ay kiddo! Careful. Whatcha doin' in the middle of the street like this? You're goin' to get hurt." Scolded the boy, but as soon as he heard the silent cry and sobs, he regreted being so hard with the kid. "Ay boy, are you okay?" The boy just sobbed louder. "Can you tell me what happened?"
The boy turned and looked at him; his appearance was something else. The curly hair, that blue greenish eyes and thin reddish lips. Merriel felt like he was looking at some kind of mirror or something. Even the olive skin was similar to his. Even shocked with his vision, he felt the necessity of making sure the boy was okay. "What happened, kiddo?"
The kid sniffed and showed what he was holding in both of his hands, a teddy bear without an arm in the left hand and an arm without a teddy bear in the right one. The boy sobbed again. "I, I ripped off it's arm accidentally. Mo-momma is going to be angry at me, i-it's her teddy bear a-and I took him out without permission!" The boy started crying and sobbing hard again. Merriel was shocked due the boy's confession.
"Ay, ay, ay. Kiddo, calm down, okay? Lemme see the teddy bear." He asked, while cowering in front of the boy.
The boy gave him the teddy bear, and sobbing, murmured. "Shelter, sir."
"What?"
"His name is Shelter, momma calls him like this."
"Oh." Agreed, looking again to the teddy bear, with a sad mien. "There's anythin' I can do for the poor Mr. Shelter, the teddy bear, maybe a needlewoman can fix, but I'm just a soldier, I can't do anythin' kiddo. Sorry." The boy started sobbing again. "Ay, calm down. The best you can do now is tell your mother what you've done and hope that she forgives you. Ok pal?" The kid calmed down and nodded, while rubbing his eyes full with tears with his hands. "So, here's Shelter." Gave to the kid the stuffed animal back and stand up, ready to start walking to nowhere when little hands grabbed his own big hands.
Merriel was a little surprised with the boy's propose on taking him back home to tell his mother about what he have done to the poor bear Shelter, and even more surprise when, without hesitation, he accepted the propose. The whole way back wasn't made in complete silence, because after Merriel said yes to that crazy propose, the little boy didn't stopped talking and making the 23 years old man speak and answear his questions; he talked a lot, and Merriel realized that their appearance wasn't the only similar thing between them both.
"You know, momma had Shelter even before I was born! It was a gift from her boyfriend, I think."
"A gift?"
"Yeah, she gained it from her boyfriend one week before he was gone. I think he won Shelter for her on some kind of game, she said it was on a 'county fair', and that it was one of the best gifts of her life!" The boy chuckled and keep telling the strange man about his life with his momma, but Merriel stopped listening. It couldn't be. He couldn't help thinking about the girl again; he remembered when he shot those stupid cans and won the skinny brown teddy bear that looked like the poor boy Shelter just to impress her. She was so happy and excited, looking like a child, when Merriel gave her the teddy bear that she even kissed his nose accidentally. He smiled with the memory of her soft lips at the same time the little boy stopped abruptly.
Merriel looked up and saw the house. It was really pretty, actually; two floors, pastel yellow with some white details on some parts of the roof and the delicatef fences of the porch, where some plants and a wooden bench were part of the decoration, and in front of the pretty house, there was the prettiest garden Merriel has ever seen in his entire life.
"Sir?" The boy called Merriel, who immediately stopped admiring the house. "Come with me and tell my momma what happened to Mr. Shelter? Please?"
Merriel sighed. "I can go with ya, but ya have to tell ya ma what you've done."
The boy agreed and they started walking in direction of the pastel yellow house. When the little boy opened the door, a feminine voice echoed from the kitchen. "Alle, is that you?"
Allesandro looked to Merriel, who signed to him to go talk to his momma. Allesandro agreed and entered the kitchen, letting the marine admiring the inside of the pastel yellow house; so clean and organised, full of books and delicate porcelain objects.
"Allesandro!" The feminine voice screaming from the kitchen got Merriel attention back. "What have I told you about taking my things without permission?"
Allesandro sobbed in the distance. "I-I'm sorry momma!"
"And how am I going to fix it now?" Merriel started walkung slowly in direction of the kitchen. The smell of meat and potato patties was the most attractive smell he have smelled in those five years.
Allesandro noticed when he entered the kitchen. "Bu-but he said he knows someone who can h-help!" And one hiccup escaped his mouth. Merriel was shocked when the mother turned to him. It was her, the girl he had been dreaming all over those five years.
He murmured with a whisper. "Y-Y/N?"
"Merriel?" You murmured the same tone as him. Oh God, you've been waiting for that moment for the past 5 years and now he was there, in front of you. You didn't even knew if he was alive, your father didn't let you have any contact with him after he was gone; and now he was there.
"W-why didn't you...?" He whispered, so low that nobody though himself could hear, but you heard. And it hurted. That sad look in his eyes broke your heart, you wanted so much to hug him and said that you were sorry for not writing him any letter even though you didn't have any idea where he was. "You...?"
"Merriel, I-..." You walked 'til him, putting Shelter, the bear, and his ripped arm over the table and totally forgetting about the meat and the potato patties in the oven. You stopped in front of him, wanting so bad to touch him, to kiss that thin lips that are so delicious and vicious again. "... you're back...!" And then you hugged him, feeling the yerning tears coming out of your eyes in abundance. You could feel that he wasn't expecting you to hug him, shocked by the fact that you still remembered him and even though you didn't send him any letter. "I'm so, so sorry! I-I thought of you every night ans wrote you a lot of letters, but my father, h-he..." Merriel hugged you tight, he kinda understood for a moment. Your father was always a little piece of shit with him, but he couldn't judge the old man; if Merriel's daughter started going out and spending time with some guy that was knew for being a troublemaker and a big trashmouth like him he would be pissed too.
"Momma." Allesandro said suddenly, interrupting the moment between you two. "Do you know him?"
You noticed when Merriel became tense looking at your son. He finally realised and you needed to act fast. "Allesandro, sweetheart, could you go to the living room watch some TV? Momma needs to talk with this man in particular."
Even though Allesandro wanted so bad to hear the conversation, he obeyed your order and went to the living room, turning on the TV on some random show. You supposed it was The World in Your Home.
It was weird to look at Merriel after all those years and having to have that conversation in the most inappropriated way. The smell of meat and potatoes patties suddenly remebered you from the dinner you were preparing before he came. When you approximated from the oven, you finally decided to speak. "I'm sorry, I didn't... I didn't knew you were coming back today, so the meal I prepared for dinner isn't the beast one for your homecoming." You joked, and he kinda gave you a quiet laugh.
He grabbed the chair from the dinner table. "So, Allesandro?" He looked in direction of the living room, where your son was watching TV. "You're now a mother, Y/N."
You could feel the pain in his voice. "I'm a mother." You could only say this.
"And his name is Allesandro. How old is he? Five?"
"Four, he'll be five next weekend." You sighted. It was now or never. "He was named like his father."
"Really?" You turned off the oven, finishing the dinner, and turned to him. He looked like he was about to cry, you didn't want this.
"Yes, Merriel Allesandro Shelton." Merriel looked at you surprised; you smiled, holding back your tears. "You're his father, Merriel."
Merriel chin trembled, and some tears were forming in his eyes. The prettiest and happiest smallest smile formed in his lips.
[ • ]
Allesandro was grounded in his bedroom. After the dinner (the meat and the potato patties were delicious), while you were washing the dishes you suddenly realized how weird that situation was. He brought Merriel to your house, even though Allesandro didn't even know him! Merriel, who was listening to his childish stories and trying to find the most passive way of telling Allesandro that he was the father of your son the same time he was trying to fix Mr. Shelter, realized that after you told Allesandro to go to his bedroom.
Allesandro, grounded in his bedroom, was quietly playing with a wooden car toy he has won from his grandpa in his birthday last year, when he heard in the distance the radio from the living room playing a song.
youtube
He was curious about what that radio was doing playing songs so late at the night, so, quietly like a robber, he went out of his room, walked through the corridor and went downstairs silently, like he didn't even existed. Allesandro walked tiptoe in direction to the living room, finally spying inside.
He saw you and Merriel dancing to the melodic voice of Kitty Kallen.
❝Never thought that you would be
standing here so close to me
There's so much I feel that I should say,
but words can wait until some other day❞
Allesandro admired you, his mother, dancing to that strange man so serenely, and smiled.
❝Kiss me once, then kiss me twice
Then kiss me once again
It's been a long, long time
Haven't felt like this, my dear
Since I can't remember when
It's been a long, long time❞
He hated when he was playing in his room and heard you crying above Mr. Shelter teddy bear calling Merriel's name; he planned it for weeks, making sure to find that man you loved so much just to see you happy. And now he realised: he did a good job bringing his daddy back home, even though he got grounded in the end and costed to the poor Mr. Shelter an arm. But making you happy while you're dancing with Merriel made those things look meaningless.
❝You'll never know how many dreams
I've dreamed about you
Or just how empty they all seemed without you
So kiss me once, then kiss me twice
Then kiss me once again
It's been a long... long time...❞
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hailey-halstead · 5 years ago
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Oh, and I'll be there waiting
If you start to get jaded
a post 7x06 fic! again i’m open to any advice on how to write jay and hailey 😊😊 i don’t own anything and also the title is from dog years by maggie rogers!!
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She had only locked her car and put some quarters in the meter before checking her phone again. Jay was usually pretty good with his phone. The fact he hasn’t responded in hours, especially because of what he has gone through today, had her worried.
For some reason, Voight was still keeping them apart. To be fair, no one really had a set partner for this case, but that didn’t make this issue gnaw any less on her. She not only missed being with him, but also keeping an eye on him with cases like these. And how their paths kept missing each other today, it felt like it wasn’t just Voight keeping them apart, but the entire universe.
And with Jay not answering her calls or texts, it was a no-brainer for Hailey to end up at his place. She honestly didn’t think she would be able to sleep tonight without knowing that he’s all right.
She quickly walked to the front of the building, the wind starting to pick up. It was still fall in Chicago, but the weather was more like winter. The temperature has dropped even more the past few days. She wouldn’t be surprised if it would start to snow soon. Despite knowing it wouldn’t do much, Hailey adjusted her hat and scarf, as if she would feel warmer.
She put a gloved-covered finger onto the button that had Jay’s apartment number above it, pressing until she heard a buzzing sound.
A few minutes passed with no response, having her wonder if she didn’t press the button completely. But when she pressed it again, she heard the buzzing loud and clear. She looked up at the building with a frown. Where the hell was Jay?
Her mind scrambling for ideas on what to do next, when the answer appeared right in front of her.
“Hailey?”
At the sound of Jay’s voice, she whirled around. He was alright. At least physically, she noted. His face looked drained and in particular, his eyes looked haunted. She resisted the urge to go down the steps to be with him, choosing to stay put.
“You weren’t answering your phone.” She said, as an explanation for her being there. What was left unsaid was how she was worried about him, that she had to find out how he was.
“My phone’s dead.” He held up the device.
“Oh.” Before she got here, she had a load of things to talk about with him. The case, how he was. But now with him in front of her, she was at a loss of words.
She stepped aside as he walked up the stairs, taking note of his slow and weary steps. His defeated presence tugged at her heartstrings, more than they ever had before.
He didn’t deserve this burden.
Hailey reached out to put a hand on his back. He stiffened, clearly not expecting her action. He didn’t say anything though, and once he unlocked the building he simply walked in.
He held the door open though, signaling to her that she could follow. She did so, following him as he began his trek up the stairs. The only sounds being made were the creaks of each step they went up. Hailey’s own mind was much louder. With words she wasn’t saying, words about how this wasn’t Jay’s fault and he was a good cop.
And mostly of helplessness, knowing that no matter what she did, she couldn’t make Jay feel better. She couldn’t bring Marcus West back from the grave, and she couldn’t change the conviction.
But damn she could try. This was her partner, unofficially or not, she couldn’t let him rot in his emotions. Which was why when they finally reached his apartment, Hailey started to make a beeline towards his kitchen. “Do you want me to make you something?” She asked, her hands itching to do something. To help.
Jay’s hand on her elbow stopped her. She turned back around, her eyes going from his hand to his face. Despite her jacket covering her, Hailey swore she could feel the rough calluses of his fingertips against her skin.
She shook her head slightly. Her mind couldn’t go there right now. She tilted her chin up to Jay, telling him to say what he wanted to say.
He did. “Can we sit down instead?” He asked, already letting go of her arm and heading towards the couch.
Hailey sat down next to him, close enough that their shoulders and thighs brushed. Not wanting to make the same mistake of assuming what he needed, she simply sat there, waiting for Jay to tell her what he wanted. Or needed.
And if it reached the point she needed to take initiative, she would. It was her responsibility not only as a partner but as a friend.
But it was Jay that broke first, although it wasn’t with words. His head fell onto her shoulder, an action she wasn’t expecting.
It made her heart drop. While Jay never liked to be verbally vulnerable, physically it was even more disliked. This alone made all the events they have went through together that have shaken him deeply not compare.
She instinctively begun doing something her mom used to do to comfort her. Her fingers ran through his hair as she gently rubbed his scalp. By the time she realized what she doing, the awkwardness had already passed.
“If this cop thing doesn’t work out for you,” Jay started to mumble to her. “being a masseuse might.”
Hailey snorted, ignoring the way she shivered at the feeling of Jay’s breath hitting her skin. “Like you could find a partner better than me.”
He chuckled at that. Hailey smiled to herself at the sound, even though she could hear the sadness tinged within.
Right after, the mood became somber again.
At this point she thought they would have already started talking about today’s events. That’s usually how it went for them, anyways. Believing she already gave him enough time, she decided to bring up the elephant in the room.
“Do you want to talk about it?” She softly asked, erring on the side of caution. Although he has been improving with therapy, she knew he still had the habit of shutting down and not wanting to discuss things.
“I killed him, Hailey.” She almost didn’t hear his whisper, and had to strain her ears to catch the rest of what he said. “I killed a man who wasn’t guilty—“ Jay’s voice started to waver. “—and to save my ass he had to still be charged with the crime he didn’t commit.”
Hailey was surprised to find her eyes being pricked with tears. She typically wasn’t the type to get emotional, but she couldn’t deny how much this case had affected her simply because it has torn Jay apart. But he couldn’t see her, so she began talking with a controlled voice. “You didn’t—“
Jay jolted up at that, only staying on the couch because of Hailey’s hand on his thigh. “I did, Hailey. I put him in county when I could have kept him in solitary.”
“You did it to get him to talk, Jay. Not to get him killed.”
“It doesn’t matter what I meant to do.” His voice was getting more agitated. More frustrated.
Hailey was finding herself becoming more frustrated too, but more in desperation. She needed Jay to see he wasn’t to blame. “Yes it does! Because if we only thought about the outcomes we would have been destroyed by this job years ago!”
With their voices and emotions rising, the sob that came out of Jay wasn’t in anyway expected by Hailey.
Also because this was something she had never experienced with Jay. He had never cried in front of her before. And he wasn’t just crying, he was sobbing, and she could hear all his pain and guilt from the case in his cries.
All possible words were caught in her throat, so Hailey did the next best thing. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder, and once again Jay’s head fell onto her shoulder. Just this time he had tears as well.
Cases like these were always hard personally, but seeing the people you care about struggle was even harder.
So as Jay continued to cry, Hailey kept her own emotions at bay and sat silently. Because what words could possibly make Jay feel better? A man was dead, no words of inspiration or nicely strung together ones could help.
After what it seemed like forever, Jay’s cries started to fade. He then sat up, keeping his face hidden as he wiped away his tears. Hailey was tempted to comment, but bit her tongue. It was one thing to push Jay emotion wise, another to comment on his crying.
His eyes were completely bloodshot by the time she was able to get full view of his face. They weren’t the only indicator of his crying spell, his entire face was flushed and his eyes still glistened with tears.
She could tell he was uncomfortable with his vulnerable state as he diverted from the current atmosphere and made a joke. “I’ll get you a new shirt, I promise.” He said, almost sounding like he normally did except for the slight break in his voice.
“I don’t give two shits about my shirt, Jay.”
He was quiet again. It was her least favorite sound of the night. At least when he was crying he was being open about his pain. When he was silent, he was letting his emotions gnaw at his insides.
When he sat up, he increased the distance between them. Hailey closed it, placing her hand over his to gain his attention.
“I know it won’t make the shitty feelings go away, but I’m with you and I’m always here to listen.” She told him as empathetically as she could.
“Thanks, Hailey.” Jay looked lost in thought, not listening to what she was saying. The only evidence that he was was when he squeezed her hand.
She squeezed his back. She couldn’t fix what happened, and he couldn’t either. But she was here to support him and help him keep going and that had to be enough.
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heechulhamster · 6 years ago
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Stubborn and Stupid - Chanyeol
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PARK CHANYEOL x Reader
College AU!, Angst, Fluff (Yes, here I am again with my Angst fics)
Somehow, loving him was all you knew. Your love for him was already innate to your being, a part of your identity, the only thing you know is right. And you are willing to wait for him. But does he want you to wait for him?
I listened to Bestfriend by Rex Orange County while writing this! I realized that it’s kinda similar.
4554 words
____
It wasn’t a good day for a fight. I mean, technically in your moral code no day was ever good nor bad enough to cause a messy confrontation. Yet here you are, in a locker room confined enough to cause cause claustrophobia in front of one of the feistiest people in campus. Well, the adjective was subjective as she usually seems friendly to the people she wants to be seen with. But obviously, you’re not among those people.
It was already unoften for you to be in a fight, moreover to actually cause the fight. Yet that was exactly what happened here.
“What are you standing there for? I thought you were brave enough to start a fight? Cat got your tongue?” Yeseul mocked you.
Yeseul is the girl he likes, or currently pursued considering the kind of guy Chanyeol is. And Chanyeol is, well, the man you loved to say the least. He’s always been the man you loved and you’ll continue loving.
Chanyeol is your childhood friend, you lived next door to each other. Your parents were close knit friends and you were bound to be one too. Except for the fact that as early as when you were 9, the friendly touches and hugs you and him shared weren’t too friendly in your perception anymore. Each connection lingered, the feeling of his skin on yours sent shivers to the farthest reaches of your veins. It was with him where you experienced the wonderful blossoming of a young heart’s first love. And he was your first heartbreak too.
You were too obvious, the red tint that painted your face when you hung out. The sudden awkward air that envelops the two of you whenever he’s around. It was like red paint on your forehead, ready for him to read, “IM MADLY INLOVE WITH YOU PARK CHANYEOL!” Not a lot changed since then, and you don’t know if it’s for the best or for the worst. You still were extremely close friends, despite your openness on your admiration for him. It was good that he didn’t see the need to avoid nor drop you, but it’s also sad that he always seen you as a friend, and only that.
The actual change of dynamics between you came during the latter part of high school. When the Gods of puberty hit Chanyeol pretty damn good. His lanky physique turned into that of a Greek deity. Every head turned to Chanyeol’s way whenever he walked down streets, hallways, or corridors. And eventually, you two just fell apart as friends. It was all too common of a teenage story, two best friends falling apart due to the imbalance of popularity and diverging interests.
But you stayed madly in love with him. Which got you in this situation.
“Try and cross me again…” Yeseul started and tugged your hair that was tied on the back of your head. You quickly retaliated and pushed her to the locker behind her, an action that caused a large thud.
A large figure suddenly casted a shadow towards the both of you. You quickly glanced at the locker room door and there he was, the root and main cause of all of this, Park Chanyeol.
“What the fuck?” As expected of him, he quickly rushed to her side and his hands reached out her back that collided with the lockers.
Yeseul, like an Oscar award winning actress, almost instantly cried and pushed her face onto the nook of Chanyeol’s neck as he consoled her. And with the glare he was giving you, you knew what his perception of the situation was - that you’re the evil one in this scenario. So you didn’t even bother to speak up, hurriedly grabbing your bag from behind and walking away from the ill fated room.
Since the last years of High school, you and Chanyeol haven’t been in the best of terms. Enter college and you were nothing more than one of his admirers, one with deeper feelings and more vibrant past with him. You’re still there for him, occasionally giving him gifts just because you wanted to and it felt right. You still supported him in his basketball games, still attended the dinners and parties his parents invited your family over. There were times that you’d catch up, usually during the few periods of his life that he didn’t have a girlfriend nor he was pursuing someone. But as soon as the missing slot in his life becomes filled up again, you quickly fade from his radar. Yet you’re still here, supporting and caring and loving him. Because loving him was always a feeling you didn’t hold back. To you, despite everything that happened - or the lack of any happening between you and Chanyeol, he still deserved all the love you could ever give, and more.
You had no other classes for the day, so you’ve decided to just go home and chill away all the negativities that filled your mind. You didn’t even think about Chanyeol would make out of the situation, your image to him had long been a done deal. He probably thinks that you attacked Yeseul in jealousy - which isn’t the case.
The contestants on the current season of Masterchef and their mouthwatering dishes was all in your mind as you lounged in your living room. But that peace was abruptly cut off by three knocks on your door.
“Care to explain to me what was that scene earlier?” Chanyeol blurted out as soon as you opened the door. To which you just let out a sigh.
“Do I really need to explain? I bet she told you all the right things already.” You answered in sarcasm.
“Yeah, apparently you heard her talking about me in the cafeteria and just threw a jealous fit on her.” He just towered over you as his hands rested over the door frame.
“Of course she told you that.” An unimpressed laugh came out of your mouth. “And you believed her.” -a declaration rather than that of a question. “You really believed I’d do something like that, didn’t you?”
“That’s why I’m asking you to explain!” Chanyeol lifted his hand and slammed it back on the frame in frustration. “You can’t just go and claim me as yours just because you’ve been crazy about me for the longest time. That’s just so fucking stupid of you, (Y/N.) Can you please stop annoying the hell out of me everytime?”
And that just took out the last straw of your patience and understanding.
“You know what, Chanyeol? Yes I’m so fucking stupid, man maybe I’ve got no wits at all for staying and loving you despite all the shit you’ve put me through all these years! Maybe I’m the one who’s stupid because I’m the only one who stayed for you, right? If I was smarter, I would’ve moved on a long time ago and went for someone better, not someone who treats me as shit as you do.” You snapped at him, which you almost quickly regretted as you saw the wide gape his mouth formed into. You’ve hurt his ego, for sure. But it’s a fair game as he hurt your feelings, one that he’s been doing for a good amount of time now.
Silence enveloped the two of you. You’re already thinking of apologizing, saying you didn’t mean anything in what you’ve said. But what’s done is done, words have been spoken and emotions have already formed.
“If it helps you to understand, yes I’ve heard her talking about you. But it wasn’t simply just a jealous fit. She talked about how she’ll only entertain you to get close to Seokjin in the basketball team. So being the stupid ass that I am that’s been crazy for you in the longest time, I fucking defended you for an awaiting heartbreak.”
You were protecting him from something he kept on doing to you for years. So much for being stupid.
“I’m…” That’s what’s all that escaped his mouth.
“Get off the porch, Chanyeol. Go take some rest. Don’t worry this will be the last time I’ll be annoying the hell out of you. Good night.” You wanted to say the common ending to your talks, you wanted to tell him that you love him despite knowing that you won’t get anything in return. But you just kept your lips closed and shut the door.
You remembered all the time you told him how much you love him. How you opened the deepest realms of your heart, letting him see how much you felt. How you’d look in his eyes as if it was the very vestibule of all the wonders of life, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. You knew he didn’t see the same, that your eyes were just two of the hundreds that gaze at him at the same way.
You didn’t expect anything, in contrary to the popular belief in your college that you’d kill in cold blood to get Chanyeol to woo you back. You just loved him because that’s what you feel. You didn’t bother to restrain yourself on the wonderful feeling of adoring someone. Loving him felt right, as if it was something you were fated to do all your life. You just wanted Chanyeol to be happy and supported him in every step and action that was needed for him to achieve that - even in the cost of your own.
It was in the senior year of high school when he cried on your shoulder the whole night over the cheerleader who dumped her just because he didn’t have a nice car. How you caressed his back infinite times before the wells in his eyes finally stopped and just surprisingly leaned in and kiss you. You didn’t talk about it afterwards as it seemed that he didn’t even planned on remembering how he left you breathless and blushing after your first kiss.
Freshman year of college saw the night where you were both drunk, not enough to pass out but intoxicated enough to not decide properly. He brought you as a date to Jongdae’s party, one of his new friends with the same major. One drunk decision led to another and you just woke up holding each other close, both as naked as the day you were born and only clad in the thin blanket he had in his room. But then again, nothing changed between the two of you. You’re still madly in love with him, with only more reasons to hold on. And you were still his friend when it’s convenient, and a little bit something more when he needs to - but you were never his lover. Never the only thing you ever wished to be.
“Do you still love me?” He asked while you were both in the dusky path of a dream as you both lay on his bed. Another night where Chanyeol needed someone for assurance, he needed someone to be there, someone to fill his needs, and you were always the willing participant in his games. The willing recipient of his touch that failed to find a home, because it never wanted to go home to you.
“Of course I do.” You answered nonchalantly.
“How come?” His grip around your waist tightened as your back leaned on his chest while you laid on your side. Chanyeol’s breaths lightly fanning your hair due to the proximity of the both of you.
“I told you I’d love you until I can. I’d love you as long as I can feel. I’ll love you until you tell me you don’t want my love anymore.”
He never told you that he didn’t want you. Not unlike the others who he was quick to decline, the hearts that he didn’t even think twice to break. With you, it was like he was more careful. Maybe due to the reason of your long history, the friendship that you’ve built that has been slightly tarnished by immature teenage priorities. Or maybe there was something more, the one you silently hoped for.
You’ve told him before that he could reject you when he feels it right to do so. That you’d stop and drop every hope you have in your heart the moment he asks you to. But he never did, not once did he ask you to stop loving him. And nights like those where he held you close and kissed you as if he loved you back made you think that maybe he actually did. The nights where it felt as if he actually made love to you. Maybe he just couldn’t admit it to you, but maybe there’s a bit of love in his heart that sang to you. Because he never showed otherwise.
Yes there were times where he didn’t reach out because he had an ongoing thing with other girls. One of the endless sparks he experienced that were quick to die down. But even so, after those adventures, he’d always come back to you. You’re always the one he whispered sweet nothings to when he was broken. You are his constant light that never gave up on him even if he kept being blinded by sparks.
Chanyeol was all gentle and good with you, until today.
“Can you please stop annoying the hell of me everytime?” Pierced your heart like a pigeon shot in its flight.
Because you annoyed Chanyeol. Everytime. It came from his very mouth.
Was this the sign for you to stop?
A month elapsed since Yeseul grabbed your hair and you glasly pushed her hardly towards a cold locker. A month since you last talked to Chanyeol. Since that night, you’ve decided to stay away. To let him keep his silence and sanity, void of your incessant chatter, void of your love that he said he found annoying. You wanted him happy, and if that happiness means you steering clear of him - then so be it.
It was a good month for you, honestly. With checking up on Chanyeol’s happiness out of your daily agenda, you focused on yours. It was in that timespan where you realized that you relied a lot of your plans in accordance to Chanyeol’s path. You had an opportunity to go to a University in the city but declined when he told you that he wanted to spend college with you. That you’ll be a piece of home in the new waters you two will tread. An offer that you all too willingly obliged to.
A month was something wonderful for you to work on, for you to find out what you really wanted. Things that weren’t involving Chanyeol.
Over the span of your short life, you also tried and date others. You attempted to feel the same way you feel with Chanyeol. Maybe another hand can fill the gaps of yours and you’ll feel as whole as you did with him.  Perhaps you’ll see the same sparks in others’ the way Chanyeol’s make you feel. His large, dark, luminous eyes that never fail to behold everything about them. But nothing was ever the same. Nothing surpassed the way he could make you feel, despite the fact that he took the least effort in making you feel loved.
Today, it felt as if all the powers of universe and fate conspired to get you to talk to him again. You’ve already thought of watching his game tomorrow, a feat that you’ve never failed. But now, your parents asked you to give a shirt of his that got caught up in the laundry, for a reason you fail to decode. But nevertheless, you couldn’t reason out of it. And you knew that there would still be eventually a point where you need to talk to him.
If there was a competition or a national recognition for the dumbest people of all time, you could be one of the hall of famers. You just couldn’t stop yourself taking an extra step and baking a batch of his favorite cookies. You thought of it as a peace offering, despite the fact that the last meltdown between the two of you wasn’t your fault. It was his favorite, the boy needs a power up snack for the nearing basketball tournament.
Even you found yourself annoying.
With the box of cookies in your bag and his shirt too, you walked towards the campus basketball court after classes. You used to go here often, watching him train and even bringing food for Chanyeol as you knew training can be gruelling. Some of his team members even dubbed you as his “pseudo girlfriend.”
You’re stopped on your tracks when someone called your name on the lockers just behind the court. You looked at the source and saw a familiar face, he’s part of the team, you think.
“Hey, coming for Park again?” To which you just answered an ample smile.
“When will you ever learn that you’re not his type? Maybe you should go out on a date with me instead. How about that?” The way he wiggled his eyebrows tormented your eyes and caused disgust to form in the pits of your stomach.
“Sorry, not interested.” You tried to smile sweetly and attempted to walk away and towards the court where you hope to find Chanyeol.
“Stop being so dense, will you? I’m doing you a favor. Chanyeol will never love you. You’re not even half as pretty as Yeseul nor any of his exes. You have no right to be picky.” You didn’t even bother to look back, you just close your eyes on the harsh truth that he spoke.
You thought about just walking away and back home when you heard a sudden rambling on his direction before you could even walk. It’s Chanyeol, who just seemingly went out of the shower with his hair wet and towel draped over his shoulder, and the distasteful man now leaning on the wall with his hand over his nose.
“Learn to mind your own damn business the next time, fucker.”
The next minutes are a vague whirlwind of spontaneous happenings. You remembered Chanyeol grabbing his bag and basically dragging you out of the court, then out of the campus. Eventually bringing you to his car and eventually driving the both of you home. Now you’re in your kitchen, nursing the red bruises on his right wrist with an ice pack.
“I thought he just look like a rock, never thought his face would be hard as one too.” He said when he hissed as you damped the ice over his hands. “Why were you even there earlier, you done being mad at me?”
You laughed at his choice of words and his tone.
“Mom just asked me to give this shirt of yours, got mixed up in the laundry yesterday.” You put down the icepack to grab the shirt from your bag.
“Hey are those cookies for me?” Chanyeol almost instantly noticed the familiar box that you laid on the table in search for his shirt. Like a child that’s excited for a new toy.
“Yeah, I should’ve given it earlier. It’s not warm now, you still up for it?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely. Your cookies never gets old for me.” He opened the box and took one in a bite. “This would heal me better than ice ever will.”
You just watched him in wonder, how childlike he is. Maybe it’s that period again, where you’ll act close and cherish each other. The times where he suddenly remembers that he has you.
“And for the record, I was never mad at you.” You suddenly spoke out.
“Hmm? Really? I thought you were mad at me for what I said that night. Which makes sense because I was a flat out asshole. I’m sorry.” He held your hand with his bruised one. A gesture that suddenly made you feel warm.
“No, it’s more of…” You struggled to compose your sentence with his hands on yours. “I just didn’t want to annoy you anymore.”
“Aish, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything on what I said that night. Can we forget about it?” His grip on your hand went tighter. And all you could answer was a nod.
“You didn’t have to punch him.” You said as you put back the ice pack on his fist.
“That asshole deserved it.”
“I mean, he’s not all wrong.” You whispered, wishing that he did not hear your surrender.
“What do you mean he’s not wrong? I swear to God you’re so much better than all of my exes. Sometimes I think they’re all just passing fancy to me. But look, whose hands am I holding now?” Chanyeol’s grasp tightened again. Your mind was entangled in a haze of surprise, shock, and failure to process his words. You tried your best to shake it off, remind yourself that it was all part of the vicious cycle of the game you all too willingly agreed to play with him. The cycle of you loving him and him consuming that love and needing you, a simple concept of supply and demand.
“I wasn’t talking about that.” You put your gaze away from him, afraid of the truth his eyes will speak as you know it would be multitudes louder than his words.
“What?” He asked, and you put your head down. “No, tell me. What?”
“He wasn’t wrong…” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Chanyeol. “That you won’t love me… that I have no right to be picky.. And that I should stop.”
You felt his hand detach from you, and your heart sank. Was this the answer that you’ve been waiting for? The rejection you’ve been anticipating? The only knife that will cut the thread that’s what’s left of you holding on to him?
“I swear I’m going to punch that motherfucker another time the next time I see him.” You’re shocked at his sudden display of anger as he loudly dropped his swollen fist on the table. You reacted in a haste as you grabbed it and put over the ice again.
“You’re going to hurt yourself-” He didn’t even let you finish when he spoke again.
“What if I could?” You slowly lifted your face to meet his eyes. Hoping to see insincerity, that he was joking, but he was painted of perseverance and eagerness. “What if I could love you?”
“You could do a lot of things, Chanyeol. But not all the things you could do are the things you want to do.” You mumbled without removing your eyes on his.
“What if I want to?”
“Do you?” A newfound courage pushed you to asked the question you’ve been too scared to ask. Does Chanyeol want to love you? Does he have any desire to reciprocate your feelings in any part of his heart? But it was time for him to answer, and it was time for you to know. You couldn’t just keep on holding a torch for him all these years, you couldn’t keep on waiting without knowing if you were even actually waiting for something.
“I’m gonna need time to answer that.”
“No, I’m going to need your answer now. I’ve loved you since we were 9, Yeol. I think thirteen years is already an enough amount of time to think if you want someone or not.” You pulled your hand away from his grasp. “Now, have me or lose me, Chanyeol.”
He just stared at you, his youthful eyes spoke of confusion. His lips agape, deprived of the answer you’ve been waiting for.
“I’m going to need an answer before I leave, Yeol.” You declared you stood up and walked towards the sink.
“Leave to where?” He just trailed you with his head, not moving from his seat.
“I’ve been offered an internship. It will be good for my growth. It’s only two months but I’m already so excited for it, Yeol. I’ll get to widen my horizons, my world, maybe even move on.” You looked back at him and smiled a modest one.
“From me?” He just stared at you as you filled the now emptied ice bag with more ice again.
“Probably. That’s why I need your answer now.” You walked back and sat on the chair once more. “Yeol, I’ve loved you for as long as I could remember. I’ve let you define me for so long. Remember when we we’re 7? I was known as Chanyeol’s bestfriend. In high school I was known as the girl who had a crush on you. Even I don’t know myself anymore, I only know you. Loving you has been my identity now, maybe I need to know who I am without you.”
“I remember when Sooyoung told me that maybe why you can’t fall inlove with me was because there was no one to fall in love with. That I don’t even know who I am. And it’s true. Somehow it feels like all these years all I am was a vessel of love for you, and it’s not healthy. For both you and me.” You continued.
“This is a great opportunity for me, Yeol. For me to know myself, my real dreams, what I want.” You explained.
“What you want…. Would that still include me?” Chanyeol suddenly asked.
“Do you want to be?” You asked back to him.
“Yes. I don’t know what I’d do without your love. It’s been part of me, it’s something I’m used to.”
“You’re used to it, but do you want me to love you?”
“I want you, your love, and I want to return it too. I just don’t know how to show it. Maybe I’ve been in love with you too but I’m too dumb to recognize it. I don’t know.” Chanyeol scooted closer to you and held both of your hands in his. “It would be selfish for me to ask this, but please don’t stop loving me. Trust me, I love you too. But I just suck in showing it, or recognizing it. Maybe I have too much pride to admit that to myself, to everyone, to you, that the one I’ve been looking for is all you. Please, don’t move on from me. I just… I just need time to be better at this.”
“We have plenty of time to figure things out, Yeol. Maybe when I come back, we’re both in a better place and better state of mind, right?”
“I love-” Chanyeol started but you were quick to hush him with your fingers.
“Not just yet, Yeol. Take your time. I want to hear it from you when you’re sure, okay?” He nodded.
“But I need you to hear that I promise to be better when you come back. To give you everything you deserve that I failed to do before. Because I need you, and I want you to stay loving me. I don’t know anything else. And it would be my biggest mistake if I let you go.”
“I told you, Chanyeol. I’m not going to stop loving you unless you ask me to.” You pulled one of your hands from his hold and caressed his cheek.
“Then please, (Y/N). Continue on loving me, and don’t you ever stop.”
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teffyjeffy · 5 years ago
Text
(Most of) JoJo’s Bizzare Adventure: Stardust Crusaders but almost everybody are kids having fun at recess.
Want a random JoJo post out of nowhere? No? Okay well here you go anyway!
A lot of the time when I was watching JJBA I felt like I was watching a very dramatic retelling of what was actually two kids playfighting.
“My guy punches super fast!” “Oh yeah? Well my guy can stop Time!” “Oh yeah?! Well, mine can too! I just discovered it!” “WELL MINE CAN DROP A ROADROLLER ON YOU” “THATS CHEATING”
Anyway, the idea started to snowball, so please enjoy my masterpost of (most of) JJBA Part 3 where the Stardust Crusaders are a group of 9 year old rascals who met up one day during recess. This is just for fun ^_^ also these are all copied and pasted from discord so the structure is a little jumbled. Enjoy!
Oh, and Spoilers are ahead.
“I can punch super fast!”
“Well I can use cameras and TVs as crystal balls, but I need to break them!”
“Mine can shoot flames, ooo ooo and-and I can control them at will!”
“Mine has a sword that can stab anything”
“MINE HAS AN ATTACK THAT IS UNBLOCKABLE AND ITS AREA EFFECT IS THE WHOLE PLAYGROUND-“
“No Kakyoin that’s not how we play. Youre not allowed to have an invincible attack”
Kakyoin’s introduction:
“I have an invincible attack”
“That’s not how it works Kakyoin but you’re cool, so you can keep playing with us”
The insect stand “Tower of Gray” was when the group was bothered by a fly on the school bus and they got a little too rowdy in their attempts to kill it, which pissed off the elderly bus driver. Thus the kids agreed that he was responsible for bringing the fly onto the bus in the first place. They got detention.
Jean Polnareff’s introduction:
“I have a sword that can pierce through anything!”
“Okay Jean, you can play with us, but you have to promise to stop pushing Avdol into the wood chips, he doesn’t like it.”
The stowaway girl is actually a 5 year old girl who wants to play with them and they hate it at first but they eventually warm up to her. The monkey with a ship stand was actually a retelling of the groups trip to the town’s public swimming pool. The boat was just an inflatable tube and the monkey was a chipmunk. And the original boat that blew up? That was the group’s original inflatable tube that got popped because the 5 year old wouldn’t stop gnawing at it
Later, the kids SOMEHOW convinced their parents to let them stay in the same hotel while the parents all hate business trips to go to. They “promised” not to pillow fight, then everyone except for Jean went to go get snacks while Jean went to explore the new room.  Unbeknownst to them, the previous guests of the room accidentally left their daughter’s doll behind. Jean HATES dolls. He accidentally stumbled upon Child’s Play when he was surfing channels way too late at night without his parents knowing. Fear turns into aggression and someone from the hotel staff goes to check on him. He finds Jean and realizes it’s the same kid who shot him with a water gun earlier. Jean is kicked out and the parents have to pick their kids up. Jotaro and everyone else weren’t happy. 
Rubber Soul is actually just that one bratty kid who thinks it’s sooooooooo funny to mimic other people while also making fun of the person they’re mimicking. It makes them feel “powerful.” Jotaro encounters Rubber Soul when the latter is mocking Kakyoin one day, while Jotaro is playing with the 5 year old; he then chases Rubber Soul all around the playground, and when he finally gets him, he busts his teeth in. They were only baby teeth though, they grew right back, which saved Jotaro from a brutal punishment. He was still forced to go without dessert for a month. He didn’t complain though because his mother was dealing with the flu at the time. He would give all his desserts to Kakyoin, which his how Jotaro discovered Kakyoin’s creepy habit of juggling maraschino cherries in his mouth.
J. Geil was somebody who used to play games with Jean’s sister. When she found out he sucked at party cake and teased him for having “Two left hands”, J pushes her into the mud and never plays with her again. Jean has held a grudge ever since.
Hol Horse is Geil’s “New friend” which pisses off Jean. Hol Horse, being a member of the wrong crowd, beats up Avdol and J. Geil just goes along with it. Jean is all “Avdol why are you even here, you had nothing to do with this!” And Kakyoin’s like “Should we call 911?” And Jean responds “Not yet, I need to beat up these guys first!” And Kakyoin calls 911 anyway.
The Mirror stand is just J. Geil going “Made you look” and punching your shoulder.
And Hol Horse’s stand is just a nerf gun. The reason it hurts is because he likes to get right up in your face before firing it. It’s ineffective if you’re too far away from him, because the dart bullet loses momentum and hits the ground harmlessly.
Jean eventually gets back at J. Geil by chasing him into the middle of a group of kids, then pointing up at nothing, shouting “Made you look,” and poking J. Geil in the eyes, which causes him to cry like a baby. And later, Jean is like “Oh yeah, I totally stabbed him with my sword!” when Jotaro asks him what happened.
Then Hol horse runs away because he realized J. Geil was a total loser.
The Empress stand was just Joseph’s retelling of his parents taking him to the doctor’s office so they could deal with a wart on his arm. He hated how boring the actual process was, so he pretended that he bested the wart in a game of wits and tore it asunder. Jotaro was grossed out. 
(Btw in this AU Joseph is only a grade older than Jotaro, instead of being his grandpappy)
Wheel of Fortune is just the result of a very nasty game of tag with a brat who wouldn’t leave the group alone.
Enya is the crazy cat lady at the end of the street whose house the kids were forced to pass one day when they missed the school bus.
Steely Dan is the snobby “Cool Kid” of the playground, and a sore loser when the kids don’t play the way he wants them to. So Jotaro gives him a black eye.
The Sun is a kid who likes to fry ants with a magnifying glass. But Joseph likes bugs, and seeing this made him cry. So Jotaro, Kakyoin and Avdol plot to destroy the magnifying glass, which they thought was really funny. But at that point, the magnifying glass had to be returned to the science lab, so the kid was spared. 
Or, in another interpretation:
“Hey guys, I wanna play! My guy’s power is that he’s literally the sun!!! ” 
Joseph: “Wow, that’s pretty powerful-“ 
J,K,&A: “YOUR POWER IS STUPID, GET LOST”
Death Thirteen was the result of the kids being forced to deal with a baby who was throwing a tantrum while they all waited to get on the giant slide at the County Fair. Kakyoin was especially pissed. 
I have nothing for the Judgement stand.
I don’t have anything for High Priestess either.
And Iggy is still a dog, but I’m getting rid of his tendency to fart because I just HATE IT
N’Doul isn’t blind, he wears glasses and can’t see shit without them. And he has a water pistol. And he hoards the playground’s sandbox.
Oingo and Boingo are a 6 year old and his 1 year old brother and they’re just the cutest little demon spawns.
Anubis is a dog that snatched Jean’s toy sword in its mouth, and the sword’s power to transfer souls was just Jean fearing that the dog had rabies. Jotaro rolled his eyes but convinced Joseph to help him buy a new toy sword to shut Jean up.
Mariah... I dunno man, I didn’t really care for her arc and it definitely doesn’t fit the “kids playground” scenario I’m going for.
ALESSI IS WRITTEN OUT COMPLETELY. HE IS NOT ALLOWED ON THE PLAYGROUND.
The D’Arby brothers are known for being the cheaters of the playground. So Jotaro scares the eldest brother in a game of Go Fish, and it messes D’Arby up so much that it triggers his Asthma and he he has an Asthma attack. 
Pet Shop went down as the day when Iggy had a fight with a seagull and got pecked the ever loving SHIT out of. Jotaro tells the story at every Christmas party.
The younger D’Arby battle happened on a day when he and Jotaro were playing video games together. They accused each other of cheating, which resulted in Jotaro insulting him for liking dolls before pummeling him and consequently getting kicked out of the house. Joseph gave him a high five though, so it was worth it.
Vanilla Ice was the toddler who didn’t bother to move out of the way if you got in his path while he was driving his toy mini jeep. But if you asked Jean or Avdol, they’ll tell you that the toddler deliberately puts people in his path to run them over. And the occasional dog.
And finally, DIO.
DIO was a kid who got transferred to Jotaro’s school after being expelled because the principal of DIO’s previous school couldn’t get him to leave two of the students alone, by the names of Johnathan and Erina. He was pen pals with Johnathan, but that was the only connection DIO bothered to maintain.
Jotaro thought DIO didn’t even deserve the title of “School Bully.” He thought DIO was just a weird freaking kid. Despite that, most of the kids were scared of him, Jotaro’s friends included.
DIO loved to utilize the classic “Time Out!” whenever he played with the kids, and if they didn’t abide to the time out, they got a knuckle sandwich.
Jotaro was the first kid in a long time to just say “Nope.”
That’s when he learned that DIO was a kid who liked to screech like a banshee when things didn’t go his way. As well as throw a whole bunch of pencils (seemingly from out of nowhere) at any person that he upset with.
The road roller in this AU is the closest thing to a lethal heavy weapon that you can get on the playground: a frickin BIKE. 
And DIO is like “TIME OUT SO I CAN SLAM THIS BIKE ON YOU” And Jotaro goes “Nope, your time out is cancelled because you’re a freak and also you tried to bite Joseph which was just gross, anyway-“ and he punched DIO in the leg, pushed him to the ground, and kicked woodchips in his face.
They both got expelled.
A few years later, on his way to middle school, Jotaro bumps into a kid named Josuke...
<============ TO BE CONTINUED
BONUS JJBA BATTLE TENDENCY
The Pillar Men are a reflection of the infamous day when three highschool bullies showed up to the playground. One of them beat a kid named Ceasar in a Rock Paper Scissors match; in responce, Joseph (who at the time was only 4) went apeshit. He kicked the first highschooler off of the carousel at the County Fair. Then he located the second highschooler, tied up his shoelaces, then lit them with a match. Finally, during the school’s annual science fair, he tracked down the third highschooler, who had just finished rigging a student’s baking soda volcano to blow up in his face. Joseph threw a bunch of rocks that he found outside at the highschooler, and then proceeded to lock him up in the school’s astral observatory. The first two highschoolers fled town after that, but rumor has it that the third one is still stuck in the abandoned observatory.
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ma-sulevin · 5 years ago
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Duct Tape Fixes Everything
Except marriages and broken hearts.
Rook asks Sharky what he means.
Rating: M (for swearing/drinking/smoking). Sharky Boshaw/Female Deputy (pre-relationship). Words: 2,187.
Also on AO3.
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“Who broke your heart, Sharky?”
His mind skitters at the question, the sudden change of subject, searching for words but coming up surprisingly blank. He just stares at her instead, mouth hanging open a bit in his confusion.
She grins at him over the top of her beer, the expression a little lopsided, and tries again. “You said something earlier about how duct tape fixes everything but broken hearts and marriages, so I thought maybe you were talking from experience. You been married before?”
“Uhh.” He blinks one more time at her as she sips her drink before his mind kickstarts again. “You know, sometimes things come out of my mouth before I’ve really had a chance to think about whether I wanna say it or not, and, uh, you know, most people don’t really listen to shit like that.”
“I listen to everything you say,” she says, and he absolutely does not blush when she adds, “that’s part of being best friends, dude. Get with it. Now tell me who broke your heart so I know whose ass to kick.”
He laughs and she beams at him, her teeth flashing in the flickering light from their fire. She settles more comfortably in her folding chair, kicking her bare feet up into his lap; he wraps the fingers of his free hand around one, just out of habit, and digs his thumb into the sole just to hear the little grunt of satisfaction she’ll make.
“You sure you wanna hear that whole story?” He asks, uneasy at bringing up memories of old girlfriends in front of her.
She quirks an eyebrow and wiggles her toes to get him to massage harder. “Shark, you told me about the first time you felt up a girl, accidentally burned down the skating rink in an attempt to cheer yourself up, and then got a boner. At the, uh, fire, not the girl.”
“Oh, yeah, heh, forgot I told you all that. You really do listen to all the stuff I say, huh? You don’t ever just zone out and ignore some of my stories, ‘cause that’s usually how it goes. WIth other people I mean. They don’t listen.” He does massage harder. He even puts his beer down so he can use both hands.
“Come on,” she says, closing her eyes and tilting her head back as he digs his thumbs into the ball of her foot. It might be nice if she did this back from time to time, but he can’t blame her for not wanting to touch his feet. He can acknowledge they get pretty rank by the end of the day, even when they have time to take showers and sleep in real beds, like tonight. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
He focuses on her foot for a second, trying to gather his thoughts before he starts babbling, then he starts babbling anyway: “I mean, I already told you about the girl at the skating rink, and that was my first real disappointment, you know, but then I found out how much I love fire, so that made up for it--” she snickers; he presses on-- “and then, uh, I had a string of good luck until after I dropped out of high school, you know how I am, and then I met this waitress over at the 8-bit, and she was, she was real pretty.” He pauses again, takes another gulp of his beer and then moves to her other foot. “Her name was Shelly. She used to bring me leftover pizzas sometimes. They were delicious as long as she wasn’t the one who made them.”
She laughs again, and he smiles at the sound. “She sounds like a real catch.”
“She was,” he says. “And, I mean, I know I’m a helluva catch, what with the kickass flamethrower and the good looks and the endless beer and everything, but she was absolutely way outta my league. Like, she was smokin’ hot. She could’a been in one of those music videos, you know.”
She nods without opening her eyes. “All flossy?”
“Flossy as hell,” he confirms. “Anyway, we were hanging out and having fun, and I thought it was going good. I thought I was in love with her, man, I mean, she was so hot, she had real soft red hair and these real big--” He cuts himself off. He was gonna say she had real big tits, but since Mattie’s eyes are still closed he’s able to have a moment of uninterrupted study of what she’s working with under that shirt buttoned up high enough to cover that goddamned WRATH tattoo, and, yeah, they’re not as big as Shelly's and he doesn’t want her to feel bad even though he prefers hers anyways, and--
She’s giggling. Shit, he waited too long to finish his sentence, and she figured out what he was talking about. She opens her eyes just after he rips his away from her chest, so at least she didn’t catch him staring. (Again.)
“Okay, you made your point. She’s the hottest girl you’d ever met, maybe because of her boobs, maybe because of the free pizza.” She tilts her head back and downs the rest of her beer while she waits for him to finish the story, and he drags in a deep breath so he can get the rest out without pausing.
“So, I hadn’t asked her to move in with met yet, but I was thinkin’ about it, and she had a key to Boshaw Manor and everything, but she just hadn’t brought all her stuff over yet or anything, and I came home one day and caught her fuckin’ another guy in my bed.”
Mattie’s feet are jerked out of his hands as she sits up, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. She’s glaring. It’s the same look he’s seen her make when John or Jacob calls her over the radio, and he’s suddenly afraid he’s said the wrong thing and pissed her off for good this time.
“In your bed?”
“Yeah.” Jesus, he can still remember every detail of that day, exactly how she looked with her face all pink and her hair messed up and sweaty, tits still bouncing because it took her a couple seconds to realize was there and actually stop fuckin’ the dude, who, at least, seemed to feel guilty about it, throwing a heartfelt sorry man over his shoulder as he gathered his pants and shirt and ran naked from the room while Shelly just pouted. 
Mattie makes a considering noise, then twists around until she can reach the cooler with the rest of their beers. She offers him one, and he takes it even though he hasn’t quite finished his first. He downs what he has left, then opens the one she handed him.
“That’s fucked up, Shark,” she says, and he chuckles around his drink.
“That’s what I said.” And, yeah, that’s one of the things he said, probably the only one that bears repeating. He clutches the beer can a little tighter, ignoring the condensation wetting his fingers, wishing she’d put her feet back in his lap or something so he can the warmth of her again, the comfort that doesn’t stop him from saying everything that pops into his head but makes him feel better for the touch. How long has it been since someone just… was willing to sit, touching?
Oh, god. He hopes she doesn’t think he has a foot fetish, or something, the way he’s always grabbing for her feet when they’re close. She hasn’t said anything about it, and she seems to like the massages, but, like, that’s not really his thing. Not that he minds it, but it’s not really toes that get him going.
“She still around?”
“Nah. I don’t know if she left town, or joined up with the cult, or what. Haven’t seen her in years.”
Almost like she can hear what he was thinking -- not the foot fetish bit, the other thing -- she relaxes again and puts her feet back in his lap. He doesn’t start the massage up again, but she doesn’t seem to mind that either. 
“Well, she sounds like a cunt anyway,” she says, and he laughs again, a real belly laugh.
“You are not wrong there, shorty.” He manages to let a short silence pass before he asks one of the two questions burning his throat. “Why, would you really kick her ass for me?”
Mattie’s face is serious, and she waits to fish a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of her jacket pocket. She sticks one between her lips and asks around it, “Don’t you think I could take her?”
“Hell yeah, you could,” he answers, honest, immediate, and she smirks the best she can while she’s lighting her cigarette. Her eyes flash at the same time as the little flame in her hand, then she’s exhaling a cloud into the sky, head tipped back, and he stares at her throat.
“Well, I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for Big Tits McGee next time we see a group of Peggies.” Her voice is dripping in disgust and he can’t help but laugh again. “Probably has LUST carved right on her forehead.” She takes another drag off her cigarette and idly rubs at her breastbone. After a half-second, she seems to shake herself out of it and nudges him with her heel against his knee. “Sorry that happened to you.”
He shrugs, drinks more of his beer, tries to find something to say that’s not embarrassing. “Yeah, well. What’s your story then? I told you mine, and fair’s fair.”
She shrugs too, her cigarette dangling from the fingers of her right hand. “I didn’t even have a boyfriend until I was nineteen,” she says, and that’s not what he expected her to say, even a little bit. “I’d just finished my EMT training, had a job in Custer County, and I was still living at home and all, but it was my first time with any real freedom of my own. One of the other EMTs and I started hanging out a lot after our shifts, talking a lot, you know how it goes. We started dating, and I just took it a lot more serious than he did, I guess, because he was my first, uhh… everything, really. Anyway, things went sour and that’s that.”
He stares at her. She doesn’t look back.
“That’s that, huh?” She grimaces when he feeds her words back to her. When she doesn’t offer more details, he just starts guessing random shit that could break a girl’s heart for the first time at the ripe old age of nineteen. “He cheat on you? With another EMT? A patient? Turn out to be gay? Never made you cum and say it was your fault?” She chokes on her beer when he says that one, nearly spits it out, and then she’s laughing again and something in his chest eases a bit. “Cried after y’all fucked? Fell asleep on you?”
She kicks him again. “You think I’m such a boring lay that someone’d fall asleep on me?”
He’s not blushing. He isn’t. He's definitely never thought about it before. “Nah, just trying to get to the bottom of it.”
She rolls her eyes at him, sort of chuckles and shakes her head while he just grins and waits. “It wasn’t anything all that dramatic,” she says finally. He watches as she flicks the ash off the end of her cigarette, takes another drag. “Just lots of fighting, name calling, couple’a holes punched in the wall of his apartment. Duct tape doesn’t quite fix that either, but it’s better than nothing. He kicked me out and then acted all surprised when I moved in with another friend and wouldn’t take his calls.”
“Sounds like an asshole,” Sharky offers, and she laughs a little. It’s warm again, not bitter, and she tosses the butt of her cigarette into the fire.
“Yup. Looks like we’re both better off now, huh?” She nudges him with her foot again, smiling but not looking at him, studying the stars overhead instead. She always does that; while he’s busy admiring the flames of the closest fire (camp, bon, or on the end of a match), she’s busy staring up at the sky like she can just disappear into it if she tries hard enough.
“Yeah, I mean, if that dickwad hadn’t punched holes in his own walls, I wouldn’t’ve met my best friend,” he says, giving in and resting his hand on her ankle, just because he wants to touch her again. 
She flexes her toes and smiles doesn’t pull away. “That’s a good way to look at it,” she says, lips still curled up at the edges as her eyes start to close. “Guess this is all worth it.”
And, well, maybe he wouldn’t go quite that far, a lot of people have died and all, but… yeah. Yeah. He can’t bring himself to disagree, either.
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5lbsofsmarties · 6 years ago
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We won’t be broken hypocrites forever (2): Aleks Marchant
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Part 2 of 4 Word Count: 4548 Summary: To get out of your deal with the Lost Motorcycle Club, you and Aleks come up with a plan to infiltrate their compound and take what was yours - with only a minor bit of difficulty. Warnings: Guns, blood, needles, swearing.
It was a long drive from the Slaughterhouse up to the Lost MC’s compound up in Blaine County, but it gave you time to go over the plan in your head. You’d shot Asher’s jacket a time or two with your pistol and made sure to even put a little fake blood splatter on it before you had called Vinny, your contact with the Lost, to tell him that you’d taken care of the deal. He’d agreed to pay you the rest of your money up at the base. So, you’d hopped into your car and Aleks got into his own to follow you all the way up there.
You had to get into the room with Vinny and the money, secure the money, and the fight your way out to meet Aleks out in the grounds. The only issue that you could really see was you were unsure of how many other people would be in the room with Vinny when you got there. When you’d first been hired for the job there were three others in the room, and you knew if the number was any higher you’d have a bit of trouble getting out. It wouldn’t be impossible, but it’d certainly be a little tricky.
Out in the yard, Aleks was supposed to set up explosives around the perimeter to distract the other members of the Lost and scatter them so that the two of you could get to work. As you pulled up just outside of the rundown trailer park, you could only hope that Aleks could hold off on shooting anyone until you were out of the room with the money. You looked into your rearview mirror and saw Aleks’ car quite a bit back taking a turn onto a side path and disappearing from sight.
You glanced around your car to make sure you were ready. The rifle was in trunk along with some of the explosive that Aleks was so fond of, but you’d stashed a shotgun in the backseat as well an AP Pistol in the middle console. With a deep breath to steady yourself, you grabbed hold of Asher’s jacket and climbed out of the car. It seemed that almost instantaneously, every member of the Lost that was outside had their eyes on you.
With as much confidence as you could project, you walked through the compound and straight for Vinny’s trailer. You climbed up the few steps and raised a fist to bang loudly against the door. “Who the fuck is it?” a gruff voice called from within. You could only roll your eyes. How stupid could the guys be? You had called them to tell them that you were coming and they still insisted on being like this?
“I’m here for my money, numbnuts,” you shot back with a scoff.
There was a fair bit of rustling behind the door before it slowly opened the reveal one of the guys who had been there the last time you paid a visit. “Did you take care of him?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at you. You pursed your lips together and raised your eyebrows at him as you took a purposeful step forward. “Do I answer to you? Are you the one paying me?” you asked in a low voice.
The guard took a tentative step backwards but cleared his throat and shook his head before he opened the door all the way. “Vinny is in the back,” he said, grunting softly and motioning to a closed door. You smiled sweetly and reached up to pat him on the cheek as you passed by. “Thanks, darling,” you purred, walking off towards the door leading to Vinny’s office. Before you could even knock on the thin, plywood door, it flung open.
In front of you stood a man who was looking more than a little ragged and was covered in fading tattoos under his worn out leather. “Lovely to see you again, Vin, looking as meth-y as usual,” you greeted, strolling into the room. He let out a less than impressed grunt and closed the door behind you. You paused in the center of the room and looked around the see that other than Vinny there was only one other man in the room. Trying to hide your pleased grin, you cleared your throat and sat yourself down on a ratty plaid couch along the wall that was patched with duct tape and had accumulated an array of mysterious stains.
“You said you took care of our little problem,” Vinny said, walking over to sit himself down at a tarnished old metal desk.
Nodding, you tossed Asher’s destroyed jacket across the room to land on the desk. Carefully, Vinny lifted the garment up to inspect it. He ran his fingers over the bullet holes and the patches of dried blood, humming softly to himself. “What did you do with the little shit’s body?” he asked as he set the jacket down again.
“Now, Vin, you can’t expect me to tell you all my trade secrets,” you said with a slight chuckle.
Vinny only rolled his eyes at you and shook his head before he motioned for the other man to come closer, which he did so carrying a case along with him. You slowly licked your lips and got to your feet to make your way over to the desk as well. The second man opened it up and you grinned slightly at seeing the money sitting inside, your thoughts suddenly racing as you had to think of a way to get it and yourself out of that god forsaken trailer.
However, as you reached out for the case, the second man slammed it shut with his hand resting on the top of it. Your eyes shot up to see Vinny leaning back in his chair with a nonchalant smirk on his face. “What’s going on, Vin?” you asked, agitation slipping into your tone. Vinny only chuckled and folded his hands behind his head as he propped his feet up on the desk.
“I have another proposition for you,” he said, shrugging a shoulder, “Another job to take care of one of these other Fake assholes.”
You shook your head and ground your teeth slightly, “No can do, Vinny Boy. You said Asher, I killed him. I want my money and I’m going home.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong… Either you do this job or your body gets found next week floating down from the Alamo Sea to the ocean,” he said, sniggering to himself.
It was in that moment you were ready to just get out, and you saw your opening. In a flash, you reached into the inside pocket of your jacket to pull out your knife; you quickly opened the knife and leaped forward to jam the blade through the guard's hand, pinning it to the case. He let out a shocked scream but before either him or Vinny could comprehend what was happening, you reached behind you to pull out your gun and promptly fired a shot through the guy’s head.
As he fell limp to the floor, you ripped your knife free and turned the gun on Vinny. His feet fell from the desk and he looked as if he was going to reach for something so, you cocked the gun and raised a brow at him. “Try it,” you urged with a smirk of your own, “Move a muscle and see how fast this bullet splits your head like a goddamn melon.”
When Vinny stayed in his seat, you let out a low chuckle and returned your knife to your pocket before grabbing hold of the handle of the case sitting on his desk. “Here’s the thing, Vin. You don’t fuck with me, and you don’t fuck with my people,” you threatened, taking a few steps back towards the door. Vinny’s face crumpled in confusion and he leaned slightly further forward. “Your people?” he questioned.
You smirked and shrugged a shoulder, “FakeChop sends their regards.”
Before he could say or do anything else, you pulled the trigger and you watched as the blood splatter from his head hit the wall behind him. You turned and ripped open the door to fire three shots at the other man in the trailer, each of them nailing him in the chest. You stepped over his body and threw open the front door to the trailer. In almost that same instant, a series of loud explosions went off, encircling the compound in fire and smoke.
There were shouts and screams followed by the sound of gunfire ringing out. You made quick work of popping a few shots off at those around you before booking it out to your car where you threw open the trunk, dropped the money, and picked up your rifle. Quickly, you made your way to the back door and pulled out your shotgun to sling it over your shoulder. You crouched down and peered around the car to take in the scene around you. You could hear and see more explosions going off followed by the faint sound of Aleks’ laughter and shouts. “Some things never change,” you murmured to yourself as you began to move back into the compound.
You worked quickly and efficiently to make your way around the area and take care of anyone who was in your path. By the time you were sure that you had cleared the yard, you ran into Aleks who was looking a little manic but also like he was having the time of his life. You let out a breathless laugh as he ran up to you with a wild look in his eye. “Just like old time,” he breathed out a laugh. You could only nod your head as your chest heaved with each breath that you took.
“Just like old times.”
Before you were able to even process what was happening, Aleks stepped closer and slipped an arm around your waist to pull you flush against him. As you gasped at the sudden change of position, he ducked his head down to crush his lips against your own. Your eyes slipped shut on their own accord and your free hand found its way to the back of his head to hold him there, your fingers gripping into his hair.
It had been years since you’d thought about kissing Aleks like this, and even longer since you’d been able to, and the feeling of his lips working against your own made your head swim and your heart pound so harshly you were sure that you could hear it in your ears. You lungs burned with a need for air so you very reluctantly pulled away and stared at him with blown out eyes. He chuckled and cast one last look around the compound before looking down at you with a smirk.
“Race you to the warehouse.”
And just like that, he was off again. You watched as he ran through the smoldering chaos that the two of you had created and for just a moment it was as if you were eighteen again, free and reckless and falling for the boy who made your emotions burn hotter than the fires he so gleefully set. As his figure shrank in size while he hurried off to where he had parked his car, you snapped yourself out of your daze and decided to make one more pitstop before heading back to your car.
You found the trailer where Vinny’s office was and made your way inside and to the back room where the office was. You had figured that if Vinny was going to make that offer, he had to have something else to give to you. Sure, he was a slimy asshole but he was an okay businessman. You stepped over the body of the guard by the desk and eased the chair where Vinny’s body was back away from the desk so that you could rummage through the drawers.
In the very bottom drawer, you came across a case very similar to the one that was currently stashed in the trunk of your car. You pulled it out and set it on the table, and when you opened it you couldn’t help but let out a delighted giggle. It looked to be significantly more money then the contract you had with them, but you didn’t want to waste time in a near warzone counting money when you knew the cops had to be on their way.
Quickly, you closed the case and all but ran from the trailer to your car. Before actually getting into the car, you peeled off your shirt and swiftly removed the lightweight body armor you wore underneath, leaving you in just your undershirt. You tossed the case into the passenger seat and dumped your rifle and shotgun into the back before hopping in and turning the car on. You peeled out of the area and sped away through the dusty back roads to begin the long ride back into the city and to the Slaughterhouse. You rolled down your window and stuck your left arm out to feel the wind and for a moment you felt this pure sense of euphoria. Was it from the adrenaline of the shootout that just happened, or from the way Aleks’ lips felt against your again? You weren’t sure but at this point you didn’t want to question it.
It was dark by the time that you got back to the Slaughterhouse and Aleks was already there waiting for you. He was out of his car, leaning against the back of it with his arms folded over his chest. As you pulled in, you watched him carefully and took the time to really watch him for the first time. He had grown up a lot since you both left the East Coast. Aleks carried himself with more confidence than you’d ever seen him with and he was almost like a completely different person; except for the look in his eyes.
You turned off your car and slipped out of your seat, your eyes never leaving Aleks. The glow of the city lights cast shadows across his face and when he looked up as you approached you felt as if your breath was being sucked from you. His eyes were dark and warm but hinted at a playfulness that lied deep within that you had grown to know and love when you were younger. “Still alive,” Aleks grinned, pushing himself off of the car.
You nodded your head and chuckled, “Still alive.”
There was a deep pull within you all of a sudden that you could not explain. It was as if both you and Aleks had two powerful magnets sitting in your chests and you were almost drawn into one another by some unseen force. Both of Aleks’ hands took up residence at your hips while your own hands found their way to grasp at the sides of his neck. Within your chest, you could feel your heart begin an assault against your rib cage that was starting to border on almost painful. Your eyes slowly slipped shut and reopened to focus upon Aleks’ face.
The corner of his lips twitched up with the hint of a grin and you were sure for a fraction of a second that your knees were starting to feel weak. Your thoughts were suddenly flooded with everything that was pure, distilled Aleks; the way his hands held onto you like the had so many times before, the deliberate open-close-open of his eyes as he maintained contact with yours, the way he smelled of sweat, gunpowder, and smoke that was just barely hidden under a veil of his cologne.
His face bent down into yours almost as if in slow motion, like a dream, blurred, and then disappeared as you felt his hot mouth close over yours. Those lips met yours and your world exploded into shards of molten light. His grip tightened at your hips, pulling you into him, pressing himself into you. Your hungry mouth melded into his, situation that led to this moment completely forgotten. The tip of his tongue brushed your lips, insisted, and you opened to let him in, welcomed the urgent thrusting that sent a wildfire of searing flames racing through your body.
The streets of Los Santos which had kept you awake most nights since you arrived were blissfully quiet to your ears. Your fingertips danced up the sides of Aleks’ neck until they came into contact with the hair at the back of his head, as you let out an unintentional moan into Aleks’ mouth, your fingers threaded into his hair and tugged sharply in an all too familiar way. You felt more so than heard Aleks’ gasp before his hands gripped tighter to the point you were sure there would be some sort of bruise or mark left behind come morning light.
But you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
As Aleks pulled you just that much closer and your arms slid back in order to loop around his neck, you felt his fingers just barely brush over the hint of skin that must have been revealed by your shirt riding up as you stretched to kiss him. Normally, the touch of skin against skin would send a shiver rippling down your spine and set a low fire within you; however, a sudden jolt of pain shot through your entire body and you had to pull away with a near yelp. Aleks stared down at you with confusion etched onto his face, an expression that quickly melted away to concern. His hands lifted away from your body and hovered an inch or so away from you as if he were afraid he would cause you more harm if he were to touch you anymore.
“What happened? Are you okay?” he asked in a rush.
Your face crumpled and you looked down at yourself as you felt your side begin to throb ever so slightly. Gingerly, you reached down to grab hold of the hem of your shirt and that was when you noticed that it was warm and sticky with blood. You very carefully lifted the edge of your shirt up to see what looked to be a rather large laceration running just above your hip from front to back, almost as if it were a shallow trench. At catching sight of the wound, suddenly everything felt much more vivid, fresh, and painful.
Aleks stared down at you and let out a shaky breath, “What the fuck?”
“I guess that I must have gotten hit earlier,” you mumbled, feeling unexpectedly dizzy, “I must not have felt it while everything was happening.”
He watched you carefully and you felt your knees go a little wobbly. Despite your chosen career path, the one thing you couldn’t stand was the sight of your own blood. Aleks cursed softly under his breath and promptly scooped you up into his arms to carry you into the actual warehouse. Aleks huffed loudly as he struggled to get the door open, muttering mostly to himself under his breath as he finally managed to get the damn thing to swing open.
“Lindsey!” he called out into the open area, “Where the fuck are you?”
From somewhere within the warehouse you could hear clattering and muttered swears followed by the sound of shoes slapping against the concrete. You turned your head to the side to see a woman you’d never seen before rushing over to the two of you, looking a perfect mix of frazzled and annoyed. “What is it, Aleks? If you cut your hand building bombs again I’m going to- Whoa, who is that?” she asked, cutting herself off at the sight of you in Aleks’ arms.
Aleks shifted you slightly and grunted, “Y/N… she’s, well… that’s not important right now. We were up north and had an altercation with the Lost. She got hit and she’s got a pretty nasty wound on her hip.”
He turned to the side so that she could see the barest hint of the wound on your side under the hem of your blood soaked shirt. Lindsey hissed softly through her teeth and stepped closer, making eye contact with you as she reached for your shirt. “I’m gonna take a look, alright?” she asked softly. You swallowed hard and nodded your head. She carefully eased the garment up away from the area, letting out a rushed breath of air. “Well, that looks pretty nasty,” she murmured, looking up at you, “You’re gonna need stitches. Aleks, take her over to the table.”
Without another word, Aleks walked across the warehouse to a small curtained off area that, once inside, looked to be some sort of makeshift medbay. He brought you to the exam table and gingerly laid you down on the side that was not injured. Lindsey was right behind the both of you and went right to work pulling out all of the necessary instruments she would need. Aleks must have sensed your nerves, and he pulled up a stool to sit beside you.
“Remember the first time you had to get stitches? That guy wouldn’t pay up and he grabbed a broken bottle and got you right in the arm,” he laughed, casually reaching out for your hand.
You rolled your eyes and outstretched an arm to show the jagged almost circular scar near your elbow, “I have a permanent reminder of the first time you tried to threaten someone, and the aftermath when it didn’t work.”
Aleks scoffed and playfully reached out to pinch just above your scar. You laughed softly and swatted at his hand before turning your attention back to Lindsey. She had pulled out a syringe, a needle and thread, and some bandages as well. She must have noticed you looking and gave you a sympathetic sort of smile. “I’m gonna clean it up a bit to make sure there’s no debris or bullet fragments in there and get to work, alright?” she asked, pushing your shirt back up.
You only nodded your head and tried to relax as she grabbed a water bottle and some wipes. The cleaning wasn’t the most painful thing you’d ever experienced, obviously, but the sudden feeling of the cold water rushing over your open wound was a shock and you hissed through your teeth at the feeling. Lindsey was quick, however, and once she deemed the area to be clean she grabbed the syringe.
Aleks looked at her with a confused expression, “What’s that?”
“Lidocaine,” Lindsey answered as she carefully inserted the needle to your skin near the wound, “To numb the area.
“Oh, you bitch. Every time you stitch me up or some shit you give me a shot of whiskey and tell me to stop being such a fucking baby,” he protested, dropping your hand.
Lindsey snickered softly under her breath as she picked up the needle and thread to begin closing the laceration on your side. “Well, if you weren’t such a baby about it, I’d stop doing it,” she said with a grin. You laughed softly to yourself, but tried to keep yourself as still as possible, and glanced over at Aleks with a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “You can be a bit of a baby,” you agreed.
Aleks huffed loudly and slumped slightly in his stool, crossing his arms over his chest.  You cooed softly and used your outstretched hand to gently squeeze at his knee. “Aleksandr,” you murmured, smiling up at him and batting your eyes, “You can’t be mad at me.” He rolled his eyes and for a moment seemed as if he were going to hold steady but his resolve very quickly melted away as he took your hand in his own once again.
“I can be mad at her though,” he muttered almost petulantly.
Lindsey scoffed but didn’t look up from where she was working, “Be mad all you want; you’re still a baby.”
You gave Aleks’ hand a squeeze before lacing your fingers together, making him glance down at you and smile. Lindsey, from where she was, glanced up at the both of you momentarily. “So, what’s the deal with the two of you?” she asked, looking back down with a sigh. Before you could answer, Aleks straightened up in his seat. “Y/N is new to FakeChop,” he answered, give you a grin, “And we used to know each other.”
“In another lifetime,” you said, chuckling softly.
Aleks nodded, “We were kids together in a crew back home… We lost touch and just now ran into each other.”
“After the Lost hired me to kill Asher,” you explained with a grin, “Which I totally didn’t do, by the way.”
Lindsey paused for a moment and took a small step backwards to look you over. There was a brief second of confusion before her look gave way to realization. “Holy- Holy shit! You’re the Merry Murderess,” she exclaimed loudly. You fondly rolled your eyes and shrugged the shoulder you were not lying on. You both loved and hated that nickname and at this point you weren’t entirely sure how it came to be yours, but if your reputation precedes you, you weren’t going to complain.
“I’m stitching up the Merry Murderess,” Lindsey murmured as she went back to what she was doing.
You honestly couldn’t help but laugh softly at her reaction, though it wasn’t entirely an uncommon one. However, usually people who figured out who you were didn’t get to revel in the information for too long. After a short time more, Lindsey took a step back and pulled off her gloves. “You’re gonna want to keep it dry for a day or two and then you can wash carefully around them… dab it dry with a paper towel and re-apply a bandage,” she instructed as she began to clean up the area, “They should dissolve but if there’s any issue let me know.”
Slowly, you nodded your head and pushed yourself up to sit on the table, your legs dangling over the side.”Thank you, Lindsey,” you said softly. A flash of black in your vision caught your attention and you looked over to see Aleks holding out a jacket in his hand. “Here, take that shirt off and put this on. You don’t need your dried blood all over that shit,” he said. You nodded your head and very carefully removed your shirt, before pulling on Aleks’ hooded jacket. You breathed in deeply and the garment smelled of Old Spice and whatever cologne he had been using as of late.
You let out a soft sigh and looked over at Aleks with a grateful smile, which he returned. Slowly, Aleks got to his feet and helped to ease you off of the table. “C’mon, I know you’ve got to be staying in some seedy motel… I’ll take you back to my place so you can rest,” he offered, holding a hand out for you. You looked at his hand and then back up to his face and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
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junker-town · 5 years ago
Text
A common goal
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Sean Archibong, reVision FC
How young refugees find belonging and opportunity through soccer.
Warshan Hussin is a new kid in Baltimore. He’s a native Iraqi by way of Syria. He’s lonely. And he really hates the kid speaking English.
He is sitting in his seventh-grade class, unable to say a word. Nothing. His family arrived in 2007 through a refugee resettlement program, almost four years after leaving Iraq.
He’s looking around the room, hoping he can find some way to communicate. Maybe someone speaks his language. Maybe English actually isn’t hard at all and he can pick it up in the next 30 minutes. Maybe he’s a language prodigy. Maybe the other kids are just as behind as he is in learning his new country’s primary language. He is in Moravia after all, one of Baltimore’s most diverse neighborhoods. There are kids at his school from all over the world.
Nope. Plenty of his classmates speak English just fine. Especially this one kid. Like many kids at the school, he’s a refugee, but he’s communicating effortlessly with everyone, including the teacher. Yet another refugee who seems light years ahead, Hussin thinks.
Hussin’s experience isn’t unique. Isolation and culture shock are normal for kids coming to a new country — heck, they’re normal for kids moving across town. But in addition to the new kid awkwardness, refugees also face the challenge of overcoming language and financial barriers.
There is no easy way to immigrate to a new country, but finding common interests with others when you feel like you’re an island goes a long way. Fortunately, for a large percentage of refugee children who enter the United States each year, they share a game.
Shortly after his first day in school, Hussin went to a meeting of the Baltimore chapter of Soccer Without Borders. It happened to be the organization’s first-ever meeting, making it one of the few things that had been in the city for less time than him.
But Hussin didn’t know that. He just knew that someone had brought a few soccer balls to a field in Moravia. It seemed like a good time. Until he realized that kid, the one speaking circles around him in class, was there too.
“Shit.” he thought. “Not this kid again.”
Soccer Without Borders began in Oakland in 2006. Former Lehigh University soccer player Ben Gucciardi founded the organization after writing his master’s thesis on sports as a vehicle for social change. SWB began as a small, well-received day camp in Oakland that hosted soccer, dancing and nutrition education. It now serves four American cities and more than 1,900 participants. The Oakland chapter alone works with more than 400 refugees from 38 different countries that speak 23 separate languages. Participants in the organization boast a 95 percent high school graduation rate, compared to the Oakland average of 60 percent.
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Balazs Gardi, via Soccer Without Borders - Oakland
Soccer Without Borders founder Ben Gucciardi, left, with an athlete.
“In the communities where our kids are, there’s just not a lot of support. A lot of our kids don’t have their full families here. A lot of them have undergone some really intense situations,” Gucciardi said. “So just having that space where there’s somebody that takes care of them … I underestimated the power of that alone.”
With the help of community partners like Albany-Berkeley Soccer Club, SWB has given refugee kids that space. The organization develops English language skills through games and lessons, requires students to meet classroom performance standards before they can compete on the field, and helps facilitate post-secondary education.
Gucciardi once found out a promising student and player within SWB hadn’t taken the SAT. He helped the player sign up, drove the student to and from the testing center, then called a coach from a local university. The player got a good test score and a scouting session. A scholarship followed.
“The kids are super bright. They’re super talented. And if there’s somebody who’s kind of advocating for them the same way that I had advocates for me, then they can access these other opportunities,” Gucciardi said.
Kids like Yohannes Harish have made the most of those opportunities.
Harish is 25 now, but he came to Oakland as a 14-year-old by way of Kenya and Eritrea. His mother had left for the United States when he was five, and they spent 11 years apart before reuniting in Oakland. Harish’s transition to the United States was a challenge, but soccer helped him face it head on.
When you first come, it just feels like you’re on your own. And then when you see that there are people going through the same thing. It just makes you feel better.” - Yohannes Harish
After joining Soccer Without Borders, Harish picked up English quickly. He became captain of the team and class salutatorian at Oakland International High School. He found a spot on the team at nearby Division II Holy Names University and was named captain there, too.
“It kind of felt lonely [when I moved to the U.S.] because I couldn’t speak the language, didn’t know the culture as much and didn’t have many friends,” Harish says. “When you first come, it just feels like you’re on your own. And then when you see that there are people going through the same thing. It just makes you feel better and that you just need to keep working and keep pushing.”
Now Harish plays for the Oakland Roots, a first-year National Premier Soccer League team in the city he calls his home away from home. He wears No. 91 in honor of the year of Eritrean independence.
The kid from Hussin’s class, the outgoing one who appeared at the same Soccer Without Borders meeting, is named Glory. He came to Maryland as a Congolese refugee at about the same time as Hussin.
The day after Hussin’s first practice with SWB, Glory recognized Hussin in class. He also saw Hussin hadn’t organized his new binder yet.
“He took my stuff and put it in there, and to me, that stood out because I know he remembered me from practice. I know I remembered him,” Hussin said.
That simple gesture brought them closer together. After hours of school, soccer practice and English lessons, the pair became best friends.
“We had a really good friendship because, basically, I learned English speaking to Glory because I wasn’t afraid of talking to him,” Hussin said. “I didn’t know how to talk, but he wouldn’t make fun of me because he was in the same boat.”
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Sean Archibong, reVision FC
Soccer Without Borders uses the game as its primary link to the refugee populations it serves; others use the game as one among many tools.
In and around Atlanta, New American Pathways helps resettle, stabilize and improve the lives of Georgia refugees through a number of initiatives, including an after-school program for elementary and middle school-aged kids.
“We have a student survey that the kids fill out at the end of the year,” NAP’s Middle School Coordinator Caitlin Barrow said. “When we asked them, ‘What’s your favorite part of the program?’ A lot of them are coming for the soccer and happened to get the literacy or the academic help. They know they have to complete that part of the program before they can go outside.”
New American Pathways’ after-school programming encompasses nearly 175 students at three Atlanta-adjacent Dekalb County schools. That service is vital to the area’s growing refugee population. Georgia annually welcomes 2,500 to 3,000 newly-arrived refugees, according to the Coalition of Refugee Service Agencies. And within DeKalb County, refugees make up three percent of the student body.
Every weekday, the three schools provide participating students a snack, a lesson, homework help and, of course, soccer.
The sport has permeated almost every aspect of afterschool programs. For example, teachers show yellow cards as a warning to misbehaving students, and red cards when the warnings have ended. Even when it involves discipline, the shared language of soccer helps students and teachers build trusting relationships.
“I remember when I first started and I played soccer with the kids. I instantly gained respect, maybe some street cred that comes from the idea that ‘she kinda knows what she’s talking about,’” elementary program coordinator Caroline Miller said. “To me, it went hand in hand. It was the thought that, ‘Oh they think their teachers are cool and they respect me and they want to listen to me because I’m also helping them with their soccer skills.’”
The instructors at New American Pathways say after-school soccer helps break up cliques, and develop skills that go far beyond the classroom. On top of that, the kids also play some damn good soccer.
“It’s pretty incredible,” Barrow said. “Last year they put the middle school students against other rec teams and it was just like not fair to the other teams. The other kids are so disheartened by the end.”
Whether it’s English skills or building empathy through soccer. These things are essential for success in our very complicated interconnected society.” — Winston Persaud, New American Pathways
Some teachers have been forced to relinquish their names. Winston Persaud used to go by ”Mr. Persaud” when he was the lead teacher with the middle school program in 2018. Now he is known to his students as “Coach.”
Persaud has amassed a substantial collection of international jerseys over the years as a former high school player and long-time soccer fan, enough to wear a different one to class every day. So that’s what he did.
The jerseys led to conversations with his young refugee pupils, and those conversations led to relationships. That ultimately led to Persaud becoming a pro-bono coach during daily pickup games, but that was fine by him. It’s all in the name of giving students a strong educational foundation.
“A lot of these kids they’ve had interrupted schooling. A lot of them carry trauma. Combining something with academic support and athletic participation is huge,” Persaud said. “It’s a program of social education. Whether it’s English skills or building empathy through soccer. These things are essential for success in our very complicated interconnected society.”
Soccer doesn’t have to be solely an educational tool, however. Often, it is a much needed release: a space to feel belonging, and a space to cry.
In Houston, there’s been some crying.
At least for a few kids. By itself, that’s an accomplishment. It’s hard to get teenagers to cry in front of each other, even those who aren’t from one of Houston’s toughest areas.
But the larger accomplishment is how the kids have come together in the first place.
Fifteen kids, each an ocean away from their first homes, have been brought into the space that will become their locker room. They’ve been sat down. And they’ve been told they’ve made a soccer team. Not that they’ve gone through a tryout process, been evaluated and selected, but that their Sunday pickup group has become an actual, honest-to-goodness, team.
At first, there wasn’t even soccer. ReVision is an organization dedicated to creating positive outcomes for Houston’s most at-risk kids.
It operates out of St. Luke’s United Methodist Church in the southwest part of the city, which is densely populated with resettled immigrants. The vacant lot in the back of the church gave the organization an easy way to reach its neighbors.
A soccer ball plus empty space equals a gathering.
“I decided to just stand out on the field on Sunday afternoons after church and invite high school age kids to come and play pickup games,” reVision CEO Charles Rotramel said. “We thought it was a good way to introduce us to kids and introduce kids to our new field and just see what happened.”
Here’s what happened: Kids showed up, all refugees, and they were very good with a ball at their feet.
They kept showing up Sunday after Sunday, more and more kids. They made difficult moves look easy. Rotramel, a soccer coach since 2007, gave them pointers on tactics and technique. Eventually, the talent outgrew the confines of the makeshift pitch. Rotramel believed the kids were ready for bigger challenges.
He invited a friend, a high-ranking member of Houston Dynamo’s youth academy, to come to the field one Sunday afternoon. Just to watch. Just to make sure Rotramel wasn’t imagining things.
The game started. About a minute passed.
“Charles,” the friend said. “These kids are amazing.”
The next day, Rotramel called the players into their future locker room. They were the first members of reVision FC.
The team began playing in the South Texas Youth Soccer Association’s U-19 level in April 2017. Positive results didn’t come quickly. It spent the entire summer losing. But eventually, talent and passion turned into wins. The team got better. Exponentially better. The next year, despite a massive disadvantage in funding and resources, reVision FC won the state championship in Texas’ second-highest level of club competition.
The group’s effort earned them much more than a trophy. Afterwards, six reVision FC players signed to play at State Fair Community College in Sedalia, Missouri.
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Via Warshan Hussin
Warshan Hussin, far right, coaching for Soccer Without Borders.
Stories from organizations like reVision FC, New American Pathways and Soccer Without Borders show refugees that there’s a direct path to building a future in the United States. They are reminders of how much a game can empower people. Take Hussin, for example.
The kid who felt lost in school not only learned English, but went on to become captain of his SWB and high school team. He graduated from Digital Harbor High School in 2015 with honors and moved on to play collegiate soccer at Stevenson University in Baltimore.
“I think, most importantly, it gave us a safe place and especially getting placed in Baltimore,” Hussin said. “I think especially as a kid at that 14, 15, 16 age, we’re all just growing right now when we just want to explore everything. Coming here in a free country when you can do whatever you want, drugs, gangs, all that stuff, it’s literally right there in front of you as a kid. I think it kept a lot of us away from that stuff to do something that we love.”
Hussin is now finishing up his degree and coaching one of Soccer Without Borders’ many teams. He says it’s a blessing to be able to use soccer to mentor kids facing the same challenges he did not long ago.
“It’s like stress relief, you know?” Hussin said. “Just putting that smile on these kids’ faces. It’s basically telling them that four or five years ago, I was just where you guys are right now. It’s going to be OK. I made it. A lot of people made it. You’re going to learn English. It’s going to get better. It’s going to get a lot better.”
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