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dreamsinarcadia · 8 months ago

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Hypertension

Prompt: How can I not worry over the person I love the most?

In which Heung-min doesn’t know how not to hover after a visit to the doctor

pairing: sonny x wife!reader

warning: lots of silly grammatical errors that I just cannot find the energy to fix 🫶🏽

She found it near impossible not to love her husband when he was like this, fretting and almost pulling his hair out in worry - a little handsy, but only because he loved her far too much to let her go, to let her walk even five feet away from him.

It was impossible not to love him when he was all wide eyed and beaming bright enough to give the sun a challenge, warm and delightfully flushed (but again, because he loved her far too much to feel calm again).

In the hallway leading to their bedroom, Heung-min was practically skipping. He was also loud, more so than usual, his voice ricocheting off the walls and bouncing off the high ceiling. He was elated, practically demanding that their neighbours in the complex hear it as well, but this level of happiness at such a close proximity was borderline overwhelming.

Not overwhelming in a bad way, but a tidal wave of his affection, so she tried to move his hands from her waist as lightly as possible.

“Heung-min, you know that I can still walk, right?” she asked gently, trying so hard not to let a giggle break through her lips.

His hold on her waist remained firm as he walked behind to guide her in slow and purposeful steps. He hummed cheerfully and nodded in agreement. “I know.”

“Uh-huh, do you really?” she snorted, looking pointedly down at where the tips of his feet came into view between her own.

Playfully smacking his hands away to let them hover her hips instead, he couldn’t help but laugh as the ridiculousness of the situation slowly filtered into his head. “I know you can walk by yourself, but —”

“I’m pregnant, not terminally ill,” she reminded him with an arched brow.

Behind her, long limbs turned her own careful steps into a messy affair with him hot on her heels. The heat from his chest felt like she was pressed against a furnace, something that she never took for granted in the miserly weather of London. His palms, smooth and warm, slipped under the waistband of her pants to rub soothing circles into the flesh of her waist.

He was towering over her like a mother hen, encasing her in a protective shield to remind her that though she was more than capable on her own two feet, he was there to catch her at even the smallest hint of losing balance.

“Again, just pregnant, not terminally ill.”

Still, though Heung-min kept pace and somehow managed to inch even closer, as though he was trying to merge their bodies into one. “You know in some countries, they’re pretty much considered the same thing.”

She really had to stamp down the urge to roll her eyes. “Babe, we just saw the best doctor in London. I’m fine!”

Like words thrown at a brick wall.

Heung-min shrugged. “Hypertension.”

Having finally arrived at their bedroom, she plopped down on the bed and released a heavy sigh. Her husband knelt down in front of her, taking her hands into his own to press loving kisses into her palms.

For a moment, she remained quiet, having her fill of the closeness of his features. Her gaze walked over his skin, igniting a fire in the base of his spine, and she took her time. Then she leaned forward with a secret smile to press a quick kiss to the sunburn on the bridge of his nose. “What are you thinking about?” she asked.

He wiggled his brows.

“Pre-eclampsia.”

She had to cackle then, playfully shoving him away. “You’re so romantic.”

“It’s real!” He insisted, finally moving away to toss his wallet and keys onto his bedside table. “My love, it actually happens.”

Sensing that he was quickly losing his joviality, she gave him a gentle smile and walked over. “I know, but we have so much more time down the line to worry about that. I’m just six weeks in.”

Leaning up on her toes, her lips barely brushed his with the barest of touches, her hand running through his hair with purpose before pulling away altogether. “You don’t have to worry.”

Heung-min shoved his hands in his pockets as he leaned a shoulder on the doorway, admiring his wife and her body as though he could see beyond her clothes, beyond her skin. Every fibre of his being was utterly devoted to all of her, she could feel the tidal wave of devotion that flowed from his heart directly into her own, turning his arms into a safe haven for all her wayward worries and dreams.

“I know,” he said with a tilt of his head. “How can I not worry over the person I love the most?”

He reached out to take her hand and pull her up against him. His hands settled comfortably on either side of her waist and he took a moment to relish the feeling of the soft cotton of her shirt against his palms. They stayed like that for a few minutes before she was waddling out of the room with him pressed against her back like velcro, leading him into the empty room that had previously been saved as an office space.

It had a new, more wholesome purpose now.

Heung-min looked up at the ceiling and then his eyes moved down the walls and the doors before they finally landed on the floors, taking in the sleek oak. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. "Yeah, this is going to be a lot of work," he said. “Unless our baby is going to work in a corporate office the first day out of the hospital, we need to start planning out an actual nursery.”

“We’re going to have to decorate a nursery,” she hummed.

“…for a baby,” he mumbled into her hair thoughtfully. “Our baby.”

Oh.

It was happening.

Parenthood.

She twisted around to face him and found herself—not for the first time—overwhelmed by a heady mixture of giddy happiness and tender affection. That had been happening with a frequency as of late, but while her friends told her that she was still under the spell of being a newlywed, she suspected that it would always be the case when Heung-min was just so excited about the prospect of being a father. She reflexively tightened her grip on his hands, which drew his attention down to her. "We’re going to be parents," she told him.

He beamed down at her, lifting a hand to tuck some loose strands of her hair behind one of her ears and tipped his head to one side. "You’re going to be a mom.”

She smiled even wider and curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt so she could hold him that much closer to her. "And you’re going to be a dad.”

He chuckled and the sound reverberated through his chest and into hers and to the very tips of her toes. She closed her eyes and tried to just soak him in as one of his hands threaded through her hair to hold the back of her head. Then the bow of his mouth pressed to her forehead.

She pressed her face into the fabric of his shirt and let out a long breath when Heung-min folded his long arms around her. She could practically hear the sound of their child somewhere off and away from the house and she couldn't help but smile to herself. Change had never much agreed with her in the past, but after changing her mind, a change of heart, and finally changing her surname she didn't think she minded it so much. She had someone to lay roots down with and hang onto through the worst of anything.

Worth it, she thought to herself. Nothing had ever been so worth it.

#heung min son #son heung min scenario #son heung min imagine #son heung min #son heungmin #heungmin son #footballer x reader #son heung min fanfic #son heung min fic #son heung min fluff #footballer imagine #son heung min x reader #son heung min one shot #footballer x y/n #football fanfic

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polkadotpenguin16 · 2 months ago

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The Five Stages of Grief: Acceptance

A/N: That’s it! We’ve done it!! If you had told me a year ago that I was going to write a whole-ass story, I wouldn’t have believed you. But here we are – life’s funny, isn’t it? Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who’s been following along with my story. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I was capable of writing something anyone would enjoy reading. All the likes, reblogs, and comments have really added a sparkle to my life I didn’t know I needed. Also, extra huge thank you to the lovelies who reviewed, edited, and let me ramble on about my idea. This could not have been done without you and I am forever grateful <3

Pairing: Sonny Carisi x female reader

Word count: 2,985

Previous parts: Prologue | Denial | Anger | Bargaining | Depression

Also posted on AO3.

You didn’t need to tell Sonny where to meet you in Prospect Park. He knew the exact spot. On your fourth date, you took a walk through the park. Out of nowhere, it started pouring down rain, so you took cover under a gazebo. That was where you shared your first kiss, and that memory would forever be engrained in his head.

Even though you were fifteen minutes early, Sonny was already waiting for you in that gazebo. You shouldn’t have been surprised at this point. He sat hunched over on the bench with his arms on his knees. He looked up when he heard you but didn’t say anything. He didn’t look like your Sonny. The sparkle was drained from his eyes. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in days. You knew the feeling. You sat beside him on the bench, leaving an uncomfortable amount of distance between you. The tension from when you last met still lingered in the air, but the mood felt less defensive and more cautious.

“Thank you for meeting me,” you said to break the ice. Your heart was in your throat. Your anxiety wasn’t as high as last time, but you were nonetheless still nervous. Your hands were clammy, and your leg was restlessly bouncing, making the bench squeak beneath you. But you needed to be here, to make things right.

Sonny nodded in response. He was no longer despondent or resentful but still felt very guarded. He was prepared to accept the outcome of your conversation, whether that meant moving forward or moving on.

“Well, I have a lot of apologizing to do.” You rummaged through your bag to find your phone. “So I made a list to make sure I didn’t forget anything.”

Sonny didn’t come here today expecting an apology. He was the one who messed up, in his mind. But writing an apology as an itemized list was such a “you” thing to do. He was always fond of how meticulous you were.

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves before you began. “Let’s start with number one: I’m sorry for leaving that night. Packing up without a word was wrong, and I should’ve stayed and talked with you. Number two: I’m sorry for avoiding you. You reached out to apologize and reconcile, and I was unwilling to communicate. It was childish and unproductive of me to ignore you.”

You paused briefly to glance up at Sonny’s face. His expression was neutral, but you could tell by how his eyes were fixed onto you that he was listening intently. Sonny was so surprised by your words that he wasn’t entirely sure what he was feeling. He’d spent more time worrying about your feelings than examining his own. This apology was like a salve to a deep cut he hadn’t noticed. Closure he didn’t know he needed.

You looked back at your phone and continued down your list. “Um, number three: I’m sorry for the unforgivable things I said to you when we fought. I didn’t mean them, but I know that’s no excuse, nor does it take anything back. Number four: I’m sorry for being jealous of your relationship with Amanda. You assured me she was just your friend, and I should’ve never doubted you. You’re the best friend anyone could ask for, and I should not have made you feel bad for being just that.”

Sonny broke his gaze away from you. He felt ashamed that he’d missed what others had seen. And that you felt the need to apologize for his actions. That guilt-fueled churning in his stomach he’d become so familiar with made a return.

Still concentrating on your list, you resumed. “And number five: I’m sorry for not being honest about how I was feeling. I pretended I was okay with how things were and that was unfair to you. I should’ve been upfront when I started feeling neglected so that you could’ve had the chance to respond. I’m not apologizing here today with the expectation that I’ll be forgiven.” You wiped away the stray tears that managed to escape your eyes. “I know I’ve caused damage that I may not be able to repair. I want to be with you Sonny, if you’ll have me. I promise to be more open, understanding, and to communicate better. I love you, and I’m willing to put in the work to fix us.”

You put your phone away and gave him a look that you hoped conveyed all the remorse you felt. “If there’s anything else I’ve missed that I still need to apologize for, feel free to tell me. I’m ready to take responsibility for my mistakes.”

Sonny sat in silence for a beat, a solemn, unreadable expression on his face. You’d said your piece, and now you’ll have to live with the consequences. You held your breath and braced yourself for whatever he had to say next.

“…My hairbrush,” he said flatly. Unsure if you’d heard him correctly, you couldn’t help but give a confused look. “You took my hairbrush with you that night. My hair’s looked like crap ever since.”

You immediately burst out laughing, folding in half in your seat. He just wanted to hear you laugh again. It’d been so long since he’d heard your laugh. It was the most magical sound he’d ever heard.

“Well, I’m sorry for that, too,” you wheezed out as you tried to catch your breath. “I didn’t take it on purpose. That was cruel and unusual punishment.”

Now it was Sonny’s turn to laugh. He chuckled so hard his sides began to hurt. Any tension between you had disappeared. For the past week, you felt like strangers. After all the heartbreak and turmoil, you could finally recognize each other again.

“Thank you, doll, for that very thoughtful apology,” he said once he composed himself. “I forgive you, and I wanna work on fixing us together. But first, it’s my turn to apologize.”

“No, you don’t, Sonny. You’ve already—”

“Yes, I do,” he interrupted. “I don’t have a fancy list like you did, but I’ll try my best.”

You smirked and shook your head. He aways poked fun at your lists, and your lists for your lists. You sat back and gave him the floor.

“I’m so sorry I forgot our date. But more than that, I’m sorry for all the canceled dates before that. I know my job’s insane and keeps me away a lot, and you’ve been a saint to put up with me as long as you have. You’re my priority, and from now on, I’m gonna treat you as such.”

You felt a warm glow in your heart. Just a few words, and all the sadness from so many lonely nights seemed to fade away. You could’ve stopped him there, completely content with his apology. But you let him continue letting his feelings out.

“Also, I haven’t been the best at communicating either. I should not have lost my temper the way I did, or confronted you at work. I was angry and afraid, but I should’ve found a better way to express that. I’m gonna work on that.”

With each word he spoke, he could feel his soul getting lighter. Freeing himself of the guilt that had dominated him. And the gentle smile on your face told him that he was saying the right things.

“And with Rollins…you don’t have to worry about that anymore.” You opened your mouth to interject, but he held his hand up to stop you. “I understand where the jealousy came from. I just wish you’d told me sooner. But you were right. There’s only so much I can do, and I’m gonna take a step back. I know we can’t just go back to how things were, but I’d like to start fresh and take things slow. I thought I’d lost you—” his voice cracked as he held back his tears.

You reached out your hand from across the bench. What was only a foot or two felt like miles. Like a bridge across stormy waters, bringing you back together. Deeply touched, he took your hand, comforted by the familiar fit in his. “You’re the best part of my life and I’ve been taking you for granted. Can you forgive me?”

You looked at him with adoration beaming from your eyes. “I already have.”

He squeezed your hand and gently rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. “Y’know, if you still wanna walk away, now’s your last chance.” He wiped the last remaining tears from your face. “’Cause if you stay, I’m not letting you get away again. Ever.”

You turned your head to kiss his palm that was still lingering on your cheek. “No, Sonny, I’m not going anywhere.” You smiled and shook your head, sure in your decision. “There’s no one I’d rather be stuck with.”

Sonny’s smile was so bright, it could’ve lit up Time Square itself. He pulled you close and wrapped you in an impossibly tight hug. You’d almost forgotten how it felt to be held by him. How warm and safe his arms felt.

“I love you, sunshine,” you murmured against his chest.

“Love you more, doll.” He took your face into his hands and gave you a gentle kiss. You threaded your arms around his neck and kissed him deeper. Everything and everyone else at the park that day completely faded away – there was just you and him. Goosebumps shot across your body as you got lost in the taste of each other. A kiss that felt as if it were months in the making.

The tender moment was rudely interrupted by your stomach growling, causing you both to giggle. You hadn’t had much of an appetite for the past week, and it seemed like your anxious tummy ache had abruptly disappeared. Sonny sat back so he could see you better. “How’s about we get something to eat? I believe I owe you dinner at a fancy restaurant.”

“Maybe another day,” you replied. “I’d rather go home together and have you cook us something. Is that okay?” Hearing you say that made Sonny teary. You said home. With him.

Together.

He grabbed your hand and kissed it with an enormous grin growing across his face. “That’s more than okay, doll.” With that, you got up and began your stroll through the park back to your apartment.

Back home.

When you arrived, you decided to jump in the shower while Sonny started dinner. He hadn’t been to the store for a couple of days, so it was slim pickings. He found half a carton of eggs and a small cut of pancetta in the back of the fridge. Carbonara it is, then.

He just finished frying the pancetta when you returned to the kitchen. When he turned around at the sound of your footsteps, he was stunned by what he saw. It was you wearing his ratty, gray Fordham hoodie. It was such a normal, everyday thing for you to be wearing. But in that moment, after all you’ve been through, the gesture meant the world to Sonny. He started to feel the cracks of his heart begin to heal.

“Everything okay?” You asked, a bit concerned by his dazed look.

“Yeah, everything’s perfect.”

Sonny plated the pasta, and you sat down for dinner at your tiny table. It felt like ages since you’d gotten to talk to each other. You explained how you wanted to start therapy to work on your self-esteem and conflict avoidance. You wanted to be the best version of yourself for both you and Sonny. He was very encouraging and proud of you for being willing to take that step.

Sonny talked about how he was seriously considering changing his career. “It just feels like the right time, y’know? I’m just worried I’d be letting everyone down. I mean, what if I suck as a lawyer?”

“Listen to me,” you sat your fork down and grabbed his hand. “You’re not letting anyone down. You’re following your dream. Anyone who loves you knows that and will support you. Whether you’re a cop, a lawyer, or whatever, I’m gonna be here for you. And I’ll love you through it all. Even if you are a sucky lawyer.”

Sonny’s cheeks turned an adorable shade of red, and he tried to turn his head to disguise the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes. You reached for his chin and gently turned his face back to give him a sweet kiss. “Through it all,” you reiterated. Your gaze briefly shifted from his face to the living room behind him, something seeming awry. “Did you move the bookcase?”

Sonny wasn’t sure what you were talking about until he remembered the hole in the wall the bookcase was now hiding. “Um…how ‘bout we talk about that tomorrow? I think we’ve had enough excitement for today.”

Well, now your interest was definitely piqued. But he was right. There was no need to solve everything in one day.

Once dishes were put away, you decided to turn in early. To say you were both exhausted was an understatement. Sonny crawled into bed behind you and curled his whole body around you. Arms, legs, and all completely cocooning you.

“Sunshine, I can’t breathe,” you eked out from between his arms.

“Well, I told you I wasn’t letting you get away again,” he nonchalantly replied, tightening his grasp around you. “This is your life, doll. Just accept it.”

You belly laughed so hard you would’ve fallen out of bed if Sonny hadn’t been holding you so tightly. “Oh, I have!” You get out in between your giggles. “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to worry about that.”

And he believed you.

“I love you, doll,” he whispered as he kissed your cheek. “More than anything.”

“I love you more,” you quietly answered back.

“Not possible.”

Sonny nuzzled his head into the back of your neck, completely enveloped in the familiar, comforting scent of your hair. He could feel the rise and fall of your chest. The sound of your breathing lulled him to sleep—the best sleep he’d had in months.

You woke up to the sun creeping in through the curtains. You glanced over at your alarm clock to check the time. 9:45. You’d gotten a much-needed good night’s rest. Sonny, too. He was still knocked out beside you, lying on his stomach with his arms sprawled out in every which way. You couldn’t help but stare. His face was so serene. You could almost make out the faintest hint of a smile. It was such a rare sight to see him so peaceful.

Beginning to stir, Sonny rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. “Enjoying the view, doll?” He called you out for staring. “Take a picture, it lasts longer.”

Your cheeks turned bright red, and you scooched closer to bury your face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head.

“I think it’s Sunday.” Sonny’s voice was still gravely from sleep. “We’ve got the whole day to ourselves. Whatcha wanna do, sweetheart?”

“Hmmm…” you briefly considered your options. “Well, staying in bed is tempting.”

“I could be convinced of that. That couch sure made me miss this old bed.”

You looked up at him confused. “The couch?”

“Yeah…” He gave you an embarrassed smile. “I’ve been sleeping on the couch the past couple nights.”

“Why would you do that? That couch is at least a foot too short you.”

“Wasn’t the same in here without you,” he said matter-of-factly. “You’re my home, doll.”

You’d never felt so in love with him as you did in that moment. “And you’re mine.” You brushed back the hair stuck to his forehead and leaned up to kiss him. He tangled one of his hands in your hair as he caressed your back with the other. Home was the best way to describe how you felt.

You were both startled by Sonny’s work phone ringing. Groaning, you rolled away from him. So much for a Sunday in bed. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, getting up to make some coffee for him to take. But he grabbed your arm to stop you. He quickly checked his phone, then dismissed the call and turned it off.

“Don’t you need to answer that?” Sonny always answered his work phone. Night or day, whether he was on the clock or not.

He shrugged and shook his head. “Not my weekend on call. They can figure it out.”

“Sonny, I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Pfft, they’re already short-staffed. What’re they gonna do? Fire me?” He poked your side, making you giggle. “Besides, I’ve got much more important things to worry about.”

“Such as?”

“Making sure my girlfriend is suitably cuddled.” He pulled you back onto his chest and wrapped his arms around your waist. It felt so comfortable. You were fighting to stay awake, but the rhythm of his heartbeat was so calming, it was lulling you back to sleep.

“Just close your eyes, doll,” he said as he ran his hand up and down your spine.

“But I haven’t seen you in forever.” You let out a huge yawn. “I feel like if I close my eyes, you’ll disappear.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Just go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

After a few more beats, you did indeed fall back asleep. Sonny studied your face, memorizing each detail. Every wrinkle, every freckle committed to memory. He couldn’t help but think about how lucky he was to get a second chance with you. Completely content with his life, he closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep, assured he’d have plenty of tomorrows to spend with you.

#oh god she writes now #sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi x you #sonny carisi imagine #dominick carisi #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #svu #masterlist #anti rollisi

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ameagrice · 3 months ago

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Capsize

percy jackson x fem reader

chapter thirty-five | when I say ‘hell’, you say ‘nah’

Being tied up and gagged sitting beside a barbecue spitting hot oil at you, was not on the agenda.

And yet you sighed, tied up to a barbecue. Across the porch, Nico sat the same way, bound to the railing. To your left, Grover mirrored him, tied up in the sun. He was sweating, and looked incredibly tired. You wished you could do something about the situation you got caught in, but the truth was, you couldn’t do a thing. Percy got you here, and only Percy could get you out.

“Lovely day!” Geryon flipped sausages. A bit of piping-hot oil landed on your cheek. You flinched, but he didn’t pay you any notice. “Lovely day…Eurytion, get those banners higher!”

Streamers and party balloons were tied up and taped to the windows by Eurytion, who you deducted to be a spineless man. He’d tied you all up at Geryon’s instructions and relaxed on the bench under the window, in the shade.

You tried desperately to think of a way you could contact anyone. Chiron, perhaps, who could advise you on what to do now that Percy had gotten you tied up and held hostage. Maybe even Sally Jackson, since she always knew what you could do. Her advice hadn’t failed you yet. But there were no water sources or reflective surfaces to make a rainbow, and you could reach your bag chucked out of the way down on the grass, anyway. Eurytion had been kind enough to put your dagger in your bag, rather than throwing it away. That was something.

Eurytion and Geryon ate barbecue food, put more on the grill, and ate that, too, until the sun had set relatively low. The whole time, you tried not to hyperventilate at the thought of Percy being eaten by monster horses. You tried not to think of the high possibility you’d be sold off like a piece in a thrift store. You tried not to, but your mind ran wild. Grover communicated with his eyes, probably as tired as you were after your struggle to get out of the ties. You hadn’t any idea what he was communicating, though—the sun beamed in your eyes.

You were beginning to think he wasn’t coming back at all, a hopeless sort of sadness setting in, when a desperate, boys voice rang out above the barbecue and Geryon’s terrible singing.

“Let them go!” Percy’s voice raged. He ran up the porch steps and rounded. He locked eyes with you, and then Grover and Nico. “I cleaned the stables. So let them go.” Relief lifted the weight off your shoulders, that Percy was still breathing.

Geryon lifted off his cooking apron and dumped it over the porch rail. “Did you, now? How’d you manage it, sonny?”

Breathing deeply, Percy explained. “The water from the river. I…controlled it. Cleared the stables out completely.”

Geryon nodded appreciatively. “Well, then, Mr. Genius, smart move. You could have at least poisoned the naiad that resides in there, but hey-ho.” The staticky radio on the bench next to Eurytion played an Elvis Presley song, cutting out here and there. Polk Salad Annie felt a little bit too upbeat for the unpredictable crowd.

“Let my friends go,” Percy seethed, not appreciating the insinuation that he hadn’t done enough. “We had a deal.”

Geryon chuckled. “See, the problem is, and I’ve been thinking about this very deeply; if I let your friends go, I won’t get paid. They’re staying.”

Your eyes widened so much you might have looked comical. Percy turned gray. “You. Promised.”

“Ah, but you didn’t have me swear on the River Styx, did you? Therefore, it was not binding. Always remember, Percy, when you’re conducting any business, you should always swear on the River Styx. A binding oath is worth everything, alrighty?”

A beat of silence hit as Percy drew his sword. Riptide reflected the gold of the sun, strong at your friend’s side. Orthus, standing at Grover’s head, growled deeply.

Geryon waved Percy off like he was a knat. “Eurytion, he’s annoying me. Kill him.”

Grover and yourself protested as much as you could with your mouth’s somewhat bound too. Geryon looked away and slung a packet of bacon on the grill. At the same time, Percy inched closer to you, angling Riptide to the ties on your ankles. Orthus pounced and snapped at him, forcing Percy to move away. Saliva dripped from the dog’s mouths in a disgusting puddle near your feet. You couldn’t help feeling a little angry at him. For the first time, Percy had truly put your life at risk, and his way out of it failed to be effective.

“Kill him yourself,” said Eurytion, crossing his arms loosely.

Raising his dark brows, Geryon uttered a calm, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me! You keep sending me to do your dirty work. You pick fights for no proper reason, and I’m tired of dying for you. You want the kid dead; kill him yourself.”

Tensely, the scene reminded you of a movie, like a cowboy facing down his enemy. You wanted to laugh, but honestly you felt a little too heat-exhausted and scared.

Geryon threw down the metal tongs. “How dare you defy me? I should be rid of you this instant!”

“And who’d look after your cattle then? Orthus, heel.” The dog left you, settling at Eurytion’s side.

“Whatever! I’ll deal with you later, after the boy’s gone.”

Then the scene

went

wild.

Geryon picked up two carving knives and threw them with such fury in Percy’s direction that they went haywire; he raised Riptide and deflected one away, over the rail, the other landed between Eurytion’s feet. Orthus barked aggressively, and Elvis Presley went crazy on the radio. Though obviously tired, and looking sweaty and pale (and in need of a shower after the stench of the stables), Percy went on the offence, raising Riptide and aiming right for Geryon’s head. He ducked and moved aside, causing the sword to go right through his middle chest. You looked away, praying to your mother you didn’t gag, because the way you were feeling in the sun, it would not be good. Geryon yelled in pain and thudded to the deck. You anticipated the familiar sound of crumbling to ashes and dust the way monsters usually do, but it didn’t happen.

“Nice try,” he growled. “Thing is, I obviously have three hearts. It’s the perfect backup!” You looked back just in time to witness him kick over the barbecue that had been boiling all day long. The metal grates fell away, as smoking coals spilled out. Being so close to it, one caught your cheek as it dropped, others burning around your feet. You screamed, and couldn’t stop it. Grover yanked uselessly at his bindings, while Orthus approached him in a low crawl. Elvis didn’t give a shit that you found yourself in a stressful situation. Eurytion stepped back down the porch steps. Nico looked visibly terrified. After all, he was only a kid.

Percy struck Geryon in the chest again, but he only laughed in his face. The dark-haired boy ran the sword through his stomach but it did absolutely nothing. Percy persevered, usually, so watching him take off inside the house was a kick to the stomach. He couldn’t leave you here, surely? Your cheek itched painfully from the burn of the coal and the oil and the sun, you were tired and hot and stressed. Sooner rather than later, you might explode.

Geryon launched the large barbecue fork through the open doorway, and it landed in something with a terrible clunk. “Your head’s gonna go there, Jackson, next to the bear!”

In the doorway, Percy appeared carrying a large bow and notched an arrow, shocking since he couldn’t so much as hit a target a metre away at camp. Geryon berated him verbally with cruel remarks and laughter, but Percy was not to be deterred. The monster didn’t need weapons to charge toward Percy, who dove sideways. Before he could react, Percy let the arrow fly. It shot straight through Geryon’s arm in a bloody mess, and right through his bodies to the other side, landing in the wall inside the house. The ranch grew still and quiet, Geryon turning. “You can’t shoot,” he struggled to talk. “They told me you can’t.” In a sickly shade of violent green, he fell to his knees heavily and promptly turned to ashes, grains as small as sand. Silently, all that remained was a pair of jeans, a huge shirt and boots.

Percy turned, dropping the bow to the deck, clattering. In his pocket Riptide had returned. He cut your mouth free first, careful of the stinging cheek, knowing somehow that freedom of speech was what you wanted now.

You coughed to clear your throat, and brilliant-gray met sea-green. “Glad you’re still breathing, Percy Jackson.”

He swallowed, cutting through the binding at your ankles. “Glad you’re still here, B.”

You collected your backpack and dug straight for a bottle of water, sipping slowly as Grover and Nico were released. Casting the bottle away into your bag, you stood to build up the barbecue again, and offered the last packs of burgers to the gods as a thanks for helping Percy actually get a good shot…and not somehow shooting you, instead (which he had nearly done, once before).

Nico said Eurytion should be tied up, and Grover agreed on the grounds that his dog had tried to kill you all. Murder wasn’t in your books, and you didn’t want to become a subject of interest, but the old man had done nothing while you cooked under the sun and was going to allow you to be handed over to Luke. So…something had to be done.

“Why don’t we just…” you thought, “I don’t know, actually. Could just tie him and make a run for it before he breaks free?”

“Or we could contact Chiron?” Suggested Grover. “Maybe he could do something about this?”

You waved him off. “Chiron would be too nice.”

Percy raised his brows. “And just tying some up is isn’t being too nice?”

“Alright! I’m just saying, murder is a bit far. He isn’t completely guilty. He didn’t really do anything to us.”

“Didn’t do anything for us, either,” retorted your friend. Percy flicked his hair from his face, sweaty and sun-kissed.

Nico gasped with an idea. “We could kill him, and then I’ll go and judge him in the Underworld.”

You clicked your fingers, pointing at Nico. “Ha ha, that’s not what we’re gonna do.”

“Look,” breathed Percy, pocketing Riptide-now-pen. He held out a hand to Eurytion as he spoke. “How long will Geryon take to reform and come back?”

“Couple hundred years,” the farmhand shrugged. “He ain’t one of those quick reformers.”

“Oh, thank you Zeus,” you mumbled. The sky rumbled, perfectly clear.

“You said you died for him in the past, didn’t you? How’d that happen?”

Eurytion explained his immortality, chosen way back when in his half-blood era. Percy stood beside you leaning on the fencing, raising his hand to shield his bright eyes from the blinding sun. In turn, his shadow blocked you, dimming the feel of burning on your face.

“You can change things ‘round here,” offered Percy, “be nice to the animals, not selling them. If we leave you here, you’ve got to stop trading with the Titans.”

Eurytion thought about it hard, and long. He sat silent, just pondering, until eventually he nodded. “I can live with that.”

“Hey, if you get the animals on your side, maybe when Geryon comes back, he’ll be working for you. Tables—turned.”

Eurytion hummed, chuckling low in his throat. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he grinned. He waved off in the distance. “Now go. I haven’t had peace and quiet in years. And the girl looks like she needs a hospital. Seriously, you look sick.”

“That’s rude.”

“You’re not gonna stop us?” Grover pushed away from his seat. You leaned your elbow on his shoulder.

“Hell no.”

Despite his calm, laidback demeanour, you couldn’t help feeling suspicious. Raising your bottle to your warm cheeks, cooling them a little, you asked the question stuck on your mind. “He said somebody paid for our safe passage. The only person I can think of down here who could have done so would be Hera. She met us in the maze. She gave us some not-so-helpful advice. You seen her anywhere?”

Eurytion shrugged. “I don’t know what he was talking about. And I ain’t seen any gods round here, lady.”

“What about Luke, and his army? Did you actually tell them we’re here?”

He scoffed with humour. “Did I hell. We were waiting until after the barbecue. So to answer your indirect question, missus, they don’t know about Mr. Nico.”

The boy himself glared right at you with such passion it almost physically burned. Two options were here and two only.

“You can come with us and get out of here,” you offered. “Or you can stay on the ranch for a while. Either way you’d be quite safe.”

Nico’s face warped to one of fury. His skinny fists clenched at his sides. “I’m not going anywhere with you! Safe? What do you know about being safe? You got my sister killed!”

You practically saw red. Shoving your bag into Percy’s fumbling arms, you leaned down to face Nico, who ground his teeth loudly. “Alright, you little shit—let’s get one thing straight before we go anywhere: I did not get your sister killed. I’ve thought long and hard about it, and ultimately I’ve decided that Bianca had her own brain, and her own free will. I didn’t make her do anything, and I didn’t push her. It was a tragic accident, okay?”

“Nico,” Percy stood beside you, laying a warm hand on your shoulder and urging you back from the kid who didn’t move. “She’s right. Please believe her. Believe us. None of this was anybody’s fault. Staying here would be fine, you don’t have to come with us if you don’t want to. But if Kronos finds out about you, he’ll take you, and he’ll do anything to get you on his side. It won’t be good, Nico, trust me.”

Nico turned his face away. “I’m not on anyone’s side. And I’m not scared of any of this.”

“You really should be. Bianca wouldn’t want any of this.”

He turned back. Nico’s eyes swam with tears, and you felt a little bad for popping off. “If you knew my sister, you know she’d want to come back! If you cared about her, you’d help me to bring her back.”

“A soul for a soul, right?”

“Yes!”

Percy looked troubled. “But if you didn’t want B, and you didn’t want me, then who?”

“I’m not explaining anything to either of you!” He exclaimed. When a tiny tear tread down his cheek, Nico raised his hand to wipe it away aggressively. “I’m going to bring her back. She’s my sister. I need to…I need her.” He rubbed his eyes viciously.

You deflated. Nico tried to look brave, and act older than he was, but his eyes were rimmed with red as he rubbed at them, and he choked on his tears. All of a sudden you wanted nothing more than to sit him down and talk to him, apologise for shouting when he was so upset. You wanted to kick yourself for acting impulsively, and shouting at a child as they cried. At fifteen years old, you should have known better. You reminded yourself terribly then of your father.

“Why don’t we ask Bianca what she wants?”

Nico’s face stilled. “I’ve tried,” he said miserably. “She won’t answer.”

“Try again,” shrugged Percy. A cold breeze shocked you, suddenly. In the distance, storm clouds were rolling in out of a perfectly sunny day…. “I have a feeling she’ll answer with me here.” He sounded very confident in that, and for what reason?

“Why would she?” Asked Nico.

“Because she’s been sending me messages,” Percy shifted on his feet at the sudden onslaught of confused looks. “I’m sure she has. She’s been warning me of what you’re doing. She wanted me to protect you.”

Nico wiped his eyes furiously. “That’s impossible.”

“Why is it?” Percy offered. “Besides, didn’t you say you’re not afraid? Let’s try it. We’ll need a lot of food, and a pit. You got anything like a grave around here?”

—

The grave happened to be dug especially by yourself and Grover. You never were one for gardening, and you find yourself slacking towards the end of the grave-digging.

“Come on,” urged Grover, sweaty and tired. “Just—we can do this. We’ve got this. Positive thinking. Deep breath in…”

You want to tell Grover that positive thinking won’t influence positive actions, because your limbs feel like lead. But together you finish the grave, and your friends pull you out of it. You waited until dark, the five of you and the dog, to call on the dead. With crates of root beer at the ready, Nico paced back and forth, anxious. You sat at the edge of the grave and dangled your legs in, exhausted beyond belief. Every now and then you had to kick away a bug. Grover sat on his heels, sleeping on the crates of root beer.

“Minos should be here by now!” Came Nico’s tiny voice, his dark eyes full of worry. The moon was high and full and bright. Percy’s infinite gray streak shone in the light, a patch among dark, dark hair. “It’s dark enough. It’s late enough…”

“Maybe he got lost,” suggested Percy. Nico glared furiously.

Percy crouched beside you and clapped you on the shoulder, digging his fingers in as a means to try and show you he was there. Maybe he knew you well enough by now to know you were getting irritated and agitated, waiting and tired and forcing your eyes to stay open.

Little Nico grew fed up himself, and wrenched a bottle of root beer from the crate, pouring it into the pit. Grover jerked away, and began helping. With food in a pile from the forgotten barbecue, Nico’s hands dashed out hungrily, and threw them into the pit too, chanting in Ancient Greek. To anyone else, the sudden chill of the night air and the aura that settled with Nico’s chanting might have been terrifying, or uncomfortable. You found the grim ordeal that was summoning the dead to be a rather interesting situation. Something satisfying in raising what once was. A reminder that things never truly died.

It didn’t take long for someone to come forward. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the right someone.

A dark shade of blue, a thin and whispery figure that mirrored who it was once, kneeled at the edge of the grave and reached in. The image somewhat shimmered, and when you looked hard enough, features showed through; deep-set eyes, hardened and somewhat angry; facial features showing crows feet around the eyes, dark brows…

“Minos!” Yelled Nico, suddenly on guard. He brought forth his sword, aimed at the ghost. “What are you doing?!”

“My apologies,” he said, though there wasn’t a hint of sorry in there. Slowly, the ghost’s image grew a bit more real, more colorful. “The sacrifice seemed too good to leave be. Almost in solid form—it’s nice to see myself again.”

“You are disrupting the Ritual! Leave, now!”

Minos paid him no mind. You’d long since jumped away from the edge of the grave, and joined Percy’s side, but something about the ghost ignited in you a want to take Nico’s sword and run the loser through with it. He turned to the two of you, running his eyes in a way that had you almost wretching.

“Percy Jackson!” He hummed. “My, my. The sons of Poseidon never seem to get any better.”

A rude and untrue comment, because you’d seen old images of Greek heroes, and Percy was the best by a million. Not that you’d say that out loud, or anything.

Percy had a lot more self-control than you did in the moment, because he simply took a deep breath, and said, “We’re looking for Bianca. Get lost.”

“Do you really believe Daedalus will help you?” Minos taunted, tilting his head. Nico had begun chanting again, kneeling at the edge of the pit with Grover kneeling dutifully at his side, taking care. “He cares nothing for you, half-bloods! You certainly cannot trust him. He’s cursed by the gods, and guilty of murder. You want somebody like that on your side?”

“Who did he kill?” Asked Percy.

“Don’t change the subject!” Minos spat, a confirmation that he was talking bull, really. “Stop hindering Nico. Don’t persuade him to abandon his goals!”

“We’re helping Nico,” you touched your dagger tucked away in the pocket of your pants. “He’s a child. Leave him alone.”

The ghost settled by Nico’s ear, leaning down to mutter. Nico visibly flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t listen to them, Nico. Let me protect you, not them. I’ll turn them to madness as I did the others. Just say the word.”

If Minos wasn’t already dead, you swore, you’d have killed him there and then.

“Was it you?” Barked Percy. “Did you hurt Chris Rodriguez?”

Minos rolled his eyes lazily, turning around to face Percy. He got in real close to his face; Percy’s arm shot out in front of you and urged you backwards, away from the vile ghost. “The maze is my property,” he hummed. Percy refused to back away. “Those who intrude on it deserve madness.”

Nico turned furious, whether at Minos’s lecturing, or his interrupting. Either way, he turned to the ghost and ran him through with his sword. “Go away, Minos! Leave us!” His voice turned sad and desperate, like he was tired of this too. “Bianca! Come on!”

It was heart-wrenching, watching Nico beg for his dead sister. It wasn’t fair.

But she’d heard him. Bianca came forth, a silvery wisp of light from the dark trees in the distance, growing closer. You didn’t feel wary of her, and Percy dropped his sword, Nico backed away to give her space, and Grover shuffled away from the edge as Bianca knelt to accept the offering in the pit. When she got to her feet, she was a solid hue of silvery-blue form, the image of herself in life. It was like the chatter grew quiet, the chaos turned silent, when Bianca smiled sadly at her brother. Nico had grown still, and pale.

He wasn’t the first one she spoke to, though. “Hello, Percy,” said Bianca, her voice like a lullaby. Her body flickered like the stars would, before it stilled.

“Bianca…” One look at Percy had you reaching for his hand, clasping it between both of yours. He was choked up. You didn’t blame him one bit—you hadn’t known Bianca well at all, and she’d killed herself in the process of saving you all, but even seeing her again like this had your throat burning. “I’m—I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for, Percy. I made my choice.” Somehow, she seemed older, calmer, and a whole lot more at peace, as if this didn’t phase her and her death was simply an article she’d read in a paper and let pass over her, at the back of her mind. “I don’t regret it, either.” Her eyes, a mirror of Nico’s own, fell on you. What did you look like to her, you wondered later? Holding back your own teary eyes the way Percy did.

She turned to face her brother quickly, and his name fell from her lips. She turned sad.

“Oh, Nico.” She raised a hand to cover her mouth. “You’ve gotten so tall.”

“Why didn’t you answer me any sooner!” He exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to find you for months!”

“I was hoping you’d give up, Nico. Please give up.”

Heartbroken, Nico reached for her, but his hand passed right through. “Give up?…I’d never!”

“I need you to do this, Nico. Trust Percy. Trust her.”

“No! She let you die! They’re not our friends!”

Bianca’s ghostly hand reached out to touch Nico’s cheek, but she fizzled out too quickly, and never made contact with him. “You must listen to me now, because this is important. Holding grudges is bad for children of Hades. It’s our fatal flaw, and you must forgive.”

“I can’t. I’ll never.”

Bianca struggled, exhaled. Her eyes betrayed every feeling in her body—anguish, anger, sadness. “Percy has been worried for you, Nico. I let him see what you were up to so that he could help you. You understand, don’t you?”

“It was you, then,” shuddered Percy. “You were sending me those messages.”

Bianca nodded softly. “I was.”

Nico demanded her attention. “No, listen!” He screamed and went to grab at her again. “Don’t help him! Help me! This isn’t fair!”

Bianca kneeled to be face-to-face with Nico. “You’re so close to the truth now, Nico. Believe me. It isn’t them you’re angry at; it’s me. And it’s okay to be angry, do you understand? You’re allowed to be upset—”

“No!” He heaved a great cry.

“You’re mad because I left you, to join the Hunters. And you’re so angry because I died and left you here. It wasn’t my intention, and I’m sorry.” Bianca’s voice turned thick with emotion. “But you must try to accept this, now. I cannot come back. And you must stay with them.” She nodded at you and Percy.

“I just want you back,” Nico sobbed. Bianca, on her knees, looked as if in a great deal of pain. She swallowed hard, and her voice was shaky.

“You can’t have that, Nico. This is how it has to be. And one day, we’ll be reunited again properly. Trust me. Believe in that. I’m never too far away, even when you can’t reach me. But for now, you have to let me go. Can you do that for me, Nico? You’re so strong…you’re so brave.” She turned suddenly to look over her shoulder at something the rest of you couldn’t see. “I must go now. Your powers are attracting unwanted attention. I have to go back.”

“Wait!” A terrible, pained cry ripped from Nico’s throat. “Please don’t go!” He heaved. “Please stay! Don’t leave me here!”

“I love you, Nico.”

You understand Bianca then, and her decision. It was why you dropped Percy’s warm hand and took up Nico’s cold, limp one. He heaved and cried, and didn’t protest when you lay your free hand on the side of his head, and gently pulled him to you. You raised your gaze from Nico’s teary, reddened eyes, squeezed tightly shut, to Bianca’s mirrored gaze. A single, shiny tear trailed down her translucent face, and you tried to convey one last message: Nico would not be alone.

She nodded slowly, and sniffled once. Getting to her feet, Bianca managed a sad smile, and lowered her eyes to Nico once more. He was the last thing she saw, as she trailed out of the mortal world for the final time. Bianca di Angelo simply faded away.

Just because she’d told him to trust you, didn’t mean he trusted you right away. That night, Nico sat out on the porch alone, talking to somebody that wasn’t there, crying to himself. You’d tried to talk to him, but had no luck. Nico demanded to be left alone, so you left him. When you returned two hours later, he’d fallen asleep on the bench, a hand tucked under his cheek. Percy dug out a blanket from one of the bedrooms upstairs, and you’d covered Nico over as the night air grew chilly. Your heart felt heavy, but the day’s trials didn’t prevent you from falling asleep quickly. The boys took the sofas downstairs, and you picked a spot at the bay window with a comforter and pillows. Sleep took you the second you laid down your head.

Your mother decided it was a good time to pop up and say hello, apparently.

You recognised the setting immediately as New York’s Public Library. Beyond the windows lining either two walls, the sky was black as could be, no stars or anything showing through. The lights and the slightly dusty chandeliers on the ceiling of the grand roof were golden, more yellow than usual, and the tables stretching the length of the hall were empty as could be, the dark stretch of tile down the middle aisle echoing your footsteps the further you walked.

At the end of the wall, standing beneath the clock small in the grand wall, was a tall lady, casual as could be in jeans and a pretty sweatshirt. This didn’t defer her from wearing a sword in a scabbard at her hip. Long, light hair was tied back in a practical bun, tight and secure. In her hands was a heavy book, and her brilliant gray eyes scanned it furiously. She didn’t look up from it until you’d paused at her side, peering up at the taller woman, admiring her. Strange, how the gods technically had no DNA, and yet you were her mirror image. The same jawline, the same nose, definitely the same eyes. She was pretty, really pretty, and she carried herself with confidence.

It would have been nice to be acknowledged, however similar you were.

“Mom?” You voiced into the quiet library air.

“Chapter eighteen of The Iliad—what do you know of it?”

You raise your eyebrows, curiously. “I don’t know off the top of my head, exactly. There’s a fight over Patroclus’s body, isn’t there? Real dramatic, like. They’re worried about going to fight the Trojans. Achilles worries about the outcome of Patroclus going out to join the fight.”

“Do you notice any similarities between this and our life?” She quips. Your mom huffed at something she read, and snapped the book shut. The cover was battered leather, the title almost rubbed away. It was old, but no dust rose from it.

You shrug, and feel somewhat nervous. “We’re history repeating itself?” You offer. “Is this to do with Bianca, last night? The fight over what happened to her, fighting over what she wanted for her end?”

Mom hummed, and threw the book over her shoulder. You had a sudden desire to catch it, but as you went to grab it, as it hit your hands, heavy as hell, it disappeared, as though she’d never thrown a thing. Your mother turned to watch you, bringing your brows together, spinning in a circle to look for this damn book like a stupid dog chasing its tail.

“The fight for life is always happening,” said mom, factually. “What happened to Bianca di Angelo was a negligible accident. She could have been saved.”

Frozen, you shakily exhaled. Gray met the mirror image.

“She could have been saved, but it was her destiny. You understand, don’t you, daughter? That what is meant to be is meant to be. So even though you could have saved her life one way or another, she was supposed to die.”

You scoff, and surprise yourself at the burning in your eyes. “People aren’t supposed to just die, mom. When their time comes, when they’re old, then sure. Not like this.”

“Was it not Bianca’s time? Who decides when it is right to die?”

“What’s the point of this?” You snap. “Did you bring me here just to take a dig at me?”

“Everybody has their time. I’m here to tell you to your friend that he should stop meddling in things. Leave things well alone.”

“Great advice. After we’ve sorted things. Bit late to the party.”

“Not entirely.” She tilted her head. “Before I go, just one thing—tell Percy Jackson to let the dead rest, when the time comes.”

“That’s ominous.”

“That’s life,” mom hummed. “I’ll let you go, now. The boy is trying to wake you up.”

When you come to, Percy is knelt beside you. Sunrise is in your eyes, and Nico is shouting downstairs. You gather your things, and prepare to make your way back into the maze.

—

TAGLIST

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@tojismassivemantiddies @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @nothankyou138

@obxstiles @mxltifxnd0m @cxcilla @itzjustj-1000 @sp00kcanwrite

@randomesthings @fratbrochrisgf

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120189hearted · 15 days ago

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My Show Recommendations.

🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼

1. Haibane Renmei. (2002)

A girl finds herself falling from the sky... Is it a dream?

2. Land Of The Lustrous. (2017)

A world inhabited by living gems...

3. Dear Brother. (1991)

In an only girls high school, some don't cry for popularity but also for love.

4. Sonny Boy. (2021)

What happens to a group of high school students after they wake up in a strange world?

5. Cowboy Bebop. (1998)

The silly adventures of a group of five while each one faces their intriguing past, some hearts are stuck in time.

#haibane renmei #sonny boy #cowboy bebop #dear brother #land of the lustrous #houseki no kuni #oniisama e #anime #anime recommendation

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tobinsonny · 2 months ago

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sonnett vs frazsiers whip 10/2

#emily sonnett #sonny closeups #jca said the tactics for corners is find sonnett #still waiting for her goal #lynns face at the high-five lmao #gotham vs frazsiers #concacaf w champions cup #WChampionsCup #october 2 2024

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hauntedjohnny · 11 months ago

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STAR-CROSSED

ana flores / leland mckinney

wc: 1.5k synopsis: admist the trip to find maria, leland wakes in the night to find ana gazing at the stars

A gentle breeze coaxed Leland from his slumber, eyebrows knitting together as he sheltered himself from the intruder. His nose twitched at the relentless nipping as if he were a rabbit gathering intel. Something was amiss. Sleep became a distant memory as he sat up with a light groan. The sense of dread ached in his chest. With a click of his neck, Leland tried to find the source of his discomfort. A slither of blue light guided his eyes to the discarded quilt blanket laying next to Sonny's snoring form.

Five days had passed since everyone left Austin— nothing but a van, a tent, and a blaze of hope to accompany them. Sleep didn't come easy. Days of pleading with strangers, days of pitiful smiles, days of dead ends. It lingered in the air, a poison slowly suffocating everyone as they put on their masks to face the day. It was harder to hide at night. Everyone felt it but it remained unspoken.

Bracing himself with his blanket, he followed the breadcrumbs of light into the open. The air was a contrast to the day's struggle; it was invigorating and clear. Leland tried to rid himself of his paranoia— she's probably gone to find Jules. It wasn't uncommon for her to stick with Julie these days, her soul sought the comfort of an older sister. Gravel and dirt dug into the soles of his feet as he inched towards the tent pitched next to the van. The moon watched him hesitate as the crunches got louder; the small chance he'd wake them or see something he shouldn't gnawed the front of his mind. But, before he could get ahead of himself, he shook his head as if his mind were an etch-a-sketch erasing the doubts he doodled. He'd rather have the girls laugh at his concern than have another one go missing. His layer of protection slipped from his shoulders as he fiddled with the tent's zip. Before he could open it, a sniffle echoed through the field behind him.

It wasn't hard for Leland to find Ana. There was a glow around her, as if she were the moon against a vast sky and he were a burly telescope gravitating towards her light. His hand found its way to the back of his neck as he assessed the situation. They first met in the early autumn; Leland admits he was an ass, he got intimidated by the girl and spouted some cocky childish bullshit that would've made all his high-school buddies laugh. A shiver of shame ran down his spine as he thought about who he used to be. College changed him. His friends changed him. He's been trying to make it up to her ever since but Ana is stubborn, says she won't let herself fall for his so called 'tricks'. After a lot of dramatic pouting, Maria told him she just has a hard time opening up to new people, choosing to skip over her theory about Ana having an unwanted crush on the guy.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer."

Her voice was raw— stringy tendons trying to keep her together when it was clear grief was eating her alive. If she thought a snappy comment would send him back to the van, she would be sorely mistaken.

“Just needed to know if you were safe,” He offered, not wanting to upset her further.

Ana's hunched form froze as her arms grew tighter around her knees, her lips pulling into a tight line to prevent the tightness in her chest from bursting. Leland could see her walls crumbling, the last brick kicked over by his words. With a shaky sigh, her back hit the scratchy grass. Stars sparked behind her eyes as her palms ushered away any potential tears.

“I know.” The words were clear amongst the silence, despite getting stuck in her throat.

Vulnerability hovered around her for a moment before melting into the ground. Leland took its place beside her, soaking it up so she wouldn't have to drown in it. Not a word was uttered between them as they stared at the expanse above them— winking glows from a billion years ago staring straight back at them. Time began to blur, the grass imprints on Leland's bare back itched at him to move. The silence was thick, not uncomfortable, but constrained as if it were a dam about to break, waiting for the words to flow.

“What do you think happens when we die?”

A whisper so soft it barely broke the silence. Leland turned to face her, taking in the words he wasn't certain he heard. Ana's face gave off a stale glow— glistening eyes telling her secrets, glistening cheeks reflecting her sorrows. Like curtains blocking out light, her eyes fluttered closed in protection. He knew what she was thinking; he felt it deep in his soul.

“Hey," He needed her to look at him, "We're gonna find her." He needed her to know he believed his words. A calloused palm lay halfway between them, an unspoken lifeline he wishes she'd take.

A beat passed, allowing her to breathe in his belief. She held it in her lungs, allowing it to consume her before expelling it with a sigh.

“Just humour me, McKinney.”

With a sigh of his own, he turned back to the stars as if they held the answer.

“I dunno,” he mumbled with a shrug, “never been a believer of much…”

Now free from his burning stare, Ana's eyes gravitated towards the boy beside her. Despite the purple craters under his eyes, an immense light radiated from his pale skin. Some days it was too bright, it hurt her to stare, but here, doused in the moon's coolness, it was entrancing. Leland mulled over the question in his head, a soft pout on his lips as he remembers a conversation he'd had months ago— a ramble from Sonny about how everything in the universe is made of the same matter, almost like reincarnation.

“Stardust.” He whispered to himself.

A confused hum fell from her lips as she was pulled from her trance, prompting him to speak up.

“Sonny says we’re all made of stardust or something, apparently." His tongue swept wet his lips as he cleared the nervousness out of his throat. "Only makes sense that we turn home one day..." his eyes flickered towards her for a second, "to watch over the ones we love.”

The sky felt brighter as she turned back to face it. The glow of a billion stories lighting the surrounding darkness, constellations witnessing this moment, the same millennia ago. Ana's sorrows dissolved into the night, joining the graveyard above. For a moment, she felt less alone. For a moment, she understood. All the burning prayers, the burning wonders, the burning meaning, the burning love that guided her through the darkness. Love is all we have— the devoted constant in life. Everything Ana does is for love, because everything Maria does is for love. Her hand found its way to Leland's, the soft grip making their pulses harmonise as the stars thrummed in tandem. She let the tranquility wash over her, reuniting with a peace she hadn't seen in a while. A memory of Maria whispered through the breeze as she found the hidden beauty of the stars. This is us, Ana.

"That's beautiful, Lee."

For the first time that night, she meets his eye. It was as if she saw him for the first time. There was a burning star inside his chest, eating away at the shadows, guiding her in this moment. It twinkled in his eyes and it tingled in his fingertips. Leland's soul tickled Ana's skin, a fine dust seeping into her bones, merging with her own. The privacy of her soul was invaded as every mote of dust blazed hotter than it would alone. Together, just as there is no one isolated star in the vast firmament, there was a unified hope inside them all. Together, they were two souls connecting under the glow of those past, unaware they too would soon join the graveyard.

Noticing the goosebumps that pepper her skin, Leland decides it's time to call it a night. Hands still connected, he pulls Ana up and out of her daze. Before he can guide her back, she pulls him flush against her, the warmth of his embrace giving life to her once stale glow.

"Thank you." She speaks to his chest, allowing the uttered asteroid to pierce straight into his heart.

Lips pressed against her hair in reply, as beams of peaceful tenderness radiated from their fused form. Tomorrow would be a better day as long as they were together; they needed eachother more than they knew. Ana pulled away, the twinkle in Leland's eye now reflected in her own. They were blissfully unaware that this newfound hope would be a solace on the darkest night of their lives. The story was already written: two doomed stars crashing in the night, hounded by fate as they part ways at dawn.

#texas chainsaw massacre #tcm game #ana flores #leland mckinney #maria flores #lelana #ana/leland #*cries*

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winchesterszvonecek · 3 months ago

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Prosecutorial Misconduct 18+

Chapter 2 - A Regular Friday Morning

Word Count: 5104

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

As they reached the finish line of a rather stressful and exhausting week, those in the sixteenth precinct were taking advantage of the peacefully quiet Friday morning.

Liv hadn’t come in yet. Rollins had taken the entire day off. Meanwhile, Melanie, Fin and Carisi were all using their free time to finally catch up on their backlog of paperwork from the busy month behind them. Well, Carisi was supposed to be catching up on his but instead he was just leaning back in his chair like he owned the place, staring blankly at the wall in the distance and clicking his pen an irritably record breaking number of times.

It was driving Melanie crazy, the sound. She’d already asked him to stop once and in his defense he did… for about thirty seconds before he sighed from boredom and started right back up again. Normally, it wouldn’t have bothered her. She was as bad as he was when it came to making annoying noises to fill the eerie silence, but right now all she wanted was some quiet. She was almost finished with her first load of case files which would have really put a dent into the backlog of unfinished reports that were piled high on her desk, but it was getting rather hard to focus on her words with the constant click, click, click of Carisi’s pen.

Every single one of them made her eye twitch something terribly and eventually, after the five hundredth or so click, she finally snapped, “Sonny, I swear to God if you click that pen one more time I’m going to light you on fire.”

With widened eyes Carisi held up both his hands in surrender and let go of the pen, allowing it to clatter against his desk in the most dramatic way possible. He kept them in the air until Melanie nodded in satisfaction and allowed her eyes to fall to her laptop screen as she began typing away again, unbothered by the rather heinous threat of arson and murder she had just fired in her partner's direction.

As Carisi allowed his arms to fall, Liv came strolling into the bullpen with a large coffee in one hand and her purse in the other, the soft clacks of her shoes against the floor gaining the attention of a few fellow officers that were scattered around the place. Carisi was one of them. And so, done with his paperwork for the time being and looking to annoy Melanie more, he swivelled in his chair to face her.

“Hey Sarge, Mel is threatening me again. Is it alright with you if I throw her into the cage for an hour?” He asked seriously, hearing the sudden stop of Melanie’s fingertips against her keyboard as she no doubt went back to glaring a hole into his head.

Coming to a stop Liv sighed, peering over her glasses towards them and no one missed the clear humour in her tone as she asked, “Melanie, did you threaten Carisi?”

“I would never,” Melanie said, in clear and mocking offence as she placed her hand on her heart.

Rolling a smile, Liv then turned to Fin, “Fin?”

“I ain’t hear nothin’,” Fin replied plainly, making Melanie fight against a smug smile as a frown pulled on the entirety of Carisi’s face.

“Two for two, Carisi,” Liv shrugged, before carrying on towards her office.

“Yeah, only because Rollins isn’t here,” Carisi muttered, spinning back around in his chair and picking up his pen, which he clicked a handful of times just to aggravate Melanie even more. She glared at him again, her jaw tensing as she slowly started to wrap her slender fingers around her sharkmouth-shaped stress ball.

“Oh, Fin,” Liv popped her head around her office door just before Melanie could throw the aforementioned ball at Carisi’s face, catching the final bounce of it on her desk as she dropped it immediately. “I’m expecting Barba, when he shows up will you ask him to hang around? I have to make a quick phone call first.”

Fin nodded, “Yeah, I’ll tell him.”

“Thanks,” Liv smiled, and then she was gone.

Ignoring the intense flutter that seemed to build in her stomach over the memory of last night, Melanie forgot all about Carisi and his pen. Instead, she wheeled herself back in her chair and stood up, stretching out her back and letting out a quiet groan at the stiffness. She said nothing as she stalked away, her long locks swaying against her back as she headed for the break room — just as the one person she’d been dying to see all morning finally came strutting into the precinct.

The second Barba passed through the doors his eyes darted right towards Melanie’s desk, disappointment building in his chest when he saw that her chair was empty. Nevertheless, he carried on towards it when Fin told him Liv would be a minute, which he was partially glad to hear as it meant he’d not only see Melanie after they were done, but before as well — which Lord knows he’d need with the amount of paperwork he and Liv had to get through.

“Melanie here?” Barba asked, running one finger along the edge of Melanie’s desk as he glanced around the place, trying his best to seem casual and not at all like he was dying to see her.

Carisi nodded, “Just follow the sound.”

Barba’s brow dipped, “The sound?”

And as if on cue, the faint banging of hollow plastic began to drift across the bullpen towards them, drawing Barba’s glance away from Carisi and towards the rest of the room’s occupants. Not a single one of them seemed outwardly phased by the apparent sound of clear cut vandalism. There were a few who rolled their eyes, before reaching into their pocket and reluctantly passing a couple dollar bills to their partners sitting facing them, which only seemed to add to his fast growing confusion.

Narrowing his eyes further Barba turned back towards Carisi, who offered him nothing more than a tilt of his head and a partial raise of his eyebrows. But Barba knew what it meant. He knew what the detective was so clearly implying and so he spun on his heels and headed in the direction of the noise, which appeared to be coming directly from inside the break room. He slipped through the already open door and looked immediately to his left, just in time to see Melanie give the precinct printer one final kick with the side of her boot before it finally started spitting out paper.

“Destruction of private property?” Barba questioned humorously, his heartbeat increasing in his chest as Melanie glanced over her shoulder with a smile that had grown at the mere sound of his voice. “I could have you tried for that.”

“Please,” Melanie scoffed, “Anyone who’s ever had to deal with a printer would find me not guilty in a heartbeat.”

“Fair argument… Would you consider a plea?”

“I’ll take my chances with the jury, counsellor,” Melanie chuckled, picking up her papers and giving them a light tap against the printer to neaten them. She then crossed the short distance between them and pat Barba gently on the shoulder, her glistening eyes meeting his as she whispered, “You know they love me.”

And they’re not the only ones — is what Barba truly wanted to say. The words were so close to the edge of his tongue that he had to swallow thickly in order to get them back down before they escaped into the air and made things awkward. Regardless of the way she sometimes flirted, or the current way in which her eyes bore right into his soul and made him feel three feet tall, Barba still couldn’t figure out the extent of her feelings towards him and if he wanted to keep the close-knit relationship they had now, he had to do his best not to outwardly showcase his.

“Only because you don’t present yourself as a typical cop on the stand,” Barba said instead, making Melanie laugh softly which did not at all help to settle his somersaulting stomach.

“I take that as a compliment,” Melanie replied, dropping her hand — thankfully — from Barba’s shoulder and allowing him the ability to breathe again. She cocked her head to the side and beckoned for him to follow her, “I gotta finish up these case files, why don’t you sit with me?”

Nodding his head, Barba fell in line beside her as they headed back to her desk, “Do you always type out your case files?”

“Unfortunately,” Melanie sighed, “I would prefer to handwrite them but Liv won’t let me.”

“Well, your handwriting is abysmal, so there’s no surprise there,” Barba muttered, dodging the elbow Melanie had aimed his way before she fell swiftly into her seat with a playful frown. He unbuttoned his blazer and took the one next to her desk, setting his briefcase on the floor and leaning it up against the metal side by his leg.

At that moment, Carisi stood up and slipped his arms into his own blazer, “I’m gonna hit the deli, you want anything?”

“It’s only noon?” Melanie said questionably, glancing towards the clock on her laptop just in case more time had passed than she originally thought. But it hadn’t. It was indeed only noon, and Carisi didn’t usually hit the deli until at least 2pm.

“Yeah, I know,” Carisi shrugged, fixing his collar down properly, “But clearly you skipped breakfast this morning considering you’ve alreadythreatened to set me on fire today.”

Barba’s eyes widened as he stammered, “I’m sorry, she what?”

“Shush,” Melanie silenced him, throwing up her index finger without even looking in Barba’s direction as he briefly babbled in protest. She fixed her eyes back on Carisi, who looked far too pleased with himself. He’d done that on purpose, and lord knows he’d pay for it. “I did not skip breakfast, thank you very much, I had a donut.”

“A donut, wow,” Carisi let out a low whistle, “The pinnacle of a healthy breakfast.”

Melanie let out a gentle scoff, “Oh please, you had a single cannoli for your lunch the other day, okay, you can’t talk.”

“Whatever,” Carisi brushed off, “You want your usual?”

“With extra cheese… and don’t forget to ask them to…”

“Smoosh it down real flat,” Carisi finished for her, unaware that he was causing the most intense jealousy to bubble beneath Barba’s skin. “Yeah, yeah. I know the drill.”

“Thank you, Sonny,” Melanie called playfully after him, to which Carisi responded with absolutely nothing as he left the room. She chuckled quietly and dropped her eyes back down to her files, signing her signature on the last one she’d get done before lunch.

Clearing his throat, Barba set his arm atop her desk and leaned closer to her, “Did you really threaten to set him on fire?”

Glancing up at him, Melanie chewed on her lip and drew out, “No…”

Barba raised his eyebrows, unconvinced.

“Maybe.”

Barba’s face never changed.

“Okay, yes,” Melanie finally admitted, making Barba chuckle to himself as he returned to his original stance and lowered his brow. “ But in my defense… he kept clicking his pen even though I asked him to stop.”

“So you’re saying it was justified?” He questioned humorously.

“I’m glad you agree.”

“I didn’t, but I’m just gonna breeze right past it,” Barba said, hearing Melanie’s mumbled — satisfied — thank you in return and feeling as his jealousy slowly began to fade now that Carisi was no longer right there next to them.

It’s not that he didn’t like the young, enthusiastic detective, as he did. Truthfully, he did. It was more so that he deeply envied what Carisi had with Melanie. And sure, he and Melanie had a close relationship of their own, but it was nothing compared to what she and Carisi had with each other. He didn’t know her usual lunch order, or that she liked it smooshed down for some apparent reason. He didn’t know her quirks or habits. He didn’t know how she liked her coffee, or what snacks she liked — aside from the jar of M&M’s that was always present on her desk.

Hell, he didn’t even have the pleasure of hearing Melanie call him by his first name, and honestly, that part annoyed him most.

As far as he was aware, Melanie was the only one who ever called Carisi, Sonny. And whilst that may not have any significance other than it being what Melanie liked to call him, Barba couldn’t help but think that there may be some other, more heartbreaking-for-him, reason as to why the two of them appeared closer than any other set of partners in the precinct.

“You call Carisi, Sonny,” Barba began, his lips having moved without his brain’s explicit permission. “Why?”

“Uh,” Melanie drew out, her brow furrowing, “Because it’s his name?”

“I know that,” Barba defended, wishing he’d bitten his tongue harder as he was now in a place he didn’t want to be in, “I just mean… Everyone else calls him Carisi, except you. Is there a specific reason for that or…?”

“Oh,” Melanie’s face relaxed once again, and she shrugged, “Not really. Sonny is just quicker to say than Carisi, I guess.”

And just like that, Barba felt like a complete and utter idiot.

Luckily though, he didn’t have to stew in the embarrassment of asking that stupid question for very long before Liv called out that she was ready for him. He pressed his lips together tightly and stood up, avoiding any and all eye contact with Melanie as he picked up his briefcase as he didn’t particularly want to see the look in her eye should she come to realise why he’d asked her that. Instead, he went straight to making his way to Liv’s office, only for Melanie to call after him barely taken three steps away from her.

“I’ll see you when you’re done… Rafael.”

The use of his own first name caused Barba’s heart to skip a beat as his entire body visibly loosened up as he carried on walking. He blatantly ignored Fin’s partial smirk as he glanced briefly over his shoulder, catching the remnants of Melanie's warm smile before she ducked her head and hid behind her hair as she carried on with putting her case files away. His own lips twitched eagerly on his face but he resisted against them, instead allowing himself a brief moment to compose himself before disappearing into Liv’s office.

By the time Barba and Liv were done with going over their cases, Carisi was back at his desk with his blazer off and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. From the looks of the scrunched up pieces of foil sitting in balls in front of them, both he and Melanie had finished their early lunch and the latter was already moving onto her dessert — which was nothing more than a handful of M&M’s from the jar she kept on her desk. She popped them into her mouth one by one as she typed away on her laptop once more, her eyes continually flicking up at the sound of Barba’s footsteps heading her way.

“Melanie,” Liv called towards her, drawing Melanie’s eyes permanently up to the open space surrounding her. “Can I see you in my office, please?”

“Uh-oh, what did you do this time?” Carisi asked, but all Melanie did in response was throw her ball of foil at his chest and make him fumble to catch it before it sprayed crumbs all over him.

Standing up, Melanie wiped her hands on her jeans before stepping out from behind her desk, firing Barba an apologetic glance as it seemed as though they wouldn’t be getting more than five minutes just to sit with each other. He mouthed I’ll wait for you, to which Melanie’s lips quirked upwards and she nodded, giving his arm a gentle and subtle pat as she passed him on her way to Liv.

“Oh,” Melanie stopped suddenly and turned around, walking slowly backwards as she carried on, “Don’t touch my M&M’s.”

“I won’t,” Barba replied, watching as Melanie’s eyes narrowed into slits and she eyed him carefully, before finally allowing herself to pass through Liv’s door. Once it shut behind her, Barba lifted the glass lid and took a handful of M&M’s out of the jar, popping a few into his mouth and finding himself surprised to feel that they were crispy. He always figured she'd be a chocolate kind of girl.

“If she catches you doing that she will break your fingers,” Carisi warned him.

“I think I can handle her,” Barba replied, and all Carisi did in response was scoff doubtfully before going back to his business.

Barba used this short span of time to take a better look at the clutter than riddled Melanie’s desk. He’d never really noticed her trinkets and whatnot before as he was more focused on what sat behind it, but as he looked now he easily picked up on a few little things that made him smile.

For starters, her pen pot wasn’t the boring, usual pot that most people would use. Instead, Melanie’s was themed in that it was shaped like the signature yellow barrels from her favourite movie, Jaws. There was even a pen sitting inside with a shark topper on it, making him wonder how he’d never once picked up on the clear love she had for marine life in the whole time he’d known her.

Sitting next to the pot was a bobble-head of Chief Brody, also from Jaws, that Barba only knew because of the nameplate on the base and the small shark that lay by the figure’s feet. He could almost picture Melanie now, tapping her pen against the head every so often just to see it jiggle back and forth, and he made a mental note to check online to see if there were any other characters available.

To tell the truth, it warmed his heart to see that she had such a passion for displaying the things she loved the most. However, now that he was looking, he couldn’t help but notice a strange lack of framed photos sitting amongst her weird and wacky stuff. In fact, there wasn’t just a lack of them… There were none whatsoever. Not a single picture sat atop her desk and he grew curious as to why. He knew she wasn’t on the best of terms with her brother, and she didn’t strike him as the type to have a picture of her father either, but surely she had to have someone in her life worthy of a place on her desk.

Nevertheless, he shrugged it off. Melanie probably had a valid reason as to why she chose not to have any pictures up at work, and it wasn’t like it was his business anyway.

Therefore, he carried on with surveying her desk. In a small, palm sized vase sitting next to her barrel pen pot, there was a handmade, red paper rose, making Barba wonder who exactly had gone out of their way to make her it. Beside it was a plastic shark, with wide eyes and goofy looking teeth that made him smile as he popped another M&M into his mouth.

That was about all of Melanie’s personality that she displayed outwardly as the rest of what covered her desk was basic and generic. For example, there was a half empty can of Monster sitting on a pile of files. There were pens with chewed caps lying next to her pen pot rather than in it, post-it notes with her scrawly handwriting scribbled unintelligibly in black ink scattered about the place, and there was even a stapler with someone else’s name stuck obviously on top of it sitting off to the side.

The thought of some other cop frantically looking around for that stapler made Barba want to chuckle but before he could, the muffled sound of Melanie’s voice came seeping through the walls of Liv’s office and by the sounds of it, she was pissed.

Immediately Barba, and everyone else in the room, turned their attention towards Liv’s office as the door was pulled open so hard it banged against the wall and echoed throughout the entire precinct floor. Melanie came storming out no more than a second later, her face tight and her nostrils flaring as she made her way back to her desk, causing Barba to close his hand around his stolen M&M’s and back up a few steps in order to get out of her way entirely.

“What’s going on?” Fin asked, but his question went unanswered.

“Mel?” Carisi said carefully, his brow furrowing as he slowly stood up from his desk and glanced around, catching Liv’s regretful face as she appeared in the doorway of her office. “You okay?”

Melanie didn’t answer. All she did was grab her jacket by the collar and pull it roughly from the back of her chair, filling the silence with its soft creak as it started to slowly spin in place. She didn’t even bother freeing her hair from beneath it as she threw it on her body then turned on her heels, making fast headway for the exit before anyone could ask her anymore questions she didn’t want to answer.

“Melanie,” Liv stepped forward as Melanie reached the doorway to the elevator, watching as she spun forcefully on her heels with the rage of perp flowing through her veins.

“Don’t,” Melanie gritted, shaking her head and raising one finger to stop Liv from saying anything else that would unintentionally piss her off. With her chest heaving and her eyes darting around the room to see the puzzled faces of her co-workers, she slowly clenched her fist tight and lowered it, adding quietly, “Just… don’t, okay… I’ll deal with him myself.”

And with that, she was gone.

“Liv, what’s going on?” Barba asked worriedly, stepping forward and dropping his handful of M&M’s into Melanie’s bin as he did, wondering if he would stay and wait for an answer or if he should run out after her.

“I just informed Melanie about our new Sergeant,” Liv replied, moving out into the bullpen as the brows of those around her furrowed. She sighed, running her hand over her chin as she elaborated. “It’s Mike Dodds… Her twin brother.”

“Her brother?” Carisi repeated, “That can’t be good.”

“She’s gonna rip daddy Dodds’s head off with her bare hands,” Fin added, amused. And had Barba not been so worried about Melanie, he’d have questioned the phrase daddy Dodds.

Instead, he asked, “Should we do something?”

“No,” Carisi said immediately, shaking his head for good measure. “No… You don’t wanna get in between Mel and her father. Trust me on that.”

“Carisi’s right,” Liv said, having thought she was doing Melanie a favour by telling her in advance. “This is a family issue, so let’s just stay out of it.”

As his eyes grew distant, Barba nodded. He did trust that Carisi was right but at the same time, he didn’t think he could bring himself to stay put when he knew what was about to unfold in Deputy Chief Dodds’s office when Melanie arrived in it. It would be World War Three by the sounds of it, and he wouldn’t put it past Melanie to blow up at her father.

Barba knew she had a temper. When her dad became Chief of SVU, Melanie had showcased that wrath and hate for weeks, but now? Having both her dad and her brother in charge or her? That can’t have been an easy thing for her to hear and so Barba excused himself to the others by lying about being needed in court. He then headed for the stairs rather than the elevator, hoping to catch Melanie before she left the vicinity and caused a lockdown in the 1PP office building.

Upon reaching the parking lot, Barba felt his luck wear thin at the lack of Melanie anywhere in the stairwell. He knew she’d taken them, and she must have jumped them entirely to have gotten so far so quickly. He barreled through the door and into the cold cement lot, scanning the area for any signs of Melanie. He was about to give up. To perhaps call ahead and warn Chief Dodds as to what was coming his way before he spotted her, standing at her car with her hands pressed against the rim of the roof as she stared at her reflection in the window.

Guess she didn’t have it in her to go yell at her father today.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Barba adjusted his grip on his briefcase and headed towards her, hoping she’d see him in the window before he got too close and spooked her as he could really do without being shot today.

“Melanie, are you okay?”

“He just can’t leave me be, can he?”

The way her voice shook and cracked as she spoke made Barba drop his briefcase and approach her, until there was nothing more than half an arms length between them. He then reached out, using two fingers to brush a single curl back from over Melanie’s shoulder to join the rest of them that she had finally untucked from beneath her jacket. He never made any contact with her skin, but his presence alone was enough to cause a small shudder to ripple down Melanie’s body and so she turned around, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in the crook of his neck.

It took him by surprise to have her hug him, yet almost immediately Barba’s own arms wrapped around her small frame, holding her tightly against his chest as he heard her sniffle quietly against his collar. He moved one hand to the back of her head, stroking her hair soothingly as his other remained splayed out across her back.

“Don’t let him get to you,” Barba said softly, continuing to run his hand down the length of her soft hair and he could have sworn, he felt Melanie nestle the side of her face against his neck.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Melanie replied, her voice muffled against him. She then pulled back, lifting one hand to wipe at her eyes before he could see her, as she no doubt looked like she’d just smoked the fattest joint possible. “You don’t have to deal with them.”

Barba didn’t miss the use of her plural pronoun as he drew back one hand, bravely reaching out his thumb to wipe at a single tear that had yet to roll down Melanie’s cheek and feeling it lift just a little as he did.

“What happened?” He asked softly, yet to remove his hand from aside her face. “Between you and Mike?”

Melanie began to shake her head, loosening Barba’s hold on her and causing it to fall to her shoulder, “Not now… Just… Please.”

“Okay,” Barba whispered, lifting his hand again and ghosting his thumb down Melanie’s chin. “But like I said last night… I’m here if you need me.”

“I know,” Melanie said, her mouth curving upwards into a small, thankful smile. Her eyes then flicked down to his lips and in that moment, she desperately wanted to kiss them. To finally feel them against her own as she’d thought about way too many times for her own good.

But she knew she couldn’t. They worked together. It would go against everything she believed in when it came to interdepartmental relationships, not to mention it would open up a whole can of worms should any defense lawyer think they’d been together during cases and accuse them of conspiring to frame their client. No, it was better off that Melanie keep her feelings to herself, and so, just like last night, she used every ounce of strength she had to direct her lips to his cheek instead, allowing them to linger there for much longer than last time.

“We seemed to be making a habit of doing this,” Melanie chuckled, finally drawing back just enough to look him in the eye.

Good God, he was handsome.

“I’m not complaining,” Barba breathed out against his better judgement, his words making Melanie’s stomach flip as she stepped away from him, feeling his other arm finally drop from around her back as it pressed up against her car door.

“I should…” Melanie stammered, closing her eyes briefly as she shook her head in order to regain her sense of clarity. “I should go back upstairs… You know, before Liv fires me…”

Barba chuckled, “Well, if she does, I’ll help you sue for wrongful termination.”

At that, all Melanie offered him was a soft smile before she pushed herself off her car door, her hands safely behind her back where they longed to reach out, grab him by the lapels of his blazer and kiss him like he’d never been kissed before. But luckily, she didn’t do that. Instead, all she did was swallow back the words she really wanted him to hear and force out the handful of ones that deeply pained her to actually have to say.

“I’ll guess I’ll see you on Monday.”

“I guess so,” Barba replied, his voice dripping with obvious disappointment that he had to go two whole days without seeing her.

“Although, if you were to call me… I wouldn’t be opposed to meeting you for a drink before then,” Melanie suggested, ignoring the fact that her brain was yelling at her that that would only end badly. Then, sarcastically, and slightly flirtatiously, she added, “If you can manage it, that is.”

“I think I can,” Barba chuckled, feeling his heart flip when Melanie drew her eyes slowly down the length of his body and back up.

“We’ll see,” She muttered playfully, before turning so quickly on her heels that her hair swept entirely to one side. She then made her move back towards the stairwell, once again, leaving Barba to watch her go with his mouth as dry as the desert and his heart racing in his chest.

Without thinking he dropped his eyes and tilted his head, drawing his tongue slowly over his bottom lip as Melanie got farther and farther away from him. He may have hated to have to see her go, but by God… was he starting to love watching her walk away.

<- Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 ->

#rafael barba masterlist #rafael barba x oc #rafael barba fic #rafael barba fanfiction #rafael barba #raul esparza #law and order svu fic #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction

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whatstruthgottodowithit · 4 months ago

Text

Love In Trouble [Part Five]

Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Musician, RPF

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character, Austin Butler x Original Female Character

Characters: Elvis Presley, Original Female Character, Austin Butler, Red West, Sonny West, Jerry Schilling Colonel Tom Parker, Minnie Presley, Vernon Presley, Dee Presley, Joanie Esposito, Joe Esposito, Pat West

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 5041

Summary: Lori Presley lives the high life. She has a lovely home, a elegant wardrobe and her parties are the most sought after ticket in town. Not to mention her husband is the King of Memphis. But what if she no longer wants to be the Queen?

Tags/Warnings: This is a mafia au with detective austin butler entering the chat, Memphis Mafia, Detective Austin Butler, Adultery, Infidelity, Love, Angst, Unhappy Marriage, Murder, Court Room Drama in the loosest possible way, AU, Set in the 70s

Notes: I've had a shit few weeks but we're carrying on and thank god cos our Boys have finally met <3

LINK TO ALL PARTS // LINK TO AO3 // LINK TO PINTEREST

‘Are you ready?’ Austin asked, swapping the receiver of the phone to his other ear so that he didn’t miss her answer.

‘I think so,’ Lori replied quietly

‘It can't be think, Lori. It’s got to be a yes or no,’ he said trying to keep the frustration out of his voice but remain firm. Because it had to be yes or no, preferably yes. Otherwise he'd gone to bat for nothing. He had pissed off his captain and sheriff and made a stink amongst the precinct for nothing. He’d be the new guy swooping in from California and ruining the delicate Memphian ecosystem of bribes and looking the other way. Even the district attorney, who had backed him, had done so on the promise of bringing down the entire operation. He wasn’t bothered about Presley or Tony for that matter. He wanted to be the one to oust key players from the city’s underbelly. For morality or glory Austin didn’t know but it was the reason he kept himself from sounding too agitated. If they were going to bring down anything they needed her. She had even been the one to point out that they had cause to arrest Presley as he was sure to have a ten card from previous, something Austin hadn’t even considered.

‘No, I am,’ she said, her breath a little shaky which didn’t fill him with confidence but he accepted her words nonetheless. It wasn’t as though he had a choice not to. He could hear her shift, hesitance in her breathing that insinuated she was going to ask him something and so he waited for it, ‘do you know when?’

‘Tomorrow,’ he replied, ‘early morning. The DA wants to make sure no news gets out, that they don’t get to alert one another, so we’re hitting every house at once.’

‘How many?’ she asked quietly.

‘Just the names you gave me,’ he said. It had felt odd to have followed her to a chapel of rest but getting a hold of her without someone watching he was fast learning was an art. Even having her on the phone had taken a handful of calls until she and she alone had picked up. Fortunately no one in the Presley enterprise seemed keen to accompany her in staring at a closed casket. There had been no service and no attendees other than him and her which had been fortunate for him even if it had made him feel a little dirty.

‘Right,’ she muttered, ‘are you coming?’

‘Yes.’

‘Like you’ll arrest him?’ she asked

‘Yes it’s my case,’ he replied, his frustration growing at the hitch in her breathing, ‘is that a problem?’

‘No,’ she said quietly though her tone was not reassuring furthering his nerves which prompted him to ask, ‘if you don’t think you can act-’

‘Honey I’ve been acting my entire life,’ she whispered, ‘I’ll be ready.’

✵✵✵

Lori didn’t sleep most of that night. She didn’t do much but potter around her bedroom fretting. In fact she only stopped when she heard the rumble of a car pulling into the driveway signalling that Elvis was home. At that she’d leapt into bed and turned the light off, turning herself to face the wall as she listened to him stumble in and strip off his clothes before he clambered into bed. Fortunately he had fallen asleep quickly, far away on the other side of the bed which meant she wasn’t forced to face him. Instead she spent her night watching him. He looked younger when asleep, more innocent. That was when the uncertainty had crept back in. When Austin had asked her if she was ready she had thought she was but looking at him like that made her doubt herself.

She knew it was selfish. That her only doubts were on her own behalf but she couldn’t help but feel them. Those doubts had been the soundtrack she had fallen asleep to and they were interrupted as she was brought back to the realm of consciousness by a dull thud, the padded door of her bedroom hitting the wall at a pace.

‘Boss! Boss you gotta get up!’ she heard Charlie’s voice call before she came to and when she did he was already pulling clothes out of their closet ready for Elvis who had yet to stir.

‘Elvis,’ she said groggily, a limp hand shaking his shoulder as she tried her best to rouse him, ‘Elvis wake up.’

‘Boss you gotta come quick,’ Charlie said, throwing an outfit on the bed as he too tried to shake her husband awake. He came to the moment Charlie touched him.

‘What is it?’ he asked crankily.

‘Cops,’ Charlie said, ‘they’re askin’ to come in. Say they’ve got a warrant or something.

‘What?’ Lori gasped.

‘What are you talkin’ about?’ Elvis said, forcing himself up in bed quickly and wiping the sleep from his eyes.

‘They want you and they’re not takin’ no for an answer,’ Charlie said, offering the clothing to Elvis who started to dress without care his friend was in the room.

‘What do you mean?’ Lori asked but her question was ignored by both men.

‘Go and tell ‘em I’ll be down in a minute,’ Elvis said, rubbing his tired face as he tried to wrap his head around what was going on. As Charlie nodded and scurried out of sight Lori moved a little closer, keeping her tone as worried as possible as she asked, ‘El what’s happening?’

‘How the fuck do I know?’ Elvis grunted as he slipped on his pants, donning a pale blue shirt over his tanned torso a moment later. At that she fell quiet fearing too much questioning would cause too much scrutiny on her end.

Yet she couldn’t help but watch him. He was clearly disgruntled by the whole thing. His jaw was set and his gorgeous blue eyes though tired burned bright with indignation. A sentiment that was confirmed as they left the bedroom. She could hear people downstairs, worried chatter carrying up from kitchen stairs and the muttering of men in her hallway. But he didn’t turn the corner, he lingered on the landing, almost forcing her to walk into the back of him, before he straightened his shirt and then sauntered down the stairs without a care in the world. Lori followed behind in trepidation.

When they got down there Austin was standing on their front stoop, in amongst a gang of officers who seemed wholly unenthused to be there. In fact the only one who didn’t seem entirely put out was his fellow plain clothed officer who nudged him as he noted Elvis stride into view. Lori kept close behind, smiling weakly as Charlie threw her a reassuring smile and trying to ignore how Elvis’ grandma’s eyes bore into the back of her skull from her chair in the living room as she watched on.

As they got to the front step the chattering amongst the officers grew quiet, all eyes on them as Elvis surveyed the party before he said, ‘someone wanna tell me what the fuck’s goin on?

‘Mr Presley?’ Austin asked, his eyes flitting to Lori behind him for half a second.

‘Yeah,’ Elvis grunted.

‘We’re here to serve a warrant,’ Austin said as he produced a stack of papers from his suit jacket and handed them across where Elvis could snatch them out of his hand. He read quickly, his eyes scanning the pages before they narrowed and he asked, ‘in relation to a murder?’

‘Yes,’ Austin replied.

‘The fuck this have to do with me?’

‘Well that’s what we’d like to ask you about,’ Austin’s partner said.

‘Down at the station,’ Austin added. Lori kept her eyes trained on her husband watching as his jaw clenched in indignation.

‘I already told you I don’t know nuthin’ about that,’ Elvis said.

‘Yeah well we have new evidence that states otherwise,’ Astin said, with a tight smile, ‘so if you’d come with us. These boys can get to serving their warrant.’

‘What evidence?’ Elvis spat.

‘Like I said we can talk about it down at the station,’ Austin replied.

‘Like hell,’ Elvis baulked throwing the warrant so that it hit Austin square in the chest, fluttering to the floor onto white concrete. Austin sighed and stepped forward. He was looking up at Elvis, the step to the portico meaning they were on uneven footing but he was standing tall with a look of warning mirth on his face as he said, ‘that’s not a request so unless you want cuffing you need to come with us.’

Elvis narrowed his eyes. Everyone was watching him which admittedly wasn’t a new phenomenon but he normally didn’t care what those around him saw. Now however he seemed aware that he needed to play this carefully and though his words sounded like a consent there was an air of contempt woven through his demeanour as he turned away and looked to Charlie as he said, ‘get me jacket will ya.’

‘Elvis what do we do?’ Lori asked as he moved inside the hall checking his appearance in the mirror as if he was going out for a leisurely stroll and not being arrested. Austin pulled back and loitered with his partner who was tucking the dropped warrant back in his pocket.

‘Call the colonel,’ Elvis said, quaffing his hair before he took the jacket from Charlie who had now reappeared. He continued as he slipped it on, ‘call daddy and tell ‘em what happened.’

‘Right, okay the colonel,’ Lori said, watching as he walked out onto the front stoop ready to move along. Lori came to stand at the door unsure of how to part from him. A kiss felt too familiar especially in the presence of so many officers and yet not to do so felt off. Everything felt wrong which was no surprise given that her stomach had been doing somersaults since the moment her eyes had snapped open.

‘Tell ‘em not to worry,’ he said, glancing at Austin and a uniformed officer who were striding out ahead of him to a car sitting by the bottom of the steps before leaning in to press a kiss on her cheek. She should’ve known an audience wouldn't deter Elvis Presley from showing especially considering he didn’t sound at all worried as he said, ‘I’ll be home before breakfast. You’ll see.’

And then he was gone. Lori watched as he walked to the car and climbed through the door being held open for him which closed with a squeak and a slam. He was in shadow in the back seat so she couldn’t see him properly but nevertheless she watched as the car drove down the winding drive before embarking onto the street.

When she moved from the door the uniformed officers entered and by the time she’d left the hall they were already going through cabinets and cupboards with no rhyme or reason. Her belongings spilled from drawers onto carpets and tables. Her couch cushions littered the floor around Grandma Dodger. Gladys’ finest China clinked as it was pushed around the cupboard without care. As she wandered through to the kitchen she tried to remind herself she had asked for this. She had tossed the grenade herself and that she couldn’t be reluctant for things to feel a little messy. Messy would prevail in justice for Tony. Punishing Elvis would punish her in return which was what she deserved. Even if she was feeling all out of sorts because of it. In a way she supposed that was better, if she’d been cool and collected Elvis would’ve sniffed her out she was sure of it. At least a nervous mess she was playing the game.

Finally she made it to the kitchen, unhooking the receiver of the phone from the latch as the staff whispered from a huddle in the corner as they tried to stay out of the way of the officers. However she didn’t get very far in dialling before she heard her name called and swivelled around to find the other plainclothes officer, what she suspected to be Austin’s partner watching her intently.

‘Yes?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

‘What's this?’ he asked, gesturing to the TV unit on the kitchen worktop that displayed a picture of the gate.

‘Our security system,’ she said.

‘Is it just on the gate?’ he asked just as Charlie came in looking harried.

‘Yep,’ she said, her throat dry and sticking with now two pairs of eyes on her.

‘And it’s on twenty-four hours a day?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, we don’t shut it off,’ she confirmed.

‘Does it record?’ he asked.

‘Uh, yeah,’ she said, ‘I think so.’

‘Great thanks,’ he said, donning his glasses as he moved to inspect the bulky contraption. Lori turned to restart her phone call, the dial tone now missing given her prolonged absence but as she did she felt a hand on her elbow and a set of lips by the shell of her ear as Charlie whispered, ‘what did you tell him that for?’ before moving past her towards his room.

Lori watched him go, glancing at the detective who was still scrutinising the camera system. It looked as though her acting wasn’t the only thing that was going to need to withstand scrutiny.

✵✵✵

Elvis Presley was not a patient man. He never had been, being an only child and the apple of his mother’s eye hadn’t helped him with his temperament, but notoriety and twenty or so years of bossing everyone around had meant he hadn’t got used to waiting around. He certainly was not used to being given as little information as possible other than being read his rights before he was stuffed into an interview room on his own. Not even his lawyer, a nervous, sweaty man called Hank, arriving had hurried the process up. Which was why he was still sitting in an uncomfortable metal chair, glaring at an older detective as his lawyer flicked through a thin file and tried to ignore the way Elvis’ leg rattled against his as it bounced against the tile floor.

He only broke his gaze as the door unlatched, the blonde detective, the one who’d been stirring the pot since day dot, sauntered in, case file in hand. Elvis watched as he closed the door quietly and unable to stop the irritation from bubbling inside him he found a snarky, ‘by all means take your damn time,’ fall from his lips without warning.

Austin threw him a glance but didn’t respond, electing to remain silent as he dropped into the seat opposite. Because he knew Elvis Presley wasn’t a patient man. No man who had half of Memphis cower to his every want and whim could possibly be patient. He was too well catered to and more importantly too used to everyone bending over backwards to accommodate him, it was why he’d left him in here for the longest time. It was why he’d interviewed all his cronies first. It was why he didn’t say anything as he got settled, allowing the other man to shift in his seat as he muttered, ‘ain’t bad enough you hauled my ass down here on some bullshit charge.’

Again Austin ignored him, gesturing for his partner to flip the switch on the large tape player in between both parties which he did, shifting awkwardly as he realised Austin was allowing him some input. Of course John did not know his partner that well but he’d been in enough interview rooms to know the dynamic his colleague was aiming for. And so he cleared his throat and prepared his most polite tone as he said, ‘interview commenced at nine fifteen am on June twelfth. Detectives Butler and Melling present along with the appropriate counsel. Sir, could you please state and spell your name for the record?’

John was watching Elvis as he spoke, everyone was, but the man’s gaze remained locked on Austin, his blue eyes narrowed and a distinct curl on his lip in contempt even though it wasn’t him asking. Austin didn’t react.

‘Uh, Mr Presley,’ John said, clearing his throat again awkwardly when he failed to answer, ‘could you please-’

‘Elvis Presley,’ Elvis replied, his eyes still on Austin, ‘E-L-V-I-S P-R-E-S-L-E-Y.’

‘Thank you,’ John replied, an awkward but thankful smile on his lips that Austin resisted the urge to roll his eyes to. It hadn’t been easy to get everyone on board and though John had backed him but less out of the belief Austin had a good case and more out of some archaic duty to support his partner when he was under fire. Still it hadn't meant he was entirely on board and even he wasn't immune to trying to make Elvis Presley feel comfortable.

‘Now you gonna tell me why the hell you dragged my ass down here?’ Elvis challenged, not bothering to respond to the officer who had been speaking to him. There wasn’t much point, it wasn’t as if he’d stopped staring at Austin throughout the entire conversation.

‘I assumed that was clear in the warrant you were served,’ Austin said. Elvis’ glare deepened and his jaw tightened at the whiff of snark but Austin merely smiled and said, ‘but we can get to it anyway.’

Elvis watched as he shifted in his seat, opening up a manila folder and scanning through it as he produced a pen from his pocket. He moved slow, as if he was doing paperwork at his desk and not interrogating a suspect and Elvis watched him angrily waiting for him to speak.

‘Can you tell me where you were on May thirtieth?’ he said once he’d finally settled himself.

‘Ain’t I already told you?’ Elvis sneered.

‘I’m asking again,’ Austin said, tight but firm.

‘That dead kid ain’t nuthin’ to do with Kings,’ Elvis sneered.

‘That’s not what I asked,’ Austin replied, again his tone teetering on the edge of snark. Elvis glared at him but glanced towards his lawyer who had remained quiet through the entire thing, no doubt wanting Elvis to take charge before he made any decisions as everyone else seemed to do.

‘If you could provide some information that’s probably for the best,’ Hank muttered into Elvis’ ear, making his jaw tighten further.

‘At home,’ he said, his voice tight and low.

‘All day?’ Austin asked.

‘I went to the club,’ Elvis said.

‘That’s Kings night club, correct?’ Austin said.

‘Yes,’ Elvis replied, his tone dripping with resentment at having every little detail pulled from him. His irritation was also mounting at the way the detective was scribbling notes every time he spoke as though his word wasn’t trustworthy enough. It may have been a long time since anyone didn’t bend to his whim but it had been even longer since someone had failed to take his word as gospel.

‘And what time was that?’ Austin asked.

‘About eight, eight thirty,’ Elvis replied.

‘What did you do when you got there?’ Austin probed.

‘What I always do,’ Elvis said, sighing as Austin said nothing but raised an eyebrow, ‘it was a Friday right? So I watched the new acts, had some drinks and then went into my office to do some paperwork and calls.’

‘And someone can verify that?’ Austin challenged.

‘Just about everyone who was in the damn club,’ Elvis snapped, heaving a sigh as Austin merely looked at him as if waiting for specifics, ‘Sam, Sam Thomspon, my bartender. He was on that night so I guess he can verify I was there.’

‘What time did you leave?’ Austin said, jotting another note on his piece of paper.

‘About one am,’ Elvis said.

‘Alone?’ Austin challenged.

‘No,’ Elvis said with contempt, ‘I have drivers. And bodyguards.’

‘And their names?’ Austin asked.

‘Haven't you already spoken to my entire staff?’ Elvis scoffed, rolling his eyes as Austin failed to bite once more, ‘Jerry Schilling, Red West, Sonny West.’

‘And they left with you?’ Austin asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Where did you go?’ Austin asked.

‘Home,’ Elvis replied, his eyes flicking to the pen that had stalled, curious as to why his answer was not immediately being jotted down in the file in front like all the others.

‘You didn’t drop them off first?’ he asked. Elvis scoffed, ‘they wouldn't be good bodyguards if they left me on my own now would they.’

‘Guess not,’ Austin smiled, with a glint in his eye that Elvis didn’t care for. Neither was the way he added another layer of suspicion as he asked, ‘and they’ll verify this?’

‘Yes,’ Elvis grunted.

Austin nodded, flicking through his file for a second before he looked at his colleague, the lawyer and then back at Elvis as if he was checking they were all listening before he started, whatever question he wanted to ask appearing significant though Elvis didn’t know why as it was only, ‘how long did it take you?’

‘What?’ Elvis asked. The questions had been trivial enough but this seemed to border on the edge of banality. Like he wanted Elvis to spell every single detail out for him. He could tell by the accent that this Butler guy was not a native Memphian and so he might not know the streets well enough to guess but he was getting sick of having to hold the guy’s hand through this entire process. Whenever he’d dealt with Memphis’ boys in blue before it had never been this formal. Over the years there’d been cursory visits but it was normally uniforms who took his word at face value. Anything else was usually dealt with by the Colonel who normally spared him facing the inside of a police station unless it was being angled as a publicity stunt. Now he was starting to sweat, beads of perspiration forming between his shirt and his hairline as piercing blue eyes watched him.

‘That time of night it's got to be ten, fifteen minutes max to get from the club to your house right?’ Austin asked.

‘I guess,’ Elvis said, trying to keep his wariness from his tone.

‘But you left the club at one ten am, we got that from your CCTV, yet your gate camera only clocked you getting back home at two fifty-three am. Where were you for an hour and forty-three minutes?’ Austin asked, his eyes set on Elvis’ face. But it wasn’t just him watching him. Everyone was and he suddenly realised this was not what he’d thought it was. He wasn’t holding this guy’s hand; this guy was laying the foundations to trip Elvis up.

He didn’t know why he’d been so stupid. Annoyed sure but that was because trouble never usually hung around this long. Problems in Elvis Presley's world were dealt with the moment they raised their head. Sure people asked questions but they usually knew it wasn’t worth digging any deeper than the surface level. Of course he had heard this Butler guy had been digging but he had figured it was just because he was too green to know better. Too ambitious, he’d had lower-level guys in the club like it before. They just needed to be put in their place. Now it was too late because he’d got him boxed into a corner. And both of them knew it.

It was why he didn’t probe. He just sat there, allowing the silence to fester until one of them got uncomfortable enough to speak. Only it was Elvis’ lawyer who hesitated first, mumbling to his client, ‘if you could explain that it’d help.’

Elvis cleared his throat and sniffed, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance as he shrugged and said, ‘we went for burgers.’

‘Where?’ Austin asked pointedly.

‘Louie’s.’

‘And your friends, sorry bodyguards, will confirm that?’ Austin asked.

‘Yes,’ Elvis said.

‘Hmm,’ Austin said dismissively and though he was trying to remain cool Elvis couldn’t help but bite, grunting a ‘what?’ before he could stop himself.

‘Nothing,’ Austin said casually, ‘it's just I don’t see how you had the time.’

‘An hour is plenty of time to get a burger,’ Hank the lawyer protested.

‘Maybe but it's not enough time when you’re across town murdering someone,’ Ausitn challenged.

‘You think I murdered the kid?’ Elvis scoffed.

‘I’m sure you did,’ Austin said, leaning forward in his seat, ‘in fact I think you saw Tony leave his shift at one and you followed him home. Now admittedly he stopped for a pizza so whether you headed back to his place and waited or sat outside the pizza parlour I’m not sure but I’m sure you showed up at his apartment. And when you knocked on the door and he opened it and saw his boss, well, who wouldn’t invite them in. He even gave you a drink.’

‘Speculation,’ Hank protested.

‘Not exactly,’ Austin corrected, ‘you see we have your fingerprints on a half-drunk glass of scotch in Tony's apartment and considering it wasn’t moved it’s safe to assume it was being used just before he died.’

Again the silence festered, a satisfied Austin not bothering to prod as the blows landed better than he’d anticipated. But John must’ve been feeling uncomfortable which prompted him to ask, ‘can you explain that?’

‘Maybe he doesn’t clean his glasses very often,’ Elvis said.

‘So you were there at some point?’ Austin challenged, suppressing a smirk at the irritated grunt Elvis made, ‘or am I to believe that he left two glasses of whiskey on the side for what a week? A month? That he never touched or moved them leaving your prints perfectly unsmudged? The same way I’m supposed to believe that he left his freshly bought pizza on the side or left his mail unopened. No, I think the two of you had a drink and a conversation and then for some reason you blew his brains out, which is crazy considering you didn’t even know the kid ten minutes ago.’

Elvis said nothing.

‘So come on, what happened?’ Austin probed. Elvis glared at him but Austin didn’t relent. He stared back, challenging him to say something, anything though he didn’t see what he could say that wouldn’t muddy his defence even more. After a moment Elvis muttered, ‘no comment.’

‘Oh come on!’ Austin laughed, ‘you’ve been happy to run your mouth up to now what’s the matter? Afraid you’re going to tell the truth for once? Or are you going to tell me that your prints being in the apartment of a dead guy you don’t know is all coincidence?’

Elvis stayed silent.

‘Just like you leaving right after him must be. Just like your alibi not matching all your little friends is,’ Austin smirked, leaning closer as Elvis’ gaze snapped up at the mention of an alibi. Of course he’d known that all this mounted to an alibi but he hadn't anticipated he’d be one step ahead, ‘you know we asked your pals where you were that night. And they confirmed you left together and that you went straight home. No burgers. No stopping. No nothing. Is that coincidence too?’

The room was deathly quiet and all of a sudden Elvis was feeling rueful he was such an impatient man. He hated that everyone tried to bend to his will or that no one felt as though they could make decisions for him. If he wasn't maybe they would have found a lawyer who wasn’t too scared to jump in and fix this mess. If he wasn’t maybe he wouldn’t have friends so eager to defend him in their haste they’d landed him in hot water. If he wasn’t maybe he wouldn’t have been so relaxed about this whole thing being pushed under the carpet. He wouldn’t have underestimated this detective. He wasn’t fool enough to think that the whole justice system would bend to the will of the king of Memphis but it had been so long he had become acclimatised to expecting it.

And this guy was a force to be reckoned with. No one had spoken but he kept pushing as if he could niggle something out of the other man if he kept needling, ‘let me guess it’s a coincidence the type of gun used was the same make and model of one you own.’

‘Have you got the gun?’ his lawyer asked, finally making some traction in ‘defence’.

‘No,’ Detective Melling admitted, ‘we don’t…the gun box at your house was empty.’’

‘Then I don’t see how that incriminates my client,’ Hank replied.

‘You don’t think it’s odd that the week we come looking around your clients house for a gun he owns is the same week said gun up and vanishes from your clients possession,’ Austin challenged.

‘I own a lot of guns,’ Elvis said, trying to keep his voice confident though it lacked conviction.

‘And?’ Austin asked, ‘let me guess someone else used the type of gun you have and shot a guy you don’t know after you'd been in his apartment? That sound plausible to you?’

‘I think you’ve got scraps of evidence and you’re adding them together hoping for a good story,’ Elvis spat.

‘Elvis,’ Hank warned.

‘Scraps?’ Austin rebuffed, ‘we’ve got proof you were there, the last one to see him, and he was shot with a gun just like one you own which coincidentally is missing now. Not to mention how you’ve tried to throw off the scent by being cagey as hell and yet you still haven’t managed to coordinate a decent alibi. That’s more than a good story.

‘Oh yeah and what’s the reason?’ Elvis growled, leaning forward in his seat threateningly though Austin matched him, their faces not so far apart as the tension rose, ‘why would I kill some punk kid who works for me?’

‘You tell me why you wouldn’t.’

They remained looking at one another, the ire rolling off them both until finally Austin sloped back in his chair as he looked to John awaiting him to do the rest. His partner sighed and looked to Elvis, ‘Elvis Presley I am charging you with the murder of Anthony Bowen…’

ELVIS TAGS

@girlblogger2002@sania562@caitlin1996@literally-just-elvis-fics@notstefaniepresley @18lkpeters @velvetelvis @jaqueline19997 @elvispresleyxoxo @amydarcimarie @everythingelvispresley @elvispresleywife @lillypink @richardslady121 @louisejoy86 @ccab @i-r-i-n-a-a @lettersfromvenus @artlesson8892 @presleyenterprise

AUSTIN TAGS

@purejasmine @caitlin1996

#my writing #elvis #elvis presley #love in trouble #Elvis Presley x ofc #austin butler #Austin butler x ofc

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pfffsfic · 4 months ago

Text

Post-Fall Falls False Starts- Chapter 5: The Foundation

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1987- FIRST DAY ON THE JOB

Somewhere in the desert, a lonely exit branched from the interstate into a landscape of shifting sand, saguaros, and open skies. It trailed on for miles past barbed-wire fences and manned security gates and 'NO TRESPASSING' signs and 'NO, REALLY, THIS MEANS YOU' signs. Most people would not make it past the first checkpoint, but the driver of the white van was ushered through one, and then the next, and then the next, flashing his shiny new ID card to the sometimes-skeptical guards, feeling rather important. He was important! He now worked for the SPF- the Supernatural Protection Foundation, unrelated to sunscreen, though his parents had assumed he was traveling to work for some skincare company in the desert when he let them know about it. He had neither the heart nor the clearance to tell them the truth.

The sun reached its peak in the sky and cast the plate metal roof of the sprawling compound in front of him ablaze for a moment. A trick of the light. Pulling into the parking lot, he saw two men in hazmat suits wrangling what looked like a giant, bellowing spider-crab made of black ooze and eyeballs towards a hangar door. It gave him pause about doing this job, but what had he expected? To work at a world-renowned top-secret anomaly containment agency and never see any anomalies? Besides, it looked like the guys had that thing under control-

A jet of orange sludge spat from one of the thing's pupils, burning a deep gash into the parking lot.

He covered his head and ran into the lobby, smacking his ID card against the reader like a marathon runner getting a high five mid-sprint. There was air conditioning, and more importantly, there was no spider-thing spitting acid and shrieking in the language of the dammed, so he took a deep breath and slumped down on one of the couches to regain his bearings. There were no lifestyle magazines on the coffee table. Instead, there were dossiers on anomalous phenomena. This place didn't exactly have the lock-and-key atmosphere he had imagined.

The receptionist, a manilla folder woman holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a romance novel in the other, stepped out of an employee break room and sat down at the front desk. He approached her.

"You the new janitor?" She asked, flipping to the next page of her book.

He handed over his ID with a nod.

"Head to the boss's office. He's gonna wanna see you, sonny."

She gestured dismissively at a map of the compound that stood in the lobby. He nodded again and made his way over to look at it, then started down the third hallway to the left towards the executive wing. This place was like a maze, but it was at least a cool maze, both in temperature and in architectural style.

He arrived in front of a flimsy door beyond which he could hear an argument between two loud and frustrated men.

"Tell them they work for me!" yelled the higher of the two.

"They say no can do-" came a quieter, deeper voice.

"Tell them they'll never get paid for anything ever again if they can't get their sorry selves out here to pick me up! I've got a vacation in Tijuana on the line!"

"I- I'll tell them, sir."

"Yeah, I thought so!"

There were a few beeps from some sort of unfamiliar communications device.

"Sir, they've responded to the message."

"Already? What's it say?"

"It s-says, uh, it says, 'No.'..."

"GET OUT OF MY OFFICE! I'll chew them out about this myself."

The door swung open and sharply nailed the man waiting outside in the head. He groaned and crumpled to the floor as the one to whom the higher voice belonged- an angry toon-shaded unicorn in a suit- pushed the one to whom the lower voice belonged- a frowny purple man of indeterminate species- down the hallway.

"And don't come back unless it's to say the jet folks are on their way!" called the unicorn- the boss?- before turning to the man in a heap on the floor. "Who are you and why were you in the way of my door?"

"I'm- urk, that stings! I'm the new janitor."

The anger never left the boss's eyes, but his mouth smiled unconvincingly.

"Go and clean up the office, then. I'm heading to lunch. Pleasure to have you here with the SPF."

He didn't have any cleaning supplies. He didn't have any instructions. He didn't have the willpower to argue. He trudged into the office and found papers all over the floor, thrown haphazardly from a stack on the table during the fight. At least that was the extent of the damage.

When the boss returned, the brand new janitor stood outside the door and opened it like a butler. He received a more genuine smile this time.

"Finally, somebody who doesn't think he can walk all over me! You'll do just fine here, I think. Oh! Now go clean the containment center- they had a real bad spill, so you'd better get moving if you don't wanna lose your job, capiche?"

The boss took a look at the spotless room and raised his eyebrows in satisfaction, but ultimately didn't say anything before the door was slammed and the janitor was trudging back to the map.

It turned out that the containment center had a separate entrance from the administrative building, so he needed to leave his chilly refuge for the sweltering heat of the surrounding desert. Did the containment center also have air-con? He hoped it did, he desperately hoped it did. Before he left, he took a moment to listen through the door for any unearthly bellowing or acid sizzling. Nothing. The coast was clear, assuming that the thing had no silent mode. He peeked out. Many more gashes lined the lot, some of them deeper than others, one of them cutting right across-

His van! Half of his van was gone! It had melted into a boiling puddle of ooze, a perfect cross-section that laid bare his boxes of personal stuff in the back and a smoking half-engine in the front.

Well, he was supposed to be a live-in janitor, anyway...

2 WEEKS ON THE JOB

The containment center was a lot larger than its exterior gave it credit for. Staring down at a map guide list of the 200 departments that included such colorful names as 'Department of Haunted Carnival Rides' and 'Department of Mental Disorder-Inducing Household Appliances', he wondered if he'd keel over and die before getting the chance to see all of them. So far it had mostly been a few routine spills from the infinite (and infinitely unstable) coffee cup in the Department of Objects With Volumes Larger Than Their Exteriors Would Suggest, a strange concept considering that the entire center was already one of those. He had also cleaned up after several more heated debates in his boss's office.

Today he noticed that there were two work orders in the DOOWVLTTEWS instead of just the usual daily one, and, after clearing the floor of coffee and setting the cup back upright to slowly start filling again, he trundled further into the annals of the department to visit the chamber where his second mess was. The scene in front of him could pass for the world's most depressing car show. In the middle of a grungy cell, lit only by a flickering spotlight that swung from the roof by three wires- only one connected- was a beat-up old red van with a puddle of oil slowly forming under the engine. Anomalous items were almost never name-brand- he considered that if one were to start a business selling them it would probably come off as a bootlegging operation- and this van was no exception, though it bore an uncanny resemblance to the very van he was still mourning.

He cleaned up the oil and moved on.

The next day, he had two work orders again in the exact same two rooms.

2.5 WEEKS ON THE JOB

"A gasket? What on earth could you possibly want a gasket for?"

"I looked under the hood of that van that keeps leaking, and the thing has rusted to heaven and back. If I could replace it-"

"We aren't paying you 500 bucks an hour to look under the hood."

"You aren't paying me 500 bucks an hour at all! I'm barely making above minimum wage!"

The boss tapped his chin with one candy-colored hoof and leaned back in his chair.

"Fine," he said condescendingly, "We'll dock your pay to minimum wage since you'll have less work to do and use the extra dough to buy that gasket."

He couldn't complain. Not to his boss's face, at least.

3 WEEKS ON THE JOB

"Can you believe it? He must have forgotten- that's the only explanation. You think a place like this can't ship in a gasket on command?"

There was no response from the van, but in his head, he felt like it agreed with him about the indignity of the whole situation.

"Yesterday I had to clean the cell of the spider-crab, and it turns out it isn't just their vomit that's acidic. Those hazmat suits are a lot dirtier than they look..."

3.5 WEEKS ON THE JOB

"There you go," he said, slamming the hood closed. "All better."

The van wasn't sentient, or at least it didn't have a face (who knew where the line between sentience and inanimate-ness was, really?), but it had come to be a shoulder he could lean on, even though it didn't have any shoulders either. It was just about his only friend. The boss disliked him, the boss's assistant always moped away before he could get a word in edgewise, the secretary at the front desk wouldn't give him the time of day, and his other coworkers (there weren't many) were always busy. It was his job to enter rooms after they left, not to work alongside them. The van, though, was becoming a passion project for him, and he had it looking quite a bit less decrepit now.

He had always pictured agencies like the SPF as infallible, grandiose companies capable of throwing money and influence around to solve even their most minor problems, but if the condition of quality of life at the base was any indication, that had been a misconception. The food in the cafeteria was cheap. A few containment cell windows were cracked ("We don't pay you to worry about glass that's not on the floor," his boss had said). Half of the lights in any given department were always out. The faucets in the barracks were leaky. Where was all the money going? He wasn't worried, not really, just curious. But he wasn't getting paid to be curious either, so he let the feeling slip away.

4 WEEKS ON THE JOB

That morning, the Persistent Blob in the Department of Annoying But Not Very Intelligent Monsters had broken containment again and was now being held back by several wooden planks where its (shattered) glass was the previous day. The janitor had taken care to do an extra good job of vacuuming up the ooze and disposing of the shards, but that also meant he was about an hour late for lunch, and when he walked in, rather than the usual crowd (no one), he saw a considerable crowd (one person). The crowd was his boss's assistant who he had mentally assigned the moniker, 'purple sad guy'. This could be a chance to figure out what was going on! Sure, he had snuck peeks at documents in the office when he was sent in to clean up, but all of that legalese went over his head.

"Hi, you," he said, trying to make it sound like an affectionate nickname instead of a substitute for calling him Purple Sad Guy to his face.

"Oh, hello there... you."

Purple Sad Guy apparently didn't know his name, either. That was good.

"Ever noticed how the portions are getting smaller lately?"

"They've been small," PSG sighed, "s-since the incident."

The janitor hadn't even probed and he already had an intriguing piece of information to work with!

"Incident? Elaborate."

"I don't think the b-boss wants me talking about it."

The janitor slipped him five bucks.

"We call it the Elmore case," said PSG. "Five months ago, our operatives brought in a haunted mirror from there that showed people's hearts instead of their bodies. Y'know, a good person would see a heart of gold, a b-bad person would see a heart of coal, uh, that kind of thing."

"Department of Morality Detection and Measurement Devices, I presume?"

"Right."

"And there was an incident with this thing?"

"He sued us."

"Who sued us?"

PSG groaned and looked away.

"The mirror."

"You mean you took in a sentient mirror?"

"All mirrors are sentient! Some of them just don't know it yet! But this one, he knew already, and he m-made a big fuss about it, and he sued us for everything we had 'cause we'd falsely detained him, and he got a bunch of other anomalies in on it too. And he won the case. And that's why this company's falling apart."

"Doesn't this place have government funding?"

"That's the other part of this. The court demanded guidelines be put in place about what's an anomaly and what's not for us to get our funding back."

"Yeah?"

"We a-argue about them every other day, but we haven't made any progress. We're running off of saved money. Sooner or later, if we don't come up with the surefire difference between something weird- like a haunted floppy disk- and something normal- like a unicorn in a suit- we're gonna go bankrupt and this whole place will turn into a ghost town."

"What about all the dangerous stuff we got here? What, are we just letting the Persistent Blobs of the world ooze across the desert and destroy civilization?"

"The b-boss has some ideas, but that stuff's classified."

The janitor reached for another five dollars, but he had no other cash on him, so he tried to take back the money he had slipped over minutes earlier so he could 'give' it to PSG again. It didn't work, probably because he was attempting it in plain sight. He cleared his throat, pulled his hands back, and tried to pretend he hadn't done anything- either way, PSG got up and headed for the door without so much as a goodbye.

5 WEEKS ON THE JOB

The office had cracks on the walls, now, and a hole suspiciously shaped like a horn, and after the last few meetings there had been coffee on the floor. The janitor had been able to get the infinite mug to stay upright by propping it up with some putty and the old gasket from the red van, but now he had a new source of spillage to clean up after on an every-other-day basis. He had just finished cleaning up the worst meeting yet when his boss strode in wearing that same old angry look.

"You're fired!" he said in equal parts glee and exasperation. "Show's over! Everybody's fired! This whole place is fired!"

The janitor feigned surprise. He wasn't supposed to know about their financial situation- not that the condition of the place didn't make it obvious. Something came to mind, though.

"How am I s'posed to get home? My van got busted on the first day."

"Huh? What? Oh," the boss made a shooing gesture. "Just take one of the SPFcopters."

The SPFcopters were the Foundation's personal fleet of helicopters. 'Hmm, that sounds fun', thought the janitor, followed shortly by 'Oh wait, I don't know how to fly a helicopter'.

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Oh. Just thinking. Specifically, I was thinking, hmm, that sounds fun, and then I was thinking, oh, wait, I don't know how to fly a helicopter."

"Hah! Of course you don't. Of course."

"Do you?"

The boss didn't answer. He focused hard, face turning from a shade of creamy pink to a bright red in exertion, and his horn made a party popper noise as he vanished in a puff of confetti that the janitor quickly went to clean up. Lunchtime had come and gone, but having been released from his responsibilities, he made his way back to the cafeteria and found it in a veritable frenzy. There were a whole seven people there, and five of them were talking at once! He could make out a few words. 'Fired', was one. That made sense. 'Fire'- just another tense. 'Burn'. Burn? Was that a new synonym for letting someone go that he didn't know about?

"I guess you heard about it," said PSG with a smile on his face. The nickname didn't really fit anymore.

"Everybody's fired, eh?"

"Well, that and they're burning the building down at the end of the week," said PSG, walking off with a spring in his step as he was wont to do after delivering an important revelation.

The janitor stood there, mind racing, thinking of the van that he had become so close to. And then the coffee cup he had cleaned up after so many times. And then the Persistent Blob, and then the toaster that could print out pictures of your most cherished memories, and then the clock with human hands instead of clock hands, and then the fridge for emotions, and then the talking ventriloquist dummy, and then the sarcophagus that glowed in the presence of evil. And then every single other anomalous item he had so much glanced at for a second during these five terrible, wonderful weeks. He pictured them all going up in flames.

Six nights later, everyone but the fire crew left. They had set explosives up all around the perimeters of each floor.

It wasn't an issue, though. The janitor's job was to come in after everybody had left and clean up after them. He cleaned the whole place, and he made sure each cell was perfectly spotless and also perfectly empty. He saw each of the 200 departments for himself. That night, when midnight struck, an explosion rattled the desert and fire illuminated the sand for miles around. Nobody saw a little red van- a little red van that was much bigger on the inside, mind you- leaving, and as far as the Supernatural Protection Foundation was concerned, every single piece of anomalous miscellany in the center went up in flames. They never even considered that some of the items might have been burn resistant, and they never would consider that due to the clean ashen landscape that was left behind after the demo crew did their work.

The Foundation's name was quickly forgotten.

FIRST DAY ON THE (NEW) JOB

Elmore was an oddly temperate town for one so close to the desert. The red van pulled up to a shady motel and its driver stepped into the front office.

"I want a room for the night."

"35 bucks," said the proprietor, and the shadowy visitor pulled out a gold bar instead and handed it over.

"Sorry, could you trade this in for cash-"

Just as the proprietor finished his statement, he dropped the gold bar to the floor.

"My whole life," he sniffled, "I've been consumed by greed. I can't believe I never saw it before! Touching that thing touched my heart, my very soul! Tell me, good sir, how can I repay you?"

The shadow man shrugged.

"Gimme a room... and 35 bucks," he said, pushing his luck. The proprietor fiddled with the register and gave him the money, which would have made him feel guilty if he didn't also feel so good. He took the keys to his room. For the last time, he leaned on the hood of the van and spoke to it.

"You and I," he said, "We're business partners now."

The van didn't respond, but it seemed appreciative- something about the way the moonlight reflected in its windshield, probably. That was okay. Maybe it would be able to talk to him someday, but if it didn't, that was alright too. He had a lot of work to do. For now, though, he needed some sleep.

#the awesome store #van shopkeeper #tawog #the amazing world of gumball #honestly this chapter has very little canon material but it is the awesome store's backstory in the fic #postfallfallsfalsestarts #postfALLOFIT

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dreamsinarcadia · 1 year ago

Text

MORNING

In which Son Heung Min tries his hand at impressing his girlfriend with breakfast in bed (and fails).

pairing: sonny x gf!reader

warning: fluff and some suggested smut

The sound of her bare feet padding against his hardwood floor might’ve been loud at this hour if it weren’t for the fact they were merely joining in the cacophony Heungmin was already creating.

Bang

Clash

Thud

“NO!”

She grabbed at the fabric sliding off her shoulders and attempted the impossible task of making his oversized shirt fit her frame. The cotton brushed against the skin of her thighs with every step. Underneath, her bare body was still humming with the contentment he’d gifted her a few hours ago. Contentment so blissful that she’d fallen asleep less than a minute after he growled her name into her neck. She couldn’t even remember how she’d gotten from sitting in his lap to being spooned under the covers, but she wished she could – just so she could have seen Heungmin’s face when he finally realized she was going to be spending the night.

She’d thrown his discarded shirt over her head and made her way down the hall when she heard the first disgruntled-Heungmin sound, the dawn light illuminating the vacant, but warm, sport beside her.

She rounded the corner and was met with a boxer-clad Heungmin looking though his pantry with undisguised disappointment. “Are you okay?” she croaked, her voice hoarse from a lack of use combined with residual strain from last night’s screaming.

He jumped in surprise and turned to her immediately, a smile breaking across his face as he saw her using his shirt as a dress. “Hello, my love. Sorry for waking you,” he apologized, teasing her gently.

“What’re you doin’?” she asked, her usual eloquence still not quite with her.

He let out a sorry laugh and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I wanted to make you breakfast in bed, but my pancake mix was expired. I swore I just bought them though,” he rambled, muttering the last part to himself. He kept talking as she took in the sight of his five o’clock shadow emphasizing his jawbone, the same jawbone she’d affectionately lavished last night. “And then I thought I could make you some eggs, because you’re always cooking to keep me alive and this is all I know how to make.”

She started languidly walking towards him while he continued explaining his foiled attempt at romanticism. By the time she was at his side, she couldn’t resist temptation anymore, so she grabbed onto his arm and lifted herself up on her tip toes to kiss him.

However, she hadn’t had the opportunity to do this before without the added high of her heels, and she fell embarrassingly short of being able to reach his mouth, so settled to peck his chin.

He stopped mid-ramble and turned his head to the side to beam at her. Raising herself back onto her toes, she looked him in the eye and murmured, “Kiss me.”

The fact he had to noticeably bend over to kiss her while she was standing at her full height was not lost on her, but it faded to the back of her mind as his hands cupped her cheeks and drew her into him. They stayed like that until her toes burned and his neck presumably felt the mutual strain. She let her eyes flutter open slowly as she lowered herself back down, melting into the way his hand slipped under the shirt to rub up and down her back.

“Heungmin,” she repeated softly, reaching around him to switch the stove off with ease.

“Hmm?” he murmured, letting his face fall so he could kiss a trail down the curve of her neck.

“Come back to bed,” she requested, tugging on the waistband of his boxers playfully.

And that he did.

#son heung min #heung min son #son heung min fluff #son heung min drabble #son heung min scenario #son heung min imagine #son heung min one shot #son heung min fic #son heung min fanfic #son heung min x reader #son heung min x you #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #footballer x y/n

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polkadotpenguin16 · 5 months ago

Text

The Five Stages of Grief: Denial

Pairing: Sonny Carisi x female reader

Tags: more angst; language

Word count: 1,871

Previous parts: Prologue

You went from crying on your bathroom floor to your best friend’s kitchen. Floors seemed to be the best place for a mental breakdown. Your friend wasn’t much of a drinker, but she did have a couple boxes of white wine meant for cooking. She said this was a much better use.

It did the trick.

You couldn’t believe you just walked away from Sonny like that. But you felt like you had no other options. You’ve spent far too long in relationships, both romantic and platonic, being someone’s second choice. Waiting for them to choose you. You couldn’t do it again.

“And he just stood there trying to explain why he just HAD to help AMANDA tonight.” You were retelling the night’s events, a little tipsy from the shitty wine. “How could he think that was okay? Spending all night at some other woman’s house?! How can someone be so smart, and so cute, and so…fucking stupid?”

“Probably all that hair gel,” she suggested nonchalantly. “Too thick to let any commonsense in.”

That made you snort through your nose. She was always good at making heavy situations feel lighter.

“I’m really sorry, girlfriend. You deserve better.” She tenderly rubbed your shoulder, trying to soothe your broken heart. “But you know Sonny. He’s a little…thick…but he’s got a big heart. He just wants to help everyone. That’s why you fell in love with him, remember? Sonny the Superman?”

“Whatever.” You took another swig from the box. “It’s probably better this way.”

“Hey, now, you don’t mean that—”

“I DO mean that! I was never good enough for him!” You were getting animated, spilling wine everywhere. “You’re right—he’s Superman. He needs to be with somebody just as super. Someone he can fight crimes with. Or talk about his lawyer-y stuff with who actually understands him. I mean, who knows what the hell he’s talking about? He should come with a translator. And build a perfect life with them. Y’know, the two-and-a-half kids, a dog, and the white picket fence and shit!”

You started crying again. How did you have any tears left? “He deserves the best. And she’s it! Hell, he’s probably been in love with her since they met. Why he settled for a nobody like me in the first place, I’ll never know. I’m no superhero. My power is organizing spreadsheets and tripping over my own feet. He could have Wonder Woman. Why would he want to be stuck with…whoever the fuck Superman’s lame girlfriend is!”

Your friend was quiet, letting you vent and trying to find the right words. “I know it seems that way right now.” She softens her voice, forcing you to listen more intently to hear her. “That this is all doom and gloom. Just give it time. Have some grace. His love is genuine, and he never considered it settling. You’ll work everything out.”

Resting your head against the refrigerator, you sighed. “I don’t think this can be fixed, girl. Maybe…maybe it shouldn’t be.”

She leaned in for a hug, wrapping you tightly in her embrace. You sob into her shoulder, deeply leaning into her for support. You sat silently for a while, the same thought echoing over and over in your mind.

Maybe it’s better this way…

Sonny was brought out of his trance by his alarm buzzing. He hadn’t slept at all. He just kept replaying what happened last night. It was in crystal clear high-definition in his head. How heartbroken you were. How hurt you were.

Then you just disappeared.

He hoped you’d text him when you got to your friend’s place like he asked. For his peace of mind and a sign that you didn’t completely hate him. Anxiously staring at his phone for much longer than he knew it would take you to get there, it felt like his heart was going to erupt from his chest. The list of horrific things that could’ve happened to you was getting too long. Desperate, Sonny texted your friend. He just had to know where you were. It wasn’t until after 2 in the morning that he got a reply.

Yeah she’s here.

Well, at least he knew you were safe. Still uneasy, he dared to ask if you were okay. Deep down, he already knew the answer, and it was reinforced by her response.

You think she’d be here if she was okay? Give her some time. When she’s ready, you better fix this mess you made.

This disconnect was torturing him. He wanted to fix things now. But your friend was right. He resigned himself to waiting until you came back later.

He tries his best to put himself together and heads to the precinct. Dragging his feet, he stumbled into the bullpen.

“You get hit by a bus on the way?” Rollins immediately noticed his haggard appearance. “You look like crap.”

“Good morning to you, too,” he muttered sitting at his desk, head in his hands, trying to collect himself.

“What, your girlfriend kick you out or something?” Fin joked from his seat.

“Actually, she left last night.”

“Wait, really?” Rollins was surprised to hear this. He made the two of you sound like a fairytale love story. You were his favorite topic and would bring you up in every conversation he could. She wondered what could have changed.

Fin glared at him suspiciously. “Whaddya do?”

Sonny took a deep breath. “I, uh, forgot about our date last night, and I, sorta…stood her up.” He was mentally kicking himself for being such a moron. The guilt made his stomach churn and his head throb.

“Dude...” Fin sat back in his chair and leered.

“I know, I know. I was helping Rollins, and I just—I spaced it. She packed a bag and went to stay with her friend.”

“That’s a bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?” Rollins tilted her head back and forth as she weighed out his actions. “But I get why she’d be upset. You should’ve told me you had plans, Carisi.”

Sonny buried his face deeper into his hands, feeling even guiltier.

“Stood her up? She ain’t ever gonna forget that, man,’” Fin remarked, rubbing salt into his wounds.

“But it’s gonna be fine.” Sonny sat up with a newfound determination. “We’ll talk tonight when she gets back. I’ll beg for forgiveness, and it’ll all work out.”

Rollins looked at him skeptically. “You sure about that?”

“Of course, I’m sure!” He huffed, astonished she would even ask. “Couples fight, it’s natural. They kiss, they make up, and things go back to how they were.”

“Most fights don’t include the girl leaving in the middle of the night,” Fin pointed out.

“She just—she needed some time to cool down.” You’ve always been able to resolve your arguments. They’d never been this intense before, but Sonny was confident this was all going to blow over. “She’s gonna come home and we’ll talk. I’m gonna fix this, and this will all have been a horrible dream.”

“If you say so.” Sounding unconvinced, she returned to her laptop.

Luckily, it was a slow day at the station. A rarity as of late. Sonny busted his hump finishing all his paperwork so he could ask Benson if he could head out early.

“Leaving so soon?” Rollins questioned as he put on his coat.

“Gotta run to the store and grab some things for dinner. I want everything to be perfect when she gets back.”

“I’d be picking up some flowers if I were you,” Fin advised as he sipped his coffee.

“That too—the whole nine yards.”

“Well, best of luck to you,” she hollered as he sprinted toward the elevator.

He went to the store and picked up everything to make chicken marsala. It was the first dish he ever cooked for you. He bought extra ingredients so he would have enough leftovers for you to have lunch for work tomorrow.

He swung by the flower stand to pick up a bouquet of sunflowers—your favorites. He planned out his apology in his head on the way back. Thinking of all the ways he messed up and how he would rectify them.

When he got home, he called out to you, but didn’t hear a response. Setting the bags down, he looked around the apartment to see that you weren’t home yet. Concerned, he checked his watch. It was a little early. You were probably still at work. He unpacked the groceries and started preparing dinner.

After washing the produce and still no sign of you, worry started to creep in. He knew you needed some space last night, but surely, you’d come back soon. He was positive you missed him as much as he missed you. So, he decided to send you a text.

Hey doll, what time are you coming home? Getting dinner on the stove and want it to be ready when you get back.

There was no answer. Five minutes turned into ten. He chopped up the mushrooms and garlic and let them sauté in the pan before checking his phone. There was still nothing. He opened a bottle of beer to help settle his nerves. It was half-way gone when he checked again.

Still, nothing.

Not wanting to panic yet, he texted you again.

I’m sorry about last night. I really need to talk to you. I miss you.

Several more minutes passed. He could see the messages labeled as “read” on his phone. You just weren’t responding. Skipping past panic and going into full-blown hysteria, he fumbled with his phone trying to call you. He paced around the kitchen anxiously while listening to the phone ring.

Once. Twice. Three times.

He heard the call pick up after the fourth ring. But he couldn’t hear anyone on the other end. “Doll?” He asked hesitantly, wondering if you had actually answered.

He barely heard a whisper, “…yes…”

“Doll, are you okay?! When are you coming home?” He was frantic, talking a mile a minute. “Please come back! I’m really sorry and have to talk to you—I need to explain. We’ve gotta work this out. Just please—I need you to come home!”

You silently wept while listening to him ramble. You wanted to believe this could all be fixed, but your heart was telling you it would be futile. The cycle would just continue. What would happen the next time someone else needed him? Would you be enough?

“I’m sorry…” You were barely able to get your words out. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?!” It felt like his whole world was slipping through his fingers. Like water through a sieve. He was unable to stop it or even slow it down. “We have to fix this! Please come home!”

“I love you, but I just…” The line went quiet. He called out your name once, twice, but it was useless.

You were gone.

Sonny had never felt so defeated in his life. Slumping against the counter, he slammed his phone down. His eyes started to feel wet. He stood in the kitchen and quietly cried, taken aback by the fallout of one night. One mistake. One forgotten date.

#oh god she writes now #sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi x you #sonny carisi imagine #dominick carisi #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #svu #anti rollisi

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