#but knowing john wells and his previous choices this says a lot

[m4ndysk4nkovich]

hey guys! your favorite debbie gallagher apologist/feminist here to remind you about how in season 10, frank, lip, and carl were all openly misogynistic to fiona and debbie!

frank: i, for one, am tired of being repressed and controlled by the women in this family! are you with me, gentlemen?

lip: it might just be the sleep deprivation but i kind of agree with frank.

carl: you know, me too. debbie and fiona have been bitchin’ at us our whole lives.

come the fuck on

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 37: The Silence

Summary: Tensions are at an all time high in the pack as an eerie silence settles over the cottage

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,069 words

Warnings: Angst, heavy emotions, arguing, medical stuff, injuries, descriptions of pain, brief discussion about strangulation, so much crying, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, panic attack, PTSD, language

A/N: Uh yeah, this one did emotional damage. Prepare yourselves.

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They stand there watching like four knights in a tower guarding their kingdom. Their eyes are glued ahead, staring through the glass out into the backyard. They’re alert and watchful, eyes assessing and scanning for any threats. There are none except for your trembling legs. 

They stand there watching like four knights guarding their princess. None of them are brave enough to move, none of them dare break the moment. They can’t help but wonder what’s going on in your head, what drove you to push past the pain and exhaustion to shuffle your way outside. 

Panic bubbled in Kyle’s chest when he saw you shuffling your way across the living area. He’d nearly intervened when you stumbled, but John’s hand on his chest stopped him. You were in your own world, oblivious to everyone and everything as you shuffled determinedly toward the back door. They’d silently followed you, Johnny and Simon joining them when they descended the stairs. 

All you’ve done is stand out there. It feels like it’s been an hour, but it’s been less than five minutes. You’re frozen there, all except for the tremble of your legs and the subtle shake of your shoulders. 

You’re crying. 

It hurts his soul. It tears through his very chest as he watches you. He wants nothing more than to run out there and take you in his arms and soothe your tears. 

He can’t. 

He lost those privileges when they left you, when they betrayed you, when they abandoned you. It may have been John’s choice, but they were all complacent in it. None of them fought that decision, none of them questioned it. Would John have changed his mind if they did? Could they have avoided all of this if they had just questioned their alpha, their captain? 

Not all of it would have been unavoidable. 

You would have still been hurt. You would have still been traumatized. There was no guarantee Graves would have held off, even if they came for you in the first place. Things might have been worse. Graves might have gotten impulsive as soon as he realized the outcome of his own situation. 

Shepherd fucked him over too in the end. 

Things happened the way they did and they can’t change that. That’s what Christine keeps telling them. The past is the past and you can only work to build the future. 

It’s going to take a lot of work. 

“How long has she been out there?” Christine asks, stepping up next to them. 

“About four minutes.” Simon answers. 

“She shouldn’t be out there like that.” Christine goes to move to the door, but John stops her. 

“Let her have a moment.” He says, still staring out the window. “She needs it.” 

Christine lets out a quiet huff but she doesn’t move, turning her gaze out the sliding glass door as well. 

You continue to stand there, frozen like a statue. Time passes slowly, all of them captivated by the silent moment they’re witnessing. It’s almost hypnotic. The fading light, your figure standing there surrounded by grey skies and green earth like some sort of painting. 

Pain and bliss. 

That’s what he’d title it. He knows that’s what you must be feeling. Pain, visible and invisible from wounds that go far deeper than the flesh. Pain in its purest form as you stand there under heavy grey skies that echo the heaviness in your mind. The bliss echoes from John’s words, his reveal of your desire to see the ocean again, to stand on its shores and let its essence consume you.

It all makes sense now. No wonder you would cling to him the most, press your face into his neck and just breathe. His own briney scent was a gateway to what you desired in your landlocked position. How long had you been holding that desire in? Were you disappointed when you rolled up on their doorstep to find yourself still far away from the sea? You hid that desire from the knowledge that, as an omega, your wants and needs would always come last, in the knowledge that their jobs would come first and you would be at the mercy of that job. 

His eyes burn with tears as he stares at you. 

You begin to tremble more and more the longer you stand there, shifting on your feet. It breaks the haze they’ve all been frozen in, the five of them snapping back into reality. Christine is out the door before any of them can move, hurrying to your side. She wraps an arm around your back, careful not to touch your left arm as she steadies you. Kyle jumps into action automatically after her, hurrying to your new designated room to grab the wheelchair. With how much effort it took to walk out there, you won’t be walking back in. 

He wheels it out, holding it still as Christine maneuvers you into it. As much as he doesn’t want to, he turns, slipping back in the door as Christine wheels you towards the house. The four of them watch as she passes, time pausing as they stare at you. You don’t look up at them, don't acknowledge them at all. Your gaze is turned down in your lap, head lowered as you hunch, shoulders rounded.

Pain and exhaustion are weighing on you from your exertion as Christine takes you back to your room. How heavy the world must seem from the combined weight of your physical and mental injuries. The state of your mind would be one thing, but being stuck in a temporary handicapped state due to your physical injuries must be driving you nearly insane. There’s no getting away, no isolation. You can’t even walk fully unaided yet. 

There’s no freedom.  

All of them share a look in the heavy silence, understanding without even needing to say a word. 

The mug is burning his fingers but he can’t bring himself to care. His gaze is locked, mind focused elsewhere. He hasn’t moved in so long his joints are aching, but he can’t find it in himself to even shift his position.

“Drinking it black?” His fingers twitch as Kyle takes the seat next to him, his own mug of tea in his hands. It clunks as he sets it on the table before he lowers himself into the chair with a sigh. “That’s low even for you.” 

Simon lets out a grunt, eyes still focused out the sliding glass door. 

“She’s fine.” Kyle says, pulling out his phone. “The Doc won’t let anything happen to her.” 

“Don’t like that she’s out there alone.” Simon says, finally releasing the mug, squeezing his burning fingers into his palm. 

“Technically she’s not alone,” Kyle says, giving him a sideways glance. “We’ve been over this. We’re perfectly safe here.” 

“For now.” Simon lifts his mug to his lips, ignoring the burn of the tea on his tongue. He’s long become numb to that sort of pain.

“No one knows we’re here except Kate and my sister. Neither of them would say anything, no matter what.” Kyle turns his gaze back to the sliding glass door, to your figure huddled in the chair outside. “She’s where she needs to be right now.” 

Footsteps thud down the stairs, John letting out a groan as he reaches the bottom. He takes a moment to stretch before heading for the kettle in the kitchen. 

“Rough night, sir?” Kyle asks, taking a sip of his tea. 

“I’ve slept worse.” John grunts, grabbing a mug from the cupboard. 

Both of them had tossed and turned last night. Simon had listened to the occasional creak of the bed frame as they turned. He knows that’s what it was. They’re not ready yet. None of them are. Things are too fragile, too frayed. 

“Anyone thought about breakfast?” John asks. 

“Still some eggs left, and some bread. We need to make a store run soon.” Kyle says. 

“Today.” John says, pouring water into the mug. “A lot of things we need to pick up.” He turns to face Simon and Kyle, leaning against the cupboard. “Simon and I will go.” 

Simon shifts in his seat, his hand tightening around his mug again. “That’s not a good idea.” 

“What, you’re doubting our ability to watch the house?” Kyle says, turning to Simon. 

Simon glances at him, his eyes hard. “No, There should just be an alpha here at all times.” 

“Really? Because that sounds a lot like you don’t trust Johnny and I.” Kyle says, getting angry. 

“Enough.” John says, setting his mug down on the table. “We keep fighting amongst ourselves, nothing is going to get better. Tensions are high, but none of this is about us. We have to keep our heads on straight for the sake of our pack, and our omega. Simon and I will go to town today. That’s final.” 

Kyle and Simon both lower their eyes to their mugs of tea as John takes a seat at the table. He is right. Fighting amongst themselves will only make things worse for you. You’re already struggling, and the bonds fraying further will only cause more damage, more stress for you. Their bonds with you are delicate enough. They can’t risk the bonds between themselves getting any thinner. They have to be strong for you. They have to be strong for each other. They have to be strong for the pack. The whole pack. 

It falls silent between the three of them as they sit there, sipping their tea. Johnny is the only one still in bed. He cried most of the night last night. He’s cried most of the night the last three nights. He’s probably shed more tears than you have. 

Simon feels stuck in the middle, like he’s being torn in two separate directions. He got up in the night to free himself from the sounds of Johnny crying just to hear your own quiet sobs through your closed door. Each broken sob had his heart splitting in half, the ache in his chest getting worse and worse. He was sure he was having a heart attack that first night, his chest compressing and squeezing, his hands going numb from how tense his body was. 

He wants to reach out and make it better, but he can’t bring himself to. Johnny will just shrug him off, and you won’t even look at him. Even John and Kyle are distant, gravitating further and further away. The gravitational field in the center of their pack continues to get bigger and bigger, forcing them further and further away from each other, and none of them know how to stop it. They’ve lost their point of equilibrium. They’re all spiraling further and further away. Eventually that gravitational field will dissipate and they’ll be left free-floating through space and time. 

They all turn to look as the sliding glass door opens and you crutch your way in. Dr. Keller is right behind you, closing the back door before guiding you back to your room, the blanket you had been draped in folded neatly over her arm. You’re moving better, even just in two days since their arrival. Steadier on your feet, walking better with the crutch. You even look a little better, more alive than you were when you arrived here. 

They all watch you walk to your room, but you don’t spare a glance their way. You haven’t looked at any of them in two days. You haven’t spoken a word to them, to anyone, in two days. 

Kyle gets up to make breakfast as soon as you’ve passed, broken from the spell as Dr. Keller gets you settled in your room. You’re almost hypnotic now, all of their gazes drawn to you as soon as you enter the room. They’re all thinking the same thing every time you pass. Maybe this will be the time you finally look at them, when you finally glance their way. What he wouldn’t give to have you smile at him, give him that cheeky little grin after sassing him. 

Little shit. 

His hand tightens around his mug again as guilt floods him. You’ve sunken into an empty shell because of them. They sucked the life right out of you. They dragged you into this and failed to do what they were supposed to do. Anger bubbles in him as he thinks back to that moment. He should have fought back. He should have used his position to change John’s mind, or forced him to change it. He should have stepped up for you. 

He’s not your alpha. 

He almost wishes he was. 

He stares down at the scabbed imprint of your teeth on his skin. He should pick up a bottle of ink in town, tattoo that mark on his skin forever as a reminder of both you and what he did to you. 

“How is she?” John asks when Dr. Keller enters the kitchen. Simon’s shoulders square as she passes him, having been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t even noticed her enter. 

Bloody hell, he’s as bad as you.

“As good as she can be.” She sighs, grabbing a can of soup out of the cupboard. You won’t get the eggs and toast Kyle is making. Your diet consists of soup and only soup. 

“Hasn’t said anything still?” John asks, turning to look at her. 

“Not a word.” Dr. Keller shakes her head. “I’d be worried, if it wasn’t expected.” She pulls out a pot, opening the can before dumping the contents in. Chicken noodle. The staple soup in your diet. “Strangulation can be a hard thing to recover from.”

“I know.” Simon winces, taking a sip of his tea. 

The doctor gives him a sympathetic look. He doesn’t want it. “She had some mild damage done from it, which will take time to heal. And, everyone deals with trauma differently. Silence isn’t that unusual of a response.” She puts the pan on the hob, turning the heat on. “If I was worried, you would know.” 

“Thank you for looking after her.” John says, nodding at the doctor. “You didn't have to stay.”

“I made a promise.” She says, stirring the soup. “She's still my patient, even if the initiative was bogus. I still have a duty to perform as her doctor. Kate wouldn't have chosen me from the start if I was the type to just up and leave as soon as I found out my job wasn't actually real. I care about her a lot, and I want to help her get through this.”

“We all owe a lot to you.” John says. “We wouldn't have made it this far without you.”

“No,” The corner of her mouth twitches. “You probably wouldn't have.”

Christine lets out a quiet sigh as she steps into your room. You're in the chair by the window, your usual spot when it's too damp and cold to sit outside. 

It's dark in the room aside from the light coming through the window. It’s always dark in the room, except at night when you sleep with the bedside lamp on. She flips that lamp on, not wanting to blind you suddenly with the overhead light. You’ve been blinded by enough bright lights over the last week. Nearly a week and a half. It feels like so much time has passed, yet it still feels like yesterday when she was coming to in her office after being attacked and drugged. The terror she’d felt upon finding you missing still fills her stomach, and she finds herself getting up in the middle of the night to check and make sure you’re really there. 

She’s not the only one that does it. 

The paper bags in her arms crinkle as she carries them over to you, setting them on the other chair. Your gaze is far away, staring off at the grey, stormy sea in the distance. How fitting the weather is, both for you and the members of the pack. The tension between them is still palpable, all of them moving stiffly around each other. They’ve lost the natural fluidity of a pack comfortable in their bonds. They’re stuck, and they can’t, they won’t, heal until you do. They won’t allow themselves to until they know you’re willing to at least try. 

“John and Simon went to town and did some shopping. They picked up some things for you.” She says softly, breaking the heavy silence in the room. 

You don’t even turn to look at her. 

“More warm clothes.” She continues, looking in one bag. “As well as some boots.” She pulls a box out of another bag. “A nightlight, so you don’t have to keep using the lamp.” She looks in the third bag, the heaviest one of the three. “Another stuffed animal.” She says, pulling out a stuffed bear. It’s a nice thought, but she’s not sure you’ll even want to touch it. “And some books.” She says, pulling the stack out of the bottom of the bag. 

There’s three of them, ones not in the collection on the shelves in the living area. Some of your favorites. They’re trying, putting in efforts to try and make you as comfortable as possible in the only ways they can right now. She sets the books on the side table next to you, taking a long look at you as you sit there. 

You haven’t picked up a book in the two days they’ve been at the cottage, though she’s not surprised. You’ve been in and out of it, sleeping off the pain medicine, or sitting in a haze, mind far away from the cabin. She wonders where you are, where your mind is going. Out on the water? Out on the beach? Or maybe somewhere back in your memories where it’s safe. Receding back somewhere when life was easier and safer. 

Are you thinking of your mother? Are you imagining her here with you? 

Her heart hurts for you, being torn away from her at such a pivotal moment in your life. If she had the ability to find her she would. If she could track down your mother and bring her here for you she would. 

You begin to sniffle, almost as if you can somehow read her thoughts. The tears are falling, streaming down your cheeks again. She doesn't say anything, she doesn’t have to as she stands there beside you, gently stroking your hair. She’s seen many things in her time as an omega specialist. She’s had patients that have gone through things that would make even the most seasoned doctor’s stomach churn. She’s helped omegas that have been pushed to the brink of insanity, omegas pushed to the brink of death. Yet none of them have affected her the way you have. Maybe it’s because she’s never been quite so invested in an omega’s life before, never been quite so inserted into an omega’s reality. 

If she was a better doctor, she might have refused to stay here, keeping distance between herself and your pack. She’s gotten too close, pushed past the barrier of professionalism. If she was a better doctor, she’d distance herself, stick to the decorum and expectation of doctor/patient relationships. She knows omega specialists can get too close. She’d been warned over and over about how easy it is to invest too much into the lives and well beings of omegas. There’s a boundary that must be kept, both for the professional and for the sake of the omega. She won’t be around you forever. 

Eventually she’ll have to distance herself. She’ll have to go back to America, return to her practice. Now that the initiative is over, now that her job doesn’t even exist, she’s running on borrowed time. She’ll have to leave you at some point, close your case and move on. 

When is the question there. When will it be the right time? When will she decide you’ve healed enough to be graduated from her care? When will she be confident enough to break the bond that has formed between the two of you. 

Will she be able to? That’s the deeper question. 

Those are thoughts for a different day, she decides, pushing them aside. Instead she pulls you into her side, resting your head against her hip as she continues to stroke your hair. 

You look just about as happy to be at the table as they do. It's quiet in the room aside from the clanking of dishes in the kitchen and the occasional sizzle of food in a pan. Your gaze is in your lap, assuming your normal position of a drooping head and rounded shoulders. 

Your back and neck have to hurt from being in that position for so long. 

The only time you're not in those positions are when you're outside. Then your gaze is out at the sea in the distance. You sit there and stare, almost like a statue. You’d make for a good painting, seated still enough for long enough a skilled artist could make a masterpiece of it. 

He's surprised Johnny hasn't even sketched you like that yet. Perhaps if you can ever come to be more comfortable around them, you'll allow him to paint you. You’ll be taking up residence out there in that chair as often as you can. 

He’s not even sure rain or storm would deter you, if it wasn’t for Christine’s intervention. 

Kyle sets a plate of chicken on the table as Christine brings over your soup, setting it down in front of you. Always a bowl of steaming hot soup. How you’re existing off of mostly liquids is beyond him. Maybe that’s why you look so fragile and frail. 

“There you go,” Christine says as she sets a spoon down beside the bowl. Chicken and rice, a changeup from your normal chicken noodle. “I know you don’t want to, but you need to. You’re not going to feel better without food in your system.” 

You let out a quiet noise, just barely audible over the shuffling of bodies as they sit at the table. Simon is to your left, Kyle next to him, Christine and Johnny on the other side. He’s on the opposite end of the table, staring right at you. No wonder you don’t want to move from your hunched position. 

They keep their eyes off of you as they begin serving themselves. The food they’ve managed to make is decent with the help of their combined cooking skills. They’d had a long discussion about the intricacies of British food versus American food the first morning after their arrival. Christine advocated for more American-based dishes, with Johnny taking her side purely out of spite for the three Englishmen. 

John has caught Christine sneaking seasoning into the food every so often. He hasn’t said a word.

“Come on, eat up.” Christine says, gently nudging your hand where it rests over the spoon. 

Your face screws up in a grimace as you stare down at the steaming soup. It’s a breath before your fingers wrap around the spoon, lifting it to the bowl. Every movement feels practiced and calculated as he watches you sink the spoon into the bowl, just barely sinking below the surface to get just broth. He watches as you lift the spoon, holding it halfway to your mouth. There’s a subtle shake to your hand, not much but noticeable to him. You stare down at the spoon for a long moment before lifting it the rest of the way, quickly putting it in your mouth before your hand starts shaking too much. 

You grimace as you swallow, a quiet grunt leaving your lips. He can’t bring himself to look away as you sit there, taking in a couple deep breaths. He can’t bring himself to eat as you stare back down at the bowl, your fingers trembling around the spoon. 

Fuck. 

You sniffle as you sink the spoon into the bowl once more, the spoon shaking more now as you bring the second spoonful to your mouth. It’s like watching some kind of sick, twisted children’s windup toy as you feed yourself, following the pattern of spoon in soup, soup to mouth, pained grimace, quiet sob. It gets worse and worse with every bite, John barely able to stomach his own food as he watches you with every bite.

You stare down at a chunk of chicken on your spoon, a fearful look on your face. Your hand is shaking enough that soup is dripping off the bottom back into the bowl. Christine had cut the chunks up smaller, yet you stare down at it like it might jump off the spoon and bite you. 

Tears start rolling down your cheeks as you bring the spoon up to your lips, forcing it into your mouth. You chew and chew and chew, delaying the inevitable. The face you make as you swallow nearly breaks him. He lowers his gaze to his own plate, barely touched despite the fact he feels like they’ve been eating for a lifetime. 

“Take a break.” Christine says quietly, lowering your hand with the spoon back onto the table. 

None of them can bear to look at you. Johnny and Kyle are busy staring at their plates as they eat while Simon glares holes into his water glass. He’s watching you just as closely, he’s just not brave enough to stare at you so openly. 

The tears continue to fall as you start feeding yourself again, Christine watching you as your hand begins to shake more and more, the pain starting to get to you. John wants to reach out, to take the spoon and feed you himself, but he can’t. It’s destroying him inside, seeing you struggle so openly. Christine won’t intervene, she won’t do anything as she sits there. Rationally he knows why. You need to get used to feeding yourself again, you need to work past the pain and exhaustion to keep yourself going. 

His alpha is screaming. 

Your hand is nearly vibrating as you hold another spoonful up, this one full of rice and chicken. You let out a quiet sob as you stare at it. That’s going to hurt. He can nearly sense your pain, the agony you’re feeling. Your scent is like a cloud fogging up the air, sour with fear and pain. It’s sinking right into his brain, his alpha clawing at him to do something. You’re in such open distress in front of him but he can’t move. He’s frozen, staring at you in shock, unable to look away. 

It’s Simon’s quick reflexes that save you, his hand darting out to flip the spoon onto the table before you drop it on yourself. It lands with a clang, startling all of them out of their ruminations as it hits the bowl of peas, splattering rice and chicken and broth across the tablecloth. Christine is on her feet almost immediately, checking you over for burns from any of it that might have landed on you. 

“You're okay.” Christine says, wiping your face with a napkin as you sob loudly, openly crying now. “It was a good try. Come on.” 

She helps you to your feet, grabbing your crutch before leading you back to your room. 

All four of them sit there in silence, still as statues as they process what they had just witnessed. 

“Fuck,” Kyle breaths, his eyes glued to the half-eaten chicken on his plate. 

Johnny starts to sniffle himself, his gaze locked on his own plate. Simon's eyes are on the spoon he'd flipped where it lays on the table. 

He had no idea just how bad things really were. He knew they were bad. 

He just didn't think they were this bad.

You’re sitting outside in that chair again. It’s a lovely morning, cold but the sun is rising up over the hills, casting a pink and orange glow across the sky. You look almost ethereal out there, even if he can only see the back of your head. Your eyes are cast out at the sea in the distance, where your gaze always seems to lie. 

His fingers itch in a desire to draw you, the art supplies Simon had picked up for him sitting unopened upstairs. It’s the first time he’s felt the desire to draw in weeks. Not since your heat when he’d sat there by your side, drawing to keep the thoughts away. The pictures are probably still up on his wall, the pieces he’d done to keep his own distress away. Had you laid there and stared at them after they left you? He can picture you laying there numbly, eyes glazed as you stare at them, picturing yourself far away. 

You don’t need his drawings now to imagine yourself far away. 

You’re still as a statue as you sit there, the thick blanket he’d picked up in Texas tucked around you. It warms his heart, even if he knows it was Christine who wrapped you up in it. The mug of tea beside you is still steaming in the cool air, untouched as it will remain until Christine eventually brings you back inside where you’ll recede to your room to sit in front of the large bay window to stare out at the sea. 

He wants to take you. 

He wants to load you up in the car and take you the short drive down the road to the beach. He wants to let you stand there in the sand, see the waves as they crash onto the shore. Hell, he’d let you walk into the water, let it soak your shoes and pants. Whatever you need to do, he’d let you do it. 

John would have his hide if he left with you like that. 

Simon would eat him alive. 

He won’t do that, though, mostly because he knows you wouldn’t be strong enough to make it down to the beach, nor stand there for a long period of time. Carrying you would be out of the question. You’d never let him that close. 

Instead he takes a gamble, getting as close as he dares as he slides open the door, stepping out into the cool morning. You don’t move, don’t even look up as he takes a seat in the chair next to you, the one Christine occupies when she’s out with you. He’d volunteered to watch you through the door to allow her some time to herself, something she hasn’t been getting much of. She’s been caring for you nearly 24/7, only getting breaks here and there while you sleep or nap, or on the rare occasion she trusts one of them to watch you. She never complains, but he knows she’s tired. Anyone would be after everything they’ve been through, after everything she’s had to see and experience over the last week and a half. 

It’s the least they can do, even if you won’t allow them to do more. They all wish they could. They wish they could ease some of your suffering, take some of the strain off of Christine’s shoulders. Kyle even went so far as to invite his sister to visit over for the weekend in hopes she might be able to lighten the load, and to see if you’ll allow her closer than you’re allowing them to get. 

He moves cautiously like he’s approaching a wild animal, not wanting to startle you and cause you more pain than you have been in. He can be a bull in a china shop, or he can be silent and deadly. He chooses something in the middle, making his footsteps just loud enough to be heard across the wooden planks of the porch, but he moves slowly enough he won’t startle you as he appears in your peripheral. 

Your gaze never leaves the horizon, focused and far away even as he takes a seat next to you. His mug of coffee is warm in his hands, fighting off the chill outside. It’s a natural response to the sudden temperature change after being inside in the warm house. He almost wishes he had his own blanket, but then again, he’s not sure he’ll be outside very long. 

He’s prepared for yelling, screaming, getting hit with your crutch as you tell him off, chasing him back inside. He’d almost prefer it over the eerie silence. He has to glance at you just to make sure you’re breathing, make sure the blanket is rising and falling over your chest. He follows your gaze out to the sea, sitting there silently as he gazes out at the dark blue water. Silence is hard for him. He can feel it throbbing in his ears, the ringing that fills his head when it’s quiet. He likes noise. He needs noise. 

He just wants to hear you speak again. 

He needs to hear you speak again. 

He wants to talk to you, he wants to say something, he wants to drop to his knees and beg forgiveness. He wants to feel your touch again, even if it’s just a brush of fingers across his hand. He wants to get something out of you, some kind of reaction. You’re an empty shell, a ghost of what you were. 

Tears fill his eyes as he stares out at the blue water. The silence is deafening as he sits there with you, still and quiet. 

He might as well be sitting alone. 

It’s the dead of night. The stars are out, or they would be if the clouds weren’t blocking them. It makes the world seem so much darker without their light. The fire is out, the curtains drawn closed. The only light is from the porch and the lights on the patio out back. The house is quiet, not even the hum of appliances filling the silence. 

Kyle’s breaths are quiet and even, finally asleep after laying awake for far too long. Their backs are turned towards each other, yet the double bed forces them close enough they can feel the warmth radiating from the other. It’s the only position they can sleep in, even if they’ve woken up cuddling a few times in the night. It’s almost as if their brains are subconsciously trying to force the bonds back, to force the healing. It’s as if their instincts are laughing at them for trying to deny what they want deep down. 

John lays there in the silence, his mind racing. He can’t sleep again for the fifth night in a row. He hasn’t been able to sleep since they left weeks ago on their mission to track down the missiles. No, it’s been longer than that. Not since you revealed the cameras to them. How long ago that seems now. How inconsequential it feels. If he knew back then what was going to happen, he would have changed a lot of things. 

You can’t undo what was done. You can only change what happens going forward. 

Things happened the way they happened. Now he has to make up for it. Now he has to prove himself not just as a capable alpha, but as a trustworthy human being. Your omega is screaming. He knows it. He had sensed it at dinner with your quiet sobs, the pain flooding your scent. He can still smell it, the sourness permeating his nostrils and sinking right into his brain. His alpha is still clawing at him angrily for just sitting there, for just letting it happen. 

Simon intervened. Simon saved you once again. 

He had barely comprehended the quick movement of Simon’s hand as he knocked the spoon out of your grip. He’d gotten soup on his hand, the droplets visible, yet he hadn’t moved as he sat there, letting it burn his skin. Better his than yours. He could almost hear Simon’s thoughts at that moment. 

What a good alpha Simon is. 

What a failure of an alpha John is. 

Your omega must be screaming in your mind, clawing at her cage. It’s almost like he can hear it rattling in his ears, reminding him of the pain he’s caused you. The pain brought on by his failures. 

Something is rattling in his ears, piercing through the silence. 

It is a scream. 

It’s your scream. 

NEXT ->

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[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 6) part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

-

And they say if it sways, you have to cut it off at the root.

You repeat that to yourself when you catch the way you glance out the kitchen window again, surreptitiously watching John. It’s hard to pull your eyes away. He walks over to the well to fetch water for you to do the dishes, the chore you’d elected to take when he offered you the choice between that and feeding the horses. It’s a fair compromise since you balk at the thought of getting anywhere near either of those beasts. 

Watching him bend over the well to lower the bucket down, his muscled shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and suspenders drawing tight against his back, makes you bite your lip. Then scowl. Then pull the curtain shut to block out the view.

You have to cut any gentleness off at the root. 

When he comes back, you step to the side without a word to let him pour the water into the wash basin, hot water from the teakettle and lye soap making the water already in the pan sudsy. In a sense, it’s not any different from anything you’ve done back home; the same two pans for washing and scalding, the same cake of soap, and the same dish towel to dry the dishes off at the end. The only difference is the man that pours the cool water into the basin to make it more comfortable for your hands. 

“I’ll be out back,” he tells you, before grabbing you around the waist and pulling you in close to press a close-mouthed kiss to the side of your head. You only scrunch your nose a little. “When you’re done, come get me. Got business in town.”

“Why do you need me to come with you?” you ask, lips cresting into a pout without a thought. You’d never considered yourself a bellyacher, but it’s almost second nature around John. “I can…I can stay and clean the house.”

“You saying I keep a messy home?” John asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You look pointedly down at the dirt he tracked into the kitchen after fetching the bucket of water from the well. “It could do with a spit shine.” 

That gets a laugh out of him, a bellow from deep in his belly. It shakes you to your bones. 

“Darling, I’ll be honest with you,” he says, turning you to face him before folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t trust you not to bolt like a runaway horse, and you’ll only wind up putting yourself in danger if you try to make a run for it out here.”

That expression makes your stomach twist. “Good to know you think of your wife as some scared filly.” 

“You talk a whole lot for a woman who’s been over my knee. Do we need to repeat that?”

When his tone goes stern, you lose the wedging piece of candor keeping you upright. Eyes widen and then narrow. He’s been patient despite your loose tongue, but when that patience slips, you can see the steel underneath his gentle exterior. It’s the true root of him. 

You clam up under his stare, sullen and begrudging. Smooth your dress down to have something to do with your hands. You’ve forgotten your place again. Side-stepped it out of intimacy or misplaced trust or naivety or forgetting, again, for the umpteenth time, that the world is not a place for women that open their mouths. So you keep it shut, trap every festering word behind your teeth. 

He must not like something he sees painted on your face because his brows draw closer together, frustration brewing anew in his eyes. The longer you stay quiet, the more irritated he grows, his nostrils flaring wide. 

“See that you come get me as soon as everything’s squared away in here,” John bites out, pointing a single, blunt finger at you. “Else I’ll come get you myself.”

And we wouldn’t want that, you think, surly. You hope it swims across your eyes. Blooms on your face. Perhaps it does. 

The lines around his mouth and eyes grow more defined when he smiles. His whole mustache moves with his smile, every part of his face expressing his satisfaction. It’s beyond infuriating. He taps you on the nose with his knuckle before leaving out the backdoor, not sparing you a backward glance. You nearly shake with indignation. 

It’s hard not to watch him out in the paddock while drying the dishes though, not with him set against the gilded sun. You inch the curtain slightly open, just enough of a gap to peer through. The Stetson shadows his face when he tilts his head up towards the sky, the hard edge of his jaw the only thing that meets your gaze. It’s not the first time you’ve seen a man out in the fields or pastures, but most of those have been at a distance, removed. Glimpsed briefly through the window while your train barreled on past acres of farmland. 

John cycles through the morning tasks of guiding the horses into the paddock by a lead fixed to their halter, replenishing the food trough, and fetching more water from the well to fill the water trough. His horses are striking in the sheer size of them; muscled shoulders and legs, and well-padded flanks. Most of the horses you’ve seen out west haven’t seemed nearly as well-fed, many whittled down to rib and hip bone. 

It says something about him, but you’re not ready to confront exactly what. You turn your attention back to the dishes, scrubbing the last of the dried butter and eggs at the bottom of the pan. It takes a little extra grit, but cleaning is a familiar chore—it’s one you’ve done all your life, what got you into this mess in the first place. 

You don’t like what you find when you finally venture out of the house to track him down. 

“I’m not getting on that thing.” 

You put your veritable foot down with that, arms straight and stiff by your sides, more out of worry than annoyance. You do also give a little stomp for good measure, but you’ll chalk that up to reflexes should John inquire. 

He doesn’t. Just stares down at you with unimpressed green eyes that haunt your days and nights now. Tells you without telling you that you’ll get on that horse, willing or not. 

It’s not for a lack of beauty that you can’t quite shake the nervousness they elicit in you. Buttercup, the one that John saddled up and now waits patiently to be mounted, keeps her head low as if sensing your disquiet, curiosity glimmering in her coal black eyes. Not even the animal curiosity of is this a friend or foe, but the curiosity that comes with pure trust, almost intelligible that way. 

John runs his hand down her smooth, buttery flank. “Did you enjoy yesterday’s walk?”

“I didn’t hate it.” Truth be told, you’d hardly been of a mind to notice it at all. Though your legs still ache from the walk back to John’s house, the walk itself had not seemed especially grueling in the moment. The mind can put aside quite a bit when it has something else to focus on. 

“Well, I’m not too keen to repeat it.” He leaves it at that, tightening a strap on Buttercup’s saddle in such a purposeful way that your shoulders tense. 

“I could meet you there,” you say, a touch desperately. Your stomach turns when you think about hoisting yourself up onto Buttercup’s saddle. It doesn’t seem possible. It’s not something you’ve ever done or ever considered doing. You remember horror stories of stableboys back home trampled under their hooves and stomped to death, kicks so powerful that they could break a fully grown man’s ribs or cave in his face. 

“My wife isn’t gonna wander into town by her lonesome like some vagrant,” John says disdainfully, almost scoffing. Insulted by the whole idea. “And you’re sure as hell not staying here alone, darlin’.”

“Well, figure something else out because I am not getting up on that thin—” You cut off on a yelp when he circles around you and abruptly lifts you up. Your head rushes at the sudden motion, legs flailing beneath you. 

“Quit squirmin’ like a damn barn cat. Little hellion,” John grits out, guiding your heel into the stirrup. “C’mon, you’re just side saddling, so you only need your butt on the saddle.” When he sets you down lightly onto the saddle, you stop wiggling around, acutely aware of the thousand pound horse beneath you. “There we go—that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” 

“I hate this,” you hiss, fingers clamped tight over the pommel. 

“Aw, darlin’, don’t go insulting Buttercup like that,” John chuckles, replacing your foot in the stirrup with his own.

You sit there stiff as a board, perched precariously on the saddle as he hoists himself up behind you. His sheer proximity doesn’t register right away. You’re too concerned with the moving beast under you, its ribs expanding and contracting with each breath. Unlike you, John is more than comfortable sitting astride the horse, not a smidgeon of tension in his body. You suck in a horrified breath when you feel him readjust himself before settling down more comfortably. 

He reaches around you to grab the reins, a sharp whistle signaling the horse to take her first stride forward, looping around the side of the house. Even the slow trot threatens to buck you off at first. You lurch forward with each step, certain that you’ll slip right off the saddle and onto the dusty ground below until John loops an arm around your waist and pulls you to his chest.

You grow stiffer in his arms somehow. Despite sleeping in the same bed the night before and sharing far too many kisses for your comfort or virtue, being pressed up tight against a man never gets easier. Perhaps if you’d been married for longer than a single day you’d be more at ease with the notion, but as of yet, it comes as a shock to the senses every time. 

You carefully avoid the thought that other married women wouldn’t be still in possession of their maidenhead so many hours after their wedding night. That’s none of your business.

The two of you navigate into town at a slow canter, allowing you to gradually acclimatize to the gait of a horse. Part of you remembers riding horses when you were younger, but that was a lifetime ago, long enough to shake the memory from your muscles. These days, you can barely remember the hands holding you steady, the ones that would’ve lifted you up onto the horse and helped you back down. Those people are faceless in your memories. 

John stays silent at your back, only tightening his hand around your hip when you slip the slightest bit when Buttercup picks up the pace, heading towards the familiar sight of the sheriff’s office. It draws a quick squawk out of you, neatly masked by a fake cough. His chuckle at that rumbles through you, clearly not buying it. Another lesson in humiliation. 

You manage not to flail as much when he gets off the horse and helps you down, even though you’re still not used to being manhandled so, particularly not in front of the townsfolk milling about and glancing over with undisguised interest. 

“Are you working today?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you while John ties Buttercup’s lead to the post outside the sheriff’s office. 

“Don’t exactly get many days off when you’re the only sheriff in the county,” John replies. “We’ve got a few deputies in every town, and a couple here, but it ain’t an easy gig.”

“How many deputies have you got here?” 

“Just the three. Simon, John, and Kyle. You met Simon the other day.” 

His name draws up the faint memory of the masked deputy from your wedding ceremony. “I remember,” you say flatly. There’s no lost love between you and anyone involved with that sham of a wedding. 

“Don’t hold that against him,” John smiles. “He’s a good ole boy. Can’t fault a man for following the boss’ orders.”

Watch me. You glance away lest he see that thought etched across your face. 

The town is bustling with activity this late in the morning. Steps and floorboards creak under the weight of boots coming and going. A man going by in a horse-and-buggy whistles sharply when he cracks the reins, his horse puffing out a low, frustrated grunt. 

Men hustle past you decked out in leather chaps and waistcoats, spats covering the half-boots of those not decked out in tall, spurred cowboy boots. There are far less women scampering about town than men, particularly not so close to the sheriff’s office, but you keep finding your eyes drawn to them. 

John grips you under the arm and swiftly pulls you back when you narrowly sidestep a mound of horse droppings left uncovered in the middle of the road. The smell only hits you a second later. 

“Well, that’s lovely,” you remark, deadpanned, putting your foot down deliberately a good distance away. 

“Wouldn’t need to complain about it if you just watched your step.”

“You know, this really would’ve been a nice day to just stay home,” you mutter, chastised enough not to say something sharp in return. 

While the smell makes your nose wrinkle, you have to admit that the air here is far less pungent than back home. In general, this bucolic town is far more pleasant in certain respects than the city you’d left behind in a haste. 

“Where do you want me to wait for you?” you ask, turning to face him now at the front steps of the sheriff’s office.

He frowns. “Wait for me?”

“While you work, I mean. Surely you don’t mean for me to sit inside all day twiddling my thumbs while you work.”

His mustache twitches with a smile. “Thought I’d show you around first—get you acquainted with the locals.”

The idea of mingling with the townsfolk doesn’t appeal to you, but you also can’t think of a good enough reason to refuse. Especially with the curious glances already being sent your way. You duck your head to stare down at your boots when you spot a group of other women clustered together and whispering to each other, their eyes trained on you. Somehow you’ve gone from being furniture in a room to being a source of local gossip, and it’s almost hard to believe that you miss being ignored. 

When you look back up at John, you find him still staring down at you, waiting patiently. Up close, the sunlight almost turns patches of his beard gold; he has a smattering of moles across his face, not the blush of freckles but rather a few dark spots by his nose. Aside from the tuft of hair under his bottom lip, his chin is mostly bare, and when he smiles, his whole face moves with it. You have to blink to snap yourself out of it. 

Your upper lip curls involuntarily when you say, “So you want to help me make friends?” 

“Well, seeing as I know most of ‘em, figured I’d be a help.”

“The job’s really not all that busy then, huh?” You really wish you could learn to shut your mouth, since it keeps getting you in trouble, but the barbs roll off your tongue so naturally. Luckily, it seems to amuse him now more than it did early this morning. 

“Guess life isn’t as exciting ‘round here as it is back in the city, but it has its days,” John chuckles. “Now come on; I’ll give you the tour.”

For some reason, you hadn’t pictured the town being quite so big, but during your walk, you realize you’ve vastly underestimated the true size of it. Though not anywhere near as ostentatious as the cities back east, the sheer breadth of it eclipses anything from back home. It’s spread out on an incomparable scale, the mountains in the background stretching out along the horizon like the skeletal remains of a giant long since dead and decayed.  

It’s not the ramshackle town you envisioned when you stepped off the train the other day, despite the wooden facades and their brightly painted signs. You almost wish you had more time just to admire the craftsmanship, but John leads you from store to store like he’s on a mission.

He seems most interested in towing you around like some prized mare, all trussed up and clean from your bath the night before. You meet so many people that their names and faces all begin to blur together. The worst offense of all is that it makes you lean on John for support, looking up at him again and again for reassurance whenever you can’t answer a question or your answer triggers a moment of awkward silence. 

Those moments come aplenty too. The few people nosey enough to ask you about your life back in the city find themselves on the butt end of a cheerfully delivered lie from John. It unnerves you at first, seeing how comfortable he is with lying. He doesn’t even hesitate for a second when recounting your previous life as a schoolteacher in Connecticut prior to your engagement.

Perhaps it’s not a lie though. You don’t know the extent to which he and his original betrothed corresponded. Certainly not enough for him to suspect you of not being her, but maybe she’d spun him that story. Or maybe it had been the truth. All this time you’d thought that John had been swindled by some con artist using desperate men to fund her lifestyle, but maybe somewhere between here and Connecticut, there’s an unmarked grave with the corpse of the woman that John had intended to marry. 

That makes you feel guilty somehow, like you’ve taken something not meant for you. Even if you hadn’t wanted it—in fact, been forced into taking it. 

You swallow that thought when John leads you into the general store. Your eyes bug at the sight of a blonde haired woman in khaki cloth knickerbockers stocking the shelves, who turns at the sound of the door creaking open, the sharp look on her face melting away at the sight of John.

The warmth in her face infuriates you more than it should. You have no right to feel this way—or, some right, but you resent the fact that you do as well. 

“Hi John,” she greets. Her voice is deeper than you anticipated, springtime crisp like a babbling brook. 

“Laswell,” John greets, scooping his arm around your side until he can palm the side of your hip, dragging you in close. You stumble into him, catching yourself with a hand on his chest. Your neck and face go hot when Laswell’s eyes turn on you, curiosity glinting in them. 

“Your lady finally showed up then,” she surmises. “I’ll be honest, I was starting to think you made her up. Told the boys to think about forcing you into an early retirement.”

John huffs at that. His fingers tighten at your waist when Laswell says your lady, as if the words alone make it fact. Speak it into being. The metal burns against your ring finger. In a sense, it is fact, despite the subterfuge. You wonder if it would hold up in court, but out here, it’s real enough. 

“Well, she’s very real, as you can tell.” He gives you a little shake with the hand on your waist. “Say hi, darlin’.”

If looks could kill, yours would be pit-viper venom. You’d leave behind a festering puncture mark and a body in the throes of envenomation. “Excuse me?”

Your attitude might come at a cost this time because he looks unamused at your back talk in front of an audience. “Darlin’.” It’s said like a warning. 

You bite your tongue instead of lashing out. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Kate Laswell; I own this little shop,” she says, introducing herself and stepping forward to hold out her hand. You have to step forward to take it, pulling you out of John’s arms. It feels familiar being on your own, certainly more natural than being constantly at John’s side the way you have for almost two days now. It’s also a bit cold after having John’s warmth at your back or side at all times. 

There’s a moment when you realize that Kate is the first person you’ve had to introduce yourself to, John having introduced you to everyone else you’d come across. It hovers on the tip of your tongue when you realize that you could just say your real name, and you find yourself torn between setting it free and the odd fear of John’s reaction. 

You chicken out at the last second, giving Kate the same name as the one John introduced you by to everyone else in town. 

“He might growl like a bear, but you’ll get used to that,” she says, winking.

You frown. Awfully familiar talk for someone who isn’t his wife. Why should she know that? 

You make yourself push that thought away, reminding yourself again that it doesn’t matter. It’s none of your concern. 

“He’s been a gentleman,” you croak instead, smile so thin that it might as well be a grimace. 

A shout from the bar across the street startles you, drawing your attention away from the conversation. John stills too. A series of raised voices puts him on alert, and then someone inside the bar must fire a gun because the violent crack of one makes you scream, the noise pulled involuntarily from your chest. 

“Stay here,” John growls, his pistol already drawn. He’s out the door before you can respond, darting across the street towards the bar and shouldering the door open so hard that it rattles in its frame. You watch everything happen through the window of the general store with your heart in your throat. 

“Good Lord,” you whisper, hand over your mouth. Kate stands beside you in a similar manner, her eyebrows pinched in concern. 

The thought doesn’t even occur to you that now would be the perfect time to make a break for it, with John busy across the street. Your feet are rooted in place; you doubt you’d be able to take so much as a single step towards the door. 

There’s precious little that you can see through the grit-lined bar windows, not as dusty and dirty as they are, but you can hear the commotion from inside. Raised voices and the sound of breaking glass. It makes you flinch, heart galloping at an even faster pace. Like harness horses on the Freehold Raceway. It’s not long before you see a large, masked man hightailing it down the road towards the bar, dust clouding around his boots with each heavy step. 

You recognize him almost instantly as the man from your wedding, the one that signed your marriage license. John’s man—Simon. He nearly takes the bar door off its hinges when he throws it open, barely in there a second before he and John come out each with a man in hand, both already handcuffed and looking roughed up They drag them stumbling down the dirt road towards the sheriff’s office, Simon half-dragging another man whose white button-down is slowly saturating with red blood oozing out of a gunshot wound in his belly.

“Shouldn’t they call a doctor for that man?” you ask Kate in a frantic voice, whipping around to face her. 

She nods. “They probably will once they’ve got the four of them locked up. Doctor probably heard that anyway—he’ll be on his way, I bet.”

“On his way already?”

“There’s only one doctor around here. And not much else sounds like a gunshot.”

“Does that happen a lot around here?” You don’t know why the thought makes you nervous, but there’s a cramp in your belly and a sweat building up on the back of your neck and your hands itch to grab something. When you swallow, it almost doesn’t go down. 

“It’s not uncommon. I reckon it’s not something you’re used to?”

You purse your lips. “I’ve seen a dead body before.” You don’t know why that comes out so defensively, like a slight that’s been levied against you. There’s no easy way to dispel the myth in everyone’s mind that you come from a life of comfort and ease, with delicate hands fit for delicate work. You curl your hands into fists at the thought, conscious of the old scars and calluses built up over years of scrubbing and cleaning. If she were to look down, she wouldn’t see the well-kept hands of a lady. 

When Kate quirks an eyebrow, you realize that your response had nothing to do with her question. “Well, look at you.”

When John and Simon disappear into the jailhouse, the door swinging shut behind them, you sway on your feet for a second, feeling oddly unbalanced. Something about the sight of the man’s blood leaves you feeling woozy, taking the chair that Kate offers you when she sees the way you rock back on your heels. 

“Let me get you something to drink,” Kate offers, brows now furrowed sympathetically at the pathetic sight you must be. “I’m sure you got a little fright thinking of your husband facing down a man with a gun, but I’m afraid that comes with marrying a sheriff. There’s danger everywhere, you know.”

What you don’t say is that your lightheadedness came not just from the sight of the man with the blood leaking from a wound in his stomach, but the grim look on your husband’s face as he carted away the man responsible, eyes hard as steel. No sympathy for the man in his hands. Only another criminal to be tossed away in a jail cell. The punishment for making another man bleed.

Your hands shake in your lap, but you don’t say that. Instead, you smile weakly and take the glass of water from her hands when she comes back from filling it at the sink. “You’re right. Just a little fright.”

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 7 - Kamikaze love

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 7.1k words. A nice easy heat that's what everyone could use, no interruptions, just a few days of mindless sex and some time to relax.

CW: MDNI +18 explicit content. a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes (heat, knotting, claiming), gaslighting, brief mentions of needles, hurt/comfort, angst, sex, PiV sex, fingering, knotting, brief mentions of blood, alcohol.

AN: Heat time baby, the best part of every a/b/o fic amiright. I honestly don't know who had more fun with this chapter me writing it or @rememberwren editing it. XD

Previous - masterlist -next AO3

Enjoy <3

You wake in John’s bed with a pit in your stomach. You’re hungry but your head feels fuzzy, and you’re not quite aware. You need to see Dr. Miller to get your last shot, because with the way you feel, you’re pretty sure your heat will be tomorrow. John is not in the room but you can smell him, the scent goes straight to your head making your body tingle as you pull yourself out of the bed. 

You go to your room changing into something comfy and heading to the lab. No one is around. You’re not sure what time it is. You're cold, colder than normal when you step out into the fresh air. Shivers run up and down your body and you pull your arms around your chest. When you get to the lab the place is empty. Dr. Piper's office door is open and you go over to look. She’s not in there. You turn to head up the stairs when the door opens behind you. 

“Hey,” Dr. Miller says. You turn to see him with a coffee in his hands. His nostrils flare, you must still smell of sex. All you can smell in the air is alpha. It makes your head spin and you bump into a table. Your body is moving towards him without you thinking. You miss John, you need him right now. 

“I think my heat might start tomorrow,” you say as he walks past you. The smell of his alpha makes your mouth water as an ache forms in your stomach.

“Let’s get this done quickly then,” he says, and you follow him over to a desk. 

“Where is everyone?” you ask as you take your jacket off. 

“Did you not hear? General Shepherd is making a decision on what’s going to happen, with you, the base, 141, everything. He fired almost all the staff. It’s just a skeleton crew and scientists,” he explains as you roll your sleeve up. Why does this feel like it’s your fault? 

“What do you think he’s going to say?” 

“I heard some things from the other scientists.” His hand is cold on your skin. 

“What did you hear?” you ask, watching as he prepares the needle. 

“Well there are a lot of people here who still support Professor Hale’s vision. Not everyone wants a cure,” he says, and you nod. You’re not even sure if you want a cure, but you’ll go wherever your pack goes. 

“He did love you, you know,” Dr. Miller says pulling your sleeve down. You look at him, confused. You can’t think straight right now. His alpha is too strong in the air and it’s making you woozy. 

“Professor Hale,” he says. 

“He had a funny way of showing it,” you scoff.

“Well, some would call it tough love. You weren't exactly the most well behaved omega.” He smiles, rolling away on his stool. “Besides, people do horrible things for the people they love. Look at your pack, they’ll kill for you if they had to. They have killed for you.” You look at him, now you’re even more confused. Who have they killed for you?

“Do you think I should go back to the Professor? I know it would make their lives easier,” you say, a wave of guilt coming over you. You don’t want to be a burden to them. Dr. Miller is right, you’re not the best omega, you definitely pushed the Professor’s buttons from time to time. You stand up off the stool, but your legs feel like jelly and you have to brace yourself on the table. 

“I think you should do what's best for your pack. Sometimes that means making tough choices, choices we don’t like.” 

You nod, he smiles at you before turning back to his laptop.

“What do I do now?” you ask.

“I’ll see you again after your heat.” He smiles. You nod. Your head is pounding now. The shiver running up and down your body feels electric, and you can smell honey in the air.

“Do you think the hormone blocker will work?” you ask.

“We’ll see.” He nods and you sigh, leaving the building. The cool air makes your already foggy head spin more. You can still smell his alpha. You’re stumbling down the path thinking back to what he said. The Professor loved you? He had a funny way of showing it.

You stop in your tracks half way back to the barracks. There are dark clouds moving in, and it’s probably going to rain again. You can’t go back to the barracks. You need to think; you need a clear mind. 

You can’t do that when all you can smell in the building is alpha. Just thinking about John and the time you spent together yesterday has your body throbbing. You head in a different direction, and before you know where you’re really going you’ve found yourself in the abandoned building you were doing training in a few days ago. You don’t even remember walking here. Your head is stuffy, making you dizzy as you walk through back into the upstairs room with the wooden desk. 

You don’t know how many hours have passed but the sky looks different, and your body is stiff as you’re leaning against the desk. Your limbs feel heavy, and the pit in your stomach has turned into a burn. You shiver as a breeze blows through the open window, it stings your cheeks.

You bring your hand up to feel, and they’re wet. You've been crying. You can’t remember what happened. You were with the doctor, then you ended up here. You focus on remembering what you talked to him about, but your mind is drawing a blank, and all you feel is sadness and guilt.

The Professor. He wants you back, and there's a man here to take you. Dr. Miller was right, people do stupid things for the people they love. Love? Do you love John, or is it just because you’re a pack? Thinking about John makes the ache burn inside you deeper than anything you’ve felt before.

You can’t think straight remembering his scent, leather, the ground after rain. You look out the window watching the sky and you can hear the rain starting to fall and the distant rumble of thunder. You need more time to think. You lean back on the desk, closing your eyes. 

“Found her.” The smell of alpha hits your nose hard and fast. You’re shivering as you see Simon walk into your view. You look at him confused and dizzy as you try to focus on him. He calls your name, bending down in front of you. Your body is stiff, legs numb. His hand shakes your shoulder. You don’t know what to say. There’s throbbing deep in your core as his scent overwhelms you, all you can smell is alpha. 

“Alpha,” you whine reaching out for him, his eyes twinkling in the low light. The sky is full of shades of pink and orange. You project your scent out but all you can smell is honey, you can taste it in the air.

His eyes go wide and he stands back up as another set of footsteps come into the room. You smell beta now, heavy, cutting through your scent. It’s Johnny who kneels down in front of you. 

“Hey lass, gave us a right scare you did.” He smiles, reaching out and hooking his arm around you, pulling you to your feet. Your legs feel like jelly and as soon as you go to take a step you stumble. Johnny’s arm stays tight around you though, keeping you steady as you slowly walk out the building. 

“Is the General going to take me away?” you ask, your throat dry. 

“Never, is that what you’ve been worried about? Is that why you hid?” he asks. You shake your head. You watch as Simon, who had been walking in front of you, stops at the entrance to the barracks. 

“I’ll go, tell Price I'll talk to him later.” Johnny nods at him then helps you up the steps into the building. As soon as you get in you’re hit with what feels like a million senses at once. The building is warm and your cold body almost immediately starts to shiver. You can smell worry in the air and alpha. It’s stronger than Simon, and it immediately has your head pounding. 

Then there are the voices. Dr. Piper and John get up off the table coming over to you, but you can’t hear what they’re saying. Between the throbbing headache and the shakes you’re struggling to focus. Dr. Piper's cold hands come to your face, and the shock causes you to take in a deep breath clearing your head. 

“You’re burning up hun, how are you feeling?” she asks. You don’t know what to say. Your eyes move over to John, he's standing behind her with his arms crossed. 

“Alpha,” you call out to him reaching for him, your body moving before you realise it. Dr. Piper moves out the way as your hand stretches out, and he takes a step forward and Johnny transfers you into his arms. 

“Si said he’ll catch up with you later,” Johnny says. You close your eyes, letting John’s scent relax you. 

“She needs to take a shower, it’ll bring her fever down,” Dr. Piper says. You project your scent into the air, honey and strawberries. It makes you smile. 

“Is it her heat?” John asks, swallowing hard.

“The early stages, yes, but she’s got herself worked up for some reason. It’s important she stays calm and we get this fever under control. Stay with her, the last thing we need is her running off again. I will talk to Lieutenant Riley,” you hear Dr. Piper say as John peel's you off his chest. 

“Thank you,” John says, turning towards the bathroom. You hear Johnny and Dr. Piper leave. 

“You had us worried, you can’t just wander off like that, what if you got hurt?” he says. 

“I’m sorry,” you reply. You’re just happy to be near him. He sighs, leading you towards the bathroom. You feel like you're floating as you strip your clothes making your way over to the showers. You turn it up hot letting the water soak you.

You can still feel a chill in the air when you feel John step up behind you. His scent fills your nose and it immediately relaxes you as you lean against him. He holds you up as he reaches over, turning the temperature of the shower down. 

“It’s cold,” you protest.

“It’s not cold, you have a fever,” he says, pressing you further into the shower so the water can run over your whole body. 

“What are you worried about?” he asks. You sigh, you can’t remember. 

“Worried about the heat,” you mumble, turning in his arms.

“Nothing to be worried about,” he says as you try to nuzzle your face in his neck, his scent is going straight to your head. It's been so long since you’ve had anything you can call a ‘normal’ heat. Maybe this is normal, you feel like you just want to cling onto John and never let go. His hands run up your arms and he moves you back a little, the water is cold on your burning skin. 

“You’ll be fine, I'll take care of you. We all will.” His hand comes up to your face, his thumb brushes your chin as he pulls your face up to look at him. 

He leans down and kisses you, it's slow and soft and makes your whole body tingle. The ache is burning inside you now, all you can smell in the air is honey. He breaks away, turning you around, forcing you to stay in the shower until you’ve cooled down.

He leaves to bring you clean clothes and pajamas. You’re tired when you leave, following John blindly as you dry yourself and change. He leads you into his room. You don’t need to be told anything, you just climb into bed. He doesn’t even have time to get into bed with you. You fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

Your body is burning. 

Sweat has made your pajamas and hair stick to you. Each point of contact burns. You grip your top trying to pull it off your chest, anything to give you a break from the overstimulation. John is not in the bed, but you can smell him. You need him. Before you know it you’re kicking the bedding off. Your thighs rub together trying anything to quell the ache throbbing between your legs. 

It doesn’t work though, too much slick, there’s no friction even as you pull your sodden shorts and underwear off. John could be working, it could be hours before he’s back, your top brushes your nipples as you turn in the bed causing you to moan out. You grip it, pulling it off over your head. It takes you more effort than you thought and you have to lay back down panting as you catch your breath. 

When you can move again you roll to the other side of the bed rubbing your legs together. You can smell him on his pillow which just makes the pain worse. You roll again but this time you misjudge the distance and you roll off the bed. Your head slams painfully on the floor. You cry out, trying to prop yourself up.

The room door opens and it makes you jump pulling your body into the fetal position. You can smell the alpha in the air. It must be John in the doorway, but you’re too confused to tell, still trying to comprehend how you ended up on the floor. 

You hear him call Dr. Piper. Definitely John. You relax, going back to prop yourself up so you can make your way over to him. You need him, you need to feel him, you want him inside you. 

“Alpha,” you call as another figure walks into the room. There’s a strong smell of beta now. You look up through your hazy eyes seeing Dr. Piper bend down in front of you. She presses her cold hands on your cheeks. She doesn't say anything, just brushes the hair stuck to your forehead. 

“Present for your alpha,” Dr. Piper says as she stands back up. The words are familiar to your ears. Your body is already moving, pressing your face and chest into the floor. You thrust your hips up, slick dripping down your thighs, you’re desperate to feel his hands on you, desperate for him to be inside you.

“Please alpha,” you whine, projecting your scent into the room. Dr. Piper knows she can’t stick around for too long. As soon as John gives in he’ll become aggressive to anyone who isn’t his pack.  

“Don’t be afraid to hurt her,” she says

“I’m not going to hurt her.”

“She won't remember.” 

“I don’t care.”

“She needs you, she’ll do whatever it takes to get you,” Dr. Piper sighs, backing up. 

“I’m not going to hurt her,” John repeats. You don't care about him hurting you or not. You need him.

“Don’t think about it too much, your body knows what to do,” she says, taking a step back to the door. “The betas will be in to check on you both.”

John is almost not listening, watching as you back up towards him. Your scent is thick in the air, sweet, so sweet it has John’s mouth watering. 

“Please alpha,” you call again. You can smell him in the air. You know he’s near, you need the pain to stop, you need his knot. You’re being a good omega waiting for him and presenting yourself. You feel his hand rest on the bottom of your back and it sends shivers up your spine. His hand travels down to squeeze your ass. Yes yes , his warm hand is on you, you back up more for him moaning into the floor. His scent is strong in the air now, alpha on full display. 

“On the bed.” His voice is low, rumbling from the back of his throat. You follow his instructions climbing up on the bed and laying down. You’re rubbing your thighs together trying to get any sort of friction but there’s no release. 

“Alpha,” you whine. “Please.” 

Your scent is strong in the air but so is his, and it fills your nose just making you more desperate. You arch your back calling out for him again. You can see him in your haze, you know he’s there. He’s taking his clothes off pulling his shirt over his head and stepping out his shoes.

Your eyes scan over him, the fuzziness dispersing for a few seconds as you take in his bare skin. You hear his belt drop to the floor. He’s completely naked now. Your mouth fills with saliva and you lick your lips. You want to reach out and feel him but he leans over you, his hands finding your face.

“I’ve got you.” His pupils dilate as one of his hands runs down your body to your clit. It’s almost too much, and you almost cum just from the brief contact. You can only smell him in the air now, it’s overwhelming, making you dizzy as his hand rests on your abdomen.

His lips meet yours. You’re drinking him up, he tastes amazing, his tongue pressing against yours. He pulls away from the kiss, and you moan in protest, your lips tingling from the lack of contact.

You reach out for him and he sits you up climbing into the bed and kneeling down behind you. He scoops his hands under your armpits pulling you up against his chest as he leans back on the headboard. You can feel his cock between your legs, you want to reach down and grab it, squirming in his arms as he rests you down on his knees. 

“Alpha,” you breathe, one of his hands moving down to your clit. His cock twitches, and it makes you whimper. You want it, to feel it, you want it to be inside of you. His breath is hot in your ear as he shushes you.

You tip your head back moaning as he coats his fingers in your slick. He presses his fingers into you and you clench around him, his fingers feel good but his cock would be better. You need his knot, you need him to fill you up.

“Alpha, I need you,” you say, but it just makes him push his fingers into you deeper, his tongue running along your neck. 

“What do you need?” he growls. His alpha is on full display, you let it fill your nose, making your mouth water. 

“Need your knot.” His fingers leave you and you gasp as he presses them onto your clit. You moan, arms reaching out to grip the bedding. You’re so sensitive it only takes a few seconds before you’re cumming on his hand. More slick gushes out as you feel his cock twitch as he moves, covering his fingers in your slick. 

The wet sounds of him pumping his cock isn’t helping quell the ache. You lean forward so he can line himself up with your entrance easier. You bend right over, pressing your hands down on the bed. One of his hands stays around your waist holding you in position as he slowly presses into you. The relief is instantaneous, and you let out a long moan as stars appear in your vision.

You’re almost not paying attention to anything but the satisfaction of having your alpha filling you up. You clench around him, his hands gripping around your stomach pulling you back against him. You didn't think he could go deeper but he does as he grips you tighter to his body. He moves you like you weigh nothing as you moan for him, letting your scent fill the air. 

“Such a good omega,” he breathes, his lips running over your neck. It makes you shiver, and the thought of him claiming you makes you clench around him again. He moans, his breath hot on your neck as he bucks his hips into you. 

“Alpha—” You’re going to cum, it’s too much. You don’t have time to warn him as you cum around him, slick gushing out as he throbs inside you. 

“Christ, love,” he says through gritted teeth. The smell of leather is filling the air now, and it makes you dizzy as you come down from the orgasm. A second later you’re desperate again. There’s no relief, you need his knot, it's the only thing that will make the pain stop. 

“Need your knot alpha,” you beg. You don’t wait for him, fucking yourself on his cock as he pants behind you. His hands move up from your hips to your breasts pinching your nipples.

“Yes, yes,” whatever you need to say to get his knot. After a few more seconds his hands grip your hips again as he takes over for you pulling you up and down on him. His nose is nuzzled into your neck. You know he’s going to claim you, his tongue running over your scent gland as he breathes you in.

He moans, pressing little kisses on your neck as you bounce on him. You’re not thinking, you can’t. Knot, knot, it’s all you want. Be a good omega and let him take you, when you’ve done a good enough job you’ll get his knot. Everything feels too good and not enough at the same time. 

“You going to be a good omega and let me claim you? Make you mine?” His voice is rumbling, feral in your ear. You’ve never heard him like this before, it makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck as you breathe him in, getting drunk off his scent. You couldn’t say no even if you wanted to. Your nails dig into your thighs.

“Yes alpha, I want to be your omega.” The response is almost automatic. He hums into your neck, his cock driving into you faster. He’s close again, you can tell, the pheromones in the air are lulling you out, and you don’t know how much more you can take before you’re not aware anymore. Then it happens. His tongue traces up to your scent gland, and you tip your head forward as his teeth sink into you. You yelp in pain. Your whole body tingles, and then you black out. 

You come to a few seconds later, pain throbbing at the base of your skull. 

“You okay?” he asks, supporting your body against his chest. You nod, your mouth feeling suddenly dry. Your adrenaline is spiked, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. You relax back into his arms. You can’t tell if you feel different or not. You can feel the blood trickling down your back. The wound will already be healing and closing up. 

You want to touch it, to feel the indents his teeth will have created. You don’t get a chance. He maneuvers your body down onto the bed. You feel empty, the adrenaline wearing off and the ache coming back. Everything will go hazy soon, so you enjoy the feeling of being aware of what’s going on around you as John pulls you into his arms. 

After a few minutes things are starting to get hazy again. The burning is back, the ache deep in your core. You need him, need his knot. You’re backing up against him, and you feel his hard cock pressing against you. His hand comes down, his fingers running over your entrance. You gasp as he pushes two fingers in, and you tighten round them, letting him press against your g-spot. It’s not enough though.

“You feel so good, such a good omega. Perfect omega,” he says into your ear. It makes a warmth bubble up inside you. You moan at the praise, his fingers working faster. Before you know it you’re cumming around him. You pant as he sucks on your neck, his tongue brushing past your mark. It sends tingles all down your spine. You’re his omega now, and he’s your alpha. His scent is strong, his fingers still working inside you. He’s not going to stop until you’re cumming again and you don’t care. You’re being a good omega for him, and then he will give you his knot. 

“Please—” you beg. He hums, taking his fingers out and pressing them on your clit. You moan. Your body shakes as he rubs your swollen sensitive bud until you’re cumming again on his hand. Your body shakes as he works you through the orgasm. The smell of leather hits your nose as you push up against him. This time he gives you what you want, lining himself up with your entrance. 

“Please, John. I need you.” You are begging again, but you don’t really care. You’re desperate for him. His hands keep your hips in place as he pushes inside of you. You feel so full clenching around him as he drives into you. 

“Such a good omega, my omega,” he growls into your ear. Warmth blooms inside you, you are his omega. 

“Your omega,” you purr as his fingers dig into your hips. The repetitive movements of John bucking his hips into you are making your head spin. You’re getting close and this time you need his knot. 

“I need your knot alpha,” you beg. 

“You can have my knot, you’ve been such a good omega,” his voice is grumbling as he nips at your neck. It sends shivers down your spine as his tongue traces your mark. You relax for him, letting him move you however he wants to. You lay there as he wraps his arms around you pressing you against him.

You bring your legs up which makes him feel tighter inside you. His thrusts become longer and deeper, hitting a new spot inside that you’ve never felt before. When you cum around him you see fucking stars he moans and he kisses your neck, pulling your hips down as he cums. He’s throbbing inside you as fills you up. 

“Such a good girl, good omega,” he pants into your neck. He kisses the mark he left. You finally feel satisfied, his knot inside you. You relax up against him as he reaches down pulling the duvet over you. You hum. You want to thank him but you don’t have the energy. You close your eyes letting out a sigh as his arms wrap around you. It won’t be long before you’re asleep.  

It’s 12 hours since your heat has started, and Kyle stands outside John’s room. He knows he has to be careful, he needs to get at least some water into John without startling you, and he needs to check your mark— if John has claimed you. Dr. Montgomery did say it could happen on the second day. The noises from the room had settled down a few hours ago, and it seemed like a better time than any to check. He opens the door slowly. Your scent is heavy in the air. The whole building smells of honey, sweet strawberries and leather. 

He walks in as quietly as he can. You and John are both asleep. You look so peaceful, John’s arms wrapped around you, your back pressed against his chest, the duvet pulled over you both. Kyle can’t tell if you’re knotted but he assumes you are.

He walks over to the pack of water bottles on the floor and takes one out before going over to John and gently shaking him awake. John opens his eyes, squinting for a few seconds before propping himself up in the bed. You moan as he moves, your scent filling Kyle's nose. John’s arm squeezes you closer. Kyle hands him a water bottle and he takes his arm off you to open it, gulping it down. 

“How do you feel?” Kyle asks. 

“Fine, how’s things out there?” he asks. 

“Nothing to report, Johnny and Simon have been keeping themselves busy.”  

“What about Shepherd?” he asks, handing the empty bottle back to Kyle.

“He went to Seattle a few hours ago, said he would be back after her heat.” 

John sighs. Kyle waits for a few seconds, handing John a protein bar. He doesn't need to worry about getting food into you for the first few days, but Johnny will need to get you to drink later. You shuffle in the bed backing up to John who moans with half the bar in his mouth. His eyes go glossy, Kyle doesn’t have long before John will be out of it again. 

“Did you claim her?” he asks. John nods. His hand comes up to the back of your neck and you stur, protesting as John’s fingers touch your neck. He shushes you gently pulling your hair out the way. Kyle wasn’t sure what he was expecting but when he looks all he can see is the indents of teeth in your skin. It’s not red or swollen which is what Dr. Montgomery told him to look out for. John puts your hair back down as you whine.

Kyle needs to leave. He's done his job and he can smell John’s scent getting stronger. John’s shushing you as Kyle leaves, carefully shutting the door as quiet as he can. He’ll update Dr. Montgomery then get some rest. It’ll probably be a few hours before you’ll be active again. 

It’s another late night. The rain is heavy and storms have been rolling in. The forecast is looking bleak for the next few days which hasn’t helped with Simon's mood. He hasn’t been able to get out much. Price didn’t leave him much work to do and with Shepherd leaving, he doesn't have any responsibilities. Johnny meets up with him around midday and updates him with how things are going. Then they either hit the gym or the range for a couple of hours. 

He can’t tell if the hormone blocker is working, but it doesn’t help that Johnny always smells of you. Strawberries and honey. It gets his heart racing. Johnny doesn’t seem to mind when the sparring session or the range training is cut short by Simon dragging Johnny into whatever room he can find. Bending him over whatever surface he sees, fucking him while he gets drunk on your lingering scent. You’re plaguing his mind.

He misses you more than he thought he would. Maybe it’s because you’re in heat and he swears he can smell you and John from his room on the other side of the base. It’s always the jealousy that gets him, knowing John claimed you and he never had a chance.

The good thing about the sleepless nights is that he knows he can always find Dr. Montgomery working late. She’s always in the lab which is the closest he will get to the barracks. Even then if he stands in the right spot he can smell you. Maybe it’s just his mind playing tricks on him or the fact that his senses seem hypertuned to pick you up, but it’s all he gets. 

Tonight is no different, sitting with Dr. Montgomery as she explains something about genetics. He likes listening to her talk, it’s a good distraction, and it makes him feel closer to you in a strange way. He knows she has to keep her distance too. She’s not part of their pack. If John senses her, he’ll get defensive, and he could end up hurting himself or you.

“How are you holding up?” she asks when she’s finished with her explanation. 

“Fine,” he lies. She hums. Maybe she can tell, but he doesn’t care and she never presses him about it. 

“The first few days are the worst, things will calm down tomorrow,” she says, sighing. It’s been two days already, a long 48 hours.  

“Getting much rest? You seem tired,” she states. 

“Plenty.” 

“Want to talk about it?” she asks. He looks at her. Her expression is soft, her green eyes look darker in the low light. She smiles at him. 

“We found Hale,” he says, looking away. She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. 

“When? Ho—Where?” she asks, eyes wide with shock. Simon can smell fear in the air. 

“A few days ago. He’s in Seattle,” he says. 

“Seattle, that’s—he’s just over an hour away.” She’s stood up now running her hand through her hair. Simon turns to look at her. 

“Does she know?” 

“No, Price thought it was best to wait until after her heat.” 

She sighs sitting back down. 

“She’s safe here,” Simon says. 

“Is that where General Shepherd is? With Hale?” 

“We think so.”

“He could bring him here,” Dr. Montgomery says. There’s a shake in her voice. 

“It’s a possibility.” He shrugs. Dr. Montgomery scoffs. 

“You’re not very good at putting people at ease,”  she says, shaking her head. Simon watches her click through on the computer. 

“ What the hell? ” she mutters. 

“What?” He looks over at the screen. 

“Someone's scrubbed all my files.” She presses something and an error comes up. “What does that mean?” 

“You’re not high enough security level,” Simon says, scooting closer to her. “Let me.” He pulls the keyboard over to him entering his log in, but the same error pops up.

“That’s almost all the research you guys got from the bunker. Not to mention all the work we’ve been doing over the past few weeks,” she says, clicking again only for the same error. He pulls the keyboard to him again. 

“Don’t tell Price I know this.” He tries logging in with Price’s login. This time a new error pops up.

“Fuckin’ Shepherd.” 

“What does that mean?” she asks, looking at it.

“It means we need Shepherd’s permission to see it.” He leans back on the stool. 

“How the hell are we supposed to continue with research?” she asks, sounding frustrated. 

“Don’t you have a local copy?” 

“This is the local copy. Everything is saved into this weird cloud system. It sucks.” She slaps her hand on the desk. “What are we going to do?” 

“I don’t know,” he replies, watching her click away from the error. She closes the tab down. 

“Let me check what paperwork we have, at least then we can work on something.” She gets up heading to her office. Simon watches then looks back over at the computer. He logs Price out as Laswell walks into the building. 

“I was looking for you on the other side of the base. Kyle said you might be here.” She walks over to him. Dr. Montgomery walks back out of her office with a folder in her hands.

“We need to talk, there’s been a development.” Simon can tell she wants to talk alone. He looks over at Dr. Montgomery as she walks round to her spot next to him. 

“What is it?” he asks, not moving. 

“General Shepherd's new security detail for Professor Hale.” She hands him a piece of paper. It’s an email. He reads it and a pit forms in his stomach.

“Shadow Company, Graves will get his grubby hands everywhere.” He sighs standing up and handing her the paper back. “When was this sent?” 

“Couple of hours ago,” Laswell says.

“What’s Shadow Company?” Dr. Montgomery asks. He turns to look at her, thinking for a second if he should tell her or not.

“Private militia group,” he says, turning back to Laswell.

“Wait, so that means Hale's going to have his own personal army?” Dr. Montgomery asks. He doesn’t answer. This is down to him to sort out. 

“Get Gaz and Soap,” he says to Laswell. She nods leaving the room.

“Still think she's safe?” she asks. He turns to look at her, her hands on her hips. He can read the ‘I told you so’ on her face. No, she’s not safe, not any more . 

“She’s safe,” he says. She has to be.  

Professor Hale pours out two glasses of whisky as he waits for the inevitable knock on his door. Keeping on General Shepherd's good side is the most important thing right now, if he wants any chance of getting into the base.

He brings the glass up to his nose smelling the woody tones letting the strong smell of alcohol calm him. Even though he's expecting it, the knock at the door still makes him jump. He’s been on edge since reluctantly agreeing to work with the government. He still fears they will charge in and put a stop to everything. 

“Come in,” he calls. For now he has to trust them. General Shepherd walks in with another man following behind him. They could be the polar opposite of each other, one is old and fat, the other looks fit and young. 

“I’m so glad you agreed to meet with me. I didn’t know you were bringing a guest,” he says, offering him the glass. He accepts and Hale motions them both to sit down on the couch.

“This is Commander Phillip Graves. I spoke to you about him on the phone. Hopefully he can help you with your security problem,” Shepherd says, Hale reaches out to shake his hand. 

“Of course, I didn’t think the DOD would be so interested in the project.” Hale smiles, pouring another glass.  

“We’re not with the DOD. Shadow Company operates as a private militia,” Phillip explains. This is exactly what he needs. A private militia means they’re bought, not sworn, easier to get them to do what he wants. He smiles at Shepherd raising his glass and taking a sip. Shepherd follows him, as Phillip refuses the drink. 

“What is the plan then?” Hale asks. 

“The CIA are trying to keep knowledge of this project classified. The less people involved the better. I have worked with 141 in the past. I will be able to keep them out of your way while you continue your work. Our main goal is still to get you on the base. The base has been cleared, stripped to only essential personnel. Unfortunately the DOD still have not made a decision on whether or not they want to staff the base with active duty personnel,” Shepherd explains. 

“We will be able to provide you with security where you need it as well as being able to accompany you to the base when the time comes,” Phillip explains.

“I am very grateful for that. How do you plan on handling 141?” he asks.

“We’ve crossed paths before, they won’t be a problem,” Phillip says. 

“What other news is there from the base? How is the omega?” Hale asks. He needs to know. There is a burning inside him. He needs to know how his omega is. 

“She is in heat, from what I understand Captain Price is dealing with that.” Shepherd finishes his drink. Hale can tell he’s awkward about it. He sometimes forgets most people have never been exposed to this world, to his life's work. 

“Is he going to claim her?” Hale presses. 

“I believe that's the plan.” Shepherd puts his glass down on the coffee table. Anger rises in him and he drinks the rest of the whisky enjoying the way it burns his throat. He was going to claim you. You were supposed to be his omega. The thought of someone else's mark on your neck makes him infuriated.

He grips the glass harder trying to ignore the urge to snap, to give the order now to have Shepherd and Graves rush to the base to take you by force. He calms himself. He can’t go after you alone, not while you’re surrounded by special forces. He has to be smart, play the long game. 

“What about the research for a cure?” 

“Dr. Montgomery is very adamant on the fact she will be able to find one. We seized her work pending approval from the DOD and whichever medical board it’s being sent to,” Shepherd explains. Good, all the time he can get the better. “Her staff will be given the option to return to work for you as well as full immunity for past transgressions.” Maybe the only good thing that came out of his lab being destroyed is the fact it hid a lot of the things they had done. Definitely made it easier convincing the government to fund his research when the proof of ethics violations had been destroyed. 

“Hopefully we will be able to get things moving within the next few days. Until then I am sure you and Commander Graves will have plenty of time to talk,” Shepherd says, getting up as Graves follows him. Hale smiles quickly walking round them.

“I’m sure we will, I have plenty of time to discuss things tomorrow,” Hale says, shaking both their hands.

“Of course. We’ll be in touch and if there is anything you need let us know,” Shepherd says.

“Thank you,” Hale responds, following him to the door. “I’ll keep that in mind, General.” The door closes and he waits to hear Shepherd step away before locking the door. He smiles, walking over to his desk picking up the whisky and a clean glass on the way. He sits down looking across the office, pouring another glass.

He’s getting a private military company. He types the name into the search engine not expecting anything to come up but there it is. Shadow Company, Commander Phillip Graves. Hale is reading the site when his phone rings. He sees the name picking it up. 

“How was the meeting with General Shepherd, do you think he can help?” Ashford, his assistant, asks. There’s no time for pleasantries, they won’t have long to talk. 

“I think so, we might be able to move quicker than expected,” Hale says, taking a sip of his drink. “How are things on your end?” 

“Fine, Dr Montgomery is freaking out about her work being seized. The omega is in heat, Captain Price claimed her.” It's the news he didn’t want to hear but he expected it. He finishes the rest of his glass sighing. This time he lets the anger bubble up inside him. 

“Just keep your head down and gather information. Things might be moving quicker than we think.” He swallows the anger, not letting his voice falter. 

“Of course sir,” Ashford says before hanging up the phone. This is his chance. With Shepherd on his side, and now a private militia, getting the omega back might be easier than he thinks.

Next Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui

[alwaysshallow]

coffee at midnight, part 13

John "Soap" MacTavish x f!reader

Military consumes your private time - to the point that you pretty much can't live without it. All of the boys from Task Force 141 are just like brothers, not only best friends – you know that you can trust them with your whole heart.

Somehow, one of them manages to steal it completely, and that's on Johnny MacTavish. Over months, you learn that's harder and harder to ignore that burning feeling in your heart. (3,6k)

READ ON AO3

previous part

His eyes are at yours, when it’s your turn.

Cards have always been the team's favorite, if it came to games; just like the stereotype says, poker, of course. The joy of winning your teammate’s money, the other side's rage quitting in the middle, knowing how deep in shit they are. Something about this type of entertainment keeps them in shape. Distracts, even if it’s for a second, and there’s not a lot to distract them from, as you gave your case to the higher-ups, but they want the bonding time nonetheless.

You don’t like cards; not that you can’t play, you’re just pretty tired of it. Keeping poker face is hard, when you’d rather spend the time alone running (or, preferably, rotting in your bed at the base). 

Especially that you don’t just hide cards. You hide the whole situation that happened between you and Soap, you hide how you think of his lips on your pussy, whenever you just look at him. He bites them in a playful manner, like he knows what you have in mind every time you glance at him, and you think of smacking the shit out of him just because of it.

You think you might, when there’s gonna be time for training, and that won’t be that suspicious.

For him, it’s like nothing changed.

You tap your fingers against the table in trance, looking at him up close. He laughs, cracks jokes with the guys. Classic Johnny, when he is around the people that he loves and respects, relaxing after a quite difficult mission. He doesn’t look like he overthinks things, like you do.

It could be always an impression, you’re not sure. Or he doesn’t have anything to overthink, considering that the situation between you two is quite simple. 

Tap, tap, tap.

“Check,” you just say, and the game goes on. You don’t have a head in the right spot to raise the stakes, nor to have some insane strategy to bring them down and win. It’s easier to let them play the game they wanted than participate in it. 

It’s rather a bloodbath than a friendly competition. Something that gives them satisfaction, bragging rights, when they’re out in the field. No matter if it’s the worst time possible or not, that’s just the way your team is.

Soap loses all of his money first. 

His poor choices, money wise, are known to the team, just like complaining about it—because that’s what he does for another ten minutes. Accuses everyone of cheating and teaming up against him, and instead of trying to prove him wrong, boys decide otherwise. They give him reasons why they teamed up (and you know they didn’t, but you’re too tired to say it).

White noise. Calming, making you realize you would never trade this feeling for anything else, no matter how annoying and loud they are. 

After some time, it’s actually soothing, surrounded by chaos. Sitting with family.

It takes Johnny fifteen minutes to accept that no one will give him his money back and that, in fact, he just sucks in this game. “You should get better”, Kyle says, at which his friend gives him a deadly look. Annoyance on his face is evident, when he says goodnights to everyone. 

And then, there’s you, and his demeanor changes, just a little.

Eyes lit, the corners of his lips go up—not too much, but enough to notice the shift. He leans to you, like he wouldn’t reach otherwise, and kisses the top of your head, murmuring his goodnight. Savoring the moment of his personal weakness, forgetting that everyone sees that. Or, choosing to ignore that, which is possible as well.

“You can join me later,” he whispers. 

Tap, tap, tap.

It’s laughable, how a tough and mostly emotionless soldier on the outside (because that’s what Kate taught you, five weeks before you joined a professional army), can go to a puddle quickly, just with a simple sentence. 

And what’s even more funny, it’s not the first time Soap did it.

Inside you, there’s a whole palette of emotions, and it takes everything to not let your comrades know about it. You want that side of yourself buried deep. Six feet underground, so you’re the only one that keeps the secrets under a golden key, away from other prying eyes—because you don’t want them to know. 

You don’t want them to know about his hurried kisses on the cheek, when you two are alone, like lovers that are afraid someone will catch them, so they’re looking for a safe place. Because it sometimes looks like that, when Johnny pulls you to the most hidden areas, or straight up to the darkest corner of the library. Feigning innocence, when Ghost asks him why you two are so far, saying that “it’s the quietest place”, or that he has a painful migraine, and the light annoys him. 

He holds the potential feelings behind, almost on display, but not quite. Not letting people know what exactly is going on between you two is probably the smartest thing.

Or, you should say, Task Force 141. Everyone else seems to know, or they can guess what is going between you two.

Other people in the army, your backup. You can’t talk too much with a man without either Gaz by your side or someone that he knows because he’s here immediately. Curling his arm around your waist, smiling widely, asking whatcha talkin’ bout?, and patiently waiting until the man will leave. “‘Am simply enjoying the conversation,” he says, when you’re asking what exactly he is doing.

It’s irritating at some point. Unbearable, you can’t be without him for one second, and it’s so hard to brush off a feeling how similar it is to being in the big cage. Comfortable enough to fly, but the bird isn’t free anyway. 

Controlled freedom. 

At the same time, you find the other men's reactions amusing.

Their shoulders immediately tense when he’s around, knowing Soap’s menacing side enough to not fall for a wolfish smile he’s throwing every time. Holding the “fuck off” on their tongues, as it’s not really smart to start provoking him. Because not only he’s gonna fall for it, but they’re gonna have a quick talk with Price—and no one really wants that.

Soap’s mom knows about you and him too. 

Or, maybe not about you two in a sense of dating, as it’s not happening (at least you think this way), but how close the two of you are. It’s clear she doesn’t buy the “best friend” talk, but just out of respect to you, she doesn’t comment. The only situation where she did comment, was when Soap lived in your apartment and you needed some help. She said something about Kyle being your best friend too, and how he doesn’t do half of the things Johnny does. “But maybe it’s just the way he is,” she quickly added.

You nodded back then, but you still can’t forget it. Not when he’s even more physical with you than he was before, and her words ring in your head.

He doesn't know what personal space is.

And he doesn’t. The definition of it is unknown to him, touching you coded in his DNA; natural, just like breathing. He controls it, but does it unconsciously too.

You’re pretty sure it works this way. When he mindlessly reads documents, a hand sneaks up on your leg, higher or lower, and then he starts to squeeze the skin, until someone walks in or when you’ll pay attention to it. 

In the first case, he’s at his best behavior. Acting innocently like nothing happened, no matter if he looks like a kid that stole the candies that were strictly forbidden.

But in the second scenario, he's gonna either take the hand off, or give you his signature, cocky smile, asking if that bothers you. If he “can’t be himself anymore with you,” and this is probably the most dramatic he usually gets around you. 

He always plays, wanting you to participate in whatever he has in mind. It’s your decision if you’ll cut his antics, or you’re gonna play along and make him smile even wider. Pleased; because these days, when he’s more possessive than ever, he loves the feeling of having you under his spell.

And you really don’t know what to do about it. Or, what to think.

You kind of wish that you would have someone to talk about it here. Lament, how hard it is to maintain a professional face when he acts oh-so-unprofessional. Trying to put up a show in front of other soldiers, marking you as his, while you aren’t really anything. Just lost as he is, you two swim in the sea of uncertainty and unspoken words. 

In a hope for a boat that will never arrive if one of you won’t push the subject further. But you both know it—and there’s something attractive about being inclusive, so maybe that’s why no one dares to take the right step.

The only person you can talk about the whole situation with is your best friend—but at the same time, not really. Not when you’re on the other side of the world, reception nonexistent, or not when you’re amongst the men that will tell Soap everything they will hear.

Or even if not tell, but they’d for sure tease you for that. Endlessly, making stupid comparisons or jokes, as the humor in this team is sometimes on the children level.

Your head hurts only from thinking of it. It’s hard to imagine how it would hurt in the actual situation. 

Tap, tap, tap.

“—probably callin’ his new girlfriend, or somethin’.”

“Who has a girlfriend?” You raise your head, looking at your comrades; a mention of a girlfriend is enough to bring you back from your thoughts. This, and Simon’s amused blink in his eyes alone; like he expected you to have this reaction. 

“Soap, who else?” Gaz cocks his eyebrow. “Probably lost in poker just for a few minutes to talk with her.”

“Interesting,” you murmur, trying to not sound pissed, nor look. They’re already looking at you with interest, and you don’t need to show them your feelings. 

Especially that you are pissed to the maximum level; maybe it's the side effect of the lack of sleep, general nervousness, or maybe your feelings finally take over your rational thinking. Nonetheless, you feel like you could punch someone.

"Yeah. Told us something about his bonnie back home. Seemed serious, he said that his mom met her," Kyle muses, tilting his head to the side when he looks at you. You don't notice how his eyes dig right into your soul, observing your reaction. Waiting for a moment you’ll slip, and it’s close. He is close to achieving this. "Ain't you supposed to know this?"

You are supposed to know this. This is the problem.

(You think you might faint. Is this so serious?)

There’s an aching feeling in your chest; yet, you try to act indifferent. "Why?"

"No offense," Kyle puts his hands up, like you're gonna punch him in the face right after his comment, "but you know. Girls talk about that stuff with their best friends, so I thought..."

"I prefer to stay out of Soap's love life," you cut him off, before he even thinks of the rest of the sentence. "So maybe that's why I don't know."

It is an offense, having no knowledge of his so-called love life, when you thought that, in fact, you are at some point involved in the center of a love massacre. Being the only girl he let so close, as he doesn’t trust other people with his heart.

The possibility of having someone else here, maybe a tiny, little bit closer to him, makes you want to vomit.

And an even worse feeling would be knowing that your best friend that you’re in love with, is not single anymore. You could no longer be here; right next to him, like a work wife. There would be respecting boundaries, personal space. Not only for him, but mostly for the comfort of his potential partner; so she’d know you’re not a threat, or a homewrecker.

(You think you are in love with him from the beginning. Confusing love, where you mistake it for being grateful for having a friend like him. Love where he’s so close to you, so you don’t really think it’s weird to sleep in the same bed, when one of you has nightmares, or you feel bad about what happened during the day. Where it’s not weird to spend every minute of your leave with him, and it’s not weird to see him naked a couple of times. It’s not weird, it’s not—)

"Mm. Makes sense." Kyle nods. "Captain, didn't he say that he's gonna invite the lucky girl to the wedding in Scotland?"

“He said. Now, back to the game. We don’t have time for your chit-chats.”

Wedding. 

Wedding?

Wedding in Scotland. He never ever mentioned the fact that someone from his family is getting married, didn’t mention he would want to participate in the wedding—and annoyingly so, you know everyone in his family, so it’s not like “you don’t know them, so probably it would be better to go alone”. Soap is anything but that.

God, you’d ask. You’d ask if they’re pulling your leg, if he really has someone, and he wants her at his family celebration instead of you. Instead of someone he knows well, instead of someone—

—you’re overreacting, and they moved on. That’s why you can’t ask them without raising suspicion that you, in fact, do care why he hid someone. Tucked her deep and decided to tell everyone on the team but you. 

It sits on your nerves, gnaws at your already sensitive feelings; the possibility of missed chapter. With torn pages, you can’t do anything—stalking isn’t an option, you don’t even know her name. Soap’s phone is too primitive to hack, and he’ll know if you were here or not, so your cover would be blown. The indifference you desperately want to show.

You leave after the second round of poker, saying goodnight to the boys, too tired to continue the game, but not too tired to do a quick run around the base. Just to ease your mind, just to tire yourself before going to sleep, so you won't overthink every single interaction with Johnny that you had the past couple of months.

Because the desperation in you to find that mysterious girl is high. You don’t know if she’s real or not, but you want to know. If he doesn’t trust you enough to tell you something about his “girlfriend”, then what’s the point?

You still think about it the next day, when you enter the training area, Gaz as your opponent. There’s nothing at first between you two; a small talk, how did the two of you sleep, how is his mom. Classics, just to break the first ice and start fighting.

You expect silence from him in the later stages, but surprisingly so, it’s not like that at all.

He says something about going on dates, and how he just can’t really find someone, because the girl he has an eye on doesn’t speak to him. You respond that he should think about Tinder, maybe this will for him, even if it doesn’t work for you.

And then, he strikes with the idea. Maybe I should set you up, followed by some kicks from Kyle. A lot of good mates don't have a girlfriend, he declares, and you want to roll your eyes, but you restrain yourself from it.

“You can set me up with anyone, I don’t mind,” you huff, dodging the punch from Gaz. You throw some yourself; and it’s bad to think that you wish you could hit Soap right now, not him.

Set you up. It sounds ridiculous, it is ridiculous to even think of replacing John in that way, where your eyes wouldn’t be at Johnny, but at someone else.

(In some way, you’d love that. To throw it away, to be infatuated with some random guy, not your best friend, not your comrade. Multiple consequences, and you have no idea if he feels something beyond physical connection. Something deeper, something that keeps him up at night.

If the answer would be yes, maybe he could be the one.

Could he?)

“Oh, anyone?” He raises his eyebrows. He pins you down to the mat, keeping the grip, giving absolutely no care in the world when you try to kick him off several times. 

You shouldn’t probably underestimate his power like you did a few seconds ago, ignoring him getting closer, in order to have a small talk with him about nothing. The ‘good guy’ facade ends in the open battle and training. “I can set you up with myself first, so I’ll know what to expect. Y’know, science.”

“Oh, how nice!” You roll your eyes, almost laughing at the irony of this situation; it’s hard to estimate if he’s trying to rile you up, or if he’s just playing around. Close proximity doesn’t help in it, as you feel how hot and how tired he is—you too. Not only in a physical sense.  “Fuck all of the men in the military, honestly. If I’m going out with someone, he has to be an outsider that doesn’t know what ranks we have.”

“Ouch? Hit the spot?” Kyle snickers, and it’s the reason for another kick in his stomach; which he didn’t see coming, considering that he lets go of you. 

He doesn’t seem to mind the hit so much, and it’s so odd. So odd for a warrior like him that his motto is “an eye for an eye”, no matter the situation—he doesn’t try to hit you back.

There’s nothing. 

Nothing, until— 

”As far as I know, you haven’t dated anyone from the military. Or, I missed somethin’?”

It feels like a hit.

The taunting in his voice makes everything so obvious. Challenging look in the eye, a glint of satisfaction when he sees you struggling. 

You should’ve known, you think. It’s Garrick, after all. 

Hawk. Observing the situation from the sidelines, calmly waiting, not saying anything until it’s convenient for him, or when he’s tired of guessing. Ready to strike when it’s time and there’s no wondering why he’s leading most of the stealth missions when Ghost and Price are somewhere else.

“Wise owl,” you always laugh, poking him in an amused manner, more admiring than anything. He’s a lotus in this group of chaotic people.

And now, that lotus wants another reaction, and you’re closer than ever to give it to him. “You didn’t. It’s just my observation,” comes out instead.

He laughs, patting you on the shoulder. “It’s not like you can draw a conclusion from Soap’s hookups. That’s a bit different, mate.”

You grit your teeth.

You shouldn’t feel mad at a simple mention of other girls. Soap doesn’t belong to you, he’s not one and only to you, you’re not exclusive and you never were. What’s even more ironic in the situation, you competed with him who is gonna get more numbers from strangers in the bar, being completely clueless about your feelings—and you wish you had the same mindset now.

Because now, the thought of him with someone else… you see red, nothing else. You wish it would be easy to tell Johnny what you feel without the possibility of being rejected in the process. 

(Not to mention, you could be transferred to another unit. Feelings for another comrade? A possible threat to every mission you two would be assigned.)

And you could be just a hookup. Sometimes it happens, even with best friends, and then they live like nothing happened. Convenient enough.

Could you live like that?

Simple answer is, no. You couldn’t.

There’s this weird longing in you—you don’t know it well. There were never so many emotions in you towards another person, not even towards your first boyfriend. 

They scream all at once, and you beg to be picked first among the bouquet of other girls in the world. His world, full of options, where you don’t even know if you are involved or not in that sense. 

God, and you know how he loves to chase someone. To give them attention, to play with their emotions, making them miserable because he’s so good at first glance. You observed it many times, laughed at those girls, knowing they’re walking to the lion’s cave without thinking of it. You should be smarter.

Should be. Love doesn’t choose, sadly.

The fact is, you’re getting softer and softer. Making more room for someone that owns your heart already, afraid what it is gonna be—if anything.

You clear your throat, trying to come back to reality. “Whatever. Let’s focus on the training.” 

“Stroke a nerve here?”

Of course he did. You’re smarter than admitting it to him straight up, though.

“For fuck’s sake, Garrick, this isn’t a secret for a secret—”

“—you know, you can tell me anything—”

“—are you trainin’ or yapping without a reason?”

This voice. Deep, a little pissed off, authoritative that makes you and Gaz straighten up.

You couldn’t really ask for more right now, so you’re grateful Ghost broke the absurd talk. “We leave in twenty minutes. Price said somethin’ about bonding exercise.”

Bonding. Ironic.

“Noted,” you just say, going straight to your room, so you will have the time to change into something nicer.

Just in case, right?

[apostaterevolutionary]

The source that showed "all" the choices you import into DATV was made in bad faith. You can see in the source that there are more tabs and therefore options than what the poster wanted people to think

I REALLY hope you’re right anon, but I got the info from the IGN article where they interviewed Epler, which he also posted about on bluesky, so there’s no reason to think it’s incorrect at this stage

And like. I get not including a lot of choices. I’m sure whether you gave the prisoner at Ostagar food isn’t relevant lmao. But like. If true, Varric must literally never mention Hawke given even their gender can’t even be selected, let alone whether they got left in the fade or not. And that second decision apparently didn’t affect Varric as much as Inquisition implied, if he’s the same person either way. And it also means rook never gets to know Varric well enough for him to mention a big part of his life, that being his time in Kirkwall. Which sounds like such a shallow and disappointing relationship, something I would expect bioware to do better than. Same with Morrigan and her potential entire child or romance with the warden or the warden’s potential death, as a friend or lover especially. I don’t think those are small decisions

I do hope there’s like. Something they’re not saying. Why they would present it like this if so, I can’t fathom, because of course people are getting upset. But maybe there are more choices. I really hope so. I personally am waiting until it actually comes out either way before deciding to buy, but the hope that was slowly building in me has really dwindled now. It just sounds so shallow and that’s what really bothers me

[scoobydoodean]

ok so I deeply love and respect your thoughts on supernatural because the majority of them line up with what I've been thinking for years but you said something the other day that I keep turning over in my brain and it was something along the lines of carver liking dean more than sam - I know you're in the middle of rewatching s4 but I would love to hear you expound on that (if you have time) because I remember being in the fandom while carvernatural was airing and it was pretty much when the deangirl exodus started. in fact I think people tore into him worse than dabb even 😭

feel free to hold onto this until later when you start the carver seasons if you wish :)

<3 I'll go ahead and answer this one, because it's more of a "broad strokes" thing for me, and I've been rewatching very slowly (on purpose) so that could be a very long wait.

This is so funny because I can just picture Sam fans reading it and turning red and their blood boiling with the fire of a thousand suns but the TL;DR is that season 8-11 (Carver era) broad strokes to me are:

Sam sucks and is a worse brother and person than Dean.

Sam spends the first two seasons of Carver's run thinking he's a better person than Dean anyway and then the second two knowing he sucks, deciding to embrace his moral flexibility to keep Dean alive no matter the cost, and trying to mend things.

Dean is circled by many potential suitors who also in a sense represent Sam replacements because Sam sucks: Benny, Cas, Crowley, and Amara.

Dean knows that Sam sucks and part of him wants to get tf away from him very badly but another part of him feels guilty for wanting that. Family is suffering. Family is a chain around your neck keeping you tied to them via guilt. (Demon Dean represents the desire for escape, as does Amara).

Everybody wants to be with Dean, be Dean, and/or be loved by Dean. Dean is love. Dean is the world. Dean is the reason for existing. Everybody is lovesick about him. Sam is just there.

Sam needs to stop blaming Dean for so many things and learn to own his own choices.

That was fun to write down.

Longer commentary/explanation below the cut.

Season 8 (Carver's first season) literally begins with a Sam character assassination. It begins with us learning that Sam knowingly left Kevin to spend the rest of his life kidnapped and tortured without even telling a soul what happened to him. Not only did he abandon Dean and Cas as well but he didn't even look for them, and refuses to give a satisfying answer as to why.

Season 8 Sam's abandonment as distinct from previous behavior

I have had people this year who I love and respect tell me they don't view this as a character assassination and say they believe this is in character for Sam. I simply do not agree with that. I talk about this as it relates to Kevin here.

Sam has displayed selfishness and a big ego at many points in the series up to season 8. He's told a lot of lies (sometimes to the point of gaslighting), he's gone behind Dean's back to do things that affect Dean's life, he's taken traumatic experiences Dean opened up to him about and ultimately harmed Dean with them, he's shown resentments and anger, he's displayed jealousy, he's displayed a sense of superiority. He has never abandoned his brother to die without even trying. The Sam of season 3 would eviscerate season 8 Sam for this.

Sometimes Sam says and does things he shouldn't, but his crimes do not include "abandoning Dean to die without even looking for him" up to season 8. Many of his crimes happen at least partly because he really really doesn't want Dean to die or is desperate to save his life. He lets go of his anger at John and returns to make sure Dean is safe in 1.11. He refuses to give up and finds a way to save Dean in 1.12. In 1.22, he's willing to put John's life at risk for revenge, but in 2.01 he gets into an outright screaming match with John in the hospital under the belief that John's prioritizing the demon over Dean. Sam spends all of season 3 raging and angst-ing about not being able to save Dean to the point of considering and doing some shady as hell things/abandoning some of his more stalwart moral stances (3.05, 3.11, 3.15, 3.16). Dean's death and later, the desire to secure his safety/future, is one of the catalysts for Sam's descent into drinking demon blood (3.09, 3.16, 4.04, 4.09, 4.12). When he dies in "Swan Song", he urges Dean to pursue a normal, safe, life because he knows that at that point in time, Dean wants to get out but has always felt trapped (2.09, 2.10, 2.20, 3.01, 4.12, 4.16). Even Soulless Sam (who isn't the same as regular Sam) tried to look for Dean in 6.09 "Clap Your Hands If You Believe"—it was simply that when leads for the night dried up, he hooked up with someone because he had nothing more to go on and in soulless Sam's head that was the reasonable thing to do. But soulless Sam also certainly isn't representative of the real Sam—the fact that he doesn't care as much is supposed to point us to differences between him and regular Sam. Season 8 opens with Sam abandoning Dean in a context that makes him arguably worse than his soulless self.

(I talk about why Sam actually abandons everyone in season 8 in a very long post here).

Season 8 and 9 more broadly

So Carver has Sam abandon Dean to die without even trying. Then he has Sam refuse to give any kind of actually reasonable explanation that makes sense to anyone who was paying attention. Then he has Sam say that he's going to leave the life and Dean needs to get over it and accept that Sam's new life will not include contact with Dean (just like his life at Stanford didn't). While saying he's going to leave, he still wants to exert control over Dean's relationships and leverages the threat of leaving (as if he were going to stay) to get Dean to shut up about Sam abandoning him and then again to try and get Dean to cut ties with Benny. He wants to kill Benny before knowing a single thing about him. He assigns someone (Martin) who he knows is mentally unstable and has a more black and white perception of monsters to track Benny and gets Martin killed. He watches Martin knock Dean unconscious and chain him up in a room and doesn't stop it because he wants Benny dead that bad, but then has the audacity to act as if Dean sending him a fake text is worse than Sam literally chaining him up in a room to prevent Sam from killing an innocent person (someone Sam would normally—btw—defend based on episodes like 2.03 and 4.04 or even a few episodes ago with Kate in "Bitten"). He tells Amelia he wants to fight for their relationship then the moment Dan says they should leave the choice to Amelia, he leaves so that it becomes his choice, and then he returns for one episode just to be a homewrecker. He insists on doing The Trials while promising to survive them and giving a big speech about how he's going to save Dean from his own suicidal ideation and then drops the promise as if it never existed two episodes later. Sam loses confidence in himself to complete The Trials and then acts like Dean is the one who doesn't believe in him because Dean is caring for him and insisting he rest and this is an unforgivable offense. At the end of the season, he basically says he's going to commit suicide because Dean has friends besides him. He acts as if he deserves to be Dean's most trusted confidant after an entire season of him being an absolutely fucking terrible brother and acts like Dean is just a big meanie whose feelings are irrational.

After all of this, he has the audacity, in season 9, to suggest that Dean is a bad person who can't stand the thought of being alone. He tells Dean he's the worst person ever and they can only be work partners from now on because Dean is so so bad and evil for stopping him from committing suicide and then not telling him about Gadreel. At the end of the season he admits this was a lie. He just wanted to punish Dean (9.23).

I can see how—if you were watching live at the time (I started watching when season 11 was airing) you'd lose hope. You'd quit the show over all of this, because it seems to go on forever. It's like torture. I would drop kick season 8 Sam into a pit full of lava without hesitation so I get it. If I believed that Carver was actually saying "Yes so true Dean is The Worst™️ and Sam is morally superior <3" for two seasons straight I'd quit the show too. But that isn't what he's saying. We're supposed to read between the lines and realize how unbelievably full of shit Sam is—how deeply selfish and hypocritical he's being. How yes—Dean has made mistakes—but Sam is NOT a better person than him and has gotten away with some absolutely rancid garbage. And season 10 and 11 go on to beat you over the head with it if you didn't get it the first time.

Season 10 and 11

Season 10 opens with this dialogue from a demon:

I heard the rumors. I said "no, that can't be." A Winchester, one of us? But it's true, isn't it? Whatever soul you had; whatever boy scout code you cuddled up to at night; it's all gone. Leaving what? Look at you!

We're meant to think she's talking about Dean who just woke up with black eyes, but then the camera cuts to Sam torturing her, demanding to know where Dean is.

In 10.03, we learn that Sam talked a man (Lester) into selling his soul so he could use him as bait. Demon Dean ends up being assigned to fulfill Lester's deal (to kill his wife for cheating on him). Dean immediately clocks Lester as having cheated on her first and kills Lester for being an insufferable hypocrite... and while he's doing it, I'm pretty sure he's also thinking of Sam's flaming hypocrisy.

SAM: I never meant— DEMON DEAN: Who cares what you meant?! That line that we thought was so clear between us and the things that we hunted, ain’t so clear is it? Wow. You might actually be worse than me! I mean, you took a guy at his lowest, used him, and it cost him his life and his soul. Nice work.

NOTE: 10.03 also recalls 4.21—an episode Sam fans have always tended to emphasize as a "Dean crime" episode where Dean risks Sam's death to force a detox. Sam does the reverse—pumping Dean full of human blood here in 10.03 and explicitly risking his death.

Sam gets Suzie killed in "The Werther Project" while searching for The Book of the Damned.

SAM I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry. SUZIE Lot of good “sorry” does me. Look at me. Look….at….me. [She points to her corpse.] There she is. The first casualty of your misguided mission. But what’s another human life to you? Anything’s worth it, as long as you two make it out alive. And how’s that search going? Any closer to a cure? SAM This isn’t real. You’re not real. SUZIE You think Dean’s the wild card, the loose cannon. But don’t you see? Making deals with witches, opening Pandora’s box down there? You’re the reckless one. You’ll do anything to keep clinging to that doomed brother of yours. How many more will die, Sammy? You know it. You have to be stopped. And the only one who can stop you is you!

A few episodes later, Sam orders Oskar's death for a spell to remove the Mark of Cain. I've seen hilarious posts before about how he had no choice but to do this because MoC Dean is so scawy and bad but that quite explicitly is not his motivation. They could have done so many other things. Throw him into space. Bury him in a really deep hole. Put him in something like The Cage. But Sam didn't like any of those options, because all of them meant being without his brother, and he's realized he doesn't want to be without him no matter the cost (10.18).

SAM So, awhile back, we had a chance to, um…close the gates of Hell. And in order to do that, I would’ve had to die. And, I was okay with that, and I am okay with that, but Dean was not. And so, he uh… CHARLIE He saved you. SAM Yeah, he saved me. CHARLIE And let me guess, in doing so, he did something you didn’t want, and that pissed you off. And you said something that hurt him? SAM Yeah, that sounds about right. [...] SAM You know, when Dean came to get me at school, I-I told myself… one last job, you know? One more job. And then when – when I, um…. When I lost Jess, I, again, told myself one more job. There’s always one more job, you know? And one more job, and one more job, and then I was gonna go back to law and – and to my life. CHARLIE You were the Dread Pirate Roberts of hunting. SAM Yeah. I guess I really understand now that….this is my life. I love it. But I can’t do it without my brother. I don’t want to do it without my brother. And if he’s gone, then I don’t…. CHARLIE I got it. I-I do.

This all culminates in 10.23, where a very mentally unstable MoC Dean attempts to reason with Sam about them both being evil and needing to take themselves out:

DEAN: Remember when we were in that church, making Crowley human, about to close the Gates of Hell? Well, you sure as hell were ready to die for the greater good then. SAM: Yeah, and, Dean, you pulled me back. DEAN: And I was wrong. You were right, Sam. You knew that this world would be better without us in it. SAM: No, no, no, wait a second. You're twisting my words here, Dean. DEAN: Why? Because we -- we track evil and kill it? The family business? Is that it? Look at the tape, Sam. Evil tracks us. And it nukes everything in our vicinity -- our family, our friends. It's time we put a proper name to what we really are and we deal with it. SAM: Wait a second. We are not evil. Listen... We're far from perfect, but we are good. That thing on your arm is evil, but not you, not me. DEAN: I let Rudy die. How was that not evil? I know what I am, Sam. But who were you when you --when you drove that man to sell his soul... Or when you bullied Charlie into getting herself killed? And to what end? A-a good end? A just end? To remove the Mark no matter what the consequences? Sam, how is that not evil? I have this thing on my arm, and you're willing to let the Darkness into the world. SAM: You were also willing to summon death to make sure you could never do any more harm. You summoned me because you knew I would do anything to protect you. That's not evil, Dean. That's not an evil man. That is a good man crying to be heard, searching for... some other way.

Dean is saying a lot of shady shit here, but some of what he's saying... isn't wrong?

Sam is willing to let The Darkness destroy the world, and he does, and then standing in the aftermath of a town being destroyed by the force he unleashed, Sam says:

SAM: I unleashed a force on this world that could destroy it . . . to save you. DEAN: And I told you not to. SAM: And I'd do it again. In a second, I would do it again.

Thousands of people are dying and Sam says he would do it again. This post about Sam's actions versus Dean stopping Sam from closing the gates of hell is highly relevant.

Season 11 continues with Sam taking a little more responsibility for his own decisions, while praying for Dean to live (11.02):

SAM: So . . . I know it's been a long time, but . . . Dean and I, we've -- we've been through a lot of bad. But this is different. This is my fault, and I don't know how to fix it. And if I have to die, I've made my peace with that, but . . . Please. Dean deserves better. Dean deserves a life. There are people out there, good people, who are going to suffer because of me, and I am not asking you to clean up my mess. Hell, I don't even know if you're out there, but . . . If you are . . . And if you can hear me, I, um . . . We need your help, God. We need to know there's hope. We need a sign.

And then there's the VERY long-awaited apology:

SAM When I was with Lucifer, he, um... He showed me things. It was like a highlight reel of my biggest failures. DEAN Yeah, he was messing with you. That's what he does. SAM Give me a sec. I should've looked for you. When you were in Purgatory, I... I should've turned over every stone.

Family (Sam) as chains

While all of this is happening, we also have Benny and Cas and Crowley and Amara.

Benny is contrast—someone whose goodness and selfless loyalty only makes Sam's horrible flaws stand out more sharply in season 8. Under the influence of the specter, Dean says, "Benny has been more of a brother to me this past year than you have ever been" and Sam can't stand it. It haunts him so bad he tries to kill Benny, and can't get over it even after the end of the season when Benny is fucking dead. He is unable to accept that the contrast between himself and Benny is his own fault.

Crowley and Dean's flirtations begin in season 9, as Sam suffocates Dean, and at the end of the season, Crowley has literally convinced Dean to run away with him. In 10.01, there is a delightful phone call where Crowley rubs it in Sam's face that Dean is with HIM:

SAM I don't know how you did this, what kind of... Black-magic stunt you pulled, but hear me --I will save my brother or die trying. CROWLEY You know what tickles me about all this? It's what's really eating you up. You don't care that he's a demon. Heck, you've been a demon. We've all been demons. No, it's that he's with me and he's having the time of his life. You can't stand the fact that he's mine. SAM He's not your pet. CROWLEY My pet? He's my best friend, my partner in crime. They'll write songs about us, graphic novels. “The Misadventures of Growley and Squirrel." Dean Winchester completes me, and that's what makes you lose your chickens.

It's this cruel callback to Sam's jealousy of Benny and Cas in season 8—how Crowley convinced Dean to finally ditch his smothering, controlling brat of little brother who can't stand him having friends, and now Dean is having the time of his life howling at the moon. The problem is, Dean also feels a little bit like maybe Crowley wants to control him too, and that isn't working for him.

Amara in season 11 goes on to further speak on terrible brothers who think they're better than you, who leave you betrayed and diminished, who abandon you. She's raging against the concept of family as chains—she wants revenge... but all the while she's in pain because she still loves her brother. Amara's attraction to Dean is based on that commonality—what she feels is a shared experience and how she wants to cut the last remaining pieces of love she feels for her brother away so she can finally be free of the pain of him—and she doesn't care if she destroys everything—including herself—in the process. (See: Dean slowly losing his identity through the MoC arc). Sam and Dean's relationship is in rehab over this whole season though, and so Dean's role ends up being to convince Amara not to destroy herself—to instead do what Sam and Dean have done and make up and work on improving their relationship.

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Monday wonderful fandom :) This episode. It doesn’t need much of an intro. I remember just being so excited I couldn’t stand it ha (how I'll be in 36 days for the premiere) I had to wait an extra day cause I have Hulu and not live cable. This one is just amazing from start to finish. Once again did my best to get everything in within the limits of tumblr. 30 is just never enough especially in this season ha Off we go.

5x10 The List

Our babies get the cold open as they should this is basically their episode. They deserve the open and what a cold open it is. I can’t get over how much I love them both emptying out their closets. I wanna break this down with Tim first then Lucy. Our boy is SO SO nervous it’s so cute I cannot stand it. He wants to look good for Lucy and I wanna squee so hard at that. He’s trying so hard for her and my heart is gonna implode.

My fav for him personally was the black shirt cause god damn he looked delectable in it. But they’re all fine af on him. Man is a delicious treat we all get to enjoy with our eyes. The way he stretches out his arms each time trying to calm his nerves. It’s so cute. Loved them showing how very nervous they both were. Be still my heart.

Let’s move to Lucy. She of course is just as nervous as Tim. It’s precious. I also adore the nod to previous moments for them as she looks at her dresses. The ones from wonderful moments such as 4x12 and 4x18. Lucy looking at them and rolling her eyes. Having just as much of a struggle as Tim. Saw a good parallel between this and Bailey with her first date with John. Wanting to look hot but not too hot. Ha She nails that BTW When she finally lands on her final choice.

Tim is nervous and uncertain so what does he do? He calls Lucy. Because he doesn’t know what to wear to this. What does one wear when they’re in love with their best friend and going on their first date? So he defaults to calling his best friend about his problem. It just so happens he’s also going to be on a date with said best friend. hehe I love them so much I might die haha

Lucy sees Tim calling and immediately picks up. Makes me happy how open and honest they are right off the bat. Tim knows she isn’t ready because he isn’t ready. Just knows her so damn well. Lucy asking if he’s ready? The cute panic in his voice when he says ‘No!’ Oh my lord I cannot. Eric crushed that line. His panic continuing through asking her if this place has a dress code?

Lucy deciding messing with him is more fun than helping him. Saying he could wear cargo shorts if he wanted….Tim believing her for a moment. Then realizing what she’s doing. Calling her out for it. He is all smiles when he does though. My goodness this man is happy. So very nice to see. I love his Lucy smile it does things to me. Lucy rolls her eyes but is beaming just as much at his reply. This scene is them being love struck idiots and I’m here for it.

He couldn’t be cuter asking her what she’s wearing? Trying his best to match up. Lucy tells him she has a lot of outfits she knows she isn’t going to wear. LOL Tim reminding her about traffic is the most married thing. Doesn’t want her to be late. To their first date. Which is beyond adorable in itself. They’re both so excited I’m feeling their excitement as they get ready.

Lucy says it’s silly she knows. She just needs to make a decision. Then decides to go with the iconic green dress from 3x14. Tim knows exactly what dress that is when she mentions it. The man is legit beaming when she says that's her pick. Have we ever seen this man this happy? The answer is no LOL

He is so damn excited they’re doing this. Her picking the dress means it’s really happening. Lucy tells him it’s decided then looks in the mirror and says ‘No…’ I was rolling so hard. Melissa and Eric CRUSHED this scene. Hell this entire episode really. Cracks me up she changed her mind last minute but it’s a damn good change up as we will see below.

The awkwardness that is them begins at the restaurant. Talking about bread and the assortment being good. LMFAO What are you guys doing? It’s so funny to see Tim being so incredibly not smooth. He could not be more obvious in checking her out above. Man likes what he see’s and isn’t being subtle about it at all. Elevator gaze and no shame in the game as he does.

Lucy’s little shimmy. I’m dying. She’s very glad she decided to change from the green dress. As she should my god what a bombshell she is in that outfit. Holy hell. She nailed it. Shows off her body, plunging neckline, with the perfect necklace, and just enough cleavage she got Tim checking her out shamelessly.

Lucy came to play with this dress. She knew exactly what she was doing when she picked that whole outfit out. I think she’s very excited he’s checking her out. There’s a look of pride on her face above. Lucy knew she was driving him wild and was feeling pretty damn powerful in this moment. She has Tim Bradford panting after her. So she should be feeling as such. Well done my friend haha

Let's not over look Tim looking fine af too. I see you Tim. Mighty delicious. You know him looking hot as hell is part of Lucy's nerves as well. He dressed that way for her. So you know that's making her feel some things. They try and do some small talk and it’s quite painful tbh lmao. No one does awkward better than Eric and Melissa though. Talking about what they ordered for dinner. It's so awkward but I love it so much at the same time. Why you ask?

Because this means so much to the both of them. Neither of them want to mess it up or say the wrong thing. So they’re radiating nervous jitters. Which is adorable. Lucy answers his question that she ordered the sea bass. Tim continuing the small talk train replying he almost ordered the sea-bass.... Lucy’s reply ‘Oh, cool…’ Is it though? LOL I’m rolling at how stilted this whole conversation is. Not like them at all.

Lucy points out the awkwardness between them because she can’t not. Asking him why this is so weird? Poor Tim the panic and gulping he does when she says this. We see his eyes bulge a little too. He’s so worried she’s going to want to bail on this now. That she is regretting doing this at all. He wants this to work so badly. He’s afraid he’s messed this up already. My poor love. He is so nervous that it spills into his next comment. Awkward Tim is hilariously adorable.

He instantly regrets saying ‘Naked time.’ the minute it leaves his beautiful lips. You can see it written all over his face. Being as smooth as crunchy peanut butter my love... He has sex on the brain because of that outfit. Hence his comment. She looks so beautiful his brain is actually melting LOL Lucy is smiling so hard at his nervousness though. She loves her goober so much. Lucy knows how he is feeling what she is. So she doesn’t give him too much crap for the comment but her face and reply say it all for her haha

Lucy decides this is the time for them to have convo about expectations. I commend her for sharing this right away. It was good for her to set this boundary early on. These two are one massive boiling cauldron of UST ready to overflow. It was an important tone for her set for them. Lucy is just wanting them to date first. See what it is like to be a couple before entering into the physical part of this all. This really was a smart move on her part IMO.

We all love the sexy times and we get lots of it this season. But it was important they took their time like they did. Just like I was glad they didn’t get together in 5x01. I was glad they didn't rush this either. Delayed gratification is a beautiful thing. I LOVE how Tim is staring so lovingly at her as she says all this. That man would’ve done ANYTHING she wanted in this moment. Absolutely anything. He could not be more in love with her if he tried. Look at that man above as she speaks.

Looking like she hung the moon and stars. He would do whatever it is she wanted. Because he’s so gone for her. Lucy could’ve asked for the world and he would've delivered just simply because she asked. There is no hesitation or regret on his face. He is truly listening and wanting to do whatever she is comfortable with. Eric just crushing it out here with his facial expressions. He would give her whatever she wants whenever she wants it. That’s what his face is screaming to me In this moment. She has him hook, line and sinker.

Tim hears the back door open and looks up. Lucy sees the panic on his face and gives him crap for it. Asking if he’s worried someone from station will see them? Tim shrugs it off and says 'What are the chances? ' A fight breaks out in the kitchen and Lucy seems worried about it. Tim tries to play it off not wanting it to interrupt their date.

He just wants this date to go well so badly. Doesn’t want whatever this is to get in the way. Sadly it doesn’t go their way and the employees end up fighting and knife is drawn. Unfortunately the cops are called and their dinner is ruined. Lucy making the comment ‘What are the chances someone from the station walks in now?’ HA

They both look so sad and exasperated their date was ruined like this. All they wanted was to enjoy a meal together. Figure this whole thing out while they did so. AMAZING cold open for them though holy hell. Excellent way to open up this episode for them. Lots of goodness in it. I knew we were in for quite a ride from getting all that in the open alone.

The next morning they could not be more suspicious or obvious if they tried. Trying to figure out how to explain their presence in the police report. This whole scene is hilarious. It’s like they don’t know the entire station doesn’t suspect something to begin with…Trying so hard not to stand super close to each other while they figure this out. They’re so bad at hiding this it’s insane. So good at their jobs so very bad at this. I love Lucy just wanting to be open and honest about them. Chris had to drag every single moment out of her for months. Was like pulling teeth. Half a date with Tim she’s ready to shout it from the rooftops.

*sigh* I love this sfm. Tim warns her the dangers of them doing that this early on. He’s not wrong about Smitty LMFAO. It’s so true. Lucy’s brain kicks into gear saying could’ve been doing a UC OP. Tim getting excited by her brain. They start flirting while figuring this out. Their chemistry just coming off them in waves. The back and forth banter as they work out the details. The irony of them being all smiles and flirty while trying to hide their date. I cannot with these two dorks. Tim is beaming with love and pride by the time they’re done plotting.

Once again so bad at hiding your feelings and or relationship you two so bad…I saw a funny post saying this scene was a 'How to on not being good at hiding your secret relationship. ' LMAO YEP. John arriving and Lucy just going off about their OP without him even asking. I’m dying so much it’s hilarious. Tim going into protect Lucy mode when John is confused is everything. Telling Nolan decisively 'Nothing.' When he questions what they're talking about? Mmm tell him babe. Doesn’t want Nolan on their trail whatsoever. Good thing it was John though cause dude didn’t notice at all. He is a space cadet so they dodge a bullet.

They get called into Grey’s office for a heart attack basically. The way he starts off you think he is talking about them. The absolute panic on both of their faces. Especially Tim’s oh my lord. I love how Tim goes to reach out to comfort Lucy and has to stop himself. Now does Grey know at this point? I mean yeah probably.

I know lots of people think Grey was being a troll in this moment. Poking at them and knowing for sure when he had this talk with them. To gauge their reactions. I mean they are showing their cards like crazy in this scene. Their reactions alone are enough to solidify what I’m sure Grey suspects.

Luckily he says he’s just talking about Celia and Aaron. We watch them both relax and deflate their anxiety a bit. So happy Grey isn’t talking about them in this moment. He asks them if they’ll go and talk about this with them? Doesn’t want Celina to get off track in her rookie year. That Aaron is just out of long sleeves. They’re both so relieved they just say yes LMAO They would've agreed to anything to get out of his office at that point.

Tim holding the door for her my damn heart. Chivalry isn't dead with that man and I love it. There was a BTS post on how Eric wanted Tim to do that for her. Because well Tim Bradford and all that. It's just who he is. Of course he would hold the door for his girl. This next scene is pure married energy. Tim dreading having to have this conversation with Aaron. The last thing he wants to be doing but doesn't have a choice now that he's agreed HA

Lucy feeling it’s hypocritical if she tells Celina not to. Then realizes she can use Nolan to her advantage LMAO Smart woman being smart. Tim calls her out for cheating haha Or is she just being strategic Timothy? Lucy leaves him in the dust before he can pout any further with her. Tim being the exasperated husband as she walks away from him with her plan in place. Her 'Mmhmm.' as she leaves lol

We rejoin our beautiful couple on the sidelines of a hostage situation. One of the guys from Nyla’s bank robber situation has taken one. They’re all in a standoff waiting to see what they should do. Lucy commenting on the severity of the situation. Trying to make a light joke. Saying 'Remember when dating in secret was their biggest problem?' Love her using ‘Our’ it’s the little things.

Lucy asking him how his talk with Aaron went? Tim bringing up all the things that make their situation ‘problematic.’ To say the least. Yeah it sucks they have to face this stuff. But nothing worth having is ever easy. I love them forging forward despite this. Because as they decided in 5x08. They are worth the risk.

They needed time to figure this out despite the possible complications. So yeah there were potential problems but they were worth the risk of all those. They both knew it. It's why they didn’t bail at the first sign of possible issues. I just love it. It’s what makes 5x12 and the decision Tim makes so prominent and special.

They end up saving the woman who was taken hostage earlier. Unfortunately there is still two more on the run. Tim and Aaron get wind of them and end up in a parking structure. They make it to the top and don’t see them waiting for them. They push them to the very edge and leave them hanging. Literally. This is where Aaron becomes a damn icon. LOL

When Tim tells him to get out of the shop Aaron’s reply is the actual best. We all knew he suspected but this line of his confirms it. Also he’s not wrong…Lucy would kill him for letting Tim die. Kills me Aaron always telling it like it is to Tim. I love him so very much. He’s just saying what everyone is thinking. Being the mouth piece for the fandom once again. Tim doesn’t deny it but tells him to get out of the shop. LMFAO

They make it back to the station and Lucy is of course with Tim. Like a moth to a flame. Telling him she’s glad he didn’t die. Since he owes her for a re-do on their date. Tim being as sassy as can be in his reply. First off could they be any closer in this shot? Second the smirks and flirting are telling everyone in that bullpen what you’re trying so hard to hide you two lol my god. Tim is eating it up her wanting another date and it shows.

She is once again affectionately violent in her reply with Tim. He is all smiles when she says this too. The man is an open book of love for her. He couldn’t be happier with this banter going into their ‘second’ date. Anyone watching them can see something has changed but they're too lost in their own banter to notice that. Damn I love these two goobers so very much I might implode haha

Ahhhhh the Treats of Vietnam scene. I can’t get over how damn close these two are. It’s why that far away shot of them is my avatar. They are as close as two people can be in public sitting across from each other. She is basically sitting between his legs and I’m losing my mind about it everyone. Bouncing her leg against his. Legs for days and I'm ship drunk off this alone tbh. Also want to comment on how much I love the lighting in this scene.

The lights above them set this beautiful relaxed tone I adore so much. Tim making a slight joke thinking it's funny this where they ended up. Going from a super fancy romantic restaurant to a food truck. Saying he guesses this is their official first date. Lucy coming in hot with a curveball of an answer. Blowing his damn mind like only she can. Saying last night was for sure. Better story for the grandkids.

I love her face after she says this. Just gauging his reaction. No regrets whatsoever in saying this. This is the same Lucy Chen who couldn’t handle calling Chris her his GF. Legit panicked about it and fought him on it. Was one giant commitment issue with that boy. Half a date with Tim she’s thinking about grandkids with him. Lucy said she wanted to take it slow in the bedroom. She didn’t say anything about their life plans LOL *squee* She is so all in and this line screams that. Makes my shipper heart so damn happy.

Tim isn’t at all upset about her reply. This man was in a relationship with a woman who didn’t want any of that. Didn’t want any of his dreams. Now here comes Lucy Chen. Talking about grandkids on their second date. His face is pure joy. His dreams coming true with this woman next to him. He is beside himself with happiness. It’s written all over his face. Tim is giddy really. Lucy’s cute giggle afterwards I cannot. Her man making her laugh *heart clutch*

These two are gonna kill me with their cuteness. Give me diabetes from how sweet they are. Lord. Tim having cop eyes can’t help but see the idiot trying to break into a car. Says his frustration out loud. The last thing he wants is another interruption with his girl. Lucy is so lost in her date with Tim she doesn’t even see this guy. Which I love. She is so wrapped up in him her cop eyes are off. Not seeing this guy on her radar at all.

Tim doesn’t even get up from their spot. Just yells at the moron and shows his badge. Not wanting to do more than that. Lucy pointing out he’s just going to steal a car in another neighborhood. Which Tim could care less about tbh. The only thing that matters to him in this moment is her. It’s why this next line is so god damn romantic. We truly see how far Tim has come in this moment.

Why is this growth you ask? Because Tim ‘rules matters’ Bradford is picking his girl in this moment. She is more important than chasing some punk for breaking into a car. To touch back on an OTP line from S2. ‘Some things matter more.’ Lucy matters more in this moment to him. More than anything else and he’s letting her know that. Telling her in his own way she matters more to him.

I’m losing my ever loving mind at how romantic this is. I adore him declaring this and being the one to initiate their first real kiss. Lucy looks so in shock. Wondering if this is real life? Did Tim Bradford just pick her over arresting someone? Over the rules? He sure did and he would do it again. Nothing is going to stand in his way of being with her tonight.

Gah it’s the way he softly touches her hair and gently cups her face with his hand. Looking at her like she is the most precious thing in the world to him. Because she is. Let’s be honest she is. Lucy brought this man back to life in so many ways. There is nothing more important to him especially in this moment than her. Never be over her face when he touches her hair. Like she can't believe Tim is looking at her the way he is.

I adore Lucy smiling into this kiss. I’m sure she can’t believe her own luck right now. The man she loves, loves her right back and chose her in this moment. Over everything else he wanted to stay present in this moment with her. His hand on her face while the other is on her THIGH. Her thigh everyone. His love for her thighs continues on in this first real kiss. It was bouncing earlier against his. I'm sure he put it there partly to ground her during this kiss. Also because we all know he has a penchant for them hehe

I’ll never be over how tender and soft this kiss is. The complete opposite of the two they’ve shared before. Those were hot don’t get me wrong so very hot. But this one has a lovely tenderness to it that makes me giddy. The wind soft picking up her hair as they melt into one another. It’s the perfect first kiss. His hand in her hair, his other on her thigh, Lucy smiling dreamily into their kiss. I am a puddle.

It just shows it was never about the right restaurant or outfit. It was just about being together. This scene showing how at ease these two are with each other. That’s beautiful base of friendship they built over the years coming in clutch here. They just look at home with each other this entire scene. *dreamy sigh* Makes my soul happy.

If you didn't watch this scene million and one times when it premiered you're lying haha Hell I did it this time around. I remember losing my damn mind with this scene. Never be over how easily they went from friends to this. Every moment leading up to this is utter perfection. Beautiful start to something more.

~~~

Side notes -Non Chenford

Nolan’s conversation with Celina was so painfully awkward and hilarious I loved her reply to him asking about Aaron she crushed it.

Also Tim is sexy af figuring out how to get that woman out from her car like he did. Mmm love watching that man in the field. Delicious to say the least to watch him in action.

Aaron and Celina playing D & D 😂😂😂 made me laugh so hard. Aaron is SO embarrassed.

I forgot to thank you all last episode. Apologies thank you all who continue to support these reviews. I adore you all more than you will ever know. Your likes, comments and reblog are everything to me. Especially as I tackle these seminal moments in s5. I shall see you all in 5x11 :)

[enqmind]

Once again, I lament my inability to make cool graffix.

Price/Female Reader WC: 1.8k 18+

Warnings: Mention of non-consensual groping, mention of groper getting stabbed with knitting needles, in later parts there will be guilt tripping but it's cute for now

Reader notes: Good at knitting.

Hit One, Purl One III

Previous

 He’d had worse than a broken nose. Hell, this wasn’t even that bad as broken noses went.

 It didn’t even hurt that much, but that might have been the impressive little distraction that gave it to him.

 Quick reflexes, excellent use of an improvised weapon and only attacked once the threat had presented himself. All entirely instinctual, too.

 This level of sheer talent was not only rare, but wrapped up in such a sweet and demure package like that? Well, that was a completely different matter.

 He watched her scamper off to grab her coat and bag.

 “You’ll be there for hours,” Johnny pointed out.

 “I know.”

 When Mrs MacTavish wasn’t looking, he shot the man a wink.

 He earned a grin in response.

 “Go easy on her, John,” Mrs MacTavish implored, “she’s very self conscious about this.”

 He patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, love. I won’t hold it against her,” he lied through his teeth.

 “And don’t scare her off,” Treasure piped up, “I like her.”

 “You would with your violent streak” Johnny muttered.

 “I dare you to say that within elbowing distance, MacTavish.”

 “Simon, please hurry, I’m stuck with three children.”

 Ghost glared at the bickering pair before admonishing them to behave themselves.

 “You tell me if they don’t,” he told Mrs MacTavish.

 “Oh, I will.”

 Price couldn’t help but smile as he watched them. They made an odd little family, but a strong one.

 No matter how fucked up the becoming was.

 “Are the children fighting again?”

 “Seems like it,” he replied, turning to his assailant.

 Well, wasn’t she a pretty sight in that nice knitted overcoat in fawn?

 “Knit that yourself?” he asked, running the back of his hand over her shoulder, careful not to get blood on it.

 Lovely and soft.

 Colour and texture both telling a sweet little lie.

 “I did,” she replied, nerves replaced with pride. “It’s a Merino/alpaca blend.”

 “Very nice.”

 She held up her bag, knitted in the same fawn as her coat and a few other colours in a blocky Fair Isle pattern.

 “I made this out of the leftovers and some oddments.”

 “Her five year plan is to have a fifty percent knitted wardrobe.”

 “Stop talking about me like I’m the goddamn Soviet Union,” she snapped at Mrs MacTavish.

 “Only if you stop dating Tankies.”

 Embarrassment flared on her face.

 “I never date them on purpose,” she defended herself. “I really don’t know how they keep finding me.”

 Ghost began shepherding her out of the room.

 “I really don’t,” she insisted, letting herself be herded.

 Price glanced at Mrs MacTavish.

 “She loudly complains about the Tories on Twitter and is hot.”

 “Ah, I see.”

 “Text us when you’re out,” she ordered, shooing him off.

---

The drive wasn’t long, but the beginning was a bit awkward.

 For starters, she was insistent he take the front seat. Which wasn’t exactly simpatico with his plan for this trip.

 Secondly.

 “This is a Škoda.”

 “Yeah.”

 “Why.”

 “Treasure likes the make.”

 “And an estate car?”

 “Sure. Got a kiddlywink coming.”

 The little spitfire was peering into the back.

 “This boot has a lot of space.”

 “Could have more,” Ghost replied, “the Mrs wanted the plugin hybrid.”

 A sage nod.

 “What’s the range like on the battery?”

 He shrugged.

 “‘Bout forty miles. Don’t really get in and out of the city without resorting to petrol.”

 She nodded.

 “Still, a sensible choice. Bit long, but at least it isn’t one of those SUV ‘truck’ monsters starting to infect the streets.”

 Ghost stared at her silently for a moment, face deathly straight.

 “I’ll get that front door for you, Captain.”

 The little shit was enjoying this.

 Price shifted the seat back as she squeezed in behind the driver’s seat.

 If they were in his vehicle, no one would have to squeeze anywhere.

 There was a short silence as they pulled out and headed down the road.

 “So, um, are you two married?” 

 “Nah. We’ve yet to give notice,” Ghost replied, eyes on the road.

 That was going to be fun to arrange.

 Price watched her nodding sagely in the back seat.

 “If you need a witness, let me know. I’m happy to help.”

 “There are easier ways to get free food.”

 She glared holes into the headrest.

 “I don’t even know why I like you, sometimes.”

 “I’ll come in handy next time you move.”

 She rolled her eyes before meeting Price’s in the mirror. Her look was a long suffering one.

 He shot her a smile.

 “I’m going to hold you to that,” she warned Ghost, smiling back. A sweet, beautiful little expression; another enticing falsehood.

 The man’s eyes crinkled into a smile in the periphery of Price’s vision.

 That just made his interest grow.

 Johnny’s stated desire to fix Ghost and this vivacious filly up made much more sense now. They seemed to gel together remarkably well, more than enough to try and keep her around as more than just Mrs MacTavish’s pretty friend.

 Smart man.

---

  Ghost dropped them off at the hospital.

 “I’ll leave him in your hands. Try not to create too many bodies.”

 “Don’t be mean.”

 He cocked his head at her.

 “If I was being mean I’d ask Price to keep you in check.”

 Ghost gave him a nod before rolling up the window and driving off.

 She looked at Price in utter bafflement.

 “High praise,” he smiled back, “means he thinks you can control yourself.”

 She looked at the ground.

 “Right.”

 It’s been awhile since he’s been in an NHS hospital, but he was unsurprised by the odd mixture of tech forward and outdated systems he found there.

 He sent her to find them seats as he signed in and went to triage, swinging by the toilets to wash the blood from his hands. Something he’d been far from expecting to do today, especially under such circumstances. He caught himself smiling in the mirror, he didn’t mind.

 At the second from the end on a rack of chairs was where he found her when he left, the space next to the wall holding her knitting bag clearly reserved for him.

How thoughtful.

 “Sorry about the wait,” he greeted, half as a warning to avoid a repeat performance of before.

 A flinch came when he picked up her bag and, instead of sitting, put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her towards the empty seat.

The old man next to them watched this with confusion, but lacked the courage to say anything about it.

 She didn’t, though.

 “What do you think you’re doing?” She demanded, pretence at resistance belied by obediently shifting over,

 “Trying to keep the body count low,” he replied. “I’m an old hand at  this and know how to lean into my men's talents and weaknesses.”

He sat next to her, shielding her from the OAP next to them and resting his arm on the hard plastic back.

 “I’m not one of your men,” she reminded him, pulling a slim booklet out of her bag.

 Oh, but she would be his woman soon enough.

 He chuckled, “thought about a military career?”

 Her own was somewhat weary. “I don’t think sudden bursts of violence would go down well in the Air Force.”

 “The air force? Why that branch?”

A sly grin, “my great aunt was a WAFF in the war. I’d like to follow in her footsteps, after a fashion.”

 “Makes sense,” he conceded.

 “Granddad was in the navy,” she continued. “So that would do okay, I suppose.”

 “Bit damp, don’t you think?”

 “Yeah, I’m not wild about it.”

 She flipped open her booklet and scanned a few lines.

 The monochrome image of various knitted pieces in flat lay opposite caught his eye.

 “That’s a lot of socks,” he noted.

 She dropped it onto his lap.

 “Make yourself useful and hold that,” she commanded, digging into her bag to pull out her knitting.

 Price peered at the pattern.

 “You’re knitting hospital stockings?”

 “Yeah, my friend’s flying long haul to Sydney for Mardi Gras. I’m knitting these to help prevent DVT.”

 “Mind if I?” He lifted the booklet.

 “Go ahead, I’m way off twenty inches.”

 He flipped back to the cover, a smart man standing in front of a light aircraft in what the legend declared to be ‘Service Woollies for Air, Land and Sea’ was depicted on it.

 It really was his good luck that Ghost had been too inside his own head to take advantage of Soap’s matchmaking, she was perfect.

 “So, how long have you been knitting?” he asked.

 The grin on her face told him exactly how he’d be spending the next few hours.

---

 It was almost a disappointment when the doctor arrived, watching her knit at speed while holding a full conversation about the absolute state of water companies was giving him the urge to just pull her into his lap.

 “Captain Price?”

 He raised his hand, too hypnotised by how his companion was somehow knitting even faster.

 “The note said you were amb-oh!” The doctor hovered nearby. “I see.”

 “Impressive, isn’t she?”

 “Very.”

 The look on her face was one of that sort of pleased embarrassment women often got when praised in public as she finished her row and stashed her knitting away.

 He extricated his arm from the back of her seat and stood, giving the doctor a greeting smile.

 The one she shot back was bright, “I’m Dr Kennedy, if you’d like to follow me?”

 He did, with a confident stride as his companion trailed after them.

 They were settled in a cubicle, him on the bed and her hovering near the curtain.

 “Right, so Captain,” the doctor said, looking up from her notes, “how did this happen?”

 John folded his arms and smiled at his companion.

 “I, erm, h-hit him with a hardback book,” she explained nervously.

 Dr Kennedy’s smile froze.

 “Right, well, would you mind if we spoke privately?”

 His erstwhile assailant took a smart step backwards.

 “Nope, absolutely not. I’ll, er… go buy us some overpriced soft drinks. Coke okay, John?”

 “I’d prefer just water.”

 She gave him a thumbs up and nearly ran out.

 He smiled fondly and turned to the doctor.

 Concern was written large on her face.

 “Er… is this a common occurrence, Captain?” she asked him warily.

 “First time it’s happened.”

 She noted this down.

 “And has she shown any concerning behaviours? Say about finances, or keeping you away from your friends?”

 “Oh, not at all.”

 Her brow furrowed.

 “Right… Look, I’m not going to mince words here. I’m concerned your partner may be abusive.”

 “We’re not even dating yet,” he replied smugly. “We met for the first time today, guess my girl just doesn’t like being surprised by strangers.”

 Dr Kennedy visibly relaxed.

 “Oh good. Abuse cases are always the worst for everyone.” She gave him a wry smile, “and it’d be the first time I’ve seen a suspected abuser sprint away to allow a private word. Still. Pays to be cautious, right?”

 “It does,” he agreed.

 Apparently good women were like buses, you don’t see one in ages and then a couple show up at once.

 “Let’s get that nose set so the poor thing doesn’t have an aneurysm.”

[ananke-xiii]

About Sam Winchester.

[This post has been edited after my discussion with @samjgirl , @sam-winchester-admiration-league and after @adaav 's comment to my post. I really want to thank them for their time and for pointing many interesting points out. I wasn't well informed about the techniques of storytelling and I believe I lost a bit of focus after season 11. Now I'm actually happier as I've started to even more appreciate this character, so win-win for me!]

The character of Sam Winchester was my biggest surprise and my biggest disappointment while watching Supernatural (but it's not his fault). [EDIT: while I still don't particularly like (for now) s12-15, I've realized that my disappoint was more due to my ignonorance of storytelling techniques rather than by the way the character was written]

It was my biggest surprise because I had never related to a fictional character this much before. I think you just have to both be the younger sibling of a dysfunctional nuclear family and be trauma-bonded to your elder sibling to get it. I won't go into further details about it because it's a whole essay, but I have to mention it because I need to state that I feel a deep connection to Sam. We both made the same choices, the same "mistakes", the same sacrifices.

So I was astonished when I started Supernatural because of the way it felt true and real. I don't know if the writers lived similar experiences and were therefore able to tell this story truthfully, but they nevertheless did a hell of a job in describing the unique bond of two siblings trying their best to navigate their traumas.

From season 1 to 8-9ish, we see Sam morphing from being the hero of the story to one of the two main characters. [EDIT: this is incorrect, Sam has always been the hero of the story. I think I felt like he was "shifting" into a slightly less prominent role because Dean, as supporting protagonist, was given more space in order to proceed with the filler episodes]Slowly but surely, Dean also becomes the hero and I think that was fair. [EDIT: see above, technically this is incorrect, sorry lol!]You can't fully narrate the story of a bond withouth fully integrate one part of it. I loved all the parallels to Michael/Lucifer and Cain/Abel. I thought they were brilliant. The show allowed me to go deep inside and start sorting out some stuff I've lived. It really made me think a lot.

It's fair to say that the brothers' codependency was the crux of their problem. It was painful to watch and sometimed downright awkward but the writers got it all right: the otherwise unxeplicable and toxic jealousy they felt for one another, the inability to share their deepest feelings in way other than fighting, and hell yes, even Sam's decision to run away and not look for his brother after season 7. It was not OOC, it's exactly what he did when he was 18 and what John did as well 4 years after that. As a matter of fact, Sam is more similar to John than Dean could ever be.

It's definitely been a long journey but I find that the resolution of their codependency (in season ELEVEN!) was cleverly thought-out and brilliantly executed. It couldn't have happened before, the two bothers must have been either already in or close to their 30s to confront the knot, to acknwoledge the grip the trauma they've lived had on their life. Sometimes getting older does help and give you perspective. This might be why (as I've stated here) season 11 is my favourite one: it gives a sense of closure and hope.

However, here comes the biggest disappointment part. [EDIT: this is due to the fact that in part, I didn't fully get it]

After season 11 Sam morphs from one of the two main characters to a side character. [EDIT: incorrect, as per previous EDIT, Sam is always the hero and lead protagonist]The show must be about the brothers' bond and I'm okay with that. However, it looks like after season 11 the writers couldn't come up with new ideas to talk about this kind of bond. It felt like, other than co-dependency, the bond didn't have much to say. Therefore, both Sam and Dean almost go back to square one while they had all the possibilities to explore a new aspect of their relationship.

What could've been this new aspect? Easy: making them realize that the family they each wanted was, simply, different. This is just my opinion on the subject and how I've felt about season 12-15 so it's okay if you disagree. [EDIT: well, this is still my opinion, although it has nothing to do with Sam's narrative role in the story and more about my personal preference, so I think this is where I got confused]

In my opinion, from season 12 Sam is just a part of Dean's family. It's not "Sam&Dean"'s family. It's just Dean's. And I think the writers could've explored that in a more meaningful way. Let me explain: let's take Cas since he makes the perfect example for this scenario. Dean has repeatedly included Cas in the "family", he's called him not just his brother but "our brother". He includes Sam in the equation but I personally don't think Sam feels the same way. Sure, Sam cares for Cas and thinks he's family, but I think his idea of family is "Cas is my brother's husbandbest friend and therefore he's part of the family". He's extended family, kind of. [EDIT: this is still just my opinion and has nothing to do with Sam's narrative role. Although "family" is one of the themes of the show, it was not the only one]

My opinion is canonically backed because, aside from Rowena, all the members of the Winchesters Found Family are part of the family because Dean has allowed them, Dean has a deeper relatioship to them and ultimately because Dean decides who can enter the circle. This is totally in character and I love Dean for his ability to care and form deep bonds. [EDIT: this was also needed for Dean as a character because he's not the lead protagonist so he had to have something else in the story that was not necessarily connected to the mytharc]

However, this is not in Sam's character: Sam is the one who runs away, the one who wants to create his own family, the one who really needs to emancipate himself from his older brother. I truly wished the writers explored his passivity in "accepting" the status quo and made him, if not rebel, at least express his wants.

It would have been a moment in Sam's growth if he could've just, instead of running away, confronted his brother and stated that his desires were different, that he was part of Dean's family but it was not his family. Instead, we only have glimpes of what Sam really feels: he doesn't think of the bunker as his home, he doesn't ever say that he has a family (not surprisingly it's Dean that in "Lebanon" tells John "I have a family" and not Sam), he doesn't really have any other meaningful relationship aside from his brother.

Supernatural ending did him dirty, too. Not just for the awful wig and make-up but because the ending framed Sam as a two-dimensional character: "freed" from his brother and his brother's family, he finds a blurry wife, a dog, a son, a white picket fence. How sad is that? We never get to see Sam really connecting with anyone: all (and by all I really mean ALL) the women in his life, from his mother to one-night-stands while on the road passing through Ruby, end up dead (RIP Sarah Blake). Of course his wife at the end had to be a blurry figure in the backfround (she was not even besides him on his deathbed!): she was a testament to all of his past relationships. Like, seriously, apart from Dean, the ONLY lasting relationship Sam has throughout the whole series is with LUCIFER and this alone, I think, speaks volume. [EDIT: again this just relates to the fact that I'm not particularly fond of s12-15 and of the overall ending. Technically speaking, the ending makes sense. Whether I liked it or not is another issue]

In conclusion, after season 11 Sam is no longer an interesting character because the writers both downright refused to give him another substantial character to interact with and insisted once again on his codependency with Dean (which was already resolved). [EDIT, tbh it was a weak ending to begin with, LOL, I didn't like it even after I wrote it hahahhaa, but yeah, as this whole post proves Sam Winchester is far from being an uninteresting character because I just spent a frigging afternoon learning new things thanks to him so I guess he's like the gift that keeps on giving!]

Having said that, in my heart of hearts, Sam Winchester will always have a special place because I get him, I really do.

[maple-the-awesome]

We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 35

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 5,280

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: BOILING POINT

The room's relatively quiet, which has pretty much been the case ever since your latest fiasco of a mission. It isn't exactly a 'peaceful' silence, but you're willing to take what you can get while dealing with this annoying throbbing throughout your entire body and the stinging pain that’s focused around your center.

"At least I can cross breaking a rib off the bucket list."

"Not a fun feeling, huh?"

"God no," You groan, leaning back only to instantly regret doing so as shown through a sharp flinch. Sam's smile shows a mix of sympathy and amusement before he passes you a couple of pain pills as well as a glass of water. You're quick to set down your ice pack in exchange for these items, gratefully swallowing the pills in hopes that they’ll offer some relief…Unfortunately, there's no immediate effect.

You’re left with no other choice than to miserably do your best getting comfy against the stiff pillows of Zemo’s incredibly uncomfortable couch, your only other option for a distraction being to simply let your thoughts roam to topics unrelated to your searing injuries. There’s lots to review regarding the last hour anyway.

Talking to Karli was a total bust thanks to Captain Cosplay who couldn’t even help prevent her escape afterwards. By now, she’s undoubtedly gone to regroup with her terrorist buddies, bringing along even more reason for them to hate Avengers and even less reason to spare any of you an ear again.

To top off such a failure of a mission, while that section of your plans was going to shit, Zemo apparently took it upon himself to destroy the super soldier serum Karli had been carrying on her person. You suppose that might as well be a good thing considering no more stray vials means no more unwarranted superhumans running amok, however it doesn't quite sit right with you knowing how easily your rent-a-felon had slipped away from watch. He could've made a run for it, and or caused greater harm to the mission as a whole by taking matters further into his own hands which wouldn't have been too out of character given his track record with super soldiers so far.

That's precisely why you told Bucky to keep an eye on him! You were already going after John, and someone needed to stay with Zemo, so it should’ve been him. If he had just listened, you guys would've been able to maintain control of at least that variable - one less idiot to check over your shoulder for. Instead, he insisted on following you then concerned himself with your wellbeing, worried for your sake as if you're a glass doll who took a tumble off a shelf.

…Granted, in the eyes of a superhuman, that’s probably a fitting comparison for what actually happened. Karli succeeded in really knocking the air from your lungs (and most of the sense right out of your head). By the time you finally came to again, the world was spinning in muddled colors orchestrated by constant ringing in your ears, yet you were still somehow aware enough to recall Bucky scooping you up into his arms.

Between those long blinks where your eyes struggled to remain open, you could see the stunned fear woven into his expression. It’s not quite like anything you’ve seen on him before - similar, but not exactly a match even to his troubled stare during the war or his distressed cries in Romania.

You wish you could say he’s relaxed since reaching the safehouse, however his head continues to hang low. Muscles tense and breath jagged, he stands at the bar counter with a glass of vodka in hand - an empty one, since he had just chugged his third round as if a mere shot of pure H2O…He’s still having a hard time snapping out of whatever trance your injury inflicted upon him, failing to steady his nerves no matter how much alcohol he tries to drown himself in; you aren’t the only one to notice.

“Why not try some peppermint tea? It’s an excellent choice for calming anxi -”

“- Fuck off…” Bucky growls in swift response to Zemo’s suggestion, his metal grip constricting against the glass resulting in a sharp ‘squeak’. Any tighter and it’ll shatter into starry shards.

“It’s only a couple of broken ribs and some bruising. Nothing that won’t heal -” That’s the third time Sam has said this. Once when he first assessed you, a second as you finally became coherent again…although both evaluations were less for your sake and more for Bucky’s.

Your little injury seems to have really bothered him, that much is obvious. Strange, for someone who sure hasn’t wanted to address your existence lately - who has taken almost every possible chance to push you away and make you feel unwanted - but hey, maybe it should be taken as a good sign since it must mean he still cares about you to at least some extent.

So - the question remains - why keep playing these stupid games then? What motivation could Bucky possibly have? Is he trying to be angry with you? Have you upset him to the point that he’d rather force himself to hate you than forgive you? …Hopefully that isn’t the case.

‘This whole situation is a mess…’ You think, sighing as you throw your arm over your eyes to block out the light and echo out the hostile energy practically flooding this room.

Something about Steve’s shield; an ongoing source of tension between all involved, yet you have no interest in picking sides right now. Instead, you’d much rather try sleeping, the exhaustion of today weighing heavy on your bones (not to mention your patience wearing extremely thin). You might’ve actually been able to drift off, too, if not for the loud ‘SLAM’ that startles nearly all of you.

The heavy doors are thrown open, leaving way for your least favorite cosplayer to march into the room while on a clear mission to make matters even worse than he already has, "Alright, let's go! I'm ordering you to hand him over!”

"...Fantastic..." You can't help rolling your eyes. There goes your chance at recovering in peace and quiet. What has it been? An hour since you've gotten back here? Probably less. Your medicine was just beginning to kick in, too! Now, you’re forced to bear through the numb ache of both your broken rib and incoming headache as you lazily watch Sam stand to 'greet' John Walker's presence.

"Hey slow your roll. Let's be clear: shield or no shield, the only thing you're running around here is your mouth," Clearly losing his own patience with the current situation, Sam packs some bite to his words, not caring if they don't sit right with John who fails to suppress a scowl, "I had Karli - She was willing to listen until you overstepped. As for Zemo, he's actually proven himself useful today and we're going to need all hands on deck for what's coming next -"

"- How do you want the rest of this conversation to go, Sam? Huh?" John wears a cocky smirk, apparently mistaking Sam's silence as being stunned astonishment, not dumbstruck bemusement, "Should I put down the shield? Make it fair?"

He's doing his best to appear big and strong behind his threat, but he's the only one to take it seriously. Even Sam - who's usually the better of your group when it comes to maintaining peace by deescalating high tensions - scoffs at John's ridiculous assessment of himself being a 'challenge' for anyone.

Oh, what you'd give for Steve to be here so that he could show this guy how a real captain throws a punch, even if just to put the truth into perspective. If only John would realize how different he is from the real thing. Steve knew he didn't have to prove himself to anyone, he simply had to stand up for what's right. Even before he was a super soldier, that kid from Brooklyn knew the real meaning behind the shield, something you doubt John will ever understand, at least not at this rate, which is exactly why he shouldn't be carrying it.

Honestly, you had no real intentions of getting involved in this either. You weren't even going to roll yourself off the couch. You would've been perfectly content watching Sam kick Fraud's ass while casually draped across it like a professional cat, but almost the second that shield gets set down, a spear is wedged into the pillar mere inches away from John's face, causing all eyes to dart over to the dora milaje warrior standing at the other end of the room where she had previously gone unnoticed.

Before anyone can address her properly, two more dora milaje warriors march into the room from the hall. They speak in Wakandian, the content of their conversation being unknown to you, however you can assume it's nothing pleasant based on their stoney expressions and fierce tones, both fixated on Zemo and Bucky who appear less than thrilled. If anything, they look scared.

"Release him to us now," confirms the obvious regarding what this is all about.

"Hi,John Walker, Captain America,” Blind to the atmosphere around him, John all too casually approaches the women who meet his introduction with some pretty bombastic side eyes in return, “Tell you what, let’s go ahead and put down the pointy sticks and talk this through, huh? We're kinda in the middle of -"

"- John," Sam interjects, at first with an amused smile, except it’s quick to turn serious, probably after he realizes where this crossroad is likely to head, “Listen, you might want to fight Bucky before you test your luck with the dora milaje.”

John simply turns his back on Sam’s advice, giving a smug sneer towards the women in question, “The dora milaje don’t have jurisdiction here -”

“- The dora milaje have jurisdiction wherever the dora milaje find. themselves. to be…” One warrior bites back almost instantly, drawing out those last few words with venomous intent, although her expression hardly changes as she skillfully keeps her cool better than any of you would if John ever dared to step so close.

For a moment there - however short - it seems that a threat has actually put him in check for once, forcing him to shut his mouth as he appears to do some sort of double-take. A quick, almost embarrassed glance back at the rest of you, followed by an equally awkward laugh, divides that temporary silence with John’s next response which he pairs with an outstretched hand that lands on the dora milaje’s shoulder, “...Look, I think we got off on the wrong -”

Showing much less patience towards John’s audacity than the rest of you, the women attack in an instant, knocking him off his feet face first onto the floor. The three dora milaje then surrounded him and Lemar, the latter of whom’s only mistake was taking a step towards the fight which sealed his fate of being choked back with a spear.

“We should do something,” You hear Sam say, forever the kind and considerate spirit. That’s much more than you can say about yourself. Rather than stand up to at least mock concern over the situation happening mere feet in front of you, you simply rest your head lazily against the back of the couch while watching everything unfold with no more interest shown than you would towards a lackluster movie.

“They’ll figure it out…” You decide stubbornly, nonchalantly shifting your legs to avoid any contact with Lemar when he’s thrown into the seat just adjacent to you.

“Looking strong, John!” Even Bucky seems to indirectly agree with you that this situation isn’t yours to fix up, that is initially, at least, until Sam gives you both looks of disapproval.

While it’s nothing that fazes yourself - after all Sam must realize you’d be little help in a battle of physical strength - it’s apparently enough to convince Bucky to join the chaos, too, probably less so to ‘help’ the other boys and more so to prevent this show from turning into an actual blood bath.

Unfortunately for them, they don’t fare much better than the other gentleman involved. If anything, they merely split the dora milaje’s wrath, each taking a half for themselves in the form of swung spears and stinging blows which makes you all the more sure of your decision to sit this one out.

Could you have simply sat here watching things unfold with an imaginary bag of popcorn? Of course, but a grumbled roll of your eyes just happened to land your attention on the opposite side of the room and, more importantly, on Zemo. For a moment, you were so entertained by watching John Walker be slammed against a table that you nearly forgot about your other nuisance. Such a shame.

Zemo takes full advantage of the unplanned distraction tearing apart his fancy parlor, slipping past the fight through the shadows with an unbothered stride that gains no urgency even when you show your notice of him:

“HEY!” Sitting up all too quickly, you wince at the sharp pain that stabs throughout your body, yet do your best to power through it while rushing to your feet and chasing Zemo’s direction.

Eitherhe doesn’t hear you or doesn’t care enough to give you any concern - you’re willing to bet it’s the latter as he steps into the bathroom and pulls the twins doors shut behind himself, far nicer than when you toss them back open again.

Empty. The bathroom is empty by the time you step fully inside, furiously looking around for the escapee who vanished like some kind of annoying magician. There’s no way he got so lucky as to find his golden ticket and cash it that quickly. That bastard was planning his getaway for god knows how long. All he needed was a moment like this when his guards were distracted.

“Damn it!” You curse aloud, wanting to use much more vulgar words, however they’re caught upon your tongue when you turn just in time to see one of the dora milaje warriors approaching.

Flinching, you’ll admit you half expect to experience her anger for yourself. One glance behind her leads way to your defeated comrades - Sam against the floor and couch rubbing his face while Bucky stands dumbfounded with his metal arm dropped from its socket - yet the Wakandan only passes you by calmly, peering into the bathroom to see the bad news for herself.

“He’s gone,” Although she refrains from losing her tongue, the venom in her tone shows she’s about as impressed as you are with Zemo’s absences. Marching past with no regard to you nor the way you back away, she casually leaves the room as if she and her friends hadn’t just kicked the sense out of almost everyone inside, her only word of departure being directed towards one of her fellow warriors who holds John’s shield in triumph, “Leave it.”

The other woman looks disappointed, but voices no argument as they leave together.

As soon as they're gone, you make your way over to the result of their fury, your first stop being to help Sam up off the floor which he gives a quick ‘thanks’ for, however your attention is hardly on him. Instead, your eyes remain concerned with Bucky across the way.

“What happened?” You ask, not dismissing the way his hand trembles slightly while reaching to pick up his metal arm from the ground. How it became detached so cleanly in battle…Well, it must’ve taken some skill. You’ve only ever seen him remove it once or twice for cleaning, something he struggled with both times. Then again, you suppose it would make sense for the Wakandans to know the work-arounds of their own creation.

Clearly, there’s a storm of thoughts brewing in Bucky’s mind, that much being certain based on his distant stare as he reconnects his arm back into its socket. Nevertheless, he fails to answer your question, leaving that task to Sam who apparently misses the implied context.

“We got our asses handed to us, that’s what,” He grumbles bitterly, still sourly rubbing the mark upon his cheek. It probably stings and is likely to bruise.

“Well, I hate to be the bearer of further bad news, but Zemo got away.”

He scoffs, “I heard. Of course he did…”

“‘Can’t imagine he’ll get far with the dora milaje on his tail. Either way, I doubt we’ll be seeing him again anytime soon - not that I’ll lose sleep over that tonight…Are you both okay at least? In a ‘recoverable’ sense, that is?” Once again, your eyes give away who you’re truly worried about and, once again, you receive no answer from who you wish to hear it from most.

“I think you should probably ask that to John,” Sam sighs. Initially, you aren’t too sure if he’s joking or serious. Going off his words, it’s a joke. Expression? He might really mean it. …And John’s expression?

The defeated soldier looks to be in a similar boat to Bucky in terms of internal dilemma. Even as Lemar offers a hand, John continues to kneel against the ground in dazed silence only interrupted by a quashed mumble, “They weren’t even super soldiers…”

He stalls for a moment before finally snapping out of it enough to take Lemar’s hand, lifting himself off the ground then swiftly masking his shock with a glare aimed towards the rest of you. No more words are said on his end - nothing verbal, that is. His eyes say everything they need to, expressing all that they need to about his embarrassment and anger…Maybe that battle wasn’t the reality check you thought he needed after all. Maybe just the opposite…

Running a hand through your hair, you glance around the room in total loss. Wakanda’s pissed. Zemo’s gone. John’s unstable. And to think your day couldn’t have gotten any worse…If you were on your own, this would be about the point where you’d be screaming into a pillow to release all your pent up anger, but now isn’t the time to lose your cool. You have to keep it together.

Sam mentions something else about the Zemo part of this situation, yet you fail to hear out his thought process. Your focus is solely stuck to Bucky who doesn’t stick around himself, having turned his back almost as soon as he could probably sense you were about to address him again.

Dragging a hand over his face, he marches off to destination you originally assumed would be the bathroom Zemo disappeared in, perhaps to begin tracing the baron’s path to recapture him - which might’ve been what Sam was trying to suggest you all do next - however Bucky walks directly past the bathroom and down the hall instead.

Carelessly smacking open the guest room door, he wanders inside where his limited belongings await mostly untouched upon the bed, never unpacked from his duffle bag. Taking a deep, labored breath, he tries to cease any thoughts about today as a whole, desperately pushing them back behind the dam that’s barely holding his sanity together…but the pressure is building.

First he let you get injured and now Ayo hates him? Is he just destined to keep hurting everyone around him, no matter what he does to avoid it? Even without the Winter Soldier to haunt his mind, his life is still cursed with conflict and danger. HYDRA, Thanos, the Flag Smashers…Will it never stop? Will he ever be able to rest without worry or blame?

“- James…?” The door was already practically open, yet you still peek out from around it, ever so gently pushing it outwards as you step into the room with a frown upon your face, "...What about you? Are you okay?"

"...Fine..."

Despite that being his answer, you still hesitate there in the doorway. You can’t just walk away - doing so wouldn’t feel right. Sure, he’s been an asshole lately and you’d have every right to disregard him, but…Well, today’s been rough for everyone, especially him. You’ve already seen how your injury bothered him on a level he refuses to admit, then for the dora milaje to show up - more importantly, for Ayo, someone he admires and considers himself to be in great debt to…

“It’s only natural for Wakanda to be upset with what we’re doing here. Zemo killed their King, after all,” You speak up against the silence, trying to sound neutral as if you’re simply stating a fact and not trying to offer any comfort, “Of course they’re not going to like that we’re working with him for any reason, much less that we broke him out of prison to do so, but it’s not like you -”

“- What part of ‘fine’ don’t you get?”

You’re left gaping at his snapped tone, frozen for a split second or two after he turns over his shoulder to glare at you…Then your own anger starts to swell faster than you can bite it back, “Maybe the part where you still look pissy as all hell. Seriously, what’s your problem? I’m only trying to make sure you’re okay. You -”

- You take a deep breath, even closing your eyes for a second to gather your thoughts. This isn’t the time to lose patience. You must keep it together. Distance - If you have any hope in your relationship getting better, you need to give him distance, and you will, but you also can’t just turn a blind eye to him while he’s struggling. Dancing around the issue isn’t helping anyone at this rate. You want to talk things out first - You need to address the problem then go from there, wherever it may lead.

Letting go of your breath, you don’t mask your concern this time, “...You’re clearly not okay, James. These last few months have been a shit-show, I get that. Thanos, losing Steve, this whole mess with the Flag Smashers…Me…”

He flinches and swiftly looks away.

“It’s been too much. I’m starting to realize that. We’re all stressed and angry and - …Listen, James. I - …I was wrong to keep secrets from you, especially one as big as me being Hollie. I’ll admit that, but you have to try to understand where I was coming from. I didn’t want to overwhelm you. I knew it was going to be a lot and hard to believe so I wanted to wait for a good time…It’s not like it’s exactly easy telling people I used to be someone else a half-century ago…”

You run a hand through your hair with a heavy sigh, “I realize I put it off for far too long, and I really can’t say sorry enough for that, but as wrong as it was for me to keep the truth from you, I still don’t understand why such a secret would warrant you treating me like this. We…We used to be so close. We were close, and then you cut me out just likethat…Why?”

Bucky clenches his fist, forcing himself not to so much as glance back at you. He’d be in trouble if he did that. It’s much easy to keep his back turned while willing himself to remain calm despite the bite that presents itself in his words, “I don’t want to talk about it right n -”

“- No!” You quite literally put your foot down, narrowing your eyes at him, “We need to talk about it now. You can’t keep shutting down on me, Bucky. We’ve been avoiding this conversation for too long already. I thought everything would sort itself out if I gave you some time to think, but clearly that’s only making matters worse for both of us. I…I need to know. I need you to know.

“Bucky, I have loved you ever since I could remember who I used to be. Every second we’ve spent together - Everything I’ve done and said - It was never an act, it’s always been me. I need you to understand that. I feel no different for you now than I did when I was named Hollie. I’ve only ever wanted to see you be happy and doing well - that’s my ultimate goal. While I’d like you to be that way with me - while I’d like to be happy together, if you don’t -...If you don’t see me as her then…”

You look down, uncomfortably fiddling with your hands as you fight to keep your voice steady. Still, you can’t ignore the sting of tears in your eyes, “...It’s fine, it’s whatever. We don’t have to be anything special - Hell, we don’t even have to maintain contact ever again if that’s what you truly want, but at the very least, can’t you still treat me like an actual human being whenever the world forces us to interact? Can’t we be civil? I mean, you’ve been nicer to Zemo than you have been to me lately. It’s like you hate me all of the sudden…Is that it?”

“No -” For once, an answer is delivered without any initial hesitation. It must have been impulsive - a powerful reaction caused by hearing that slight peak to your voice. It causes Bucky to finally spin around and face you, yet that single word is quickly followed by regret once he shies away with a heavy sigh, “...No, I don’t hate you…”

“Then why? Please just tell me so that I can fix things.”

This conversation is dragging on for a dangerous length of time. Even with how little he’s engaged, there’s a voice inside Bucky’s head warning him that it’s been too much. The further this extends, the faster his heart races and the heavier his thoughts weigh…The damage your words do against his shield are deadly, yet he stubbornly refuses to give in. He already made his decision long ago. He can’t become weak against it now.

“There’s nothing to fix -” Attempting to put an end to this discussion, he tries to distract himself with his belongings. It’s a hopeless game of pretend as he shifts through his bag with no real motivation beyond acting busy - an act that doesn’t fool you.

“- Clearly there is,” You huff, taking a step further, arms now crossed, “You wouldn’t be acting like this if everything was just fine and dandy.”

“Just -!” He catches himself, suffocating his growing frustration through a quick inhale, “…Drop it, alright? I already said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You never want to talk about it!” You accuse, a hand now falling to your hip, “Why are you acting like my presence is suddenly killing you?”

Slamming his hands against his bag, he spins towards you with a flare temper of his own…So much for keeping it managed, “Why? Because I never asked you to come here! I never wanted you to get involved!”

“In what?”

Shaking his head, he blatantly ignores you aside from a scoff. Tugging at his hair, he finds himself cursing your stubbornness. As bad as it had made him feel, at least you stormed off in Madripoor by this point. You gave up before he had to risk saying anything too close to the truth, however you’re more determined than ever to push for it now. Why can’t you just see that he’s trying to do what’s best for you here?

Instead of even considering something as silly as that, you use your built up anger as fuel for pursuing an answer. No longer are you willing to accept silence or gruff remarks. No longer do you care if you can see Bucky getting visibly distraught with every poke and prod. You deserve an answer this time.

“Involved in WHAT, James!? With this mission? Because believe it or not, I’m not here for you. I’m here because I consider myself responsible for the super soldier serum -”

“- IN EVERYTHING! I NEVER ASKED YOU TO BE INVOLVED IN ANYTHING!” Bucky suddenly shouts over you, his voice cracking in a way neither of you have heard before. Even through the tears, he swears all he can see when looking at your stunned silence is a reflection of Hollie frowning back at him. You don’t even look alike anymore, yet there’s something about your expression - maybe the bitten frown or heartbroken shine of your eyes - that makes you look so much like her. Too much like her…

Why did you have to come back, dammit it?! Hasn’t he been tortured with his past enough? Why be tempted with you now? You didn’t have to come find him the way you did. You could have gone on with your new life, enjoying all the wonders it has to offer for someone so bright and gifted - all the wonders he stole away from you in the past. Now he’s constantly keeping track of the seconds until he dooms you again - until the nightmare becomes another reality once you’re no longer lucky enough to push yourself back up with only a few broken ribs. He’s already killed Holiday Stark. How long until he gets (Y/n) (L/n) killed, too?

Tearfully, you shake your head. You wish you could do more than that. You want to be angrier or at the very least unfazed so that you can at least pretend none of this bothers you the way it does, but you don't have the spirit; it's been successfully crushed under the weight of Bucky's words and your own heartache.

"...Then I won't be…" You know your whispered voice cracks all the same, and you know your hand is trembling when you reach for its opposite, struggling more than it probably should to wiggle the silver ring off your finger which you then let fall to the floor as if it would've been too hot to hold. From there, you barely even wait to hear the 'clink' that it makes against the tile, already having your back turned as you practically throw the door open without any regard to how it slams against the adjacent dresser.

In a blind hurry, you brush past Sam who looks like a stunned deer caught on a highway. You echo out his fumbled attempts at calming you down because if you could give him words right now, you’d tell him that you're far past the point of 'calming down'. You're officially on autopilot mode as you hastily gather your belongings from your own room.

Tossing everything into your bag and swinging it over your shoulder, you retrace half of your last steps, this time finding both Sam and Bucky together in the hall. One looks annoyed like a parent who just wanted a nice night out, the other guilty like a kicked dog; both wary as you pass on by. Any other day, it might've fed your ego to see their fear. If you had some heart left, you'd aim a joke towards it, but not today.

"Wait - Where are you going?" Sam calls, and you think it overshadows Bucky's weak attempt at calling your name.

"Home. I'm done with this shit!”

Sam's attention is immediately whipped to Bucky with a hiss, “What did you do?!”

The question has little to no effect, not because it doesn’t matter, but because it’s already being considered, stirring the sour emotions bubbling in Bucky’s mind. The guilt was always expected, however its exact force was miscalculated. This is what he wanted, isn't it? He wanted to push you away - to keep you as far from him as possible where you’ll be safest…and yet he doesn’t feel accomplished in the slightest.

Glancing back through the open door of his room, Bucky’s eyes become watery once they land on the abandoned wedding ring that sinfully glows in the light of the window.

…He’s really done it now…

NEXT CHAPTER {coming soon}

<- PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Taglist:

@arunabrak

@lovemesomevesey

[eisforeidolon]

So on the subject of John supposedly being an alcoholic [X], let's talk about what evidence there actually is in the canon that references his drinking.

In the pilot, Sam makes two quick references to John drinking - "he's probably working overtime on a Miller shift" and he's hunting deer at a cabin with "Jim [Beam], Jack [Daniels], and Jose [Cuervo]". Except taking that as evidentiary is ignoring the very obvious and important context that he says those things in front of and directly to Jessica, respectively. It's a very neatly normal explanation to give her for why Dean might not want to talk in front of her (about embarrassing family problems) and why Sam would be worried enough to take off in the middle of the night. John's not a monster hunter, he's an alcoholic on a bender with guns! When Jessica isn't in the room, the conversation becomes all about hunting, with no mention of alcohol - even when Sam is bringing up John's previous disappearances and questionable parenting choices? It's no longer part of the conversation.

The next obvious reference is Nightmare, where the quote is, "We're lucky we had Dad. [...] Well, it coulda gone a whole other way after Mom. I little more tequila and a little less demon hunting and we woulda had Max's childhood. All things considered, we turned out ok. Thanks to him." I think we can take this one at face value since there's no outside audience, but what does it really say? Definitively that John was less of an abusive drunk than Max's father, though that doesn't say hardly anything at all considering what it would take to be worse. Presumably that Sam & Dean were aware of John drinking at least sometimes to some extent, though "a little more/a little less" is pretty euphemistic in this context. Anything beyond that is putting a lot of mileage onto a pretty vague statement.

Another comment that isn't for an outside audience you could take to be about drinking is in Dark Side of the Moon, where Sam is talking about his "first real Thanksgiving" and when Dean says they had Thanksgiving every year, Sam dismissively says "We had a bucket of extra-crispy and Dad passed out on the couch." Sam is pointedly making a comparison between a big family togetherness meal at a table and the Winchesters getting a takeout bucket of chicken in whatever dodgy motel room with no especial fanfare. While I think it's not an unreasonable assumption to make that John was passed out after drinking, it is an assumption - alcohol isn't mentioned. Sam could be referring to him taking a nap on his day off from hunting rather than bothering to do anything special - Sam would clearly be disappointed in the lack of Normal Family Traditions either way (if he was yearning enough to enjoy someone else's big family Thanksgiving as a particularly happy memory). Even if John was drunk, we're talking about behavior on a holiday specifically about family togetherness in a broken family. Bad judgement? Yes. Alcoholic? Trickier question.

The last one I can think of/track down is in The Girl Next Door. It does explicitly talk about John drinking. When flashback!Amy is concerned about her mom's possible reaction to a minor spill, "Yeah, well, she has a temper. Sometimes. It's... no big deal." Flashback!Sam replies with, "My dad does, too. You don't want to see him when he's drinking." While I think Sam is clearly smitten with her and wants to relate to her? He doesn't have the same kind of need to lie and prevaricate in this situation as he did with Jessica. So I think we can safely say Sam has seen John drinking and that he sometimes has a temper when he does. How often that happens, though, and how much drinking is involved? Well, again, those are not details we can get from the text without adding a fair bit of interpretation in one direction or the other.

Are there any big obvious ones I'm missing? Or even smaller ones? It's been a while since my last rewatch and I just don't know the final few seasons very well.

Look, I'm not nominating John Winchester for Father of The Year. He's a complex and conflicted character with some clear faults who makes mistakes (just like his sons). It's one thing to recognize that - or to just dislike him! It's another thing to treat headcanons based on a few vague implications as canonical fact.

[moody-alcoholic]

Chapter 4 - The Stalker

Summary: 5.2k words. 141 learn about your stalker situation and Simon makes a plan to help, but things escalate faster then expected and you end up having to come to terms with things a lot quicker then you expect.

CW: mentions of trauma, mental health, abusive ex, stalking, talking about physical abuse, alcohol, angst, hurt/comfort (kinda).

Previous - masterlist - Next

AO3

Enjoy <3

“Let’s debrief, then maybe you will get some answers.” John says standing up straight. 

“How did the Renfolds job go?” He asks looking over at Simon. 

“Easy, needed his weapon cleaning. Built a shooting range in his basement.” Simon explains. 

“Anything we should be concerned about?” John asks. 

“Don’t think so, seems like it’s just for personal use.” Simon says. John looks down at you. 

“What do you think?” You look up at John confused. He want’s your opinion? 

“I-I don’t know, I was a bit distracted by the guns, and the shooting range.” And how good Simon looked. John nods looking over at Johnny. 

“What happened with you?” He asks. 

“Well it was all going according to plan until the supposedly empty building was no longer empty.” Johnny explained smiling.

“You were only supposed to be gathering intel how did it end in a gunfight?” John asked. 

“They didn’t take kindly to me snooping around their stuff.” Johnny says shrugging. “You should have sent Ghost in.” 

“I needed you to confirm the cargo. I gave Ghost the Renfolds job so he’d be near by.” John explained. Johnny nodded. 

“Well they’ve got enough explosives in that place to blow London to pieces.” 

“Is it secure?” John asks.

“About as secure as it can be, I found shipping manifests, I assume they’re planning on moving it when they get the chance.” Johnny explains.

“Hang on a second.” You interrupt. “You had a gunfight in a building with enough explosives to blow up London?” Simon chuckles behind you. 

“Johnny’s being dramatic. But yes unfortunately we weren’t left with much of a choice.” John says. He looks over at Johnny and Gaz for a second. 

“Johnny, and Gaz go back tomorrow secure the place then hand it over to the Met. The quicker we can get everything destroyed the better.” John says as you watch Johnny and Kyle nod. 

“The Met? As in New Scotland Yard as in the metropolitan police?” You ask. John nods. 

“It’s expensive for the Met to plan a sting, collect the legal evidence, wait for warrants. When we can just sneak in and get all the evidence they need and maybe even shut it down for them. We’re cheaper too.” John explains.

“So you work for the Met?” You ask. You hear Simon laugh again. 

“No, we don’t work for anyone, but sometimes they ask for our help and we’re usually more then happy to oblige.” 

“Besides means they turn a blind eye when we make people disappear.” Johnny laughs winking at you. You can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. There’s a few seconds of silence before everyone turns to you. 

“You said you were recommended us, why?” John asks. You suddenly feel nervous, you start rubbing your hands together. They’ve cleared up somethings now it’s your turn. 

“I have an ex.” You say looking down at the floor. Great start. 

“We broke up about a month ago, it was messy. I don’t think he’s quite over it yet.” You remember the break up. It was messy, in multiple ways. Lot’s of shouting, screaming, the police being called. You hoped it would be the last time you’d ever have to explain away bruises. You locked him out your flat and he sat outside the door begging to be let back in. How sorry he was, eventually you caved letting him fearing your neighbours would report you to the police for noise disturbance. It was the worst decision you made.

You feel a hand on your shoulder pulling you out of you head. You look up Johnny has moved closer to you. It’s Simon’s hand on your shoulder, you almost can’t believe it, he gives you a gentle squeeze. You thought he hated you. Or at the very least was annoyed by your presence. Maybe you misjudged him. 

“Is he stalking you lass?” Johnny asks. You don’t know what to say, you don’t exactly have proof just a feeling. You can’t get all worked up over a feeling. You know he’s been trying to contact you, creating accounts on social media to message you to the point where you needed to deactivate all your accounts. You know he’s been finding your number every time you change it, and you know he’s in contact with your family.

“He just won’t leave me alone. I think it’s making me paranoid. He keeps getting my number every time I change it. He managed to get a key to my flat after I kicked him out. I came home one day to find him moved back in. He..” You stop yourself. They didn’t need to know how that story ends. Simon's hand is warm on your shoulder, you don’t want it to leave. You sigh looking up. 

“I don’t have proof, if that’s you want it’s just a stupid feeling.” You say looking at John. 

“When was the last time he contacted you?” John asks.

“Saturday.” You say, John hums his eyes flick up to Simon. You look over at Johnny and Kyle, they’re leaned forward in the sofa looking at you. 

“I’m assuming this relationship was not the best?” Simon asks. You shake your head. He squeezes your shoulder again then his hand leaves. 

“C’mon, lets have a chat.” He says. You get up confused. All of a sudden he wants to talk? You follow him and he takes you into John’s office, closing the door behind you. 

“Sit,” he says pointing at the sofa in the corner of the room. He drags over one of the chairs and sits in front of you. There is a coffee table between you both, you look at him as he leans forward in the chair. 

“I thought maybe you would like some privacy.” He says. You sigh and go back to rubbing your hands. 

“Let’s start easy. What’s his name?” Simon asks. 

“Joe, Joe Sharp.” You say. 

“How long were you together?” 

“3 years, we lived together for 2, that’s when things changed when he moved in.” You say, hanging your head again. 

“Abusive?” He asks. You nod.

“Physical, verbal?” You nod again. You hear him sigh. 

“Why do you think he’s stalking you?” He asks you look up at him. His eyes are soft, kind. Even the way he’s holding his body, he’s like a different person. 

“I don’t know I think I’m just paranoid, he’s been so desperate to keep in contact with me that I think I just over think everything. I feel like I see him when I’m sure he’s not there. I feel like I’m being followed whenever I’m alone. The nightmares about him breaking into my flat don’t help.” You stop yourself. 

“It sounds stupid when I say it out loud.” 

“It’s not stupid.” Simon says. “Hey look at me.” You look up at him. 

“It’s not stupid. You would be surprised how many times people think they’re being stalked only to find out their intuition was correct.” He says. You nod. 

“First things first though we need proof.”

“I don’t have any.” You admit. He nods. 

“That’s okay, the best way to get a stalker out is to make them jealous. Do you have social media, Facebook, Instagram? Whatever one people use now-a-days.” 

“I’ve deactivated them but I can get them back.” You say reaching for your phone. He nods.

“Make a post, something along the lines of ‘I’m so happy in my new relationship.’ If you want to make it extra believable I can hold your hand you can take a picture?” He says, raising an eyebrow. You nod and he gets up moving next to you on the sofa. He lays his hand out palm up and you slip your fingers between his. His hands are big, and soft. Not what you were expecting. It sends shivers down your spine. It’s the first time you’ve held anyone's hand since your ex.

This is not the same though, this is not romantic. Why does it feel so nice though. You bring your phone up and snap the picture. Looking up at him, his eyes look deep into yours, he has such beautiful eyes. You look away taking your hand out his so you can get back to typing. You pick Instagram, it’s most likely the one he would check the most. You type it out and attach the photo. 

“Should I unblock his accounts?” You ask nervously. 

“It would be helpful, you can always block him again after.” He says. You hover over the post button. You turn to look at Simon. 

“You don’t have to do this but trust me it’s the easiest and quickest way to bait him out.” Simon says. You take a deep breath in and post it. 

“Good now we wait.” Simon says getting up. You follow putting your phone back in your pocket. 

“What do I do?” You ask. 

“Get on with your day act like everything is normal. I’ll give you my number. He tries to contact you, you think you see him, you get a feeling that he’s following you, anything. You call me immediately.” His voice is commanding, he’s looking you in the eyes. It’s not hairs standing up on the back of your neck anymore it’s a new feeling, like a warmth deep within you. You swallow hard handing him your phone so he can put his number in. You take it back putting it back in your pocket. 

“Simon, I can’t afford to hire you guys, I heard you’re pretty pricey.” You say as he turns to leave the room. 

“Don’t worry about that.” He says. That doesn't exactly put you at ease but it’s better then them demanding payment. They’re helping you, they don’t need to. Besides what if you’re wrong and it is all just your paranoid mind playing tricks on you. Then you’ve just wasted their time. You try to push the thoughts away, especially now you’ve basically just kicked the hornets nest. 

When you get back out Simon explains the situation without going into too much detail. He tells Johnny to walk you home. This time when you go to protest you’re shut down by John who insists it’s necessary. You don’t argue it’s been a long day. You let Johnny take you home, he keeps you at ease, back to his bubbly self as he spouts off more stories from his army days. He keeps your mind occupied, you’re not constantly looking over your shoulder. 

“You know you did good today. Most people would have freaked out.” Johnny says once you reach the building. 

“I don’t know if I’ve processed it really yet.” You say chuckling. He nods.

“Well you have my number if you need anything.” He says. 

“Thanks, you take care of that arm.” You say. 

“‘Cause lass it’ll be good as new by tomorrow.” He says patting you on the shoulder then turns to leave. 

—————————— 

By the evening you had calmed down and you were sat watching TV. You couldn’t help but think back to holding Simon’s hand. You find yourself opening your phone and checking the picture. It was a nice picture even though you only snapped it quickly. God were you really that lonely that holding someones hand is enough to have you craving touch. You smile anyway letting yourself enjoy the feeling. It had been a while since you could imagine yourself being touched, or held like that again, let alone falling in love. Maybe this was healing, maybe the dark thoughts bought on with receiving any amount off affection were gone. It’s not long before the peacefulness of the moment is shattered by a sharp knock at the door. You panic almost instantly, holding your breath. 

“Babe it’s me.” You freeze as he knocks again. You look down at your phone, your fingers working their way to your contact list. You can’t think. Maybe he’ll think you’re out. You crawl off the sofa to the TV and the light to turn them off as the phone rings. 

“Hello.” It’s Simon’s voice, it snaps you back into reality. You can still hear him calling at the door. You crawl into the bedroom leaning up against the bed.  

“H-He’s at my door Simon.” You say hearing your voice break. 

“Okay where are you in the living room?” He asks, you can hear keys jingling down the phone. 

“Bedroom.” You say as quiet as you can so you’re sure he won’t be able to hear you. 

“Okay, I’m on my way can you stay were you are?” He says as you hear a car door close. You’re too scared to move, even if you wanted too. 

“Yeah, I-I’m staying here.” You say. The knocking has stopped but you’re sure you can still hear his feet shuffling outside. 

“I’m going to hang up now but I’ll be there soon okay.” 

“Okay.” You reply back tears are streaming down your cheeks now. You hear the call end and you clutch the phone. 

“Baby, we need to talk. Are you seeing someone else? Is he here now?” You hear him say, there’s an edge to his voice, something you haven’t herd in ages, it’s anger. You want to scream, yell at him to go away but you’re still trying to cling on to the fact he might not know you’re in. You sit there for what feels like hours hugging your legs. Eventually after a few more pleas and knocks it goes silent and stays silent.

Your heart is pounding in your chest and you feel sick. Where is Simon? It’s hard to keep track of time. You start spiralling, thinking of the worst possible things. This was the first time he has been back to the flat since you had the locks changed. That was almost 4 weeks ago. This is the closest he has been to you since you broke up with him. It felt too close. Like not even a deadbolt on the door or changing the locks could stop him. There is another knock at the door. You freeze again almost want to scream at him to leave. Why is he here why is he back? 

“It’s me, it’s Simon.” For a second you don’t believe it what if it’s a trick? No you called him and now he’s here. You force yourself to stand up walking over to the front door still clutching your phone in your hand. You unlock the dead bolt, then the lock, then open the handle. You see him standing there, you look round there is definitely no one else around now. He steps inside and you go through your routine of closing all the locks and covering the peephole. He looks around your tiny flat then turns to you.

“You okay?” he asks. You nod, it’s a lie but you don’t care he’s here now and that makes you feel safe. 

“Did you see him?” You ask, he shakes his head. He walks around your flat quickly, looking into the bedroom then walks back over to you. 

“I’ll stay the night, if that’s alright with you?” He asks. You don’t really know how to respond to that. This is the first time you have had a man in your flat since the break up. He dropped everything to come when you needed him. You feel safe around him but you don’t know him. You want to get to know him though. And you definitely don't want to be alone. 

“You can stay.” You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. He nods. 

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks frowning. You don’t want to lie again but you weren't expecting him to ask again. Tears threaten to spill down your cheeks and you force yourself to choke them away. 

“Sit down, I’ll get you a drink.” He says, turning into your kitchen. You walk over to the couch and sit down. 

“There’s wine in the fridge.” You say. 

“Lets start with water.” He replies as you hear the tap run. You pull your legs up to your chest. Simon comes over and hands you the glass then sits on the far end of the sofa. You sip the water as you both sit in silence. 

“Did he say anything?” Simon asks. 

“Just the usual, he misses me, he’s sorry, asked if it was true that I was seeing someone.” You say taking another sip of water. You look over at Simon his eyes scanning over you. It’s starting to get dark out but you don’t want to put the lights on worried he’ll see them and come back. 

“Are you hungry?” You ask Simon. 

“I ate at home.” He says. You nod looking at yourself in the black of the TV. You reach over and turn it on to whatever mindless show you were watching before. Simon doesn't say anything sometimes you catch him looking over at you out the corner of your eye. You order some food and something for Simon too, if he wants it. Even though you’re expecting it the doorbell ringing still makes you jump.

“I got it.” Simon says and before you can protest he’s on his feet. 

“One of them is for you.” You say as he passes you the pizza boxes. 

“Thank you,” he says taking one of the boxes and going back to his spot on the sofa. You get up to the kitchen.

“Want a drink?” You ask. 

“Waters fine.” You nod even though he can’t see you. You head back to the couch with the drinks. He smiles at you when you place his drink down on the coffee table. You sit there in silence demolishing your pizza then sipping on your wine till your head starts to clear. You’re not really paying attention to what’s playing on the TV, your mind is preoccupied with the fact Simon is sat in your flat with you eating pizza. Any other situation and this could be classed as a date. The only thing missing is the cuddling and the cheesy chick-flick.

“What made you want to do this? Help me out?” You ask looking over at him. He pauses for a second like he’s thinking of what to say. 

“I don’t like abusers, especially those who don’t know when to stop.” He says turning back to the TV. Okay that’s something you have to be careful about your next questions. 

“What made you want to join the military?” You ask, that seems like a pretty easy question. 

“To do some good.” He says, you’re not sure if that’s the whole reason but hey you’re talking, he’s not shutting you down. 

“Where are you from? You’re not from London.” You say sipping your wine. 

“Manchester. Ever been?” He asks looking at you. 

“No, the furthest north I’ve been is Birmingham.” 

“That’s unfortunate.” He says, you see a little smile on his lips. 

“What about you? You lived in London all your life?” He asks. 

“Yeah, Sutton, till I moved here.” You say.

“It’s a nice place.” He says looking round the flat, it’s dark now only the TV to light up the place.

“I’m thinking of moving, when I can afford another deposit.” You say looking down at your glass of wine. 

“Why?” he asks. 

“You know, fresh start, away from-” You stop yourself drinking the last of your wine and getting up. You pick up the empty pizza boxes. Taking them into the kitchen. You don’t even hear Simon getting up off the sofa you just accidentally back into him. You can feel his chest up against your back, it’s warm, strong, you almost want him to wrap his arms around you. His hands end up on your shoulders and your breath catches in your throat.

“I’ll make sure you’re not afraid to live in your own flat. I promise.” He says, his voice low, his grip on your shoulders soft, but firm. You feel heat rushing to your cheeks, you don’t want to move there’s that feeling again the craving of physical contact. You feel safe when he’s around like you’d trust him with your life. You let out a breath as he moves his hands from your shoulders and steps back. You feel cold suddenly, a shiver runs down your spine. You turn to look at him, you meet his eye line, his eyes are soft almost glazed over as he looks at you.

“Simon, why are you helping me?” You ask again, maybe he’ll give you a different answer. His hand reaches up slowly and you almost flinch, holding your breath as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes scan your face. 

“Did he ever, hit you?” He asks quietly. You nod, not being able to bring yourself to speak. His thumb brushes your cheek. 

“Choke you?” He asks, his hand resting on your chin. You swallow hard your throat feeling suddenly constricted. 

“You don’t have to answer.” He says. You force yourself to nod. 

“You said he came back after you kicked him out. He got a key and let himself in.” He says. You nod. 

“What happened?” He says gently holding your chin so you can’t look down. You open your mouth but words don’t come out. He lets go of your chin taking a step away to give you some space. Maybe this is what you need to do, to get this off your chest. Will it make you feel better? Maybe? But Simon’s giving you the opportunity to talk. You look down at your hands, forcing yourself to hold back the tears swallowing the lump in your throat. 

“He tried to kill me.” You say finally. It doesn’t feel like a weight off your shoulders, it feels like a punch to the gut. The guilt comes next. Why didn’t you report him? Why didn’t you get a restraining order? Why did you let it happen? You feel sick, your head spinning. You look back up at Simon, there is something different in his expression now. Does he understand? Does he even care? This morning you thought he hated you, now he’s in your flat, he’s not the same Simon you met a few days ago who would barely give you the time of day.

He’s here because you called him for help. He put’s a foot forward almost like he’s trying to test if he can step closer to you. You keep still and he takes that as permission to step to you. His hand cups your face in his warm hands and you look up at him. 

“I'm doing this because you don’t deserve it, that’s why I’m helping you. The torment, the guilt, the sleepless nights. I can’t make it go away but I can try and help.” He says. A tear rolls down your cheek, he brushes it away with his thumb. 

“You sound like you know what it’s like.” You say, trying not to let your voice break. 

“I do,” He sighs, his hands dropping from your face. He turns walking back to the sofa. 

“You should take the bed, you’re bigger it’ll be more comfortable.” You say, you don’t mind sleeping on the sofa at least you’ll fit. 

“Don’t be silly this is your place, your bed.” He says sitting back down on the sofa. You walk into the bedroom brushing away the rest of the tears that managed to escape as you dig through the wardrobe for blankets and pillows. You take them back out to him and place them on the sofa. You don’t know what to say, he’s sat watching the TV, you feel tired, drained. 

“You should get some rest.” He says without looking at you. You nod, turning to head back into the bedroom. 

“If you need anything, just let me know.” You say before you go through the door closing it behind you. You let out a breath, maybe this was healing? You just don’t know it yet. You change into your PJ’s and climb into bed. You can see the moonlight peaking through the blinds lighting up the room. Simon knows what it’s like. Maybe you should have asked him about ex’s. Or maybe it wasn’t his ex. You remember the way he reacted when you asked about his family. You wonder if he still talks to them.

You turn over in the bed looking at the door. It feels weird knowing he’s on the other side. Maybe you should crack the door open, it might make you feel better. You want to feel his hands on you again, squeezing your shoulder or touching your face. He’s gentle, not want you were expecting. You let out a breath and swing your feet out the bed before your brain has really even comprehended what you’re doing. This is a bad idea. He’s a work colleague, this could ruin everything. 

“Simon.” You say as soon as you open the door. He turns to look at you. 

“Will you come lay with me?” You’ve done it now, your cheeks flood with heat as you wait for a laugh, a scoff, him to straight up tell you no.

“You want me to lay with you, in your bed?” He asks sitting forward. You nod, then immediately start regretting it.

“Forget it, it doesn’t matter I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay, I will.” He says stopping you in your tracks and standing up. You stare at him as he turns the TV off walking over to you. You watch as he pulls his boots off leaving them by the front door. 

“If it’s what you want.” He says meeting your eye line. You nod, your heart thumping in your chest. You walk back into the bedroom, and he follows.

“You want me under or on top of the covers?” He asks. You hadn’t even thought about it.

“On top.” He says watching your hesitation. He waits until you get into bed and are comfy before he sits on the other side. You lie down watching him, he’s slow as he swings his legs over almost like he’s trying not to spook you. It doesn’t feel weird. You thought it would having another man in your bed.

It was more weird seeing him in your living room for the first time then right now. Maybe you’re just used to him. Maybe you really do trust him. Maybe you judged him too harshly. He turns on his side looking at you. You move your arm  out from under the covers, you want to touch him, maybe he wouldn’t like that though. You place it down instead. 

“Do you get nightmares?” You ask. 

“All the time.” He replies.

“About your time as a soldier?” 

“And other things.” He says. You sigh. 

“Tell me about how you met Price, and Johnny and Kyle.” You see a smile form on his lips. 

“On one condition.” He says shuffling his body down so his head is level with yours. 

“What?” you ask.

“Promise me no nightmares tonight.” You chuckle. 

“I can’t control that.” 

“Promise.” He says raising an eyebrow. 

“Okay I promise.” You say sighing, even though it’s completely out of your control. His hand moves back up to your face brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I’ll leave when you fall asleep.” He promises. You try to argue with him telling him the bed is comfier then the sofa but he won’t have it. You relent feeling tired, you try to clear your mind and not think about anything just listen to Simon talk about how he met everyone. His voice is calming, his presence puts you at ease. You wish he could stay. You don’t remember falling asleep but that night you dream about him. Good dreams, you’re on a date. Christ you’re falling for him.

—————————— 

You wake to the sun peaking through the bedroom blinds. Simon is not in the room anymore. You slip out of bed and head into the living room. He’s already awake sat at the kitchen table, flicking through a tablet. 

“Morning,” You say walking over to him. 

“Morning,” he replies turning the tablet off. 

“How long have you been awake?” You ask clicking the kettle on. 

“An hour or so.” He says, rubbing his neck.

“I told you you should have taken the bed.” You say taking out two mugs. “Tea?” 

“Please, one sugar.” He says. You think back to last night him lying in the bed with you. You could have swore you felt his hands touching you, brushing your cheek, your hair. Maybe that was just part of the dream. It was a good dream. The best dream you’ve had in months. This is the first time in years you felt safe in your own flat. The click of the kettle snaps you back to reality and you pour the tea’s bringing them over to the table. 

“What were you looking at?” You ask gesturing at the tablet.

“Today's jobs.” Oh shit work! Your head snaps round looking at the clock on the wall it’s all ready 10am. 

“Shit!” You say pushing your chair back. Simon grabs your wrist, you panic. He imminently lets go when your head snaps back to him wide eyed. 

“I called Price, told him we were taking the morning off.” You take a breath in and sit back down, sipping your tea to calm your nerves. He watches you like he’s trying to see how you’re going to react. You smile at him, letting him know you’re okay.

He picks up his mug taking a sip. You’re about to ask him what he want’s to do this morning when there is a crash in the living room. It’s so loud it makes you shriek. Your body snaps round in the chair as you look at the shattered glass now all over the living room. You go to stand up.

“Stay there.” Simon says his hand on your shoulder pushing you back down as he heads over to the balcony door. He goes out looking over the balcony up and down. Leaning round the corners. You guess he doesn't see anything, you can’t think all you can feel is your heart rapidly beating in your chest. He comes back in closing the door and walks round the flat looking for something till he finds it. He picks it up it’s a brick with a letter tied to it. He takes the letter off the brick and opens it, something falls out on the floor and he picks it up. You’re holding your breath, as Simon walks back over to you. It looks like he’s looking through a stack of photos. He places them on the table.

“Well now we have proof.” He says standing next to you as you fan the photo’s out. It’s pictures of you, from yesterday, a few days ago, when you went shopping on Sunday. There are even pictures of you inside your flat. Your head snaps to the window trying to even see where he could have even snapped them from. Panic builds inside you as you continue to look over the photos. Is this a threat? What does this mean? You look up at Simon who’s reading the letter that came with the photos. 

“What does it say?” You ask him, but you really don’t know if you want to know. 

“Let’s just say he’s not happy.” Simon says looking down at you. You didn’t even realise you are gripping his shirt. Maybe this plan was a bad idea.

Next

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[enbee-ai]

@its-your-mind this is for you

here are my notes on malevolent's season one, episodes one through eight

considering my history with eye-related imagery podcasts, it was only obvious that one day i'd get around to malevolent as well. so here it is:

the two things i knew going in are as follow:

one of them is named john, while the other's name is arthur. i have no clue who is which

lots of the aforementioned eye imagery. i think at least one of them might be coded yellow, although as far as i know they are... sharing a body, perhaps. one of them is not human. and he's EVIL

i didn't jot down many notes while listening to the first bunch of episodes, but i have some general thoughts.

the setup is really smart. it's a really good idea to have arthur suddenly go blind and having john describe his surroundings, the people they come across and the actions arthur himself is going to take, but it also almost feels like a dnd campaign as far as descriptions and the dialogue goes (good, i'm very passionate about taz), especially when john gives arthur a description and arthur asks him questions, or when john lays out the possible courses of action they could take and leaves the choice to arthur. also why are there dice sounds sometimes when john notices some detail or other? what's up with that

part 1 "the dark world", part 2 "the missing girl", part 3 "the mansion", all in rapid fire:

(at this point i was convinced this was all taking place in england. podcast protagonists love being named john, and british)

i love stories that start in medias res, but this isn't even that. this is directly after the res. intriguing

peter... a private detective's partner in investigating... mmh nureyev i am constantly reminded of you come back home

the mystery seems straightforward enough, at least as much as a mystery can be, but arthur's detective skills really shine through here. he seems quite level headed.

it's really funny that he tells the voice (this is what i was calling john until episode five) to shut up and calm the fuck down he's so right for that, you go you funky little detective! 

i wonder when he's going to break down

DRIVING? WHILE BLIND???

creepy rotting abandoned mansions and mystery babies, love it, nothing to complain about

part 4 "the voices"

is the guy (kellin) the one who can actually hear the voice? is the severed head just a lifeless thing? does he think ! he can't hear the voice while his sister's head can, because he's unstable? is this what's happening? how would this guy (kellin again, i had no idea how to spell his name before looking it up i apologize) even be able to talk to the severed head in the lake?

oh this is GOOD horror

part 5 "the gift"

what? how did that happen? what? (i'm apparently referring to how arthur got in a hospital, according to the time stamp i left next to this note!)

is that the dream world the book guy was talking about in his notes?

did they actually have this kind of medical technology back in the 1930's?

oooh john

OO FRIEND

thank you for the recap of the previous five episodes i have just listened to

I KNEW SHE WAS DEAD!! CONSEQUENCES (of being asleep for a month)  (i'm talking about amanda / sarah here)

part 6 "the hill"

john seems to really like saying arthur's name

"arthur" "what?" "it's closed." hah

alright yes i s'pose i could yeh

how come john keeps asking arthur to play the piano? is there a reason beyond the obvious?

oh oh his reaction!! it's so lovely!!

gingerly walking into a gun shop and buying a gun like the real americans do. yeehaw

"you know how to [pick a lock]?" "many times, friend" "friend"

!!! john is so surprised to be called arthur's friend!! he didn't even notice it when they were in the hospital but arthur's been calling him that for a while now, back before the coma :)))

"more than telling (turn right) more than telling—"

part 7 "the island"

abandoned houses, severed heads, creepy lighthouses in the middle of a foggy lake, hitchhiking with the wrong guy. cults

all of my favorite things

we fucked up, you fucked up

who's john????????? what 

what do you mean who's john. what's happening to him, why doesn't he remember his own name that he picked out for himself kind of

part 8 "the caves"

"once more in the abyss, john" "once more, friend"

first time john's called arthur his friend! it's even more meaningful knowing how much he likes calling him arthur

john hates rhetorical questions, i see. although i'm pretty sure they're an integral part of being a PI and reasoning stuff out

the coffins were removed... and the widow wasn't alone... this is the thing that fucks me up the most 

more dice sounds

"if they are a cult, who or what are they worshipping", i see john's the one asking the rhetorical questions now

a woman? the widow? why has she gone feral

counting? what? the coffins? time? (about the signs they find on the cave's walls)

ah

john 😳 i need you with me on this 😳

the black goat, the king in yellow (arthur and john? is that why they're coded yellow? is john the king in yellow? could that be?)

is john hiding something? why is the fact that he left the severed head behind continually brought up? is it going to be relevant, was the head actually... supernatural?

does john know something he isn't telling arthur?

antoine's final plan and henry's sacrifice ?

"the one who wore, yellow?" "yes the king in yellow"

the one who tried to kill arthur in episode one? (i think this might be referring to the one who killed sarah, or the one who was following her)

"FUCK YOU JOHN" "FUCK ME? FUCK YOUR EYES"

well john is obviously worried that arthur's lack of empathy for the creatures they've come across up to this point will translate in a... rejection of some sort (fear, disgust, or anger) towards him if and when they find out where john came from and what he is

he's also aware that the time he spent in the dark world must have greatly influenced him, both in his actions and his mind. i think this is why he is showing so much empathy for the widow (was she really?) getting sucked into the cult, he knows how much the environment you're in and the company you are with can influence a mind

i mean, this is just speculating. i hope whatever malevolent veteran is reading this is having a laugh

this also makes me think that john might be having quite the influence on arthur's mind, to an extent, one that arthur is not aware of, at all

well, shit

[rpgchoices]

Sometimes I really want to read a short summary of what to expect from a game… and thankfully people can also submit their summaries of games they played and help me (and others) find games that cater to their interests!

submitted by @lairofsentinel

(click here for other videogames)

what to expect from ROAD 96: Mile 0

Story-driven game with little to play, and more about picking options. 

This game is a prequel of Road 96. Here, we understand Zoe’s background in detail and the reason why she, as the daughter’s Petria’s oil minister, left the main city.  Zoe is a character we met in the previous game I've talked about before.

You play with 2 teenagers: Kaito, the son of an exploited working class parents, and Zoe, the daughter of the country’s oil minister. There is no customization.

In this game, we are focused on the City of Petria, a fantasy mixture of north of Mexico and communist Russia, where the tyranny is led by an “elected president called” Tyrak. Mainstream media is completely bought and altered by his party. I have done a criticism about the first game and the real world countries that inspired it. Nowadays, ironically, everything that was done as a criticism of communism [for example, Orwell’s stories] applies perfectly well as a criticism for capitalism, so I’m torn about this game and where it’s aiming for, specially when you know it's a French production.

It’s needless to say that this game has a high content criticizing our current democracy systems. There is also some room for questioning fanatic behaviour in either side: fascist fanatics as well as revolutionary fanatics. One can agree or disagree with the content of this game, but I like how it stimulates your thoughts and your questions.

Its narrative is a lot simpler than in the first game.

We find and meet some of the characters we saw in the previous game too; like the only reporter of the city, Sonya; the kind policewoman Fany, the tired revolutionary John, or the genius kid who is on the road, Alex.

The game loosely presents the previous game’s  3 alignments: revolutionary, moderate, and mainstream. But they seem to be less tight than in the previous game.

This game has a lot of minigames that may end up being very annoying. 

Among the minigames, and as transitions between big acts in the storytelling, we have something called “rides”, in which Kaito and Zoe do a race in high speed in skater or roll skates. Despite being a beautiful, artistic resources, in which we are delighted with amazing music, fast-pace movement, colour and aesthetics according to the part of the story we are exploring [therefore, it has deep meaning and symbolism], they tend to be performed a bit off. There are a lot of camera changes you don’t control that make these rides a bit more challenging that they should be. For a nice compilation of all these rides, check this video [tons of spoilers, though]. I personally love this ride in particular, when the same tyrant politician who developed a police state a la Big Brother and controls and exploits the worker class to death in oil towns is elected again for 10 years more. 

The game has decent graphics without asking you to have a NASA computer. 

Game fully voiced.

Several different endings, I can count around 9, depending on the last scene choices, which are available depending on how much reputation as revolutionary, moderate, questioning or mainstream you were along the game.   

Short game, around 5 hours of gameplay.

——- Plot? ——-

You play as Zoe or Kaito, living in the city of White Sands, where the president, the oil minister, and the flashy reporter Sonya live. The main plot revolves about the friendship between Zoe and Kaito, and how the class difference and reality affects their perspectives and relationship so deeply. 

——- Gameplay? ——- 

You interact with the NPCs and the environment in a way that increase or decrease your moderation, mainstream support, or revolutionary views.  Sometimes there are boring, annoying mini games as the story progresses.

——- Characters? ——- 

Mainly Kaito and Zoe. 

 ——- LGBT? ——-

Nothing, so far I perceived. 

——- Sadness level? ——- 

Low, but keeps you thinking.

——- Happy ending? Deaths? ——-

There may be deaths depending on your choices. The endings are always bittersweet or bad. Zoe always leaves the city since she is found in the previous game on the road.

[read-your-bookshelf]

✨Review✨

I’m Starting to Worry About This Black Box of Doom by Jason Pargin

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

ARC provided through NetGalley

Pub Day: 09/24/24

What do you do when a random woman orders a rideshare and then asks you to drive her and her mystery box across the country, for $200,000 dollars? Well, if you’re Abbott Coburn, apparently you agree. You leave behind all your electronics and head east on an old fashioned road trip. What could possibly go wrong? A mysterious box in an SUV headed toward DC could never lead to any sort of wild speculation, right?

This book was not what I expected. I tried to go in with zero expectations, but as we all know that’s basically impossible. So I expected, while this was a standalone novel, it would function much like his other works: a story taking place in our world, but not really. The John, Dave, and Amy books are cosmic horror comedies, and the Zoey Ashe series is a near future, sci-fi series, so they deal with modern day topics through the lenses and expectations of those genres. I’ve always liked that about Pargin’s work. It is close enough that the real world problems are there, but they are exaggerated by the fantastical elements the genres bring and allows for them to be talked about in really interesting ways. . . with fart jokes. This book was the most uncomfortable reading experience I’ve had reading a Jason Pargin novel and that’s not a bad thing.

With none of the trappings of horror and sci-fi through which to filter the discussions of humanity, you are left with a story, set in a very real world, that can be uncomfortable to inhabit. Every POV character has a valid point. Every POV character makes bad choices. There seems to be no good guy to root for. There seems to be no bad guy to root against. They are all just people. Making their way through life, making the best choices they can, with what information they have, in the most difficult world: ours. But isn’t that kind of the point?

This book has compelling characters, a fun plot, and a lot to say about how humans interact with each other, in person and online. And if you’re interested in discussions about online spaces and how they have been affecting our lives for the last 30 years, this is a very entertaining way to approach that subject matter.

As a long time fan, this story felt new while also staying true to the voice Jason has cultivated over his previous seven books. The ability to discuss difficult topics in a nuanced way has always been my favorite thing about Jason Pargin's work, and that is alive and well in Box of Doom.