#joseph uh... has teeth too i guess | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

Note

i don’t know if you take meet ugly requests outside of the list, but if you do, I’m always a sucker for stern finding out barclay is bigfoot in a different way (wink wink nudge nudge they are having sex and the bracelet comes off)? no problem if not though :)

Sure thing! Here you go. I believe the joke about "bigfoot hunting" came from @bellafarallones originally. I set this in the 70s, just for fun.

The irony of his worst-case scenario being everyone else’s euphemism for a good time is not lost on Barclay.

He’s not even sure when “bigfoot hunting” became code for “get down in the woods” in Kepler’s little gay community. He just knows that, until someone cleared it up for him, he was panicking from all the guys saying they and their friend ought to go looking for him.

Now he’s in the wildest situation imaginable: considering asking someone to go bigfoot hunting with him.

It’s not his fault the stone fox that is Joseph Stern decided to stay at Amnesty Lodge. Ned and Aubrey even tried to talk him out of it (for the very good reason that the fewer out of towners hanging around a space crawling with cryptids, the better) but the guy wasn’t interested in the other digs in town. In his more confident moments, Barclay likes to think seeing him behind the lunch counter is what swayed his decision.

It’s not a totally bogus conclusion; Joseph sends more than just meal times in Barclay’s restaurant and, increasingly, his kitchen. He does crossword puzzles over coffee, asking Barclay for help and criticizing the clues (Barclay has to agree with him, whoever is writing the crossword in the Kepler Gazette is really reaching lately). He stops by and reads at his table or the counter during lunch. And in the evenings he sticks around after closing, keeping Barclay company as he wipes down tables and sets up the chairs. Lately, he even helps him close up.

The encroaching summer is making it worse. Joseph, stylish as he is, favors this year’s trend of shorts that are shorter than most of Barclay’s boxers. Combine that with his always slicked-back black hair and sharp, blue eyes and Barclay is getting really, really good at keeping something in front of his crotch at all times.

For the first two months, he thought his crush on Joseph was as hopeless as cooking a souffle in a hurricane. Then the songs started.

They’d been talking about music, Joseph paying close attention whenever Barclay mentioned a band or song he dug. Barclay didn’t think much of the concentration in his eyes until that night, when the jukebox near the counter started wailing out Gladys Knight. No one ever picks that, he just put it in there so he can listen to it before they open.

When he’d poked his head out of the pass-through, Joseph winked at him from his usual seat.

Since then, he and Joseph trade songs back and forth, Barclay slipping his coins in when he goes out to drop an order on the counter. The longer they do it, the more the titles seem to convey messages, meaning Joseph’s favoring of “Let’s Get it On” this past week is driving Barclay to distraction.

This afternoon, he’s sweeping up the floor when the other man walks in, sweat running down his forehead and hiking boots on his feet.

“I saw you’re closed the next two days.” He tips his head at the sign Barclay posted on the door.

“Yeah, getting new cooktop and doing some repairs on the ceiling. Not great for business this weekend, but I’m looking forward to having a stove that doesn’t have cold spots in random places.”

“Are you, um, doing anything on your days off?”

“Nothing big. You, uh, you wanna hit the town?” He grins to hide his hopes.

“We could. But I was thinking, you know the forest pretty well and I could use a second set of eyes and, well...do you want to go bigfoot hunting tomorrow?”

Barclay directs just enough focus from keeping his hands from snapping the metal handle to his mouth to say, “sure thing.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“According to the map Ranger Newton gave me, this spot is still within bounds for camping with the permit I have.” Joseph studies the treetops, the brush, their proximity to the river and his second map, the one with all his notes. Yes, this is the optimal spot for a stakeout.

“Sweet.” Barclay opens the trunk, “I’ll get the tent set up.”

They have plenty of daylight left, but it won’t hurt to have camp all ready to go before they set off; if all goes well, they may not be back until after dark, and he’s pitched enough tents in the pitch black for one lifetime.

He secures their food and builds a rudimentary fire pit, then grabs his sleeping bag to toss into the erected tent. Barclay is still inside, straightening out his sleeping bag and adjusting the pillow. Joseph kicks off his shoes and zips the mesh door to keep out the bugs; cicadas are harmless but that doesn’t mean he has to like the idea of one crawling on him in his sleep.

“How’s it look?” Barclay watches him intently as he unrolls the sleeping bag.

“Perfect. Nice and cozy.”

A happy growl from beside him, then a big hand closing around his wrist and pulling him atop the cook.

“Good” Barclay looks up at him, licking his lips, “didn’t wanna waste any time.”

Lord, his chest is broad from this angle. Joseph’s professionalism is all that stands between him and spending the rest of the day leaving hickeys on it.

“Barclay, I’m not opposed to this, but we should do what we came here first.”

“...Is this not why you wanted to come here?”

“I thought I was pretty clear about coming to look for bigfoot. Why do you think I brought the binoculars? And the headlamps?”

Beautiful, brown eyes blink up at him. Then, Barclay chuckles, “Think I see what’s up. Around here you, uh, you ask someone on a ‘bigfoot hunt’ if you’re looking to score. No idea why, but it’s so common it didn’t even occur to me that you’d mean something else.”

He snickers, “Almost sounds like something I’d come up with on my own. But no, we’re spending today walking that creekbed.” Curious, he wiggles his hips as he leans down to whisper, “then we can spend tonight like this.”

Barclay whines, settling his hands politely on Joseph’s ass.

“You’ve wanted this awhile, haven’t you big guy?”

“Uh huh, Joseph, baby, the things you do to me, woulda let you fuck me over a hot stove if it meant you’d touch me-” His eyes are huge, pupils blown out in black pools of promise.

“Alright, I’ll make you a deal; I’ll let you ask for one thing now. Everything else has to wait until we’re done with work for the day.”

“Yes, yes, deal, I, I wanna” Barclay closes his eyes, inhaling long and deep through his nose, “fuuuuck, I wanna suck your dick. Can I? Please?”

Joseph hesitates; no one ever asks for that, and by the time his pants are off they’re too horny to complain at his dick and just go for whatever hole they were planning on fucking in the first place.

“I, um, it’s not, I don’t think it’s what you’re picturing.” He sits up, heart pounding at his chest to tell him he’s blown it.

Barclay shakes his head, “I promise I know what I’m getting, been thinking about it all day, fuck, been driving me crazy.” His shorts hit his knees, Barclay thumbing the crease of his thighs with a moan, “yeah, fuck, c’mere.”

He makes a noise that would, in any other context, embarrass him as Barclay manhandles him far enough forward to sit on his face. But this is Barclay, sweet and gentle and so hot he’s amazed he’s not getting second degree burns. The burn he is getting just makes him laugh, Barclay’s short, auburn beard scratching the inside of his thighs.

“Shit, Barclay, shit, try, try a little lower? Ohhhhhfuck.” A crinkle of fabric as he grips the tent floor, Barclay is making sounds unlike any partner he’s ever had, grunting and moaning as forces more of him against his mouth. It’s all hot breath and grazing teeth and need, something Joseph is seldom the target of. He closes his eyes, let’s himself relax into a slow, steady roll of his hips against Barclay’s mouth.

There’s a rhythmic, frantic whss of fabric behind him, moaning from beneath. He flicks sweat from his eyes as he glances over his shoulder; Barclay isn’t even bothering to get his shorts off, is jerking his impressive cock as his lips close around Joseph’s own.

“Did, did you get that hard just from this?”

“Mmmhmm” Barclay looks up with wild, delighted eyes.

“Christ” he giggles, runs a hand through his hair as his orgasm circles closer, “didn’t think my dick being wet would be all it took.”

“Mmmph!” There’s a jolt of movement that signals Barclay cumming, a groaning growl buzzing up his dick just long enough to set his nerves dancing and draw his orgasm over the brink.

His words are gone, stay that way as Barclay eases him backwards and scoots so he can sit up. All he wants to do is hunker down in this tent and go at it until they pass out.

“Joseph? Baby, are you okay?”

“I’m incredible.”

“I’ll say” Barclay pulls him into his arms, “guess we oughta get clean and get a move on, huh.”

“As much as I hate to say it, yes. I really can’t waste this chance.”

Barclay pecks his lips, “Okay. Uh, can I borrow some shorts? I only brought one other pair.”

Twenty minutes later, Joseph is learning just how distracting another human being can be when your clothes are stretched around their thick thighs and they’ve taken their shirt off to combat the heat. Lord, if he were not on a mission he’d fuck Barclay’s imprint into the shore.

Speaking of his mission, while they don’t find bigfoot, Joseph does find some promising footprints and some fur he can’t identify. By the time they trek back to camp, their dinner is well-deserved and very appreciated. When Barclay asks if he wants dessert, Joseph simply grins.

“Not out here I don’t.”

They take only the needed time to get food out of bear range before clambering into the tent, Joseph opting to switch on the battery powered lantern as Barclay tosses his clothes away. He let’s the cook guide his shirt off, revels in the way his eyes roam over him like he’s seeing the Sistine Chapel. He lowers his head, zig-zagging kisses down his neck and chest.

“Should I avoid these?” Barclay’s mouth hovers over the scar on his left side. They’re only a year old, look newer, and something eager and hopeful peers out from Joseph’s heart at Barclay’s consideration of them.

“No, they don’t hurt. They don’t really feel like much.”

Barclay places a kiss on each, continues his descent until he’s at Joseph’s hips, nosing just above his pubic hair with happy sighs.

“I really, really wanna fuck you.”

“Condoms are in my bag, the side pouch.”

“Okay if it’s here?” He lightly teases a thumb below Joseph’s dick.

“Shit, yes” he bucks his hips, “I repeat: Condoms are in my bag and if you don’t get them now I’ll just fuck myself instead.”

“Heh, someone gets demanding when he’s raring to go.” He kisses his hip before rolling and crawling to grab the condom. When he rolls it down, Joseph sees his dick is an unremarkable length but thick enough that he spreads his legs a little wider as Barclay crawls between them.

“Fuck” Barclay groans as he pushes in, Joseph hooking his legs around him as he slowly thrusts, “fuck, baby, that good?”

“Better than, jesus Barclay you should sell rides on this thing, you’d make a million.”

“Don’t want a million, just want you.”

Joseph blushes, moans when he finds opening his legs doesn’t diminish how stuffed he feels.

“You like being full, blue eyes?”

“Yes, AHhhhn, that’s it big guy, show me how you like it.” He pulls Barclay down for a kiss as his hips speed up, arches his back as strong arms wrap around him. It’s bliss, heaven in the summer heat, and he closes his eyes to better enjoy it, smiling as Barclay comes in for another kiss, growling until Joseph parts his lips and let’s his tongue slip between them.

Something scratches his back, probably just an odd angle of the sleeping bag. Then whatever it is catches between him and the ground and his whole world changes. The cock inside him thickens and lengthens, the skin pressed to his sprouts fur, and teeth his tongue brushes against are sharp.

“Shit!” He yelps at the same time Barclay freezes with a quiet, “fuck.”

“Explain. Now” Joseph orders as Barclay sits up slightly.

“I’m, uh, I’m bigfoot. Or, uh, one of them. But, uh, maybe that was obvious?”

“Not until this moment, no.” He suspects the same surprise that keeps him from pulling back is keeping Barclay from pulling out, a fact that is rapidly becoming an issue thanks to his body's enjoyment of the thought of being a monster's plaything.

“I’m, I’m so sorry Joseph, I never wanted you to find out this way, fuck, I shoulda known that bracelet was wearing out. I, uh, I guess this trip is a success? Now if anyone asks you can say you found bigfoot? But, uh, please don’t tell anyone it was me?”

He whacks his hands onto his face, “Barclay, I can’t do that. I’m not just looking for you for fun. I’m an undercover agent.”

“A what?” Barclay’s voice climbs an octave.

“An FBI agent!” He whips his hands away, “I’m supposed to find out what happened in a string of disappearances that tack to recent bigfoot sightings, and now I have to go and, and-” he freezes as Barclay starts growling, looming back over him, “and I should have waited until I was safe to tell you thaAAAAAAtAH, fuck, shit, ohlord, ohmygod.” He tears at the tent as Barclay lifts his hips off the ground and hammers into him, “fuck, oh fuck, OhohOHchris!” His feet kick out uselessly as what he thought was the base of Barclay’s cock pushes into him. The stretch is tremendous, the pleasure more so, and the confusion dwarfs them both.

“There” Barclay grits his teeth, “now you can’t go anywhere.”

“What the hell did you do?!” Joseph tries to scramble back only to find he’s stuck.

“Knotted you. Not my best plan but you said you were gonna tell someone!”

“Not right this second!” Joseph notices the grimace on Barclay’s face deepen, “does it hurt you?”

“Negative, just, just trying not to cum because that seems inappropriate right now.”

“How long are we stuck like this?” His curiosity is getting the better of him, just like always.

“Until I...cum enough for it to go down. Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry, I panicked okay?”

Joseph crosses his arms, “well, since we’re stuck like this, I think you have time to answer some questions.”

Barclay sighs, defeated, “I can’t tell you everything, not tonight. But what I can tell you is that the reason for that pattern is, uh, if a sighting goes to public, or is too easily tracked to a human disguise, the cryptid who got spotted has to change their appearance. Which makes it look like someone disappeared.”

He meets the cooks eyes, studies his face; he doesn’t seem to be lying. In fact, he almost seems relieved.

“It’s so easy to explain in some ways and it opens up so, so many hard things at the same time.”

“Thank you for telling me. Even if it’s the worst possible time and place. I, well, I still have questions but” Joseph sets a hand on the back of Barclay’s neck, “I also want to finish being with my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” It comes out as a yip.

“I’m not leaving Kepler any time soon. And I’m just crazy about you Barclay, bigfoot or no.”

Cautiously, Barclay leans down to kiss him. Joseph runs his fingers along his back, finds the hair softer than anticipated.

“Guess now I can say I smelled how turned on you were when we got here, and how turned on you’ve been all night. Blowing you earlier was fucking incredible because you were just flooding my brain with all these signs that you wanted me. That’s, uh, that’s why the knot happened at all. My body’s found someone it thinks wants me to stay.”

“I do.” Joseph kisses him again, gasps when the cock inside him thrusts gently, “shit, that feels so strange. So perfect.”

Barclay seems to blush under his fur, “Can I go faster? Promise I’ll stop if it hurts too much, just, just wanna make you feel good.”

Claws daintily pet his sides as he nods. Then there’s a deeper growl and he can’t help but scream, rough and sharp, as Barclay fucks into him with shallow jerks of his hips, the swell of the knot managing to press on his dick while the rest of his cock hits spots inside him no partner ever bothered to try and find.

“That’s it baby, lemme hear you, wanna know just how much you like it, fuck, oh fuck, you like being full, blue eyes, then, fuck, lemme fill you. Fuck, Joseph”

“Ohgod” cum pulses into him and he whimpers, desperate for release of his own. Barclay notices, rolls them so Joseph is on top, all his FBI physical training going into maintaining the half-splits needed to straddle him.

“Got at least one more before I can pull out, and I wanna feel you cum.” The pad on one finger finds Joseph’s dick and rubs, “fuuuuuck, fucking-A I almost came again just from you tightening.”

“Barclay, please” he tangles his fingers into the fur of his chest, “please I’m so close.”

“Here, I’ve got an idea” He pulls Joseph so he’s hunched forward, kissing him messily as his claws dig into his hips to bounce him on his cock. Joseph moans, gives up on supporting himself and smiles when Barclay takes his weight without hesitation. He nestles his head under the cryptids chin, burying pleas in his fur as he speeds up. The angle and the force of Barclays movements mean his dick catches on thick fur and the warm belly beneath it, and as his grinds desperately he realizes he’s cumming. Then his cry of pleasure is drowned out by a howlgrowlpurr as Barclay empties into him, the pressure so intense he whimpers, unsure how much more his body will hold. Then the cock inside him slips free, cum spilling down his legs in it’s wake.

“Hrmph” Barclay rumbles, holding him close, “shoulda brought something to keep it in; make you spend all night with my cum in you so no one else gets any ideas.”

Joseph, sleep clinging to most of his brain, looks up, “wait, does that mean there are other bigfoots in the area who might?”

“Uhhhhhhhhh”

Joseph laughs to himself, shaking his head; tonight raises so many questions, dozens of things to investigate, and yet only one query matters to him right now.

“You really want to be my guy?”

A furry hand pets his face and Barclay murmurs, with a sweetness Joseph’s never before heard, “of course, baby.”

#sternclay #agent stern/ barclay #taz amnesty #reader requests #terato #monster boyfriend

19 notes · View notes

icollectyoursins · 4 years ago

Text

Virgin!Joseph x Fem!Reader NSFW

Anon said: “Hi! Can I have a virgin Joseph x Reader piece where they're having sex for the first time and although reader is inexperienced too she ends up taking control(Idk i picture Joseph kinda freaking out not wanting to hurt his partner mostly bc of size difference) 👉👈"

While staying over at Joseph’s place one night, things get heated. Caught up in the pleasant feeling of your lips against his and the warmth of your body, he seems to have forgotten one tiny thing. He has no idea what he’s doing. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to go too far and hurt you? Whatever the case, now is the perfect time to show him how some of it’s done.

Wanna know what I’m willing to write? Rules here!

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Kissing/making out, light breast play (only because Joseph doesn’t know how to hold breasts), blowjob, sloppy blowjob, facial (cum).

Word Count: 1301

You fell back onto the bed with Joseph crawling over top of you, crashing his lips into yours, melting into the familiarity from a few moments before on the couch. He breaks the kiss, leaving a trail down your jaw to your neck where he left various marks, deep and red. The feeling of his mouth creating a suction on your skin made you dizzy, lightly moaning as you tossed your head back.

He takes note of the gesture, using it to move in closer, biting down on a sensitive spot on your neck.

“Ah!” You let out a sound of shock, wincing at the pain. Immediately, he pulls back, checking to see how hurt you were.

“Sorry! Did I hurt you?” He asked with a coy inflection, trying to hide his genuine concern with humour.

“Just- try to be gentle, okay? I’m uh... a little new to this,” you say, feeling your cheeks getting a little warm with embarrassment.

“Whatever you say, (Y/N).” Good, so at least he wasn’t alone. Yes, it was true. The Joseph Joestar was a virgin. At least for now. Who knows where the night was heading? You tangled your hands in his hair, pulling him down into another kiss. He let out a muffled moan, enjoying the feeling of your nails scratching his scalp lightly a little too much. Oh. He knew exactly where this night was heading with you leading the way.

He could feel his member growing almost painfully hard the more you took control. His hips rolled forward into you of their own accord, eliciting a sweet moan from your lips. Gently, he continued rubbing himself against you, slowly losing his composure as he imagined what you would feel like around him. It would be much better than his hand, that’s for sure!

Suddenly, you latched your lips to his neck, causing Joseph to whine, pushing into you hoping you would keep going. Your teeth grazed his neck, driving him wild again. He shook, doing his best to hold back. He was a big guy (in more places than one), so it would be extremely easy to accidentally crush you, or push too hard here and-

“Get up,” you ordered, gently pushing him off of you. Wasting no time you tore your clothes off, aching to feel him spread you open. All he could do was stare as you exposed yourself to him, caught up in your beauty. You were almost undressed when you looked over to him, laughing at the stupid smile painted on his face, enjoying his little show. “Are you gonna...”

Right! Sex was a naked thing. Slowly, he pulled his clothes off, still half distracted by your now naked breasts. They looked so soft. When he got down to his boxers, you pushed him onto the bed, kissing him again. He brought his hands up to your breasts, cupping them gently, though, he wasn’t quite sure what to do now that they were there. The kiss was broken once again as you looked down, chuckling.

“Are you just gonna hold them?” You asked lightly. He looked a little offended, but you couldn’t quite tell from the over the top expression.

“Is that a problem?”

“No, but...” you thought about how to phrase this. “You know you can do more, right? Like this.” Your hands wrapped around his, guiding his thumbs to massage circles into your breasts, creeping closer to your nipples. His eyes widen a little, cheeks turning pink. Your buds perk up until his thumb, making you moan before talking again. “You haven’t done this before, have you?”

Shit! Well, there was no point in lying. Maybe you’d like it more, being in the same boat!

“Uuh...” he let out a long sigh. “No. How hard can it be-”

You cut him off with a gentle laugh and another kiss.

“It’s okay,” you said, pulling back. “I don’t know much, but I think I can do something that we might both enjoy.”

As seductively as you could, you kneeled down, kissing a trail down his pecs and abs on the way. Finally, you made your way to the prominent bulge in his boxers, kissing it lightly before pulling his boxers down, watching his cock bounce free with greedy eyes. Without a doubt, he was the largest partner you had (though you haven’t had many, so it’s hard to compare). He was almost as long as your forearm, just a few inches short. Maybe you should rethink your plan a bit. You should have expected this, honestly. Nothing was easy with Joseph.

Tentatively, you wrapped your hand around the base, giving it a light stroke noticing the shiver that went through Joseph’s body. He had underestimated how different it would feel with someone else’s hand touching him. Seeing his reaction, you got a little braver, squeezing a little harder as you jerked him off. He moaned softly, slowly rolling his hips into your movements.

Unable to hold back, you leaned in, licking the tip before taking it into your mouth. The sound that came from his was a beautiful mix of pleasure and shock that only egged you on more. You tried to be gentle, still slightly unsure of whether or not you were doing this right. Thought, based on his moans and bucks, you’d say you were doing pretty good. A hand was tangled in your hair as an anchor.

God, it took everything in him to not push you down onto his length. Your mouth felt so good; so warm, sucking in more and more of him. Everything felt so obscene, but he couldn’t stop. Carefully, he pushed down on your head, testing to see if you would take more. You did. Of course, you did! You were so good-too good for him.

Slowly but surely, you took more of him until about half of his cock was almost half way, tip just barely touching your uvula. Suddenly, your gag reflex took control and you pulled back up, gasping, a trail of spit still connecting you. There was immediate concern in Joseph’s eyes, but before he could say anything, you had caught your breath and returned your lips to their place on his length.

“Ah!~” He cried out, shocked by how quickly you went down, picking right back where you left off. It didn’t take long for you to get into the rhythm of slurping up and down while your hand followed, jerking him off with a suction that he couldn’t even begin to describe.

“OooOoh~” He moaned freely, tossing his head back in bliss.

He was close. So close. His hips thrust into you of their own accord, forcing you to swallow more. Drool practically coated your hands now, acting as lubricant which made it easier. It wasn’t long before his hand was in your hair again, nails digging into your scalp. You moaned with him, adding an odd vibration feeling to the blowjob.

“Oh, unmf~, (Y/N)!” Joseph bellowed, pulling your head back as fast as he could. Streams of cum painted your face and chest, taking you slightly off guard. He collapsed back onto the bed, panting.

“Could you pass a tissue?” You asked meekly, trying not to move.

“Huh?” He sat up, confused. “Oh, looks like I made quite a mess, hm?” He smiled brightly, trying to cover up the awkwardness in the room. Though, he couldn’t deny how good you looked covered in his release.

A tissue was passed to you, letting you clean yourself up. After you had finished, you called Joseph’s name, a little shocked you hadn’t heard from him. Upon standing up, you realized he had fallen back onto the bed and directly to sleep, quietly snoring. I guess you’d have to show him how to get you off later.

#Joseph Joestar #joseph joestar x reader #joseph joestar not sfw #joseph joestar n/s/f/w #joseph joestar n/sfw #joseph joestar x reader n/s/f/w #joseph joestar x reader n/sfw #joseph joestar x reader not sfw #jjba #jjba part 2 #jjba p2 #JoJos Bizzare Adventure #joseph prompts #not sfw

116 notes · View notes

ms-rampage · 4 years ago

Text

New Dawn: New Horizons Chapter 2 - An Archangel’s Daughter

Warnings: Language

Word count: 2.6k

Summary: Gabriel confronts Lucifer to protect Daenerys from him. Cristina tells her parents about her encounter with Lucifer.

Guest OCs: Thomas Winchester-Smith (FC: Colin Ford), Jeffrey Winchester-Smith (FC: Dylan Everett)

Guest characters: Carmina Rye, Gabriel [Supernatural], Lucifer [Supernatural]. Sam and Dean Winchester [mentioned]

Written by @athenalillystar and myself. Supernatural & Far Cry New Dawn crossover. Hope y'all enjoy! 💗💗

Taglist: @wargames94 @rabbitsoldier @mrsladydiana @vicki-the-sinner

The Winchester kids, and Carmina Rye sitting at Roughneck’s Crag. Laughing, having a great time, and enjoying the Montana night around the bonfire.

Not far from them, Lucifer appears, tracking down Daenerys. Just to see how special this human child is to his brother. He walks through the tall grass, the lights from the hut lightning up the dark mountain, wooded area with dead trees, dirt roads and the loud rock music playing.

Lucifer sees the kids, figuring out which one of them is Daenerys. Clearly it’s not either of the two boys, it's not the tall brunette with the blue streaks because he met, and spoke to her hours earlier.

So it’s either pink, purple hair (Daenerys), glasses (Bianca), or beanie (Carmina).

He listens in on their conversations from 25 feet away, hiding in the darkness. Underneath the water tower. So far he’s able to get their names.

Jeffrey, Thomas, Bianca, Carmina and Daenerys, but still doesn’t know who is who. The small pink, purple haired girl steps away from the others.

“Dae, where you going?!” Cristina asks.

“I’m getting a drink!!” she responds.

“Get me one too!” the elder sibling responds.

“So you’re the one who’s holding my brother back” Lucifer says to himself.

He follows her, while remaining hidden. “Who would’ve known the small pink, purple haired one would be “fathered” by my brother” he tells himself, “It makes sense. She looks like a unicorn threw up on her hair, she looks like she eats a lot of candy, sugar, and yet has a petite figure”.

He watches her go through the cupboards inside the hut. He’s about to approach her, when the sound of wings fluttering stops him.

“What are you doing here?!?” an angry whisper asks. He turns around, and sees a furious Gabriel with his arms crossed.

Lucifer smirks, “I see you’ve been working on your dad face. Keep it up, it looks good” giving him a thumbs up.

His arms still crossed, and still angry, “What are you doing here?!?” he asks again.

“I just wanted to see what was so special about “wittle” Daenerys” he says mockingly.

“Get out of here!” he demands him.

He scoffs, and crosses his arms “No, and if I don’t, what are you gonna do about it?!. With very little powers you have”.

He takes a few steps closer to him. “I’m not gonna need much to take you down Lucifer” Gabriel threatens him. He gives him a mocking look, and chuckles.

“Really? Because I can kill you right now, and little Dany won’t know what happened to her “father”. Does she even know you’re an Archangel?!. Well half Archangel, but more on the human side”.

Not wanting to give his brother the satisfaction on telling him the truth. He continues to stare at him, not saying a word. His lack of response makes Lucifer’s mouth drop open in a dramatic fashion.

His hand covering his mouth, “Oh my dad, she doesn’t know you’re, or were, an Archangel!?!”.

Gabriel looks away for a moment, and back at Lucifer, shaking his head “No. No she doesn’t know, and I don’t want her to know. She doesn’t know I’m not her real father, and Kate wants it that way”.

Lucifer clenches his teeth, squinting his eyes and says mockingly, “It’s never a good thing to lie to your child. Well she’s not your child, so I guess it's okay to lie to her”.

He stares at him once more, telling his older brother in frustration “Lucifer, just leave. I have enough on my plate already”.

He immediately responds back, “And what is that Gabe?!. Not having your powers?. Dad not answering your calls?. Being a human?. It sucks doesn’t it?!?”.

He raises his hand, snapping his fingers, freezing time, and approaches the group of kids. Standing behind Daenerys.

“Lucifer!” Gabriel mutters angrily, marching towards him “Lucifer, get away from them!!”.

He glares at Daenerys in disgust, “What is so special about this small human?!?. I mean this color. It's so bleh” he gags in disgust.

“Lucifer, stay away from them!” he threatens him again.

“But this one!” he points to Cristina, “This one, I like. I spoke to her earlier”.

Gabriel looks at him in confusion, “You spoke to Cristina?!?”.

He nods his head, “Yep. We had a nice little chat. About how dad farted on humanity, tried to wipe them all out. How he spoke to Joseph Seed about the Collapse, and how he played him”.

“She knows you’re!?!” he asks, motioning his hand up, and down “Lucifer?!”.

“Yeah, she freaked out!. I don’t think mommy Paige told her about, our kind” he whispers the last few words.

He follows up, “Which makes sense because your pink headed daughter doesn’t know you’re an Archangel, and pretty much lied to her, her whole life. How old is she? 12? 14? 15?”.

“She’s 16” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

“16!” he says “ethusasically”, placing his hands on his cheeks, “Wow, she should be in high school. Talking about boys, getting her nails done, or something like that. I don’t know”.

Still fed up with his brother's antics and already annoyed that he decided to show himself to his human niece, and is threatening his daughter.

“What are you trying to do here?!?” he asks, irritated with his brother's antics.

“Seriously. What is so special about her?” he motions to Daenerys, “What’s so special about Kate Winchester, or the Winchesters in general?!?”, trying to somehow convince his brother.

Gabriel groans in annoyance, rolling his eyes, “Okay, fine. When I cast out of Heaven, and landed here, the only humans I knew were the Winchesters. I didn’t know Kate, and Paige were pregnant. With very little strength, and powers I had, I went to them and their family. I knew they would take me in. Yeah they didn’t really trust me at first, but then I explained to them what was happening in the world. They believed me. Now with Dany, when Kate was pregnant I took care of her, and she gave birth, I took care of the baby. I helped Kate raise her, and that's why she's so important to me. I watched her grow up, and she saw me as her father.”

Lucifer acts touched to what his little brother had said. He says, pretending to be tearful.

“That was just so touching” he wipes a fake tear from his eye. “I can feel my heart growing with happiness”.

Gabriel knows he’s faking it. It’s his thing.

“Yeah sure. You really think I’m gonna believe that crap” he tells him.

Gabriel looks at his temporarily frozen daughter, “Believe me or not, I don’t care. Whether she came from me or not. She’s still my daughter. I helped raise her, and if I have to protect her from you, or any other bag of dicks, I will. My lack of powers won’t stop me from protecting her”.

Lucifer shrugs, lifting his arms up, “Have it your way, but also remember I’m still not done with you”.

He snaps his fingers, disappearing, and unfreezing time. Gabriel quickly teleports back to the compound.

Daenerys looks in the direction where her dad was standing. Thinking she saw him, just merely seconds ago.

“You okay Dae?” Bianca asks her.

She looks around confused, “Yeah, I thought I saw my dad. That was weird” she laughs it off.

They all stay there for another 15 minutes before getting up, heading back to their car, and going home.

***

Back at the compound Gabriel walks through the front door, and a worried Kate approaches him.

“Gabe!! Where have you been?!?” she asks, now relievedly.

He stammers a bit, “I-I uh”. He lets out a sharp exhale, and tells her the truth, “When I went out earlier to contact my dad, Lucifer”.

“Lucifer?!?!” Kate exclaims. It catches Paige, Kenneth, Adrian, Mandy, Mark and Nate's attention, making all of them turn around.

“What about Lucifer?!?” Paige asks from the kitchen.

He continues “Lucifer appeared to me, and he wanted me to go with him”.

“Go with him? Where?” Kate asks.

“He didn’t say. He saw you Kate in one of the windows, and he was like “You live with the Losechesters now?!” and I told him that I am. I told him that I couldn’t go with him because of her”.

“Daenerys?!” she whispers.

Nodding his head, “Yeah, he went to where they were at tonight, and I was able to confront him before she could see him”.

“Oh no, no, no” Kate mutters, shaking her head.

The others, Cody, Martin, Barbara and everyone else hear the commotion and enter the living room.

“He didn’t say anything to her, or he didn’t do anything to them?!?” she asks, about to start panicking.

“No, no he didn’t do anything to them, or to her. But he did mention that he. Talked to Cristina earlier” he hesitates on the last part.

“What?!?!” Paige shouts, getting up from her seat “What did that asshole say to her?!?”.

“He knew she was your kid, and he also wanted to know why Daenerys is so special to me. I told him why, but he didn’t believe me. Which is typical of him".

Exhaling in frustration, “I can’t believe him. I can’t believe he would show himself to her, and all those years. I tried shielding our kids from that life and all that demon crap”.

“Well it doesn’t really help when we have an actual Archangel living with us” Mark informs Paige.

“I know, I know, but none of the kids know he’s an Archangel” she tells them, stress in hervoice.

Gabe sighs “That’s another thing Lucifer mentioned”.

“What?!” Kate asks.

“He asked if Daenerys knew I’m an Archangel, and I told him “that I don’t want her to ever find out about it", and he tried to make me feel guilty for lying to her”.

They all stare at him, he continues “He also asked if she knows that I’m not her real dad”.

Kate looks at the floor in anger, her hands trembling, “I can’t believe him. I expected this from him, but him putting our daughter into it, that's crossing a major fucking line”.

They see headlights, a car pulling into the property, they all turn back and see the kids.

“Okay, let's not say anything to them until we get all of this figured out” Paige tells them.

They all agree, and go do their own thing. The kids enter the house, still talking and laughing.

Gabriel, who is still worried about his brother doing harm to Daenerys, stays quiet about the whole thing until he can figure out a way to get rid of him. Or somehow keep his ass quiet, and prevent him from showing himself to her, and the other kids.

****

Later that night, Cristina is unable to sleep, or prevent her mind from wandering because of Lucifer. She gets up out of bed, goes to her parents room.

Paige and Kenneth look up at her.

“What’s wrong Cri?” Kenneth asks.

A look of worry and confusion on her face, “There’s something I need to tell you both” she says to them.

“What is it?” Paige asks, already knowing what this is about.

She sits at the edge of their bed, “Earlier today when Daenerys, Bianca and I went to scavenge for supplies. When I was alone in one of the houses looking for supplies. A man appeared, and he said his name was Lucifer”.

Paige and Kenneth look at each other, “What did he look like?!” she asks.

“He was tall, had blond hair, blue eyes. Had some facial hair. He was wearing a mustard color, beige jacket, white t-shirt, and dark blue jeans” she explains every detail of him, from what she can remember of the encounter.

Paige sighs, looks down at the floor. “That was indeed Lucifer.”

“He said he knew you, and aunt Kate” Cristina tells them.

Paige nods her head, “Yeah, we have a long history with him. Kate killed Lilith all those years ago, and Kate happens to be Lilith’s true vessel. We thought killing her, for the 2nd time, would prevent Lucifer from rising, and getting out of his cage but it did the exact opposite. It freed Lucifer from his cage. She had me killed, and I died. I spent 20 years in Hell, which is 2 months Earth time. I was raised from perdition by the Archangel Michael. In total I’ve died 7 times”.

Cristina looks at her mother with wide eyes and disbelief. Completely speechless. She looks over at her father Kenneth, and he nods his head. This better be all a dream. This can’t be real!.

“What? How? When? What?!!” she stammers, “Who else knows about this?!?”.

“I do, your grandmother, and your aunt” Kenneth answers, “No one else can know about this. Not your siblings, not Daenerys, not a soul can know about this sort of thing.”

Paige explains to her eldest, “I was 4 years old when my dad died. He died in a house fire that was started by a demon named Azazel. Your grandmother, aunt and I travel a lot, hunting down the demon that killed my father, and ruined our family. It’s a very long story, just to give you the short version. I never wanted you, and your siblings to live the life Kate and I lived growing up”.

“We wanted a normal life for you guys” Kate jumps in, leaning against the doorframe, “I agree, no one else can know about this, and the man you saw today. Lucifer, the real Lucifer”.

“Okay so what about Sam and Dean Winchester?!?” she asks, "Who are they??".

Kate and Paige look at each other and nod their heads.

“They’re family. Were family. They were our 1st cousins, their dad John, and our dad Joel were cousins. Their dads Henry and Alfred were brothers” Paige tells her, holding back tears, "Your brothers are named after them. They were the best hunters we have ever known. They were very brave. They've saved the world so many times, and we've never forgotten about them. We always think about them."

“We come from a long line of hunters. Not your typical hunters, but we hunted monsters. Ghosts, vampires, werewolves, demons, all that shit” Kate tells her.

“I need to go lie down” Cristina says, getting up from the bed, going to her room. Feeling lightheaded.

“Don’t tell anyone. Please, we don't want anyone to freak out, or panic. So just don’t tell anyone” Paige pleads her.

“Okay” Cristina mutters, nodding her head. Walking towards her bedroom.

Going to her room, laying down on her bed, and trying to go to sleep. Only to wake up minutes later to the sound of rustling in the corner of her room. She sits up, turning on her light. Nothing. She lays back down, closing her eyes.

The rustling returns but she ignores it, turning on to her side, facing the wall. She hears very faint humming, thinking it's just her imagination. She ignores it. It grows slightly louder, and kind of obnoxious.

She sits up, and turns on her light again. She sees the same man from that afternoon. Lucifer.

“Hello!” he greets with that same calm voice, and a slight smirk on his face.

She’s about to scream, but he covers her mouth immediately. Muffling her screams.

“Why do you humans always act this way to surprising visitors?!?!” he asks annoyed, shaking his head.

16 notes · View notes

thegreatestofheck · 4 years ago

Text

Bare Bones {Theory 1} ⋇ Pope Heyward ⋇

description: Pippa Cantu has always been a little…strange. With a knack for knowing everything there is to know about every conspiracy, every mystery, and every weird happening, she doesn’t have much time (or desire) for friends. But when her chemistry lab partner asks her to join him and his friends on a hunt for the Royal Merchant, she just can’t say no.

Theory 1 summary: Pippa meets Pope and gets a little closer than she would have liked.

word count - 3.9k

warnings: swearing

a/n: thank you for being here! I am already in love with Pippa and I would die for her, so I hope that you all enjoy this story!! Much love.

***

Pippa flinched when the school bell rang. Keeping her head down, she ducked into her first class and found the seat farthest in the back. She had always hated the public school system in Maine, and even from her first period on her first day of school, she knew she was going to hate Kildare High just as much.

Who in their right mind makes someone take Chemistry Lab at 8 o’clock in the fucking morning?

Students started to fill in the seats around her, some glancing at her out of the corner of their eyes and others greeting each other with giggles and hugs and smiles. Pippa scoffed and lowered her head to her arms. All she wanted to do was get through this day and then the next day and then the next. That’s how time passed for her as of late. Nothing else mattered except getting through to the night.

Someone slid into the chair across from her, but Pippa didn’t take notice of them. She didn’t care. She wasn’t here to make friends. In fact, she was here to do the exact opposite.

“Hi,” the person said. Pippa still refused to look up. “I’m Pope.”

Pippa forced a split-second smile, glancing at him.

The final bell rang and the boy in front of her, who kept his smile despite her coldness, turned toward the teacher. Pippa scoffed again and leaned forward to rest her chin against her arms. The boy, Pope, was glued to the teacher as she spoke in a cheery, overly excited voice. Pippa couldn’t care less what she had to say. Until the dreaded words came out of her mouth. She said those two words that Pippa feared the most when she found out she was taking Chem Lab on Monday, Wednesday, Friday at 8 AM.

Lab partners.

“Shit,” Pippa groaned, sitting up but letting her head hang. Pope seemed eager to hear who his partner would be.

The teacher started rattling off names, none of which Pippa recognized. Of course she wouldn’t. She had spent this entire summer hiding away in her grandma’s second-hand store, avoiding repeated human interaction at all costs. Some people were vocally happy about their assigned lab partners, others were less so. Pippa waited for her name anxiously, dreading the idea of spending an entire year with one single person as her partner.

“Phillipa Cantu and Pope Heyward at table- Ah, the two of you are already back there.” The teacher, Mrs. Stedfield smiled sweetly but Pippa just closed her eyes and sent a quiet prayer for her nerves.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” she whispered under her breath as Pope turned to face her with a wide grin.

“Phillipa, huh?” He said, leaning against his elbow and raising an eyebrow. Pippa could see this as an attempt to flirt, a poor one. Whoever told him that this was a good idea was a dumbass.

“Pippa,” she said shortly. “No one calls me Phillipa.”

“Well, Pippa,” he said her name with a partial grin. “I’m very excited to be your lab partner.”

She hid a groan behind an attempted smile and clenched teeth.

This was going to be a long year.

***

Pippa didn’t have much to say about Pope, but there was one thing for certain, he was determined.

It didn’t take him long to figure out that Pippa wasn’t to keen on small talk, so he always talked about what they were studying in class. She liked him a lot more when he was talking about science because it was something he actually seemed passionate about. But every time she caught herself smiling or even almost laughing at one of his stupid jokes, Pippa would remind herself why she was here.

Don’t get attached. It’s not worth it. It’s never worth it.

But he was getting too close. He kept asking questions, kept pushing her harder to break through the walls she had made for herself. And Pippa couldn’t have that.

“So, what do you do when you’re not working or at school?” Pope asked from behind a titration tube. Pippa glanced up at him, but he was focused on what he was doing. He wasn’t really listening.

“I heard that the government replaced all of the birds with drones,” Pippa said, testing the waters. She glanced up at Pope but he didn’t say anything, didn’t even look away from what he was currently doing. “One of the origin stories of werewolves was just a really hairy man who stole and ate children in Europe.”

“Hmm. Really?”

Pippa could tell Pope wasn’t listening to what she was saying, just responding absently. With a smile, she continued.

“Up until the 1800s, people in Germany thought drinking fresh blood from executed criminals could cure epilepsy.”

Still no response. Pippa’s smile grew wider.

From that moment on, every time Pope asked her a question, she would respond with one of her many random facts or theories. He never listened. Pippa started using it on others too. As soon as she got into a conversation, she somehow turned it into one of her crazy stories. It usually made everyone keep their distance. No one really wanted to talk to the crazy conspiracy theory girl who seemed way too interested in HH Holmes and the death of Princess Diana.

“I like your outfit,” Pope said one day. Pippa glanced down at what she was wearing; an oversized hoody and a loose pair of pants. Nothing extraordinary, but he hadn’t even looked hard enough to really see what she was wearing.

“Thanks,” she said, setting her bag down on the ground. “Back to Jack the Ripper, I’m pretty sure Mary Kelly’s boyfriend manipulated James Maybrick, you know, the rich guy with the drug problem?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeah, so Joseph manipulated Maybrick into thinking he was the Ripper so if the cops came knocking on Joseph’s door, he could pin it on Maybrick. Maybrick got it all muddled up in his druggie head and started to believe he was Ripper, so he wrote the diary. It all fits.”

“Sure. Did you do the homework last night?”

“Oh, yeah.” Pippa pulled out her notebook and handed it to Pope.

“Thanks. My friend tore out a page and used it for a blunt.”

“Some friend,” Pippa grumbled.

“He’s great.” Pope’s voice was tight. “I’m sure you’d like him.”

Pippa rolled her eyes. She had two guesses which friend he was talking about; John Routledge, who everyone insisted calling John B but that was the most annoying shit Pippa had ever heard, or JJ Maybank, who was most likely the homework stealing thief. Both had hit on her once before in a time of desperation, but one mention of Area 51 or the Bermuda Triangle and they were gone.

It was too easy. A girl opens her mouth and starts talking about the things she’s passionate about and most guys scatter. If Pope had the opportunity, she imagined he would leave to.

For the briefest of a moment, the idea pained her.

“Something tells me I really wouldn’t like your friend.”

It was March and the air was starting to get hot. Pippa hated the heat, not because it was uncomfortable, but because it meant taking off her protective layer. It was rare to see Pippa without her sweatshirt, and for good reason. She didn’t feel safe without it.

The Bunsen burners didn’t help. Of course they were using them today, the hottest day of the year so far. Pippa could feel the sweat beading down the back of her neck as she stammered her way through a theory about aliens and the Giant Heads of Easter Island and their bodies.

“Hey, you good?” Pope asked, stopping half-way through writing something down. Pippa struggled to nod. “Why don’t you just take off your sweater?”

Pippa tightened her jaw. How could she tell a boy that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath? But just from the shift her eyes, Pope seemed to understand. He turned off the Bunsen burner and pulled off his goggles.

“I have an extra shirt,” Pope said, reaching for his backpack.

“It’s fine,” Pippa said through her teeth.

“Pippa, come on.” He pulled the t-shirt out of his backpack and shoved it into her hands before she could protest. “Can’t have my partner fainting on me, now can I?”

The half-smile on his face was sincere. Pippa narrowed her eyes but left to go to the bathroom anyway. There was an ounce of relief as she pulled her sweatshirt off of her body. It felt like she could finally breathe. She pulled Pope’s t-shirt on over her head and her stomach twisted into knots. She hated seeing her arms. Something about it felt so unsafe.

But Pope’s shirt was big on her and it was at least baggy in the way she liked, so she thought she was just going to have to put with it.

There was a blush on her cheeks when she walked into the Chemistry lab. Pope had his goggles on when she returned, having gone right back to the lab they were doing. He didn’t look up at her as she came back and she was grateful for it.

“Here, can you write this down for me?” He asked, hovering a stick over the fire. The fire burned green.

“Sweet,” Pippa said with a smile. She scribbled down what she could, not noticing as Pope looked away from the fire to admire how she looked in his shirt. As soon as she looked back up, he turned his face away. “You wanna hear about how Amelia Airheart sent an SOS message after she went missing but it was ignored because they didn’t think she could survive?”

“Sure.”

***

Pippa was sitting in the library, bobbing her head to the music that blasted through her earbuds. Her computer sat in front of her, a thousand and one tabs open at once. Two notebooks and a few more research books lay out around her. A color-coded selection of pens and highlighters was scattered about. The table where she worked was an absolute mess, but it made sense to her.

She was so consumed by an article and her music that she didn’t see Pope sit down in front of her. Her foot tapped against the leg of her chair while she chewed on a pen cap, eyes scanning the page. It wasn’t until she tore her gaze from the screen to scribble something in one of her notebooks that she saw Pope sitting there.

The pen cap fell out of her mouth with a gasp and a jolt of her body. Pippa flicked an earbud out of her ear.

“Shit, Pope!” she hissed before taking a calming breath. He seemed unphased by her shock, a book of his own resting in his lap.

“What are you listening to?” He asked, turning the page in his book. Pippa felt a lump form in her throat.

“Nothing.”

“I can hear it from here. What is it?”

“What do you care?”

Pope smiled at her and gave a quiet laugh.

“It’s just music, Pippa. Not like I’m asking for your life story or anything.” Pippa rolled her eyes before sliding her phone across the table for him to see. “Hmm.”

Pippa snatched her phone back, her cheeks brushed red and her eyebrows pinched together.

“Hmm, what?”

“Never pegged you for the One Direction type.”

“It’s called versatility, Heyward. Look it up.” Pippa huffed and leaned back in her chair. “Is there a reason you’re gracing me with your presence today?”

“We gotta work on that final project at some point. Came over to talk to you about it, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Pippa shook off her hostility and gave a shrug of her shoulders. She capped her pen and lowered the screen of her computer.

“Nothing important.”

“Aliens?”

“1500s shipwreck full of gold.”

“Ah.” Pope let the moment wear on for a few silent seconds before he leaned his arms against the table. Pippa crossed her arms. “This is a pretty big project, so I think we should start soon.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe we should swap numbers so we can link up.”

“Link up?” Pippa raised an eyebrow. All the coolness fell from around Pope instantly and his eyes widened.

“I just mean...well, for the sake of the project...shit, no, I just mean….we have to get together at some point-”

“Relax, Pope.” Pippa let out a quiet laugh and scribbled her number onto the corner of a notebook and tore it out, sliding it across the table to Pope. “For emergencies only. Everything else we do face to face, capiche?”

“What, are you on witness protection or something?” Pope joked as his eyes scanned the string of numbers on the paper. Her handwriting was shit. God, he hoped he could read it well enough to text the right person.

The look on Pippa’s face didn’t affirm or deny his question. At this rate, Pope wouldn’t be surprised if she was.

“Can we meet after school today?” he asked. “I’ve got to help my dad with some stuff tomorrow and Friday.”

“Sure,” Pippa said, before leaning back and stretching her arms above her head. Diving headfirst into her theories left her back aching, even if it was only for a free period like today.

She stretched her arms high up enough to reveal a small sliver of her stomach, but something caught Pope’s eyes.

“Woah, is that a tattoo?” He asked, a grin growing on his face. Pippa dropped her arms and her eyes widened.

Shit.

There was no lying her way out of this one. She was just going to have to run with it. Forcing a smile, Pippa lifted the edge of her sweatshirt and showed him the whole thing. The roman numeral ten was etched in black ink into her skin just under her belly button and a little bit to the left. It seemed like odd placement to Pope.

“What’s it mean?” he asked.

“X marks the spot,” she said with a half-grin. “Had to get something to represent my obsession, ya know.”

Pope nodded his head slowly, but a voice in his head told him there was something deeper than that.

“My best friend Kie, she’s got like three of them,” he said. Pippa lowered her shirt. “A dolphin, a wave, and something else, I don’t remember.”

Pippa felt her smile turn into something real. She watched the way Pope’s face lit up when he talked about her, Kie. It wasn’t the first time. On the rare occasion that he actually tried to hold a conversation with Pippa, he would often talk about this girl. Pippa didn’t know a whole bunch about her, but whoever she was, she made Pope very happy.

But that smile on Pippa’s face was starting to feel too comfortable. Talking to Pope as a whole was starting to feel too comfortable.

Pippa let her smile fall and she started to shut her books.

“I have History,” she said, slamming her laptop all the way shut. “Can’t be late.”

She had the books and notebooks packed up in a blink of an eye and before Pope could even say goodbye, she was gone.

***

“A crystal pyramid in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle, can you believe it?” Pippa shook her head slowly. She let herself laugh, looking down at her bowl of cereal. “Anyway, what do you want-”

“Are you going to the school dance?” Pope asked suddenly, turning away from their project and toward Pippa. She sat cross-legged on his counter, a bowl of cereal in her hand. The spoon was halfway to her mouth when she froze, her lips parting ever so slightly.

“Oh, um, no.” She set the spoon back in the bowl. She struggled to meet Pope’s eyes. She could feel the question burning inside of him but she refused to let him ask it. “I’ve got...shit to do that day.”

“What kind of shit?” he asked, looking back at the project. “Conspiracy shit? Alien shit? Cult shit? Or wait, let me guess, murder shit?”

Pippa let out a strained laugh.

“Unfortunately, no. Just...personal shit.”

Pope hummed quietly to himself. Pippa cringed. He was disappointed, upset, hurt. Something somewhere in between.

“So, the project.”

“Right.” Pippa slid off the counter, setting her bowl down and stepping closer to Pope, but not too close.

The front door swung open suddenly. Pope spun around and Pippa dropped to the ground, feeling her heart tighten in her chest painfully, her lungs dropping into her stomach.

“Mom!” Pope smiled as Mrs. Heyward walked in through the door.

“Hey, Sweetie. Where’s that friend of yours?”

Pippa was still on the ground, her eyes squeezed shut. Her heart pounded in her ears and her fingers curled against the tile beneath her. She just had to stand up and smile, that was all. It was just Pope’s mom. She was safe.

Letting out a struggling breath, Pippa pushed herself up onto her feet.

“Slipped,” she said simply, attempting to smile at Mrs. Heyward.

“Happens to everyone.” Mrs. Heyward handed a bag of groceries off to her son and approached Pippa, her arms open for a hug.

“Mom,” Pope said. “She’s not into hugs.”

Mrs. Heyward stopped in her tracks, but her smile never once faltered.

“That’s okay. It’s not for everyone. I’m Pope’s mom. We’re glad to have you here.” Pippa could feel her breath growing short, the squeezing her chest never once letting up as she tightened her hands into fists. Adrenaline ran through her. She tried to cover it up with a smile. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

Pippa gave a quick shake of her head.

“No, I should be getting home.” She tried not to run for the door. “Text me, Pope.”

Plucking her purse off the ground and shoving her feet into her shoes, Pippa barely heard Pope or Mrs. Heyward give their goodbyes as she raced outside.

“That was strange,” Mrs. Heyward said, setting her things on the counter.

“Yeah.” Pope let out a deep sigh. “She’s strange person.”

“Pope Heyward.” Mrs. Heyward gave Pope’s shoulder a light pinch. “Don’t ever say that about a girl.”

“I don’t think she would take it as an insult.” Pope’s gaze shifted toward the door, his eyes lingering.

Had she known that he wanted to ask her to the dance? Was that why she ran away so fast? Or was it something else? Something about her that he didn’t yet know that made her scurry away?

Pope wondered if she would ever let him find out.

***

“Well, look at that, Heyward.” Pippa grinned as she slapped their final report onto their lab table. “That’s an A for us.”

Pope took the paper and admired the big, red letter. A smile broke out across his face.

“God, you’re such a nerd,” Pippa laughed, sitting on her stool and giving herself a small push so the chair swiveled around in a circle.

“I’m the nerd?” Pope asked, mock offended as he put the paper back onto the table.

“You’re on the Mathletics team,” Pippa said. “I’m pretty sure you qualify as a nerd.”

Pope felt a small laugh shake through him. He watched Pippa look up at the clock and sigh.

“Last class together,” Pope said. His lips twitched as he rested his arms against the table. Whatever feeling was in Pippa’s eyes faded and she let out a scoff.

“You sound like we’re dying once that clock strikes 9:30. It’s just summer,” she said.

“But we don’t know if we’ll have classes together next year or not,” he said. Pippa sighed again, but it was smaller. She tried to hide it as she brushed her hand against her nose.

“That’s the way the dice fall sometimes.”

“We could hang during the summer though, right?” He didn’t care if he sounded desperate.

“Maybe.” But her answer was clear by the way her gaze fell to the floor. She wasn’t interested in hanging out over the summertime. Pope just wished she would tell him why.

The bell overhead rang. Pippa took her time pulling her backpack onto her shoulders. Pope stayed where he was. She offered something to him.

“Forgot to give this back,” she said, refusing to look at him. In her hands was his t-shirt, the one he had given her all the way back in March. “That’s my bad.”

Pope looked at the shirt and pulled it from her hands.

“Don’t take it personal,” she said and let out a heavy breath. “It’s better this way. Yeah, it’s better.”

With that, Pippa fell into the stream of kids leaving the classroom, disappearing almost instantly.

***

Pope fiddled with the phone in his hand. His thumb hovered over the call button on her contact. He hadn’t seen her since that last day of school, actively avoiding the secondhand shop where she worked with her grandmother.

“What are you waiting for?” JJ groaned. “Just call her, dude!”

Pope glowered at his friend and pressed the button while his irritation was still strong enough to overcome his fear.

The line rang once, twice, three times. The fear returned. She wasn’t going to pick up. She would see his contact on her phone and ignore him. He was sure of it.

“Hey, Pope, waddup?” Pope smiled at the sound of her voice. She sounded so normal, as if they had just spoken yesterday and not an entire month ago.

“Hi, Pippa, how are you?”

“Pretty good. How are you?”

“I’m doing good.”

“Cut the shit,” JJ hissed, throwing a pebble at Pope’s head. Pope swatted his arm in JJ’s direction, sneering.

“I have a question for you.”

“Clearly.” He could hear her hesitant laugh from the other side.

“You’re not asking her on a date, man!” John B was impatiently waiting from the side, his hands on his hips. Kie took a step toward him and Pope met her gaze. There was encouragement beneath her eyes, and she gave him a small nod.

“Pippa, what do you know about the Royal Merchant?”

He could hear her breath hitch in her throat as she fell silent.

“I know a shit ton about the Royal Merchant. Why?”

There was excitement in her voice, her thirst for adventure radiating through the phone.

“My friends and I need your help. Can you meet us at the Wreck?”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He could hear her shuffling around her room.

“See you there. Bye-”

The line went dead. Pope breathed out through his nose, pulling the phone away from his ear.

“So?” Kie asked, taking another step closer.

“She’s meeting us at the Wreck in ten,” Pope said, turning to his friends. John B clapped his hands together and started toward the van.

“To the Wreck then,” Kie said. She put a hand on Pope’s shoulder and smiled. His stomach flipped. “Good job.”

“I don’t see why we need this chick anyway,” JJ huffed as they headed toward the van.

“I doubt she’ll even want a cut of the gold at all,” Pope told his friend.

“Bullshit. No way she’d do this for free.”

“I’m serious.”

“You have the weirdest friends, Pope,” JJ said with a roll of his eyes.

“You’re my friend, dumbass.”

“His point stands,” John B interrupted, a never faltering smile on his face. “Let’s go get that gold.”

~~~

tagging - @simonsbluee, @parkerpetertingle, @diverrdown, @ponyboys-sunsets, @outerbanksbro, @kikifromtheblock, @sunflowerbecca

if you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know! ❤

#pope heyward #pope obx #pope outer banks #pope fic #pope imagine #outer banks #obx #jj maybank #jj obx #kie carrera #kie obx #john b routledge #john b obx

39 notes · View notes

isawrightless · 5 years ago

Text

I’ll Drown When I See You

Jill Valentine, Carlos Oliveira After escaping Raccoon City, Carlos offers Jill some shelter.

set directly after the events of resident evil 3. Rating: M -----

Finding herself homeless and directionless after Raccoon City’s destruction, Jill kept clinging to the only real leads she had: Chris was somewhere in Europe, and Barry was helping from the background, prioritizing the safety of his family. She’d be meeting them soon. But she was tired and hurt. There was not a part of her that didn’t ache, mentally or physically, and for now she needed a place to rest.

Checking in at a hotel proved itself to be a difficult task. For all she’d been through, all the tragedy she had endured, Jill Valentine couldn’t stand the glare and the whispering about her reasons and the state of her body; Why does she have so many bruises? Why is she limping? Is she on the run from something? Is it even safe to be here? Did she come from Raccoon City?

Those questions lingered on the eyes of anyone who even glimpsed at her. Sure, the blood and dirt were gone and the clothes were new (she’d made good on the promise of burning the old ones), but the situation remained the same. She had just escaped from a city that had been wiped out from existence and her own figure was a walking reminder of that.

Then Carlos; sweet, compassionate Carlos, all battered and bruised too, offered shelter. Asked Jill to stay with him in this small rented cabin he’d found.

And now here they are.

She’s not allowed to worry about anything else besides her own healing, that’s the deal. When the topic of buying new clothes and some other necessesities comes up, Jill’s adamant that she’ll buy them herself with whatever money she still has stored somewhere but Carlos stands his ground. She’s his guest, after all. And he’s taking the couch, no problem, she gets the bed. She needs it more.

When she tries to reason with him that she doesn’t mind the couch, it falls on deaf ears.

“Don’t worry, Supercop,” he says. “Just take it easy.”

And she does. Or at least tries to. The second her head hits the pillow, she can’t close her eyes. Whenever she does, that thing shows up, or the corpse of another teammate. Joseph always makes a guest appearence in her dreams. The first real death she’d witnessed at the start of this entire nightmare. He always stands there, half-eaten, limbs missing, speaking through a hole in his face, asking her not to leave him there. It’s cold. It’s cold and he’s alone. And she wants to scream, to tell him she did try to save him, she tried to save everyone, she really did.

She always wakes up before she can hear an answer and spends the rest of the day haunted and frustrated.

Which is why she’s more than confused when she sits up on the bed, sweaty amd startled, looks out the window and finds out it’s night time. A glance on the clock tells her it’s 22:00 PM.

She doesn’t feel rested at all.

Spotting a bag near the end of the bed, she leans over and brings it to her lap, looks inside to find some toothpaste, a toothbrush, soap and a body moisturiser. A couple of other bags are neatly placed on the floor, next to the bed. Inside them, she finds tank tops and t-shirts, two pairs of sweatpants, shorts and brand new underwear. It makes her smile, her first moment of true relief afer all that hell. But the thought of Carlos trying to guess and pick which kind of underwear she’d like is almost too cute.

On the nightstand there’s a water bottle that she opens and drinks in small sips even though what she wants is to drink it all in one go to quench her thrist. When she’s done, her lips feel softer, something she appreciates immensily. Ignoring the aching muscles, she picks some of her new clothes (a pair of sweatpants, the tank top and her brand new cotton panties), stands up on unsteady feet, takes a few steps foward and realizes she needs to brace herself against the wall to get some support.

Heading to the bathroom, she refuses to look at herself in the mirror while setting the clothes she’s going to wear on top of the sink. Undressing, she holds herself when a chill runs down her spine. It’s fine. A false pretense, perhaps, but it’s fine, it’s a worthy delusion. Let her drown in it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine.

Starting the shower, she rests against the tile wall as she waits for the water to get warm. The cold tile against her skin makes her gasp in surprise. She stretches a hand out to check the water’s temperature and then steps right in.

She can barely move her arms without feeling them burn, but she scrubs her body and washes her hair until her skin is red and her scalp hurts. Something needs to be done, something needs to happen, but her chest feels broken and she’s got no home, no plan, no instructions to follow now. Only ghosts that haunt her at every corner.

Calling her out.

Daring her to go on living while they remain dead and frozen in time, wiped out from existence as if they never even mattered in the first place.

As the water runs down her body, she realizes the extent of her injuries. Her right shoulder is bruised, left arm stinging as the soap clings to that wound, her thighs are purple and yellow on different places, and if she squints she can almost pretend they’re something pretty and delicate, like little glaxies on her skin.

There’s a cut and a bruise just above her hip that probably need more attention than she’s currently showing.

She stands under the showerhead for a while, letting the hot water hit the back of her neck, easing her strain. The urge to cry is strong, eyes already rimmed with tears, but she’s way too stubborn to let them fall. Not the smartest choice considering all the words she refuses to say out loud are choking her, chest tight with agony as she swallows back a sob.

She’d give anything to disappear right now.

Taking a deep breath, she finds the courage to cut off the water and step out of the shower. She dries herself with a towel, biting her bottom lip to keep the discomfort that raising her arms brings, and puts on her new clothes, feeling at least a little bit refreshed. She brushes her teeth with her brand new toothbrush and when she’s done, she stares at object for a moment.

He’s thought of everything.

Back into the bedroom, she can hear him pacing around the main room, and she tries to prepare herself to go meet him. She doesn’t know why she’s so nervous or why her heart is beating a little faster and she refuses to think too much on it.

But that’s Day 1.

Day 2 is quiet.

She’s siting on a worn out couch, body finally giving in to all the injuries it sustainted just a few days ago and it’s hard to move. Her arms feel like they’re about to fall off and she’s sore all over. Some wounds are still tender, and speech doesn’t come easily without the presence of a headache.

Carlos goes out again, brings her painkillers, helps her chase them down with a glass of water. She smiles at him because she can see how worried he is, can even guess what he’s thinking.

Maybe the vaccine didn’t work.

“Do you wanna watch TV?” he asks, voice giving him away. “The reception is, uh, pretty bad but there’s gotta be something good to watch.”

She shakes her head no, still eyeying him like a hawk, and he moves back to sit next to her. “You hungry then?”

“Not at all,” she manages to say.

“You sure? I don’t mean to brag but I’m a great cook.”

“You are?”

“Best one around.”

“Hit the jackpot then.”

It takes a second for her words to sink in and when they do, Carlos gives a boyish smile and says, “That’s my line.”

She tries to laugh and move but that ache pulls at her strings once again, making her flinch. He draws her closer to him, and she lets him.

They fall into a routine by day 4.

Carlos cooks for them and does some errands and no matter how much Jill protests, she’s told she needs to stay still and heal. She does point out how flawed that train of thought it considering he went through hell too but he always ends up making an excuse.

To say that her heart is free from all that agony from before would be a lie but by now the only thing that truly bothers her-physically- is her left arm. It aches from time to time, a jolt of pain that stings and keeps her awake at night, completely alert, a reminder of what could have been.

She looks at the wound that monster left her, a little gift, exames it again and again, and it’s closed and healing but the pain is still there and Jill knows, she knows that it will never go away.

Carlos comes back that day with some new blankets (the ones at the cabin are simply awful and prickly) and some pepperoni pizza.

This sort of domestic bliss, where they function on pretending the outside world doesn’t exist and they won’t have to figure out what to do about all they’ve been through carries on through day 5 to 6.

On day 7, Jill gets out of the shower, puts on a t-shirt (blue, as Carlos assumed that’s her favorite color), a pair of panties and some shorts and heads to the kitchen to help with dinner.

He smiles when he sees her, a beer in hand, and jokes he’s got a great taste for clothes.

Perhaps it’s the sense of peace that has fallen over them, even if temporary, or maybe it’s just the carefree way he makes her feel, but Jill sticks her tongue out, steals his beer, takes a sip and smirks at him.

She expects some teasing, some kind of silly payback. Instead, he steps closer, leans in and kisses her. Just like that; no warning, no nothing, as if the two of them have been doing this forever, like it’s a habit they’ll never grow out of. And she responds eagerly, kissing back, arms going around his neck when he deepens the kiss, his tongue on hers, hands firmly placed on her hips, holding her steady, afraid she might slip away.

The tenderness is almost alarming. He’s taking his time, enjoying every sensation and she can’t help but press against him. He gets the hint, smiling in the middle of the kiss, sliding his hands down her body, grabbing her ass and squeezing, drawing a moan out of her. She steps back to catch her breath, already missing him. He brings a hand up to cup her face, thumb swiping across her bottom lip as he rests his forehead on hers, staring right into her bright blue eyes.

There’s another kiss before he drags his mouth away to focus on her neck, gently biting and sucking, leaving his mark on her soft flesh. She gives in to him so easily, mind racing with need. Reaching down she tries to unbuckle his belt but the action proves to be a bit too much for her sore shoulder and she ends up hissing in pain, wincing as the burning sensation flares up then goes all the way down to her hand. The wound on her left arm stings like crazy, and she tries not to think too much about it, despite the ache.

There’s no running from Carlos�� sweetness, though, and he stops everything he’s doing, stepping back to look at her. She can feel a slight blush sweeping across her face and she hates it.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” she says.

The last thing she wants is to ruin the mood, especially when he’s got her all worked up already and she’s been waiting for this, been needing this for a while. Carlos shakes his head, “So stubborn,” he breathes out before picking her up. She doesn’t really know his plan, but she hooks her right arm around his neck as he takes her to the bedroom. His scent is intoxicating and by the time he gets her inside the room letting go of him seems like the hardest thing in the world. But then he sets her down on the bed, all handsome and sweet, shaggy hair all over his face, that crooked smile still plastered on his lips and she can hardly wait for what’s to come.

Sitting up, she adjusts herself a bit and watches as he takes off his black t-shirt, takes a second to admire his hairy chest and toned abdomen and then goes back to watching, biting her bottom lip while he unbuckles his belt, kicks his shoes and socks off before climbing on top of her, diving back in for her lips, hands working on taking off her t-shirt, helping her out of the sleeves. He discards the piece of clothing by throwing it across the room and draws back to take a good look at her. She’s at his mercy, breasts exposed, nipples hard, scars spread across her skin; some are rather large and faded, gifts from that cold, horrible mansion; some are new, pearly white and glistening around bruises and light scratches still lost in the process of healing. And she’s beautiful.

“Oh, c'mon,” Carlos starts, licking his bottom lip. He leans down, right hand fixing up a few strands of her hair. “You can’t be real.”

Jill chooses to hide how much his words mean to her in a small smile and a scoff; she was never one to open up properly and she’s not about to list all the reasons why she has been avoiding looking in the mirror, at least not now. Thankfully, Carlos goes back to kissing her and that suits her just fine.

She trails a hand down his torso before reaching his unbuckled belt and then going further, palming him through his pants. He’s hard and she’s soaking wet and anxious and the little grunt he lets out in her ear doesn’t help things. All hope of self control goes out the window the second he kisses his way down to her breasts, bringing a hand to cup one of them while his mouth works on the other one, the tip of his tongue circling a nipple before sucking on it, making her arch her back and moan. He steals a quick glance at her, wishing he could frame the moment forever, as cliche and cheesy as that sounds. But she’s gorgeous, she’s absolutely gorgeous, and to have her unguarded like this, for him, it sends him into a state of euphoria that he can’t quite explain.

He alternates between one breast and the other, enjoying her gasps and moans and by the time he’s done, when he comes back up for a kiss, her breasts are glistening with saliva, a slight flush covering them. His actions serve only to encourage her, demolishing any kind of hesitation or worry. She wastes no time unzipping his pants as he kisses her long and good, reaching inside his boxers to pull his cock out, holding it in her hands firmly; he is big and thick, smooth, veiny and throbbing, precome trickling down his length, and she starts stroking him slowly, up and down, pressing right against that sweet, sensitive spot under the head of his cock with each upstroke. He groans, mouth open against hers, closes his eyes and lets himself fall into her touch, hips thrusting into her hand, trying to set his own rhythm, showing her how he likes it.

Jill doesn’t see or hear anything that isn’t him. It’s impossible to think of anything else when he’s so handsome, throwing his head back and moaning only to stare at her with those kind eyes of his. She thinks she could stay like this for a long while, just watching him, her hand wrapped around his cock, feeling him hot and twitching, begging for something else.

He doesn’t give time for her to improvise though. Panting, he grabs her wrist, ceasing her movements. Grinning, he leans back, hands sliding up and down her legs until he hooks his fingers on the waistband of her shorts and pulls them down along with her panties. She can’t help the small smirk as she lifts her hips and bends her knees to help him take them off.

He’s stealing kisses, dragging his mouth down her body, marking her here and there, being careful around the bruises, fighting the need to just have her every time she lets out a shaky breath. He grabs one of her thighs with his right hand, the other one staying firmly on her hip, his mouth not once leaving her skin, and she gets the hint, spreads her legs to accomodate him further. That’s when he glances at her, finds her staring down at him, her short hair framing her face, and he almost loses it. But he carries down with his mouth, teasing and kissing her inner thighs, his beard tickling her, soft licks against her skin, breath ghosting over the spot between her legs until she gasps out his name.

And then there’s this moment, a fraction of time in which he realizes that this is happening, this is really happening and she wants him, too, she wants him and she’s waiting and so he runs his tongue along her slit, feels proud when her hands goes on on top of his head, fingers tangling in his hair. He licks her slowly, explores every inch, every fold, wants to taste every bit of her.

When she moans he changes the pace, teases, circles her entrance with the tip of his tongue, presses it flat against her and licks like a hungry, needy man, eats her out nicely, takes his time. Then she begs, asks for more and he swirls his tongue around her clit one, two, three times, moves his head up and down, his nose adding a much needed friction and then he sucks on her clit, keeps going until she’s arching her back off the bed and grinding against his face. He follows her rhythm, the one she imposes, eyes closed, voice cracking.

“Carlos,” she says, sill holding on to his hair, desperately lifting her hips, rocking on his mouth. “I’m gonna come-” It’s the way her voice cracks at the end of the word ‘come’ that drives him insane, eager to taste more of her, to have her melting on his tongue.

He hums in response, increases the pressure and holds her tighter as she squirms and writhes, moans his name again and again until it turns into a soundless cry, until time stops and she tenses, comes on his tongue, muscles spasming and toes curling while he helps her ride out her orgasm. She tries to pull away, it’s too much, she’s too sensitive, but he can’t help himself, he wants just a bit more because maybe he’ll never have her like this again, maybe this is just a one time thing so he wants every drop of her, he wants to be a little selfish here, make sure this day will be burned in his brain forever; she’s honey scented, holy in every way, and so he gives her one final lick and stops when she starts shaking.

The sound of her breathing echoes through the room, her chest rising and falling rapidly as he backs away and looks up at her, a satisfied grin on his face when he sees the state she’s in. He’s got something to say, a little joke to make, but it fades to nothing the second she grabs his face in her hands and pulls him into a bruising kiss.

Too many things hide in that kiss, from little trinkents to precious jewels, that kiss changes everything the second she tastes herself on him, the second he grabs hold of her again and deepens said kiss, finds all those treasures hidden in each soft breath, and he feels her hands tugging at the waistband of his pants, “Take these off,” she says through gritted teeth and he does as he’s told, moves away from her for one second that feels like forever and slides out of his pants and boxers, cock twitching, missing her hand, wondering how her mouth would feel on him, knowing that there’s no way he can let her do that to him now otherwise he won’t last, he won’t last at all.

“Come here,” her voice is low and demanding in the softest way possible. He gets back on the bed, sits in front of her, kisses her again, and they stay like that for a while, just exploring each other’s mouths until she can’t help herself and grabs hold of him and he grunts in her mouth because he’s been hard for so long now, been needing her for so long, and watching her orgasm a few moments ago, knowing he provoked that almost made him burst right then and there, and now her hand is on him again and he can’t control himself.

“You’re the sweetest thing I have ever tasted,” he confesses, breathless, “Jill, you’re the sweetest fucking thing.”

And Jill nods, not really knowing how to respond to such a bold statement, her face flushed, she nods and flattens a hand against his chest and pushes him down on the mattress, straddles him and although her plan is clear, she winces and hisses in pain the second she tries to move her other arm and as much as she tries to play it off, it doesn’t go unnoticed by Carlos.

He’s quick to sit up, to cup her face, eyes scanning her frame. “You alright?” and his words are a bit rushed, stumbling in his own want and worry. “Wanna stop?”

“No, don’t even think about it,” she adds quickly.

“You sure?”

“Wait, I’m not Supercop anymore?” she says with a smirk. “I’m just a little sore.”

“Then let me take care of you,” he says, caressing her face, robbing her of a kiss. “If it’s still okay.”

The concern is endearing, the implication of his words even more so. “Of course it’s still okay.”

Another kiss, he lowers her onto the mattress, runs his hands up and down her body until he stops them at her bent knees. She spreads her legs for him again, and he’s so consumed by her he feels almost tipsy, everything goes hazy for a minute. He’s been hard and aching to the point of desperation even, but he swears, he does, that if she asked him to just go down on her again he would, oh god, he would, no doubt about it.

Except she’s waiting, the gleam in her blue eyes making him fall in love with her, because yes, that’s what he’s feeling, love. He’s known for days and she’s changed his entire life and he won’t stomach it when she leaves. She’s worked her way into his heart, growing around it like a vine and he doesn’t want her to let go.

“Carlos,” she whispers, but there’s urgency hiding behind her tone.

He grabs her legs, bringing her closer to him, holding his cock by the base then gently guiding himself inside her; just the tip first, to see her reaction, and then he moves an inch more and she bites her bottom lip again, looks down at him, expectation written across her face. Then he goes all in; she’s so wet, so ready, there’s no resistance. They both sigh in relief at the feeling, her little moan contrasting with his grunt, and she’s grateful for the time he gives her to get used to him; it’s been a while since she’s been with anyone but even then she had never felt as complete as she’s feeling right now.

He fits so perfectly, stretches her up good, and he’s looking at her as if she’s made of diamonds, searching for any sign on discomfort on her face and honestly, having someone care so much like this is bringing her to the edge of tears.

This is not a quick fuck. This is not a we made it out alive kind of celebration. There’s more here, there’s so much more, she can see it in his eyes.

He leans forward, his body covering hers as he props himself up with one arm on her side to keep from crushing her. Staring right into her eyes, he kisses her lips and starts moving. It’s a steady pace at first, as if he’s trying to understand her, trying to see what drives her crazy, what she likes.

Can he be rough?

Can he hold her a little tighter?

Those silent questions are answered when she urges him on, her hands on his shoulder, bringing him down on her so her breasts are flush against his chest and his face is an inch away from hers. He kisses her when he starts moving, feels her breaking into a moan but then respond, moving her hips in accordance to his, but even so she’s letting him lead; he’s the one in control this time around.

So he thrusts slowly, long strokes that make her want to just push him down again and ride him because she thinks he might have made her a little insane here, a little too obsessed. She watches him, his handsome face and its perfect features, then darts her glance down to where they’re both connected, sees him move, sees and feels him pullig back until just the head of his cock is inside, and then he slides in again, repeats the motion again and again until she can’t take it anymore, wraps her legs around his waist and says, “Faster.”

“Yeah?” he asks, still set on that same rhythm, looking for permission, focusing his gaze for one instance at a huge bruise near her hip.

“Please,” she begs in the middle of a kiss. “Please.”

He increases the pace gradually, watches the changes on her face, and when she throws her arms around his neck (all the flinching and wincing still there but to hell with them to hell with them, this means so much more), he finally lets go. His thrusts grow harder and faster, so much so that he accidently slips out, and when that happens he drives her mad by grabbing his cock and rubbing it on her clit for a few seconds, a small tease that earns him some more pretty little moans, his name spilling out of her lips like sugar.

He’s in trouble, he concludes, he’s in trouble. This woman may as well be his everything.

He will drown himself in her if she asks him to.

Lodge himself into her bones.

Never let her go.

If she wants him as much as he wants her.

(and he hopes she does he hopes she does)

When he thrusts back into her, he wastes no time, no more teasing, he moves, feels her nails digging into his flesh, little red moons forming all over his skin, she’s clenching around him and he’s pounding into her so fast and hard the slap from skin against skin is loud enough to reverberate on the walls. Throught it all, he doesn’t break eye contact, no, looks at her as if she’s meant to be worshipped.

Jill is lost in a trance, feeling his cock in and out of her, he’s so big and hard, he’s so perfect, so good, she could stay like this forever and then he hits that spot, that little spot and she clenchs around him and moans, which in turn makes him groan. “Right there,” she says, “Right there, don’t stop, please, just like that.”

Carlos nods, he’s mesmerized, trying to hold back his own release, showering her neck with kisses, licking the salt off of her skin, hips working nonstop. “Fuck,” he says, voice hoarse. “You feel so good. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

She clings to him as if her life depends on it (and god knows it did), she clings to him, their hearts beating in perfect synchrony.

This is meant to be, she thinks, this is meant to be.

His thrusts are even harder now, rocking them back and forth on the bed. He buries his head on the crook of her neck, muffling his groans. She gives up on trying to follow his rhythm, gives up completely, this is too good, too fucking good, she can only take it. She’s so close, he knows, she doesn’t even need to tell him with the way she tightening around his cock, the way her moans are turning into almost sobs, her shaky voice trying to utter a warning, one that he loves so much.

He keeps up the pace while sliding a hand down her body, finding her clit, still a little swollen and sensitive from his earlier ministrations. This time she does cry out, holding on to him. It’s overwhelming; she’s right at the edge and she doesn’t want it to end, fuck, don’t let this end.

He’s losing control, pumping into her, his warm breath on her skin, and when that wave hits her, when her face gets hot and her breathing heavy she asks for one thing, just one tiny thing. “Come with me,” she says. “Come with me, please, please, come with me.”

“Inside you?” and such simple question should sound a lot more like caution than it does in that moment. In that moment though, that simple question is about trust above anything else, and she nods, all desperate and pretty, she nods.

“Inside me,” she orders as he kisses her. “Inside me, it’s okay, fill me up, let me-” her voice breaks when he speeds up the pace. “Let me feel you, I need to feel you.”

He places a hand around her neck, doesn’t apply pressure, just keeps it there and stares at her and fucks her and kisses her and says “I’ll fill you up then, I’ll do it, you’ll be all mine, right, just mine?” he asks in between pants, voice rough and brash and still laced with adoration.

“Just yours.”

She means it.

He thrusts into her with hard, fast, long strokes, and she’s clenching around his thick cock, coming with such intensity that she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from truly screaming.

At the same time, his movements grow erratic, his grunts and groans a lot louder, and then he’s burying himself into her to the hilt and coming deep inside her, breathing so hard he feels like he might pass out.

She holds on to him as they both wait until they can breathe normally again, but he can’t resist kissing her, not when she’s giving him that look, not when he’s so scared of never seeing her again after this that he can feel his bones trembling. After a moment, when the world goes back to existing, he slips out of her and rolls to her side, brings her with him. She’s curled up around him like a cat, and he’s smiling, stroking her hair idly.

“You’re not in pain, are you?” he asks.

Shaking her head, she chuckles. “Sex is one hell of a drug, you know.”

“You’re one hell of a drug.”

“Oh god,” she laughs at the line.

“No, I’m serious. Got me screwed up for life here,” he admits. “Pretty sure I’m addicted.”

It’s quiet for a moment, Carlos is already cursing himself for ruining this. Too blunt. Too blunt and they don’t even know what they’re going to do tomorrow.

But then she looks up at him, and says: “For life is a big commitment.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a man of my word,” he says.

“That’s good to know,” she smiles at him, rests her head on his chest and closes her eyes.

Carlos wraps an arm around her then, holds her tight and close, the stupidest smile decorating his face.

And for the first time in months, Jill sleeps peacefully.

--- a/n: i’m rusty as hell but writing this brought me joy. i dedicate this to my lovely friend @passionedance because holy shit she put up with me gushing about these two a lot. <3 also, i hope everyone is okay and taking care of themselves. <3

#valeveira #jillxcarlos #jill valentine #carlos oliveira #carlosxjill #resident evil 3

81 notes · View notes

hopecountysfavhoe · 4 years ago

Text

‘Cold’ Chapter Four

Word Count: 2,577

TW: Arguing, light whump, blood, course language,

They hiked in silence, neither one of them wanting to argue. The Deputy didn't say anything but she could lay on the floor in the middle of the cabin (or really just anywhere) and sleep for the next 12 hours. Her legs were shaking from the exertion and her hands were basically only being held up by her fingers being hooked in her pack's straps. Jacob could tell she was tired but he was expecting that. He would slow down for her as they walked, pretending that he was listening for something in the wind.

The Deputy never caught onto what he was doing but she was glad that he wasn't going at full speed. She figured it was because his shoulder was hurting him. He'd covered it up with his torn winter jacket, shoving the outside flap of material inside the hole to try and seal some heat in.

When they got to the steep hill the Deputy remembered why she'd tried to take the river. It really was a steep hill. Her breath was ragged but she pressed on, using her hands and arms as supports in the snow to pull herself up. Jacob helped by grabbing a fistful of her jacket and pulling her along with him until they reached the top.

The Deputy accepted his help, not gladly but she was relieved that he was there. The sky was darkening and the fast wind turned into thick, slow falling snow. Massive snowflakes dotted the Deputy's vision obscuring her view of the glowing cabin lights. It was getting dark, which meant that the trail leading to the cabin was getting even harder to see. Jacob walked closer to the Deputy, looking over his shoulder to make sure she was right behind him and not going the wrong way.

The cold was seeping through their gloves, prickling the tips of their fingers as they tried to keep their hands warm. "Look Deputy, the cabin is just right there." Jacob said and the Deputy didn't respond. She only nodded her head and kept walking.

The last little hill before they snuck down into the small dip the house was built in seemed like the hardest one yet. The fresh snow was stacking up on top of the old snow, meaning that it was getting deeper, and when fresh snow stacks on top of old snow it gets heavier and harder to walk through. Jacob plowed ahead, his trail proved a lot easier for the Deputy to walk through seeing as most of the snow was knocked down, but she tried to make her own trail up the hill to get more traction in the snow.

The hill couldn't have been more that 15 feet but it felt like Everest. Every time the deputy broke through the snow she got a little closer, but it took so much effort it zapped the small reserve tank of energy she'd been dipping into all day. At the peak of the hill, Jacob grabbed her under her arm, pulling her over the top of the hill. She mumbled a thank you but couldn't say much else. Jacob didn't let go of her arm until they reached the door of the cabin.

Jacob opening the door and stepping through into the warmth of the tiny cabin was the most amazing thing the Deputy had ever felt. She stumbled over her clunky boots and peeled off her hat. Taking off her pack, jacket, and boots was like dropping a 50 pound weight off the Deputy's shoulders, it was a glorious feeling. They both got undressed down to their base layers and hung their guns on the wall, dragging their snow clothes over to the fire. The Deputy sat on the couch, her body knew that it wasn't going to be moving again soon and it was pleased. Jacob added a couple pieces of wood on to the fire and sunk into his chair.

Jacob grabbed the medikit off the coffee table and took out some of the sterilizer he used on the Deputy's wound. He poured some onto a towel and cleaned his torn shoulder, wincing at the sharp pain.

"Thanks for finding me. If you hadn't been there then..." The Deputy trailed off and looked over at Jacob as he dabbed the towel across his shoulder, it quickly turned red with blood. "Let me help." She said and leaned forward.

"You can't even stand." He reminded her and the Deputy made a face.

"Then come over here, it's the least I can do, I mean you did take on a pack of wolves for me." The Deputy motioned for Jacob to sit next to her on the couch. Jacob pondered it for a moment before deciding he had nothing to lose. He lifted himself out of the chair and picked up the medikit. He sat down on the couch, turning his back to her.

"You're going to have to take off the shirt." The Deputy said.

"No."

"Then be prepared for me to accidentally stitch the fabric into your skin." The Deputy said and Jacob let out a sigh.

"Fine." He grumbled, peeling the shirt off and raising it over his head. He held the shirt in his hands, the Deputy could feel how uncomfortable he was. The amount of scars he had shocked her. His entire back was littered with burns and healed bullet wounds. It looked like a battlefield. The Deputy realized she was staring and got a fresh towel with sterilizer.

"You have a lot of scars." She blurted out while pressing the towel into Jacob's shoulder. There was no way to avoid touching his bare skin, not if she wanted to fix him.

"Yeah." Jacob grumbled.

"But you don't have any sin tattoos."

"I don't let John anywhere near me with that fucking thing." He said, not really enjoying making this conversation. He'd already seen her tattoo, the large 'Wrath' stamped right on her chest.

"So...he didn't force you to atone?" The Deputy asked in almost a meek voice.

Jacob paused, glancing at his shoulder. "John may have some pull with Joseph, but I'm stronger than he is in a fight." He put simply, trying to avoid looking at the Deputy.

"Can I have the needle and thread?" She asked, holding her hand over his shoulder. Jacob handed her the spool of thread and the needle, closing the medikit. "This is going to hurt." The Deputy warned and Jacob just breathed.

"It's fine, don't try to be gentle." He grit his teeth and waited. The Deputy poked the thread through the needle and pushed the torn skin together with her hand. Carefully she began stitching, trying to make it look neat. It was difficult to push into Jacob's muscular shoulder but the Deputy managed.

As she stitched, they both became silent. But Jacob broke the silence. "Why did you try to leave?" He asked her, firmly holding onto the medikit.

"I told you, I thought I could make it."

"You were exhausted, you could barely stand up to put wood on the fire, why would you think you could make it?" Jacob asked, the irritation in his voice becoming more prevalent as he spoke.

The Deputy paused before continuing to stitch. "I don't know."

"Yes you do."

"I guess, I was scared." She said, finishing the last sitch. She cut the thread and handed him back the needle and thread. "Ointment and bandages." She asked and Jacob handed them to her.

"What were you scared of?" He asked her. She didn't say anything because she didn't know how to respond. Cold and distant and just lie? Could she tell him the truth? She wasn't sure, and while she was busy not being sure Jacob came to the answer himself. "Were you scared of me?" He used a gentler tone, turning his head so that he could see the Deputy.

"Maybe, I'm not really sure." The Deputy tiptoed around the real answer. Which is that she was a little scared of him. Every time she or somebody else has made him angry they usually wind up dead. So far she's been able to escape him and his anger but now she was stuck with him, alone. The Deputy didn't say anything, she only rubbed the ointment on his stitches and placed a bandage over it.

"Do you have any Ace bandages? I don't think this bandage will be enough." The Deputy asked, studying his shoulder. Jacob stood up, walking around the couch and over to the cabinets. He pulled out a thick round of long bandages and brought them back to the couch.

Jacob was wary of sitting down but the Deputy gave him a look that forced him too. The Deputy took the Ace bandage and wrapped his arm, being careful not to make it too tight. "There you go." She said and cut the end of the bandage with scissors.

Jacob got off the couch, grabbing the used towels and bandage roll to bring to the cabinet. The Deputy put the supplies back in the medikit and closed it on the coffee table. She looked back out at the window, wondering if her friends would be worried about her. She was sure they were at least concerned, but part of her hoped that they wouldn't come looking for her. She had no idea how to explain this situation to them.

Jacob appeared again, now wearing a different shirt and pants. The Deputy was already dozing off, her arms folded over her chest with her head leaning back into the couch.

"Deputy." Jacob said her name and the Deputy jolted awake.

"I'm up." She said, clearly not 'up'.

"You need to eat, it'll help you get your energy back." He said and fetched another two cans of soup.

He handed her an open can and a spoon. "I've got to ask, is this all you eat?" The Deputy asked, poking the soup with the spoon.

"This is my emergency food. And yes, I do eat it a lot."

"But do you enjoy it?"

"Food is food, this can will give me the same protein anything else will." Jacob shrugged and looked back to his own can.

The Deputy was quiet. She knew that if she pushed too hard then Jacob would most likely get upset again. But she was dying with curiosity. "Do you ever heat it up?" Jacob let out a huff and got up, taking the can from her hands. The Deputy protested until she saw what he was doing. He set the can on the rock of the fireplace, almost all the way in the fire.

"It'll be warm in a few minutes." He stated and sat back down in his chair.

"Oh uh, thanks." The Deputy was a little taken aback, and she didn't know how to respond. They sat in silence, Jacob eating while the Deputy watched the fire, waiting for some nice warm soup.

"So...do you come up here often?" The Deputy asked, uncomfortable with the prolonged silence.

"As often as I can. I haven't in a while though with you bombing all my wolf calls." He got in a dig but the Deputy let it roll off.

"I was just wondering why you don't have a bed, I mean most old cabins have a bed." She said, getting nosy.

Jacob motioned to the couch. "That's a bed."

"What do you mean?"

"It's a fold out couch, which means that it turns into a bed."

"Then why did you sleep on that chair all of last night?" The Deputy asked, Jacob gave her an expression that said she was clearly stupid.

"You're on the couch, I'm fine in the chair." He went back to his soup and the Deputy shook her head.

"Tonight we're turning it into a bed." She stated and Jacob let out a stressed noise.

"Not happening."

"Jacob, you shouldn't have to sleep on a chair in your own cabin. We don't have to face each other, we can face the wall." The Deputy wore him down, although she really didn't know why. After all of those nights rotting in his cages maybe a couple nights on a stiff chair was what he needed.

"You're really not going to let this go are you?" He asked, making eye contact with her as she nodded. He got out of his chair and walked back over to the fire, grabbing her soup out of the ashes. With a quick brush of his fingers the ash clinging to the can fell back into the fire. He brought the can over to the Deputy, holding it out for her to take.

"I'll fold it out after you finish eating." He finally agreed and the Deputy accepted the soup gladly.

"Thank you." She said and adjusted her fingers on the hot can. The metal was hot on her fingers, causing a slight burning sensation every time she squeezed it too hard. The soup was much better warm. So much better.

When they both finished the soup, Jacob got the wobbly Deputy to stand up while he folded the couch out. Resting was dangerous as the Deputy was quick to discover, because it made her feel stronger than she actually was. But even standing for the quick five minutes it took for Jacob to move the coffee table out of the way and slide the couch back was a harsh reminder that she wasn't very recovered yet.

Jacob moved the couch cushions and folded the couch outward. The sheets and thin cover were still on the bed, almost perfectly made. He walked over to the cabinet by the dresser and pulled out two floppy pillows. He motioned to the bed with a nod, telling the Deputy she could sit down.

"It's a little dusty but it should get the job done." He said and set the blankets at the end of the bed.

"Well I've slept on worse." The Deputy said, it's possible there was a small dig in their somewhere.

When she sat on the bed it creaked loudly and dipped under her weight. She got in on the right side of the bed, prying up the tightly made sheets with her slightly jittery hands. She laid her blanket over top of her, now she'd be plenty warm all night long. Jacob got in on the left side of the bed, slipping off his boots before pulling the covers over him. He gave the sheets a quick kick upwards, freeing them from the folded corner so that they didn't press against his feet.

"Let's go to bed now," Jacob said, "and actually go to sleep. This ain't a sleepover so no talking." He looked over at the Deputy who nodded and rolled away from him. He laid his arms on his stomach and closed his eyes. He wasn't quick to fall asleep though, he waited until the Deputy's breathing evened out and fell asleep.

He rubbed a hand over his face, pressing his fingers into the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. That Deputy was infuriating, with the soup and with the bed, but he guessed she was right. The soup is better warmed and the bed was much more comfortable than the chair but still the suggestions came from her, so it was infuriating. Eventually Jacob fell asleep, still in the same position as when he laid down.

#farcry5 #far cry fanfiction #far cry fanfic #jacob seed #jacob seed x deputy #jacob x deputy #oc deputy #fanfic #fem deputy #female deputy

11 notes · View notes

xmxisxforxmaybe · 5 years ago

Note

The sharing bed prompts I loveee that shit. What about “person A hogs all the covers and person B’s solution is to spoon them” and “does that feel good” with Rami as person B?

All right—I took some liberties with this prompt, and while it isn’t smut, it is fluffy and fun. Perhaps there needs to be a Part II, but for now, here you go : )

Y/N is the press tour director for Bohemian Rhapsody, so essentially, she is in charge of the boys. This is totally AU-ish, and this is also the first time I’ve written Joe and Gwil. Forgive me if it’s bad.

* * * * *

Having been on the road with the boys for several weeks, I knew it was never anything that was going to make my life easier when they started being exhaustingly charming to me and only me.

“Cut the shit, boys. What do you want?”

Rami grinned, but I shook my head, “Nope—don’t try that either. What do you want?”

Rami’s smile faltered, and he sighed. He licked his lips, tucking his bottom one between his teeth, and I turned away, refusing to let any of his ticks affect me now.

Everyone on the tour could see the way we looked at each other, but I had a job to do. Rami was an actor, and this press tour was only going to be one small part of his life. But for me, this press tour’s success could send my name right to the top of the PR list, ensuring I’d never have to work three jobs to make ends meet again.

And no one, no one knew that.

This was Hollywood; people weren’t interested in the rags to riches story anymore. All that mattered was what your life looked like, so I made sure to consistently project a strong, confident woman with nothing to lose.

Except that right now, it sounded like I was going to be forced to make a very difficult decision: to keep up appearances by giving over to the boys’ demands, or to buckle, revealing how much the success of this tour really meant for me.

Joe stepped forward and popped onto the edge of the desk in my hotel room, crossing his legs and changing his voice to a high, nasally pitch.

“Well, ya see Mista Sheffield,” Joe said in his best Fran Fine impression, “as the nanny, it’s clear ya been makin’ these kids work way too hard. If they don’t get a break, it could be very bad for their health—and yours,” he added with a wink.

Sighing, I pushed back from my desk and looked at Joe, who re-crossed his legs and batted his eyes.

“I’ll consider your offer if you put on one of Nanny Fine’s skirts, Mazzello.”

“Uh, did you not see the pictures of us in drag? Only Rami’s got the stems to pull that look off.”

I flicked my eyes over to Rami and he smiled, although it was a shyer smile than usual. However, I didn’t look back at Joe. Rami was almost always the leader of their schemes, so I asked, for the third time, what exactly they wanted.

“Since our stop in the next city has been delayed, we thought we could have some time to . . . explore Italy.”

“And?”

“We want to rent a car—”

You started shaking your head no, but Rami pressed on.

“We want to rent a car and drive. We have plenty of time to get there—”

“And if something goes wrong? My god Rami—we are talking about an extra 48 hours, not a week!”

“Nothing will go wrong. You have my word.”

“Those are the most famous last words in every movie, television show, and novel produced in the last century!” I said, my voice rising as I stood up from the desk chair.

“We’ve already mapped it out and it only takes twelve hours longer than the train you have scheduled,” Rami spoke in a rush, moving to stand in front of me and to grasp my upper arms. “We have our cell phones. And . . .”

“And?” I prompted.

“And you’ll be with us,” Rami finished, his voice low and soothing as his eyes burned into mine.

I had to close my eyes to escape his spell because what he was saying was actually not as unreasonable of a request as I had been sure it was going to be. Backing away from Rami’s grip, I sat down on my bed with a plop.

“What does Gwil say?”

“It was his idea.”

“Oy vey,” I said, flopping back onto the bed.

The bed bounced as Joe landed beside me, perfectly propped up on his elbow.

“Soooo maaaa, what do ya say?”

“If—oof,” I said bouncing as Rami landed on my other side.

“If Joseph Mazzello agrees to never impersonate The Nanny again, we can take the car.”

The boys laugh and plant twin kisses on my cheeks and I give them both a hard shove away from me.

“But if anything, ANYTHING happens, I am holding you, Rami Malek, personally responsible,” I said as I stood up and glowered down at him.

“Ooo, Ram, man. That means she’s docking your pay.”

“Don’t care, Joey!” Rami cried as he exaggeratedly sniffed the air. “Can you smell that?”

“What . . . should I be smelling . . .”

“It’s the smell of FREEDOM!” Rami roared as he thumped Joe on the chest, hard enough to make him groan, then start giggling.

A small wrestling match ensued before I yelled at them to get out before they broke my bed.

“Go tell Gwil the good news,” I begged, making them freeze as Rami’s head poked out from under Joe’s stomach after Joe had pinned him with his entire torso.

They scrambled off the bed, each of them fixing their hair as they hurried out of the room to tell Gwilym the good news.

I sat down on my disheveled bedding and bowed my head, praying to whatever god that would listen for this minor detour to happen without a hitch.

The boys, as high-energy as they could be, had been giving their all at every event and had been working ungodly hours. If I could do this for them, they deserved to enjoy it.

* * * * *

God.

The master of the universe.

The almighty creator.

The powers that be.

The flying spaghetti monster.

It didn’t matter what the higher power I prayed to went by, whoever or whatever it was, hated me.

No.

It loathed me, and I became convinced that it got off on circumventing any possible happiness I could have in my life.

I fought back tears as I followed the boys through the sopping cow field, at least I assumed that’s what it was because it was nearly 2 in the morning and the only lights we had were our dying cellphones (which had no service, of course) and one tiny flashlight that had been jammed between the seat in the back of our too-small rental car.

It certainly smells like a cow field, I thought as my foot landed in something that felt suspiciously more squishy than sopping grass.

We were all damned lucky that we hadn’t had anything other than our pride hurt when a whopping pile of mud from the endless rain slid across the road pushing our car over an embankment and into a field. The car had refused to start, and we waited for over two hours for another vehicle to pass.

It was getting cold, so I finally said, “We can’t wait here all night.”

The boys all looked out the window and into the pouring rain.

“Look at the sign,” Gwil said pointing at something that was on the other side of the immense field. “Looks like a vacancy banner.”

“Like the boss said, we can’t wait here all night. It’s not like a cellphone tower is going to sprout up from all the rain,” Joe said.

“Pop the trunk,” I said, moving to open the door and step out into the rain.

Rami grabbed my arm and spoke in a voice that was heartbreakingly earnest.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“I know,” I said, shaking him off and opening the door.

Luckily, we had all packed light and our bags were easy to carry. Rami tried to take mine and I refused; the last thing I wanted to feel at this moment was like a damsel in distress.

The walk took well over an hour, but it was exactly as Gwil said: a vacancy sign, except that none of us could have predicted that it was a place that made the Bates Motel look like a St. Regis.

We paused despite the pouring rain and looked at each other.

Joe nudged Rami, who faltered, but then took the lead and opened the ratchety front door, a chunk of sopping old paint glopping down on his shoe as he stepped through the doorframe.

We all shuffled in behind him, and it was clear the lobby was not meant for gatherings of people. Gwil and I stood elbow to elbow, a dusty shelf of outdated brochures brushing against my arm.

Rami angled himself forward and rang the rusty bell.

It made a pitiful ding that matched its home.

Rami’s hair was plastered to his head and falling into his eyes. While we waited, he slicked it back and I noticed it was almost long enough to tuck behind his ears when it was wet.

Meanwhile, Joe hadn’t missed the way I watched Rami, even in this dire circumstance. He was one of the many who knew how we felt about each other and he also knew that had been a strong part of the reason for this trip. Rami had confessed to him that he believed if he could get me to forget about the bustle of the tour, even for a day or two, he’d have a shot at figuring out if I was interested in him.

Joe’s insistence that I was just wasn’t enough. Rami wanted to be sure before he made a move, especially if it could mean turning the great dynamic we had established between all of us into something forced and uncomfortable.

“Hit it again,” Gwil said, his normally patient self becoming agitated. He hated to be dirty, and I knew he was thinking about a hot shower.

Hell, I knew we were all thinking about a hot shower.

Rami reached for the bell again, but before he could press it, a very old man shuffled out to the desk, his hoary head not more than a foot taller than the desk itself. He was wrapped up tight in a robe and there were slippers on his feet.

He began speaking in Italian and the dialect was so strong that we all looked at each other in utter confusion.

“English?” Rami asked in a desperate plea.

The old man cocked his head, little wisps of white hair billowing with his movement.

“I’m guessing that’s a no,” Gwil muttered, his voice tired.

“Rami—”

He turned around and looked at me.

“The key hooks on the wall.”

Rami nodded, his mouth puckering as he thought.

“We need rooms for the night,” Rami said, pointing to the keys on the wall. “Uh, camera, per favore.”

The man nodded, “Si, si,” and took two keys off the wall.

He began speaking once more, but Rami pointed to the last key hanging on the wall, trying to get another room in case one of the rooms was too small for all three of the boys to share.

“No, no,” the man said waving the two keys from the wall in front of Rami’s face and speaking some more.

It was clear we were getting the last two rooms the man had.

“La moneta!” he barked when Rami held his hand out for the keys, and we all reached into our bags for whatever we had in Italian currency.

The old man gave us a total and Joe counted it out. After the man recounted the money, he handed the keys to Rami and pointed toward the darkest section of the motel.

Again, we all cast a glance at each other, but once we were back outside in the pouring rain, Rami took the lead and walked off toward the dark rooms.

He tried one key, then the other and reached blindly along the wall for a light switch after the door had creaked open. A single lamp flicked on, and we were greeted by the smallest room I had ever seen. There was an ancient television propped up on a stand, one chair, and one bed that looked to be no bigger than an extra-large twin.

Rami glanced at me, then hurried to the next door, shaking the key furiously in the lock to get the door to open.

It was the same room, right down to the extra-large twin bed.

Rami looked at Joe and Gwil and said, “I don’t suppose the three of us could—”

“Oh for pete’s sake, Rami. Come on,” you said tugging his jacket’s sleeve and hauling him back into the other room.

Joe and Gwil exchanged a look, and despite their exhaustion, smiles crept across their faces.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Rami turned around and locked the chain.

With a sigh, he started to apologize again, but I cut him off.

“Rami—no one could have predicted this would happen. I’m sure we will laugh about this . . . if we don’t get axe murdered in the night.”

“Did you ever see that episode of the Twilight Zone where—”

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare plant some freaky image in my mind before we have to try to fall asleep.”

Rami gave me a small smile before he finally dropped his soaked bag on to the floor.

“We may have to wring out all our clothes,” he said frowning with disgust at his wet luggage.

“First, I’m taking the hottest shower in history,” I said, marching into the bathroom, then proceeding to scream as I collided face to chest with a mostly naked Gwilym.

Rami and Joe both burst in from their doors, and then they started laughing.

“Your faces,” Joe squeaked out.

Gwil and I looked at each other and broke, laughing until we cried at the absurdity of the entire situation.

Ever the gentleman, Gwil offered the bath, and yes, it was an old clawfoot bathtub, not a shower, first.

“No—you go for it,” I said patting his shoulder and following a still chuckling Rami out of the door who was swiping at the tears that had leaked down his cheeks during his laughing fit.

I collapsed onto the uncomfortable, putrid yellow chair, a puff of laughter escaping in intermittent bursts as I remembered the feeling of my nose colliding with Gwil’s chest.

“Damnit,” I growled, leaning back in the chair.

“What is it?” Rami asked from the seat he had taken across from me on the edge of the bed.

“My shoe strings are so wet I can’t untie them and my shoes are too tight to kick off.”

“Let me try,” he said, moving to kneel in front of my shoe. “Wow—okay. That’s definitely cowshit.”

Laughter burbled up from my throat again as I stared at Rami’s fingers working my shit-covered laces, and he looked up at me, his nose crinkled, his hair a mess, and I laughed harder until he joined in.

“When you win an Oscar for Freddie, I’m going to remember this moment,” I said, smiling down at him as he freed my right foot.

“Shut up,” Rami said with a smile. “Never gonna happen.”

“Why are you so afraid to let yourself want it?”

“For the same reason you’re so afraid this tour will be a disaster,” Rami finished with a grunt as he freed my left foot and sat back on his butt, getting ready to work his own tennis shoes off.

“What?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Rami wiped his fingers on the shins of his soaked pants and looked up.

“You’re not the only one who came from almost nothing, Y/N. We recognize our own kind in this world.”

“But—”

“My parents worked really hard to make sure we had opportunities, but that was about all we had.”

“I didn’t know.”

Rami and I looked at each other, and for the first time I realized what we had in common: an insatiable hunger, a need to prove ourselves.

I know it seems like it only happens in the movies, but as soon as I made that realization, it was like a jolt of electricity went through my body. I had never wanted to kiss someone more than I did in that moment, and just as I was about to drop to the floor and close the distance, Gwil knocked from inside the bathroom.

“Your turn, Y/N!” he called.

I shook my head and stood up, hurrying into the bathroom.

By the time we had all rotated through, Joe going last and informing us with a loud, “Yikes!” that the hot water was all gone, I was exhausted and settled under the minimal covers on the bed.

Rami had been sitting in the yellow chair for the past half an hour, trying to get his cellphone to work.

“We’ll use the phone at the front desk in the morning,” I mumbled sleepily. “Let’s get some rest before the rooster crows. Cuz I guarantee there’s one roaming around out there unless the axe murderer was in the mood for chicken.”

Rami’s laughter was soft as he rose up from the chair and walked over to the light switch.

“Should we leave it on?”

“Try it.”

Rami flicked the switch and the room was plunged into darkness, but after a few moments, it was clear that the light from the vacancy sign was going to shine right through the damn-near sheer curtain covering the window.

“I think we’re okay—you locked the door, right?”

Rami fumbled along the door and double checked.

“Yup.”

I listened as he made his way back to the bed and he shuffled some sort of item of clothing off. When his cold feet accidentally connected with mine, I knew it was his socks.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Can’t stand to sleep with socks on.”

“Me either,” I said to the wall I was facing.

Rami moved around in the bed, attempting to get comfortable and to keep an appropriate distance between our bodies, but when I moved, he gasped as all the covers moved with me.

“Sorry,” I groaned.

“I think this bed is clearly meant for one person.”

“Or two people as tiny as that old man.”

Rami chuckled, and then he sighed.

“There’s a solution . . . if you’re okay with it.”

“Lay it on me, Ram.”

Rami said nothing, but he rolled onto his side and pressed his body into my back. He adjusted his arms, eventually resting his left hand in the dip at my waist.

“At least I’m getting warmer now,” I said sleepily.

Rami took that as an invitation and snuggled in deeper, sliding his arm all the way over my waist so he could spoon me.

“I really am sorry for all of this,” Rami whispered into the back of my neck.

“I’m not,” I said, reaching for his hand and pulling it up between my breasts so I could clutch it to my chest.

Rami hummed contentedly, and we both drifted off to sleep.

#Rami Malek #Rami Malek x Reader #guest starring #Joe Mazzello #gwilym lee #fluff #bed sharing #bed sharing prompt #BoRhap fic #BoRhap

89 notes · View notes

go-dark-turtle · 4 years ago

Text

(Here it is part 1 of Chapter 3 of Free the future. My Kakyoin x Fem reader fan fiction. 😵 If you havent already please read chapter 2 before these parts thank you. As a warning this fan fiction does contain violence and swearing.

Please enjoy)

Chapter 3 Assembling an Ace.

As Kakyion ascended up the stairs with you in his arms the others had gathered into the living room and Polnareff was in shock and awe at what he witnessed.

"Say that again?" Avdol widened his eyes at Polnareff.

"She's a stand user, Y/N is a stand user! She healed me, she had a marbel shield around her hands and everything, you saw it too Jotaro, didnt you?" Polnareff described what he witnessed.

Jotaro nodded and walked over to the chair and sat down and looked through the stack of magazines and started to read one about marine life. Joseph looked at the phone and put his hand up to signal to the others.

"I can't ask Y/N for permission, but I do have to make an important phone call if you don't mind being quiet for a few minutes." He looked down at the phone and with one finger started to punch in the numbers.

Avdol nodded and Polnareff kept looking at his hand. He was still in amazement that you healed it so quickly, both men looked up to the ceiling and wondered when you'd wake up, they were curious about your stand.

**Meanwhile upstairs**

Kakyion freed one of his hands and slowly opened the door to your bedroom, his eyes scanned the room it was a small box bedroom with a bed in the middle, a nightstand to the right, a bin in the corner of the room by a small set of drawers, a small window to the left parallel to the entrance and a chair behind the door. His eyes looked down at the nightstand and saw a photograph of Hol Horse smugly smiling next to you in the picture, you clearly had drawn a heart around his face in a bright purple marker, he gritted his teeth and placed you down, he reached for the picture and snacthed it in his hands and crumpled it with such force, and threw it in the bin on the other side of the room. He closed the door behind him and pulled the seat to your side, he looked at you with worrying eyes.

"I'm so sorry you got wrapped up in all this madness Y/N, I'll never admit to the others but when Dio cornered me in Egypt, I was terrified I couldn't move, he tried to convince me he was my friend, that I potential and forced me with that fleshbud, at that moment I honestly felt I was safe from his harm. I will never again be the coward that let him get his way. Rest assured I'll make sure he doesnt hurt you again. You've been through enough. I'm just glad we are going to put an end to him soon." He softly spoke as he brushed a few strands of hair out your face looking down at you, smiling knowing you were safe from any harm.

"Like I said to Mr Joestar earlier, you are the blessing and turnabout we have been needing on this journey, I don't know how or why you found us when we arrived in Egypt but I'm glad our paths have met." He continued to brush the odd strand here and there and then you slowly started to turn on your side facing the window.

He stood up, walked over to your side and took off his jacket, draping it on your shoulders. He stood by your side, seeing you sleep so soundly, so peaceful, so content, he smiled softly, he leaned in closer and looked about the room making sure no one else was present and he sighed happily and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. He knew then and there that it was fate, no questions about it, he wanted to look after you, protect you and to be the man that would be forever at your side.

He took a few minutes to watch over you, as you softly drifted into a deep sleep. He summoned Hierophant Green, he entrusted his stand to watch over you, he thanked his stand and quietly walked around the bed, gently opened the door, having one last look at you before he left the room and walked down the long hallway and started to make his way downstairs.

"That's right, Bombay Cottage... uh huh that's right, oh thank you very much. Bye." Joseph grinned, as he put the phone down and saw Kakyion come through the door and he smiled at the group.

"How is she doing?" Joseph asked

"She's okay but I think she's used up a lot of energy," He forced a smile back at the older man. "Travelling for hours, then of course reliving her horrible past and then using her stand. She's a brave and tough cookie. I give her that."

"I know this seems wrong but we have to press for more answers, all this doesn't seem to add up, not one bit." Jotaro sighed as he turned to another page. "Why is she helping us?"

"Her stand is incredible; she can heal within seconds but it did seem to wipe her out so suddenly." Polnareff put his finger to his chin in thought.

"It could be she doesn't quite understand how to use it properly, hence why she fainted after a single use." Avdol folded his arms and leaned against the wall. "Jotaro is right we need to know what is going on and why she has gone out of her way to help us."

The others all sighed trying to guess what was actually going on, but then Polnareff picked up the TV remote and started to flick through the channels. The gents all fell silent, Joseph, Kakyion and Polnareff slumped on the couch and started to watch the various programmes. Jotaro continued to read the magazines in the chair and Avdol looked at the bookshelf picking up some interesting titles to read and to find anything interesting to aid them on their journey, while he sat on the back of the couch.

**Back upstairs**

You started to have that vision again, even in your sleep, everything was in darkness and saw the city of Cario at night from the rooftops you saw Dio and he grinned and smirked you saw green strings surround him and then in a blink of an eye, Kakyion was flung towards the water tower and his chest was impaled on impact, Mr Joestar screamed for him but he couldn't reach him in time. You grunted and tossed about more. This vision has haunted you every time you fell asleep, even when you daydreamed, it could spring to your mind at any moment and you didn't know why this horrific moment kept repeating. For the next 10 minutes it replayed over and over and over, everytime the impact of Kakyion's body smacked into the water cooler the noise sent shivers down your spine, you gritted your teeth and clenched your hands. Just then a new vision appeared before you and you could see Polnareff and Avdol walk the dark hallways of Dio's mansion. Avdol stopped in his tracks reading the wall next to him and in that moment he was captured by Cool Ice's stand, the only thing remaining of him was his arms, they dropped on the floor, you saw the fear in the Frenchman's eyes as he saw the fate of his dear friend.

You jolted awake, your face covered in sweat, you breathed heavily, you held your face and started to shake "Why do these visions haunt me so.... huh?" You felt something fall from your shoulder.

Kakyion's jacket fell onto your lap, you clutched it quickly, you held onto it, for support, the tears formed in your eyes, you held it closer, his scent was faint, musky with a hint of cherry, you hugged into the jacket to calm you down. You closed your eyes and imagined his warm hands embracing you in your hour of need, it felt so right, it felt comforting, you wanted to be held in his arms. In that moment as your mind began to wonder that's when it became clear, your heartbeat started to beat faster, it started to feel tingly, your breath became sharp and your eyes sprung open with the realsatation. You began to develop romantic feelings for the man that haunted your dreams for the past two months.

"This can't be happening, not right now..." You looked down at your hands and then you noticed a figure by your side, your eyes shifted over slowly, a green and white man looking directly at you.

"Who, who are you?" You ask calmly, no response the figure still stares in your direction.

Your eyes widened at his silent response, you moved slowly inching closer and closer to your nightstand, you didn't once loose eye contact, you reached down slowly and opened the drawer and pulled out your diary.

"Are you working for Dio?" You became more curious by the second, you wondered if this was a trap and there was no way to call the others. You gripped the diary in your hands and slowly closed the drawer, kneeling in his direction.

Still not an answer from the green and white man.

"Answer me damn it!" You clench your fist and brought the diary to your chest "I'm giving you a chance here to explain."

The green and white man still silent, still looking at you, you became annoyed at his silence. You grunted and threw the diary at full force knocking him off the chair, you edged closer to the bed seeing him lay there in shock from the impact, you grinned this is when you felt you had the upper hand. You gripped the lamp, pulled it with such a force the plug came out the socket and smacked the lamp across his head. In that same moment you tossed the slightly smashed lamp aside and you pinned him to the ground, putting all your body weight onto his chest.

"I asked you a question so you better answer me now!" You growled at him.

***Meanwhile downstairs***

Joseph Polnareff and Kakyion still slumped on the couch were watching the latest James Bond movie 'The Living Daylights.' Jotaro had fallen asleep on the chair with the magazine on his face Avdol had turned around, still sat on the back of the couch and started to watch the film with the other crusaders. Then out of nowhere Kakyion fell off the couch, he held his head from the pain, then in a matter of moments, a trickle of blood formed from his forehead, he reached up to feel his head and brought his hand to his face, that's when he saw the small amount of blood on his fingers.

"What the hell...." Before he got to finish he was pushed against the floor and found it hard to breathe normally.

"Kakyion? What's going on?" Joseph looked down at him.

"Ack!" He took a short breath "I, I, think shes awake" Kakyion grunted.

"Wait a second, are you saying you left Hierophant Green next to Y/N?" Joseph asked as he heard a bang from up stairs.

Kakyion grunted again and nodded.

"Hurry! Bring back your stand this might get dangerous. She might not understand it's your stand." Joseph said to him in a panic, Kakyion nodded and called him back.

Just then Hierophant Green slipped under your grip and started to slither along the floor and under the gap under the door.

"OI GET BACK HERE! WATERMELON BASTARD!" You swung the door opened

The green stand panicked and hurry his pace as it wobbled down the hall way and reached the top of the stairs, You dashed after it and picked up a picture frame off the wall and threw it at the top of the landing missing Hierophant Green a few inches. He slithered down the stairs much like a slinky, You had run down after it and at the last few steps you prepared yourself, you tied the sleeves of Kakyion's jacket around your neck and you jumped down with force. The stand moved quickly to the right down the hallway and slithered back to Kakyion, he sighed with relief knowing his stand made it back to him from further injury and he sat back onto the couch.

You ran down the hallway and swung the door of the living room open and you scanned the room only to find the Stardust Crusaders.

You breathed heavy, your eyes scanning the room "Where is he?"

Joseph raised his eyebrow "Where is who? Is everything okay Y/N?"

You shook your head and started to look behind the couch, behind the curtains, under the table in the corner, behind the TV you rubbed your head in frustration.

"No! Where's that watermelon bastard?" you said with such rage "He was there when I woke up, he watched me sleep and he didn't answer my questions!" You looked behind Jotaro's seat and he woke up as you brushed past his foot.

Joseph Avdol and Polnareff all looked at each other and had a slight snicker as Kakyion turned his head in embarrassment. Even Jotaro had a slight smirk on his face.

You gave the older man a questionable look, you would have thought for someone his age would be mature about this. "Do you think it's funny a creepy watermelon bastard watched me sleep? He could be working for Dio! I know he ran in here . Where is he?!"

Joseph cleared his throat from laughing and started to explain "Alright Y/N sorry, but this watermelon bastard you speak of isn't working for Dio, infact it's one of our stands."

You looked at him and raised your eyebrow "Stand? Oh! You mean like the ability like Hol Horse mentioned...."

"Exactly! However what you don't know is that when someone inflicts damage on a stand it also affects the user. So in other words while you were beating the crap out the um," He had a slight chuckle "Watermelon bastard" He shook his head in disappointment at you "You actually hurt poor Kakyion."

Your eyes widen and looked at Kakyion he turned his head and you rushed to his side you gently held his face, you could see the small cut on his head with a small line of blood trickling down. Your hands began to shake and you started to cry, you couldn't believe what you had done. The others watched you as you rushed to his side.

"Kakyion I'm so sorry I didn't know, I'm so sorry please forgive me" You knelt down so you were at the same eye level.

He softly smiled at you he could tell it was an accident he placed his warm hands on yours "I forgive you, you weren't to know, we should've mentioned about our stands, but we didn't know you were also a stand user."

You looked down "That's right, I'm a stand user I have a healing ability, it was forced upon me, Dio, forced it on me...." The memories came flooding back you held your head as you relived the moments once more "After he plunged the arrow into my chest I woke up a few hours later...."

*Another Flashback brought to you by Za Warudo enterprises*

You had woken up from the impact of the arrow and you held your chest, you looked down but there was no blood, not even a scratch.

"Ah you have finally woken up, how do you feel?" Dio cupped your chin and rubbed his thumb against your cheek.

You looked at him, scared, unsure what to do next, your body froze at his gaze.

"There is nothing to fear my dear sweet Y/N. I have blessed you with such power." He smiled softly at your widened expression. He smirked and pressed his fingers into your cheeks "NOW SHOW ME YOUR ABILITY!"

You started to shake, you didn't know what he meant but all of a sudden your hands started to glow and a marbel shield encased around them, you freaked out at the sight you flail your arms around, only to have Dio grip your arm, He leaned in close and examined your hands in their new form. It was then he felt on his right side of his neck where he had joined his head to the body of that of Jonathan Joestar it began to heal slowly. His eyes beamed with an evil excitement.

"HA HA! You have a healing stand. How interesting. Let's see how quickly you can heal then shall we." He pulled out a knife and cut his arm. "Well what are you waiting for, heal me!"

You rushed to his arm and began to heal him. It took a few minutes to it to completely heal and he gripped your shirt and dragged you closer.

"You call that quick?" He gritted his teeth but he chuckled softly and smirked "Lets try again! Enya bring in the others!" Dio glared at the old woman.

She returned a few minutes later with three more of Dio's henchmen, Mariah, N' Doul and Alessi. He laughed and cut all 3 of his minions you stood there in shock at his actions.

"Hurry heal them before they die!" Dio demanded.

You rushed to Mariah and you placed your hands on her face and healed her quickly out of fear, you moved to Alessi and healed his neck in a panic and N'Doul you placed your hands on his chest and healed him with Dio smirking at your panicked state. The others stood and glared and grinned at your demonstration of your stand, they knew you would be useful.

At that moment that's when you fainted and were out cold for 5 hours. When you woke up again Dio was there to greet you and once again forced you to heal him over and over you fainted again and again. The more and more you healed the visions repeated in your head, that vision on the rooftops of Cairo, was the one that played the most.

A few days of healing torture and you woke back up again hearing the cries of Dio screaming in pain you rushed to his side and healed his arm, oh how he enjoyed this game, once again you fainted and that cursed vision played in your dreams once again. Later that day you woke up exhausted and looked up at Dio reading his book.

"Oh you are awake, just to let you know that your beloved Hol Horse is on a mission for me, to rid of the Joestars, before they arrive here in Egypt, but your beloved might not make it in time, you better hurry up quickly and heal him. He's currently in India." Dio watched your heart sink and laughed loudly.

You rushed out of his mansion and found your car parked by the cafe from a few days ago, you revved your engine and stepped on the gas driving to the nearest dock.

**A few hours later**

You arrived and once your car was cleared to enter the country, you drove around the narrow streets and that's where you found him, your beloved Hol Horse on the ground covered in blood, you rushed out the car and you held him in your arms.

"Hol Horse, I'm so sorry I wasn't here when they attacked you." You held his hands in your own and walked to your car.

"Hey don't worry about that darlin, you are here now and that's what matters, c'mon I still have a chance to get them back, they were headed to the town in the mountains, I know a shortcut. Let's get them back babe." He grunted in pain as he sat down in the passenger seat, you looked at him with worried eyes but you held the wheel and looked onwards.

You followed his directions and you were so close to the town in the mountains, you parked alongside a nearby road sign and looked at him.

"I guess I should hang back just in case." You smiled at him

"Yeah darlin, don't want them fuckers to hurt ya, you mean so much to me, say darlin you dont mind healing me before I get revenge on those bastards?" He smugly smiled

"Oh of course!" You activated your stand and slowly began to heal him.

"Oi could you hurry it up I ain't got all day," He gritted his teeth and you looked down and sped up the healing and just as you were about finished he smirked "Hey thanks, oh by the way, I don't need you anymore, I love you so much that we cant be together anymore, yep I know, it breaks my heart, it truly does, see ya darlin."

He turned on the ignition as you were about to pass out, your eyes widened as your vision became hazy and he jumped out the car as your body slumped forward, your arm knocked the gear stick into reverse and the car rolled backwards down the hill. He smugly cackled that he got away with it and entered the town and headed for Enya's hotel.

The car began to gain speed as it rolled down the hill, your body still unconscious and the oncoming car swerved out of your way and at that moment you slumped to the left and your car rolled into a nearby mountain cave where it rolled to a stop. A few hours later you woke back up and you held your face, you were angry, you were upset and to top it all off you had an ability you didn't ask for all thanks to that blasted Hol Horse. You cried for a few minutes before wiping the tears and shook away every emotion you ever felt for that damn cowboy.

With a new goal in mind you drove back to the docks of India and held your head up high, it was time you seeked out the enemy that Dio mentioned and get revenge.

Once the boat arrived back in Egypt it took 3 days to drive to the Bombay Cottage, you only stopped for 20 mins each night to get a quick nap and onwards you drove, once you made it back you rushed to your bedroom, this is where you spent your nights inbetween seeing Hol Horse before spending a few days in torture. You saw the wall plastered with photographs of him and you tore each and everyone of them down, then out of the blue you had a vision you collapsed to the ground as one of the pictures dropped on the nightstand.

Ten minutes later you woke from your vision and you smiled, you saw that Hol Horse had what came to him, by Enya, but the bastard got away and the Joestar group was headed your way to the outskirts of Egypt. You left the room quickly and you slid down the bannister and grabbed your keys in the front door and locked up and rushed to your car and that's when you drove to the nearby town by the ocean.

***End of Flash back***

"Dio that bastard, how horrible can he be?" Avdol gritted his teeth on hearing the remainder of your tale.

"It was truly awful and when I heard Polnareff scream in pain, it was like my body reacted on its own." You looked down feeling ashamed.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of Y/N, they are the ones that should pay for what they've done to you, how dare they hurt an innocent sweet young lady as yourself it's unforgivable." The Frenchman shook his head and held your hand.

You smiled at him but you gave you attention to Kakyion who looked up to you with sad eyes, he felt awful that you'd been forced to follow Dio and to make it worse you believed in Hol Horse. You placed your hands to his head and your stand activated

"No stop please don't" Kakyion saw your stand appear and he pleaded with his sad eyes.

"But i caused you to be hurt" You also said with a sad expression

Avdol placed his hand on your shoulder "Y/N I know you are still new to your stand but there is nothing to fear from us, don't rush his healing."

You nodded and you began to heal him slowly, the cut fading within a few minutes.

Kakyion was stunned by your incredible power and hugged you softly, he was so grateful and he was thankful you didn't collapse on him. Just then you grunted and held your head.

"Argh damn it..." You closed your eyes

"What's wrong?" the whole group asked at the same time

"When...Whenever I heal, I see visions, some repeat more than others" You fought back that horrible vision from playing again.

"What do you see?" Joseph was curious

Your eyes sprung open "It's too horrible to describe"

"Please if its about us we have a right to know" Joseph pleaded

"I can't, I'm sorry." You closed your eyes

"Please" He pleaded again

You shook your head and he ran up and gripped your shirt

"God damn it Y/N! We have the right to know!" Joseph became impatient,

Avdol pulled him off you and stood between you both.

"Mr Joestar I doubt being forceful will get any answers" he glared at his older friend

"I see, Dio, on a rooftop, strings, all around him, he laughs, he smirks." You describe the beginning of the vision but you stop yourself and you collapse in shock.

"Y/N!" Everyone screamed

After that moment Kakyion held you in his arms again and suggested to call it a night, the Stardust boys all took leave to their rooms and Kakyion once again placed you down into your bed, he didn't want to leave your side he held your hand and fell asleep on the chair.

***The next morning***

You woke up to the smell of pancakes, you opened your eyes and looked at the door and saw Kakyion sleeping on the chair, his hand in yours, you slowly moved your hand but that woke him up.

"Oh sorry" You had a faint blush on your face as you moved your hand quickly

"Ah good morning Y/N I didn't want to leave your side in case you woke up during the night" He smiled back at you noticing your blush but didn't say anything about it.

"OIIIIIII! Everyone come downstairs I have breakfast made!" Joseph banged a few pans at the bottom of the stairs to wake up the others. Avdol was already at the breakfast bar having a coffee and reading this morning's paper.

****End of part 1****

Part 2

#jojo bizarre adventure #jojo part 3 #kakyoin noriaki #jojo kakyoin #kakyoin x reader #fan fics

15 notes · View notes

lovemesomesurveys · 4 years ago

Text

Do you have a significant other at the moment? Do you love him/her? Nope.

How many people do you live with? Are these people related to you? I live with my parents and brother.

Have you ever considered anyone or anything too personal for your liking? Yeah?

Are you a confident person, or do you keep to yourself usually? I’m confident that I’m not confident.

Have you ever had to have surgery before? What was this for? Yeah, several.

Are you listening to any music right now? What song is it? Nope, I’m listening to an ASMR video.

Where was the last place you vacationed to? Did you enjoy this time? Disneyland last year before the pandemic hit. I had an awesome time.

When was the last time you ate pizza? Where from? Was it good? Like a month ago from a local place. Yes, it was good. I’ve been craving it recently, so I’ll likely get it again soon.

Is there anyone right now that you are simply/overly infatuated with? No.

What is your orientation? Gay? Straight? Metrosexual? Anything other? Straight.

Is there anyone you know who is utterly repulsive? Who is this person? No.

Are you related to any elected officials? What is their position? No.

Do you have a certain standard you follow, when it comes to relationships? I don’t really have any relationship experience to say.

Who is your closest friend? Why are they so close to you? The closest people to me are my mom and my brother.

Who did you last hug? When did this hug take place? Where? My dad on his birthday last weekend here at home.

Who was the last person to play with your hair? Are they cute? No one has played with my hair in a very long time.

Who was the last person close to you, that died? Did you cry? My grandpa. Yes, I had a really hard time.

What was your favorite year of your life? Why is this your favorite? My childhood years.

Is there anyone out there who can make you smile at any time? My doggo can a lot of the time.

What is your favorite television show? Why do you watch this show? I have several.

If you're in school, do you like this school you attend? Or do you not? I’m not in school anymore - I haven’t been, in years now. <<<

Have you ever done anything really dangerous or illegal with friends? No.

What is your favorite word to say out loud? Did you just say that word? None come to mind.

Who is the one person out there who makes you feel very special? I’m not special.

Is there a certain person out there who gives you butterflies? No.

Do people call you a low-life sometimes/always? Why do they call you that? No one has called me that to my knowledge.

Do you want to tell anyone anything right now? Who is this person? No. Are you going to post this survey on MySpace after you're finished? I’ll post it here.

What is the fourteenth word of the song you're currently listening to? I’m not listening to any music at the moment. I don’t know why surveys always assume you’re listening to music.

Are there any foods out there you just can’t refrain from eating every week? Ramen and Wingstop.

Do you like Mexican food? What’s your favorite meal under that genre of food? I like burritos with beans, cheese, Mexican rice, sour cream, guac, and cilantro. Chicken tacos are good, too.

Do you enjoy shopping? Who do you usually go shopping with anyways? I’ve been doing my shopping online the past few years for the most. Well, entirely online the past year.

When you see someone attractive? What's the first thing you look for? Uhh, I just take their whole appearance in I guess.

How many times a day do you brush your teeth? Do you find this healthy? At least once.

Do you ever criticize people around you, that you know cant help it? Just myself, but I feel like I can help a lot of it. I could be doing more and I’m not. I could be doing something at least, but I’m doing nothing. How old were you when you lost your virginity? Who'd you lose it to anyways? I haven’t.

Do you wash your own clothes? Or does someone else do that for you? My mom helps me with that.

Are you afraid of thunderstorms? What exactly makes you afraid of them? No, I like them.

What color are the shutters on your house by the windows, if there are any? White.

When was the last time you attended church? What is the name of this church? I’ve been watching the live streams for the past year. I’m not sharing the name because that would give away my location.

Do you enjoy talking smack to those annoying telemarketers? Is it funny? I don’t even answer the call.

Do you consider yourself a healthy person? Physically and mentally? Uh, no. Definitely not.

Who was the last person you held hands with? Were they taller/shorter? Joseph. He’s taller.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

1 note · View note

thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

Note

57 sternclay nsfw? i can see stern complaining to a stranger that his ex complained about how weird his kinks were while dumping him

Here you go! 57: “we’re fighting over the last box of half-off valentine’s day chocolate and end up in a “who has it worse” battle.

For being in a mountain town in the slow season, the seasonal candy shelves of the Kepler Walgreens are bare. Were it 10 am on Valentines Day, Joseph would be in a panic. At 10 p.m, it feels like yet more proof this trip is utterly doomed.

But he didn’t become one of the top agents in the Department of Unexplained Phenomena by being unobservant. On the top shelf, pushed towards the back, is a bag of Reese's hearts and a bag of M&Ms. Thank you, years of training.

Being six feet tall helps too.

He’s so locked onto his target that he doesn’t notice the other person in the store until their hands smack into each other en route to the bags.

“Sorry, uh, lemme just get these and I’ll get out of your way.” A voice as deep and sweet as summer honey reaches his ears.

“I’m sorry, but I was going to buy these.” He starts pulling the bags towards him, only for the other guy to grab them. Joseph glares; the man trying to relieve him of his last solace looks like the kind of lumberjack you see in recordings titled things, “Log Pounders IV” or “Bear Hunting.”

“Look, buddy, I really need these so can you, like, find some other bags?”

“These are the last two. And I guarantee I need them more.” As long as he keeps a pleasant voice and gives no ground, this should go smoothly.

“Unless you got dumped this month, I don’t think you do.”

“I got dumped seven hours ago.” He says through an increasingly tight-lipped smile.

“At least your ex isn’t tagging you in a bunch of photos bragging about his new boyfriend.”

“He can’t, because he probably only just got back to his apartment in the rental car. The one I’m now stranded here without.”

“Pfft, just call an Uber or something.”

“It’ll cost several hundred dollars to get home!”

“You look like you can afford it.” Brown eyes flick from his hair down to his shoes, “some of us have to use half-price candy to soothe our wounds. You’re probably staying at the kind of fancy B&B where they have complimentary booze.”

“I would be, except their was a fuck-up with the reservation. Which my ex took as proof this was time to end things, and is the reason I’m dragging this all over town.” He kicks his ergonomically designed, rolling suitcase hard enough that it bumps into his adversary.

“Better he gave you some bullshit reason than the truth, which mine was all too happy to tell me. You can have these when someone you tried to make happy tells you he thinks you’re ‘too soft’ and that if only you’d manned up he woulda stayed, whatever the fuck that even means.”

Goddamnit, Joseph is not about to lose this argument--and his candy--on top of everything else.

“I’ll trade you that for being told you’re: too exacting, far more uncool than your job implies, too anxious, too invested in your work, that your whole personality is flawed and, just for extra fun, that your kinks are too weird and no one in their right mind would ever want to sleep with you if they knew them ahead of time.”

The other man’s hold on the bags loosens. Then it returns, stronger than before, as he grumbles, “Please, no one’s kinks are that weird.”

“You have no idea what mine are.”

“Then how about you give me a demonstration, huh?” Lumberjack snaps.

Joseph's common sense finally catches up with his thirst for comfort and, apparently, conflict.

“I, I’m sorry, did you just offer to fuck me in the middle of a fight over discount candy?”

“I....” the man lets go of the bags, chuckles, “yeah, I did. Fuck, I’m sorry, it’s been such a shitty day that my mouth decided it was gonna do whatever it took to stay in that fight.”

Joseph laughs a little, slumping against the shelf, “I guess it’s nice to know I’m not the only person in town whose Valentine’s Day didn’t go to plan.”

“No kidding. Though, uh, I didn’t get dumped this month. It was three months ago. He did tag me in all those photos today though.”

“That’s so rude.”

“Not as rude as leaving your boyfriend stranded in the mountains.”

B-grade pop hits fill the awkward silence between them.

“I, uh, this might be way outta line, but I got an idea; if you buy the candy, I can take us back to my place and bake something with it. That way we can both enjoy it, and you won’t be stuck wandering around in the cold.”

He runs a quick is-this-a-serial-killer scan of the man in front of him.

“Sure. But just so you know, I’m opening the Reeses in the car.”

-----------------------------------------------------

“Feeling better?” Barclay, his host, wipes stray cupcake crumbs from his lips.

“Much.” He polishes off his second coffee-cocoa cupcake with M&Ms in the batter, lifts his coffee cup, “this place is lucky to have you.”

Barclay blushes the same way he has every time Joseph compliments his cooking, home, or taste in books. They’ve spent the last ninety minutes in the kitchen of Barclay’s small, A-Frame cabin, one of eight laid out in a half circle behind Amnesty Lodge. The cook explained that the cabins were for staff or long term residents, and that while the Lodge sometimes had vacancies, this week had seen them swamped.

The rain alternates between pleasant pitter-pats and drops that could kill a small bird, so Joseph is incredibly grateful to Barclay for giving him a place to shelter. When he thanks him, the cook shrugs with a little smile, “you shouldn’t leave nice things out in the rain.”

As they’re cleaning up the dishes, Barclay passes him a plate and says, “You can stay here tonight. If, uh, if you want. The couch isn’t much, but it’s dry and I’ve got a bunch of spare blankets.”

“That’d be great, thank you. And, um, thank you for being so nice to me, given how we met.”

“Eh, no one who’s in a Walgreens after ten is in a good mood. And, uh, it’s nice to have someone to talk with. I’m kinda the quiet one of my friends, and work is mostly calling orders and stuff.” He pulls the coffee pot from the heat, “can I top you off?”

“Yes, please.” His caffeine tolerance is so high a few cups late at night doesn’t mess with his sleep. Barclay is sticking with tea, something scented like cardamon and comfort.

They move to the couch that’s clearly been re-covered a dozen times, Barclay only getting up to turn on some music; delta blues, if Joseph’s ear is right. It’s not until the clock strikes one thirty that Joseph notices they’re sitting so close that their knees bump whenever one of them turns to talk.

“Okay, I gotta ask” Barclay’s brown eyes shine sweet and playful, “what exactly was so weird about your kinks that your dickhead ex went out of his way to mention them?”

He thinks a moment, scanning his body and noticing he’s more relaxed than he’s been in weeks, including all the times he spent with his ex. Something about the faint scent of dish-soap on Barclays hands, the gentle smile that makes Joseph certain that--for all his bulk--if Joseph told him to roll over and show his belly, he’d do it in an instant, the way he doesn’t rolls his eyes or shy away when Joseph talks, all of that makes him calm. Which makes him bold.

“Wait right here.” He hops up, grabs his bag from the door and pulls it over to the rug by the couch. All he has to do to reveal his secret is lift his pajamas.

“Holy fuck.” Barclay leans forward, “you really came prepared.”

“It was supposed to be a romantic getaway. I...we’d never used any of this together, but I hoped we might this time. It’s, it’s not his fault, I know my tastes aren’t for everyone, and we had plenty in common in bed. But he went through this whole thing where he said we should share our deepest fantasies. Apparently wanting to be choked is fine, but wanting to fuck Mothman is not.”

“That’s what this one is.” Barclay picks up one of the two dildos, black with lots of swirling ridges.

“That’s actually my dragon one. Um.” he holds up the ovipositor toy, “this one is supposed to be mothman.”

Barclay squishes one of the silicone eggs, “that feels kinda nice. What else did you bring?”

His genuine interest is not helping Joseph keep his hopes under control.

“The other toy is the ‘bigfoot’ model. And this is, um, this is my newest one, I was so excited I pre-ordered it. It acts like a cock-sleeve, but this part here is supposed to mimic a, um, a knot.”

“Like the idea of getting knotted, babe?” The cook’s voice is a little deeper than when he last spoke, and rather than pulling away he’s inching into Joseph’s space.

“Yes. I, um, I’m getting the sense” he shifts so his hands are on Barclay’s knees, “that we might have something in common besides our taste in leftover candy.”

“I packed all this so carefully” he brushes their lips together, “it’d be a shame to let it sit unused.”

Barclay scoops him into a kiss, growling happily when Joseph instantly parts his lips. His beard is soft and tickly under Joseph’s palms, and his mind takes the thought of getting beard-burn on his thighs and runs so far with it that he almost misses what Barclay says next.

“In that case, you better decide if you want me to open your ass up so I can fuck you with a knot, or if you wanna do it yourself.”

“I prefer to do it myself.”

A second kiss, a bit gentler this time, “bedroom’s at the end of the hall. Get naked and wait for me there?”

“Roger that, big guy.”

When Barclay growls this time it’s rougher, jumping out of his chest and seeming to surprise him.

Joseph undresses as Barclay stops off in the bathroom, rifling through the medicine cabinet while Joseph folds his clothes. He’s down to his boxers when he remembers there is a conversation he needed to have before it hit this point.

“You trying to get me to rip those off with my teeth?” Barclay grins as he sets some condoms and lube on the bed and starts taking off his pants.

“I, um, there’s something you should be aware of. We don’t have the same, um, set-up.”

Barclay furrows his brow, gets his meaning, then nods, “no problem. If you’re okay with that part of you being involved I, uh, I just got a really, really good idea for what to do.”

“It’s not always the case, but tonight I definitely want it involved. I want you inside me as many ways as possible.”

“Fuck yeah.” Barclay tosses his shirt into the laundry, “get your ass open enough to take that knot.”

He slips the condom on, douses it with lube, and presses the first finger in, discovering that he's unable to stop complimenting Barclay for even five seconds while he finishes disrobing. The flush under his dark chest hair is unendingly charming, as is the little whine he makes at Joseph telling him he likes how big he is.

“I, I’m serious, ahhn, it’s rare to find someone taller than me and I really like it.”

“Feeds into the monster thing?” Barclay crawls beside him, laying down so he can kiss him as he works the second finger in.

“In a way.”

A deep, rumbly chuckle that has Joseph fucking himself hurriedly, “Don’t be coy, babe. You like the thought of something big and hairy getting a hold of you and not letting you go until you’re dripping cum.”

“Holy shit, yes” he gets the third finger in, sighing as Barclay nuzzles his neck.

“Well, I’m not bigfoot, but I’m betting I’ll do just fine.”

“More than fine.” Joseph kisses him, feels him smile in a way that melts his heart like cheap chocolate.

“Got some other theories about you, babe, but you gotta wait until you’re on my dick to hear ‘em.” Barclay sits up, stroking his cock in time with Joseph’s hand, “fucking-A, can’t believe your ex didn’t wanna stick around for this. You look like a fucking porn star; we oughta record you getting fucked in your suit and sell if for big bucks.”

He moans, pulling his fingers free, “Fuck me now. Please.”

“Fuck that’s hot.” Barclay works the sleeve down over his cock, sits up against the wall, “come sit in my lap, facing away.”

Joseph straddles him, gasps when the head of his cock presses in. He prepped well, but all the same he has to take his time wiggling his way down. Barclay caresses him, grunting and whimpering whenever he moves, breath prickling the hairs at the base of his neck. It’s heavenly.

When he hits the knot, Barclay rubs more lube on it, but it stays outside of him as he grinds on it. Between moans, the cook manages to say, “want me to start the next part?”

“Yes, please.”

Barclay loads the ovipositor with the three eggs, praises Joseph for being a good boy when he spreads his legs to accommodate the head of the toy.

“I, I thought you had more you were going to tell me?” He tilts his head awkwardly to kiss Barclay’s shoulder.

“Uh huh.” Barclay slowly works the toy in and out, doing his best to sync it to the rolls of his hips, “I think you’re the kind of guy who doesn’t just want one monster; you want ‘em all.”

“Variety is, ohgod, part of a healthy sex life.”

“I don’t mean one monster on one day and a different one on another. I think you want them all at once.”

“Oh yes, oh! Ohohoh” he kicks his legs as the first egg pushes in, “fuck, Barclay, please keep going.”

“Whatever you want, babe.” He nuzzles Joseph’s hair, “that’s how I came up with this plan; seeing all those different dicks made me think you’d, fuck, you’d like me to pretend there was more than just me fucking you.”

Joseph nods, clinging to Barclays arm and bearing down on the knot.

“Can just see it now; you got yourself lost in the woods out here, go looking for help only to find a whole bunch of monsters waiting for you. Spend the rest of the night pressed into the dirt and leaves while every cryptid from, fuck” he bucks his hips, “from here to Canada had their turn.”

“Shit, shit” the knot starts pushing in, “y-you’ve got my number, big guy.”

“Yeah?” Barclay squeezes the base of the toy as he talks, causing the remaining two eggs to push their way in, Joseph’s body clenching around them, “you want a night where all your good for is being fucked, where if you beg for a break you get a bigfoot fucking your throat and werewolves cumming on your chest instead of them all mobbing you at once?”

“Shit, yes, YESohfuck” the knot enters him as Barclay shoves his hips down, “ohmygod that’s good, fuck, I feel so full, you’re so smart, this was genius, fuck you know how to treat meAHannnfuck, shit.” He holds on to Barclays arm’s as the other man fucks him with abandon.

“Oh I know, babe. Know I was fucking right. You wanna be claimed, wanna be owned, wanna be bred by a whole fuckin pack-”

“Jesuschrist” it’s hard to breathe at the pace Barclay sets, his body aching to cum but not quite able to get there. He squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing frantically at his dick as Barclay loses himself in the fantasy.

“You’d be so cute, leaves in your hair and cum on your chin, taking it all and begging for more. Good thing you’re so needy, you could tear a pack apart with folks fighting over who gets to fuck you, fuck, Joseph, baby, you’re so fucking good, gonna be so fucking good to you, fuck, fuck” he shoves as deep as he can while he cums, and in the haze of pleasure Joseph swears claws prick the skin of his chest. Just the thought of that sends his own orgasm coursing through him, his body tensing and twisting on Barclay’s cock, making them both moan from sudden overstimulation.

“S-sorry” Barclay pants.

“Nothing to apologize for, just physiology, here, let me ow, ow, okay maybe I should have relaxed more first.” He’s free of both toys, but that was right on the edge of too painful. He waits for Barclay to take off the sleeve, then rolls the bigger man so his head is on his chest.

“Your ex didn’t know how good they had it.”

“Thanks, babe.”

He smiles, “I like that. No one ever calls me something that informal.”

“Call you it whenever you want. Babe.” Barclay kisses his arm, “you can, uh, stay in bed if you want. We don’t have a ton of time together so I’d, uh, well, I’d like to spend as much of it with you as I can.”

For the first time, Joseph wishes his vacation would last longer.

“Agreed, big guy.”

--------------------------------------------------

“You said you had my new assignment, sir?”

“Yes. Agent Stern, you will be going to the town of Kepler to investigate the events described in this file.” Agent Hayes passses him the folder.

“Understood, sir.”

Joseph manages to keep his smile to himself all the way to his desk.

#sternclay #agent stern/ barclay #taz amnesty #reader request #meet ugly

21 notes · View notes

foxtophat · 5 years ago

Link

just so you know this chapter is almost 10k words

SO HEY THERE BUDDY how are you? it’s been a while, huh? i thought for sure i had this chapter well in hand and then all at once i didn’t, now i’m a week behind my usual posting schedule and all i have to offer you is this fucking MONSTER

i don’t wanna get too into it because it’s pretty straight-forward, but let’s just say that nick and kim have a host of problems in this one bro. good thing that jerome is a guy who likes to be righteously better than everyone else right???

i had a lot of fun writing this despite how much trouble it was. the next chapter is gonna be more fun, with maybe even some alcohol and dare i even suggest it dancing??? perhaps... a good time???? highly unlikely in this day and age

well anyway, don’t wanna keep you any longer. thank you guys so much for reading my incoherent author’s notes and being so chill about this dumb self-indulgent fic of mine. i appreciate every comment, like, reblog, kudos or warm thought thrown my way, so don’t hesitate to lay it on me!!

as usual, the text is under the read-more. keep in mind that this chapter is very long so it might be better to read on ao3, but who am i to boss you around?

Pastor Jerome radios the Rye family late one night, so late that Nick had been just about to turn off the receiver when his voice comes down the line. Exhaustion has left a permanent mark on everybody, and Nick doesn't miss it in Jerome as they connect over the airwaves.

"A caravan is going to be passing through the valley tomorrow," he says grimly, with no preamble. "People heading west. There was talk of stopping by your home."

"What?" Nick asks. "Why?"

"People still look to your family for guidance, Nick. I imagine they want to say goodbye before they leave. Others are looking to trade, or just to reach out. It's been a long time. I suppose they'd want to leave on a positive note."

A year ago, Nick would have been excited for the company. Knowing a bunch of friendly settlers were coming around to say hello and help out before heading off on their own would have saved him plenty of pain and trouble in the past. But these days, other people coming around can be... complicated, and for reasons that Nick has trouble explaining even to himself.

That's probably the reason Jerome decided to reach out so late. They only got to talk briefly about it in town, since there were too many people to overhear them and honestly, Jerome hadn't seemed keen on having a conversation about John Seed almost a decade after the fact. But they had talked, enough that Jerome has trusted Nick to do what's best without interference until now.

"What do you think I should do?" Nick asks, sure that Jerome will know what he's talking about.

There's a lot of hissing and popping on the line before Jerome responds. "I don't know," he says. It sounds like an apology. "I can't imagine being in the position you're in."

Nick scrubs at his eyes, leaning back in his chair. He clicks the button to let Jerome know he's still there, but it takes a moment to come up with something to say.

"Do I know anyone coming through?" he asks at last.

"You will," Jerome replies. "If not by name, then by face. Hurk and Sharky have offered to escort them part-way. There are some resistance members who want to leave. A few who look like they might've gotten through baptism before the end."

Nick clicks his tongue against his teeth. That's what he was worried about. A couple of survivors who have let eight years rot their hatred would be okay. Hurk and Sharky aren't even that threatening, lawless raider shit aside. But former cultists are going to clock John immediately, and there's no clean way to explain that it isn't the Ryes who betrayed them, but actually John, who's abandoned the very principles that led him to cause so much suffering. Nick's almost okay with the guy, and even he occasionally feels a twinge of fury when he catches sight of the huge scar over his heart.

"Are you sure you know what doing?" Jerome asks. " Really sure?"

Nick chuckles. "Hell, Jerome, I've never known what I'm doing. But, uh... yeah. More than I was when we talked, anyway."

"Even with Joseph's reappearance?"

"Weirdly enough, especially 'cos of that. I know I'm askin' a lot of you, but you gotta trust me."

There's no chance that Jerome really means it when he says, "I do trust you, Nick," but at least he's committed to the lie. "If I can, I'll join them. Try to help keep the peace, when the time comes."

"If the time comes."

Jerome sounds disappointed. "You said you weren't hiding him."

"And we aren't!"

"You can't honestly expect everyone to take the news well."

"A man can hope, can't he?"

"That's about all he can do," Jerome replies. "I'll pray for you, Nick."

"Gee," Nick sighs, "Thanks. See you tomorrow, hopefully."

Nick turns off the radio. He stretches his arms out, as if maybe relieving his sore back will make him feel less tense and anxious about Jerome's news. Of course, it doesn't really help; there's still a caravan passing through tomorrow, and there's going to be some kind of reckoning when it shows up. Nick doesn't know what kind of fallout is going to come from it, but he knows well enough not to hope for the easiest outcome.

Carmina is already asleep when Nick comes up, sprawled out on the edge of the bed. It's not gonna be long now before she starts kicking them through the night, and then they're going to have to figure out a new sleeping arrangement, but Carmina seems as uninterested in changing things as Nick is.

"Just got off the radio with Jerome," Nick tells Kim, keeping his voice low and level so as not to alert Carmina. "Wanted to tell us about a caravan passing by tomorrow."

Kim frowns. "Oh," she says uneasily. "Have you told John?"

"Nah. Gonna wait until the morning. Don't want him trying to bolt in the night."

Even though neither of them think John is going to try to run away, Kim still nods in agreement. "What are we going to do?" she asks instead. It's funny, because he'd been about to ask her the same thing.

"Hell if I know," Nick sighs. He climbs into bed at last, Kim moving over to take the center of the mattress. "But I'll come up with something."

Nick doesn't come up with anything all night. By the time morning rolls around, he's had more ideas than sleep and none of them are anywhere near perfect. They all come down to deciding whether or not John should face the parade of people about to come to their door or not, and he is evenly split on the matter. After all, it could be fine; there could be some yelling and some drama; or there could be a full-on fire-fight. There's a not-outside chance that someone might shoot John before they have a chance to explain themselves. There's a chance that they might shoot Nick, too, for harboring him this whole time.

He knocks on John's door right around sunrise, waiting long enough that he almost knocks again before John grunts something incoherent from the other side of the door. He looks like Nick just woke him out of a relatively good dream, too, which is particularly bad luck. Well, John wanted to pay some kind of penance for his bullshit, right? Might as well start now.

"Sorry," Nick says, even though he's only sort of apologetic. "We, uh... have a problem."

"Oh, good," John groans, sitting up and putting his feet on the floor. "Just the sort of thing I like to hear."

Normally, Nick would be glad for a distracting snappy argument over John's attitude, but he doesn't know exactly how much time they're going to have to get ready and Nick doesn't know if anyone's going to radio him ahead of time. John being a catty dick first thing in the morning is the least of Nick's problems right now.

"Look, Jerome radioed in last night. A caravan's gonna pass by on their way out of Hope County."

John's bleary irritation evaporates at the words. "Oh," he says.

"Yeah, oh . You still wanna get back to your beauty sleep?"

"What am I going to do?" John exclaims, lurching halfway to his feet before thinking better of it and sitting back down. He looks up at Nick, who isn't prepared to feel like the only responsible adult in the room, and asks helplessly, "What should I do?"

For once, John's stressed-induced obedience seems reasonable, trying to show restraint instead of hoping for Nick to feed him instructions like some kind of machine.

"You... have a plan, don't you?" he asks.

"I have plenty of plans," Nick replies. "Problem is, they all suck. I guess we could set you up somewhere for the night, so nobody finds you... or, well, we don't. The caravan's mostly leaving for good, but not all of 'em are gonna stay gone, and if they find out I lied to their faces..."

Nick chews on his cheek to keep from rambling on, but the truth is that he doesn't want to lie if he can help it. It wouldn't be right.

"If I stay, they'll kill me," John counters, pretty compellingly all things considered.

"That... might happen, yeah," Nick admits reluctantly. "I mean, not if I can help it, but I don't know what kind of people are gonna show up. Maybe they're the reasonable type."

Sighing heavily, John scrubs a hand heavily over his eyes. Nick is weirdly reminded of Kim in the middle of an argument about classic movie plot points. "I think you overestimate the average person."

"Hey, I'm an average person, and I take offense to that."

John scowls at Nick for a moment, and Nick is again reminded of Kim mid-argument. "No, Nick. You're not."

Nick... doesn't know how to respond to that. "Uh, okay, well," he says, stalling out.

John runs his hand from his eyes back through his hair. "Whatever you think is best," John says at last. He almost doesn't seem to realize it when he says, "I trust you."

"Oh," Nick says. He wants to say more, probably should say more, but he can't think of anything to say. "Well, uh, that's good, I guess. I could still use your help, uh, figuring out the logistics." He points his thumb back over his shoulder and asks, "You, uh, want some coffee? 'Cos I need some."

John huffs. "Yeah," he sighs, knowing full well that he doesn't have much of a choice. "Sure."

It's obvious from the beginning that hiding John isn't going to work. Nick word-vomits about how uncomfortable the idea makes him for a solid two minutes, only to receive a few short agreements from John that are barely better than noncommittal grunts. From the start, John is nervous and uncomfortable, the coffee doing nothing to ease his anxious jitters, but at least Nick can talk out a plan with him without feeling like he's hurling words at a brick wall.

By the time the sun has reached vaguely nine-AM, they've decided that they can't simply drop the news like a bomb, and they know that John is going to hide out in the hangar until Nick decides it's time to fess up. It's a bare-bones plan that has no consideration for logistics, but at least when Kim wakes up, they'll have something to offer other than worryingly asking for her help.

Kim comes downstairs without Carmina, who's probably happy to sleep in for another half-hour or so before the sun nails her in the face and forces her out of bed for good. Kim looks like she barely slept, but she smiles warmly at Nick when she sees him, and groans thankfully when he gets up to get her a cup of coffee.

"So," she asks after she gets a cup of coffee, "What's the plan?"

Nick wouldn't call it a "plan" so much as a "vague idea," but he explains the thought-process anyway. John, who has already heard everything Nick has to say about stowing John away until the "right time" occurs, excuses himself with some half-assed excuse about cleaning the fire pit, ducking out back to probably pace around until he collapses under his own discomfort. Nick can't blame him, really; they're hanging his entire life on the end of a branch labeled "going with Nick's gut," after all.

"What exactly is going to make it the right time ?" Kim asks.

"Well... I guess once we know everyone is here. After we figure out just how badly they might react. If they're real aggressive about it, we can always just... wait until Sharky and Hurk come back, and tell them."

"Yeah, I don't think either of them are going to be happy to know we hid John from them." She sighs, adding reluctantly, "I guess it's a good back-up plan. In case things go really badly from the start."

"God," Nick sighs, draining his cup of coffee, "I hope this doesn't blow up in our faces."

There are footsteps on the front porch, followed by a knock on the door. The two of them freeze, staring at the door for a hot minute until a recognizable voice calls from the other side: "Nick? Kim?"

"Jerome?" Nick calls, pushing himself up from his seat and heading to the door.

At first, he only opens the door a crack, enough to check that Jerome is on his own. When he's pretty sure the caravan as a whole hasn't shown up, he opens the door wide enough to block the entrance with his body.

"What are you doing here?" Nick asks. "The caravan can't be coming through already."

"No," Jerome replies. He looks winded, sweaty and dirty from what looks like a long walk. Nick hopes he didn't come all the way from town by himself on foot — that's more risk than it's worth, with all the wild animals out there. "They won't be here for hours yet. But I... I couldn't sleep. I had to get here before them."

"Jesus, why ?"

It takes Jerome a moment to find the words, but as soon as he gathers the strength, he blurts them out before he loses his nerve. "There has to be something I can do to convince you not to throw everything away like this. Your family has been vital to the county, and I cannot let you ruin your lives when we need to stay together the most ! You're going to turn everyone against you! A monster like John Seed as no right , asking you to risk your family like this!"

Jerome looks to Nick for some kind of reaction, deflating when he doesn't see what he wants. "He cannot be worth it," he finishes miserably.

"Hey, now," Nick says, unable to help sounding offended. He hopes Jerome doesn't take it the wrong way, but from the scandalized look on his face, he most certainly has. "I know what I'm doing, okay?" he amends, feeling a little bad for lying.

A hand touches his back, and so Nick opens the door wide to accommodate Kim standing next to him. "Jerome," she says gently, as though she hadn't heard his outburst a moment ago, "Why don't you come in and have some coffee?"

"This isn't a social visit," he says, startled.

"You can still have a cup of coffee," Kim replies, nudging Nick out of the way. "Come in so we can talk."

Kim takes point from there, leaving Nick to shut the door while she brings Jerome to the table and has him sit, coffee already poured for him. With the living room cleaned up and Jerome sitting at close to his usual spot at the table, Nick finds himself transported backward in time. For a second, maybe even less than that, Nick can see the house the way it used to be — the way it might've been, if maybe they had been less wrapped up in the cult bullshit and more worried about the disquieting news coming in from outside their small ecosystem.

The moment passes, and Nick is still in this uncomfortable situation with a house that's falling down around him. Figures that he can't enjoy the fantasy for even a moment.

Nick mostly keeps to himself, hovering near the support beam while Kim does her best to explain the situation with John to an increasingly upset-looking Jerome. She rehashes the stuff he already knows, about how Nick found him, and the ultimatum that's kept him sheltered and fed for more than half a year now. She even mentions some of the work John's done for them, although she doesn't go into much detail. After all, not many people are going to be impressed by John sorting nails and repairing fences.

What she does focus on is John's reaction to their demands. The way he'd agree to anything, working himself well past the point of exhaustion, falling into mute obedience — Kim tells Jerome everything, listing his strange, unsettling habits like a worried mother talking to a pediatrician. He doesn't sleep. He talks to himself, struggles to focus past the things that have consumed his mind. She's worried about it, and what it means about his time underground. She's seen how people break. Despite everything, she thinks he sincerely is trying, but he won't open up and she can't help but worry that it might cause more problems down the line.

Nick doesn't know how comfortable he can be, listening to Kim discuss John's progress like a teacher talking about a troubled student. He manages to stick it out for a few minutes, but when Kim starts talking about Joseph, and the trembling wreck his appearance had turned John into, he finds himself making a measured retreat for the backyard. Somebody ought to tell John that Jerome has come by, right? And that somebody might as well be Nick, who can't stand to hear Kim worry about John goddamn Seed for another minute.

There isn't much to do in the backyard. Most of the fence is in place by now, and the debris has been pulled around back of the hangar, leaving the yard an empty wash of dirt tamped down by their daily movement. Even the fire pit has been cleaned up, thanks to Carmina taking her chores seriously yesterday. If John had come out here to try and find something to distract him, he's going to be hard-pressed.

For his part, John has taken up a spot by the planters. Kim and Carmina have planted some soy beans in the second planter, but they haven't taken off yet and none of them are sure they will. In the meantime, John plucks out some errant weeds, careful not to disturb the few sprouts that seem to have taken root.

"Hey," Nick says.

John barely looks Nick's way at the greeting. "I thought I heard something," he says instead, which at the very least saves Nick an awkward segue.

"Uh, yeah." He scratches the back of his head. "Jerome's just inside. I thought you'd want a head's up. The caravan shouldn't be here for a while, though. A couple of hours, anyway."

John swallows heavily. "That isn't much time."

Nick nods, looking around the backyard to avoid long eye-contact with John. "Not like we'd have anything to do if it were further away," he points out. "Things here are about as good as they're gonna get."

"It won't be enough." John fixes Nick with a dark look, one that reminds Nick that John's list of past transgressions is miles-long. "This isn't going to be enough for them."

"I guess you'd be the expert on repentance, huh?" Nick knows it's kind of a dig, but at least that ugly look on John's face is replaced by one that's more simply offended. "Look, I know you don't think we... punish you enough around here or whatever, but..."

"Don't say it like that ," John groans miserably.

"Hey, the point stands whether or not I say it! Just — trust us, okay?"

John shakes his head. He doesn't seem willing to admit to it again again, but that's okay. Nick knows he's got John's trust, even if it's been given mostly against John's better judgment. Considering this is the same guy who thinks Nick should have left a few prominent scars to convince strangers of his atonement, maybe Nick doesn't care so much about his judgment here.

"They won't be satisfied," John mutters.

"Maybe that's just your dissatisfaction talking. Most everyone around here are good, decent people, even after everything they've been through. Anyone who thinks we didn't beat you enough is better off getting the hell out of my county. We don't have time for that kind of shit around here."

John is quiet for a bit after Nick's outburst. Nick's not surprised, since John seems incapable of understanding Nick's pacifism, but at least he isn't immediately refuting everything on principle alone anymore.

"I need it to be enough," John finally says hoarsely. "I can't have all of this be for nothing. I can't ."

For once, Nick doesn't bother to stop his knee-jerk reassurances — John looks like he could probably use them. "Even if nobody else is convinced, uh... you should know, we do believe you. Sort of," he clarifies hastily as John casts a horrified look at him, "At least, I don't think you're bullshitting me right now."

John swallows thickly and nods. Words don't seem part of his acceptance, but that's all right, Nick doesn't need them.

The back porch creaks unhappily behind Nick, who turns to find Kim and Jerome standing there. John sees them too, half-rising to his feet before seeming to think better of it and sitting heavily back down on the planter.

"John," Jerome says. He doesn't sound happy, but at least he doesn't sound like he's about to chuck a Molotov in John's face.

"...Pastor Jerome," John responds, looking nauseous.

Jerome steps off of the porch. "We have some things to discuss."

Instinctively, John's hand reaches up, as if to stop Nick from abandoning him, but he aborts the gesture quickly, digging his fingers into the tire treads instead.

"...You're right," John admits. Even though he isn't trying to stop Nick from leaving physically, he looks like he absolutely does not want to be alone around Jerome. Unfortunately, Jerome's expression tells Nick that whatever words he has to share with John, they are private, and they're just going to make Nick wish he'd never heard them.

"It's gonna be fine," Nick tells him. He mostly believes it, too.

The front of the house has mostly been left to rot, which had been fine when Nick wasn't expecting a half-dozen cars to show up in his drive. With John and Jerome busy out back and Kim getting Carmina prepared for company, Nick is left alone to clean up the tumbleweeds that have made their home against the dilapidated remains of chain-link fencing. He could probably leave it — after all, nobody is expecting perfection these days — but somehow he can't bring himself to leave a poor first impression. What John said must have gotten to him, because here he is, looking over a patch of dirt and trying to see how he can make it seem like enough . Proof that he knew what he was doing when he saved John, proof that he knows what he's doing now, trusting the guy with his reputation and that of his family.

Unfortunately, there's not much to save in the front yard, and Nick's bottle of weed-killer is six-years expired and empty to boot. They're all just going to have to work with what they've got.

Carmina comes out at some point to help, mostly by distracting Nick with lots of questions. Are there going to be kids coming? Is Grace going to show up too? Can she trade The Wizard of Oz for another book? Will they mind that John is here? Shouldn't he be hiding? What if Grace does show up, too? Is she going to be okay?

"Honey, I don't know," Nick replies to most of it. Thankfully, he taught her early on that adults saying "I don't know" is actually a good thing — mostly because Nick says it too much to have his daughter think he's being dumb.

"All I know is that we're gonna do our best to be hospitable," he clarifies, because that's a lesson Carmina still hasn't learned anything about. "This is the first big caravan of the year. People are gonna be passing through a lot more as things get back to normal, and they'll always be a grab-bag. Uh, that means it'll be a surprise, what kinda people will come through."

"So there could be kids?" Carmina asks hopefully.

"Sure," Nick smiles. "Kids, dogs, friendly old ladies who'll pinch your cheeks too hard. All sorts of people. But this one is... extra important, you know?"

"Because of John?" Carmina asks. "That's what mom said."

Nick sighs. "Yep," he says, "Because of John." Maybe that's a little harsh, but it's true. Still, Nick tries to sound less exasperated when he continues. "Some of the people coming through probably won't be happy to see him. That's why Pastor Jerome is talking to him now — to see if he can help."

"I thought Jerome didn't like John," Carmina replies.

"Nobody likes John," Nick clarifies. "That doesn't mean we aren't gonna try to help him out."

" Why ? If nobody likes him..."

Nick sighs, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Because it's the right thing to do, Carmina. If somebody needs help, you oughta help them if you can. You know, even before the bombs, everyone out here relied on each other when things got tough. It might not be much, but that's one thing I'm not gonna give up on." He looks around the yard, mostly to avoid his daughter's eye-contact, but eventually, he offers her a smile. "You get it, right?"

"Sure," Carmina says, most likely not getting it at all.

It's not that much longer before the first car shows up. The dark blue sedan that rolls down their drive has heavily patched tires and a crack through the windshield, but the engine sounds plenty capable of a long drive. A mattress and a wardrobe box are strapped to the roof of the car with ropes, and the back seat is full of boxes, but Nick sure hopes they have more supplies on hand than what he sees.

"Go tell your mom," Nick tells Carmina, who nods and jogs off to warn everyone that it's show time.

Nick guides the car around a deep crack in the drive, and he's privately relieved to barely recognize either of the people in the car. The couple that climbs out is passingly familiar — Nick has a clear vision of the man at Lorna's, for some reason — and they seem excited to see Nick, but honestly, he couldn't name them if he tried.

"I sure hope Jerome sent word we were coming," the lady driving says after she dusts herself off. She's got her hair shaved up short, and a long welted scar runs from her temple to her nose. Nick remembers her, minus the scar, but he can't remember her name. Joan, maybe? Georgia? Something like that...

"That he did!" Nick offers her a friendly smile, gesturing towards the house. "We got everything all set up if you wanna make yourselves at home. Uh, he didn't tell us how many were coming, so I dunno if we got enough space, but..."

The guy, whose name Nick definitely doesn't remember, waves a hand in an attempt to ease Nick's worries. "Don't worry, it's just a couple of cars. Us, a couple guys who found a working Honda, and the Halls. They've got a big-ass truck, though, and a trailer, so they might need help with that ditch."

Kim comes around from the back before Nick needs to come up with more small talk. Pleasantly surprised as she recognizes their guests, she calls, "Julia, is that you?"

"Kim!" Julia exclaims, going in for a hug that Kim is glad to give. "It's so good to see you again!"

With the ice successfully broken and Kim taking point on hosting duties, Nick slowly feels himself start to relax back into the role himself. Julia and Clark are long-time Hope County residents, and they seem just as happy to have a brief return to normalcy as Nick is to indulge in it, so for the next few minutes, the conversation stays light and upbeat.

Clark can't give them a head-count, but he talks about the Hall family and their plan to head as far west as possible, implying the whole time that most people found the idea to be too risky to actually take on. When Carmina comes downstairs only to be disheartened by the lack of kids around, Julia is quick to reassure her that the Halls have a boy about her age. It's probably that news that keeps Carmina docile as Julia proceeds to fawn over how big she is.

Sure enough, the next car to come in is a large, beat-up F-150, the bed's sideboards painted with faded apple orchard logos. The family Clark and Julia mentioned are sitting up front in the cab, while three more people take up space in the bed. Nick helps them down the drive, careful of the small trailer they've got with them. The whole time, Carmina is waiting behind him impatiently.

Before Nick can join Kim in introducing Carmina to one of the few kids her age in the area, he's distracted by the third car rolling into the yard. The Honda is another four-door, although it looks more comfortable in the back than Julia and Clark's car, with or without the boxes. Nick catches sight of a toddler sitting on a woman's lap, which will probably bum Carmina out, but at least she can get some practice in with babies.

The headcount comes to ten people, minus kids, which is a lot less than Nick's worst fears expected. What's more, they all seem like reasonable people. The problem, though, is that Jerome definitely mentioned Hurk and Sharky tagging along, and Nick doesn't know how many people might be riding with them. Plus, they've been openly experimenting with the Mad Max raider thing, and Nick isn't 100% sure just how hard they're leaning into it. Escorting a caravan full of families with minimal weapons doesn't exactly scream cutthroat bastards , but the worry sticks to the back of Nick's mind.

Things are calm for the next hour or two. The three people who came with the truck all seem eager to keep moving at first, but they slowly relax once they're seated inside at the dinner table. With a couple of the windows unboarded and the back porch fully open, the inside of the house is filled with light. They had to get rid of the couch when they unburied it, but now Nick wishes they had more seating in here.

"The place looks great, right?" Julia asks one of the girls at the table. Neither of them have ever been here, Nick doesn't think, but they play along.

"Most of the houses collapsed," Katrina comments. She's the most jittery out of the three sitting at the table, and so far Nick only knows that she's from California and has been wanting to get back there since the bombs fell. "You guys got lucky."

"Things are way better once you get out of close-range areas like this," the girl sitting beside Katrina says. She calls herself Merit, and it's clear from her worn-out gear and her heavy goggle-lines that she's been traveling for a while. Nick wonders if she just happened upon the caravan, or if she helped put it together. "Some towns barely look any different."

"It took a lot of hard work to clean it up," Nick offers awkwardly. "You should've seen how much dirt we had to move."

It's weird, taking credit for John's work. Nick takes an immediate dislike to it. He would look to the third person at the table, a gruff and quiet man named Everett, for some kind of distraction, but the guy doesn't seem interested in conversation.

"You think Helena is going to be better than this?" Katrina asks Merit.

"Oh, hell yeah," she says.

As soon as Merit launches into hypothesizing what the next towns might be like, Nick makes a quick exit for the back porch. Carmina and the Hall kid — Liam, Nick's pretty sure — are drawing big shapes out in the dirt with sticks, gossiping as best they can without any daycare socialization to help them. Kim seems satisfied with it, anyway — enough that she can dedicate most of her focus on trading gardening tips and general life-hacks with the two other mothers in the group. Jerome rejoins the group for a few minutes, but after he drifts briefly through the conversations, he seems to disappear again. Nick isn't sure if that's a good sign or not, but he's gonna have to trust himself while he flies blind for a bit.

Nick doesn't know which is louder on Hurk's arrival: the three roaring motorcycle engines, or the cacophony of black metal that comes with them. It's a whole lot of presentation for three guys on some busted old Harleys, but it sure does the trick of drawing everyone's attention. By the time they rumble down the drive, everyone has congregated to the front of the house, just in time to witness an almost coordinated stop beside the truck.

The music blares from an old stereo on the back of one of the bikes, so killing the engines doesn't do anything to stop it. He doesn't take off his helmet, but Nick recognizes Hurk swearing a blue-streak as he tries to shut the music off with as little noticeable fanfare as possible.

"Party train's in town, bitches!" he hollers, as if they aren't watching him beat up a cassette player in real-time.

The two guys with Hurk take off their helmets, and Nick immediately pegs them for ex-cultists. There's something about the way they look at the house, as if the last time they saw it they were busting in the doors at John's command. One of them, nearly as big as Hurk, the only hair on his head his long, untamed beard, looks like he never quite came off the Bliss, his eyes glassy and vacant. The other fills out their stereotypical raiders unit with his wild locs and big, unhinged smile, giving off real wild-card vibes in a pack already chock full of Jokers.

Neither of them are Sharky, which is... weird. Truthfully, seeing Hurk without his cousin is a little jarring — after all, they've been together since the world ended.

Hurk must notice him looking around because he's quick to put any worries to rest. "Sharky's gonna show eventually," he says. "Likes taking the road less traveled, y'know? Since all the roads these days aren't traveled, though, he's gotta get real weird with it." He waves a hand as though swatting away a troublesome fly. "You'll hear him before you see him."

It doesn't take long for that to backfire spectacularly in Nick's face. Not three minutes later, Nick catches the distant roar of an ATV somewhere out in the trees. He isn't the only one; pretty much everybody else swivels to nervously eye the woods until Sharky's caterwauling eases their deeply ingrained flight instincts. Like before, the entire crowd migrates towards the noise, following it into the backyard.

Nick tries not to worry about it as Sharky comes up from the wrong side of the hangar. After all, Sharky's probably gonna drive right by the hangar without so much as a second glance, and anyway, Jerome is there to run interference if things go south. Sharky's mellowed out since the apocalypse — surely he'd listen to reason. Right?

It's all Nick can think about while he and Sonny Hall talk about the potential hazards on their way out. He almost convinces himself that things are going to be fine by the time the ATV engine cuts off, writing it off as nothing more than a random habit of Sharky's to park in the most inconvenient places.

There's no way to rationalize the terrible crash from the hangar, followed by Sharky's blood-curdling holler of, " What the fuck !"

Sharky himself rushes from the hanger via the utility door, practically spilling out into the dirt wash between the two buildings. He rushes towards them with his mouth agape and his face pale from shock; he pulls up short as he catches Nick visibly flailing from his discovery.

"You wanna tell me what the fuck John Seed is doing in your fucking hangar ?" he asks, voice cracking as it fails to contain all of his outrage.

Nick opens his mouth to say something, anything to ease the blow that's coming, but Hurk cuts him off at the head. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he scoffs loudly, waving a dismissive middle finger in Sharky's direction. "Do you know how fuckin' nuts you sound right now?"

Sharky's face turns beet red, fists clenching as he locks eyes with Nick for a brief, furious second before about-facing for the hangar. His betrayal and fury sting like a bitch.

"Sharky," Nick calls, but the guy is definitely not listening to him right now. He looks where Kim is standing, her hand tight on Carmina's shoulder, but she's just as lost as he is. They'd planned to segue into this, for God's sake! This isn't anywhere near what they planned!

Shit. Nick can't let Sharky be the first one to reach the hangar. He needs to get in front of this, before everyone swings into mob mentality and tears John to pieces. As he jogs in Sharky's furious wake, he can feel the group closing in behind him, fear and curiosity and utter disbelief drawing the whole goddamn posse down at once.

Sharky flings open the door and disappears into the hangar. Jerome tries to calm him down, urging him to hold on, but it does nothing to slow the guy down. Nick reaches the hangar in time for Sharky to shove John through the door, knocking him to the dirt in front of Nick's feet.

"Jesus Christ !" someone shouts from behind him. Nick just knew that haircut was going to get them into trouble — as if John's tattooed arms aren't bare and visible to the crowd.

"What the fuck is this shit!" Sharky shouts as he clears the door.

John remains on his knees, keeping his eyes fixed on the dirt beneath him. A flurry of anxious chatter goes up around Nick, who finds himself suddenly standing in a strange no man's land between John and the crowd he'd been part of just a minute before. It's a terrible feeling, watching everyone pull back from him like he's got some kind of disease or something.

Nick fumbles with the words that he wants to say, unable to have practiced for this awful scenario. "I, uh, can explain," he says.

"You'd better ," one of Hurk's riders shouts.

"Look, okay, so..."

Nick is positive they aren't going to like the truth, but it's all he has to offer them. They never got a chance to see John lying in the brush like a wasted corpse — all they see now is the end result of all of Nick and Kim's hard goddamn work, trying to find some kind of real human being under all of the rot. He never should have kept John a secret — he should have forced everybody else to look at the work the three of them have had cut out for them, and then maybe they wouldn't be looking at him like he's some kind of monster for admitting that John had just been too sick, too close to death already, for Nick to bring himself to pull the trigger.

"It wouldn't have been right to leave him there," he sighs.

"You should have put a bullet between his eyes!" Katrina shouts at him.

"Don't you think I considered that?" Nick snaps. "It was the first thing I thought!"

"Then why the fuck didn't you?"

He throws his hands up, feeling crazy for having to shout, "Because I didn't want to !" He's been thrown into some horrible alternate universe where people don't think twice about shooting first and never asking questions. "I've never wanted to kill anybody ! I didn't want to back then, and I sure as hell don't want to start murdering people now ! And I couldn't just — I needed to know how he'd survived, if maybe Dep had..."

"Don't finish that sentence," Sharky warns.

"Or what ? You think that they would've done it differently?" Nick points at John, who sits with his head bowed. "I found this sorry bastard struggling to breathe in the dirt! You tell me what Rook would've done differently if John hadn't given them a good damn reason to pull the trigger!"

"A reason ?" Sharky spits in disbelief.

" Yeah , a fucking reason! I'm not a goddamn murderer, Sharky, and that's what it would've been!" He takes a breath, desperate to keep his cool. "We gave him an ultimatum," he continues. "He could stay with us if he did everything we said, if he swore off of the cult — and he did. He has, I mean. He isn't with the Peggies, he isn't with Joseph —"

"Yeah, until that sonuvabitch shows up and takes him back!"

"Joseph can try ." Nick scowls, glancing briefly down at John, who still hasn't moved, not even to look his accusers in the eye. "C'mon, John. Tell them."

"Like I'm gonna believe a word that fucking maniac says!"

John swallows. But for whatever reason, he manages to find enough words to begin defending himself. "The Project was a mistake," he rasps. "It was a pointless endeavor from the start and somewhere inside I knew that."

Katrina surges forward as though she might burst through the crowd and personally beat John to a pulp. Merit's hand on her arm is the only thing that keeps her from doing it. "You fucking monster!" she howls.

"Yes," John replies. He doesn't look up, too scared to, but Nick knows he means it when he says, "I'm sorry."

"Fuck your apologies!"

Jerome, standing quietly in the doorway until now, steps forward. He doesn't quite kneel, but he reaches down to put a firm hand on John's shoulder. It's not a comforting gesture — if anything, Jerome is holding him in place.

"I know," John rasps. He lifts his head at last, revealing a fresh black-eye, which is no doubt Sharky's doing. It takes him a moment to find the words, but he's resigned himself to the mercy of the crowd, and he doesn't try to plead with them.

"There's no forgiveness for the things I've done. There's no... fixing it. I should have died. When Nick found me, I should have forced his hand, but I... couldn't."

"You had eight years to kill yourself," Everett points out grimly. "You should have done it then."

John swallows. "Yes," he says. "I really should have."

Nick can't help muttering an uncomfortable, " Hey ," but Jerome cuts him off just by looking at him. There's plenty of time to freak out about the suicide talk later, hopefully once John avoids being executed entirely.

"I was a coward," John says. The words come out with the force of a long-held confession. "I've always been a coward. It's why I joined Joseph when he found me and followed every word. It's why I listened to Nick when he told me to choose between being shot in the head or helping him. Everything I've ever done has been — just mindless self-preservation."

John swallows. Nick isn't sure who he's looking to, exactly, but he speaks to one person in particular as he says, "I tried to tear my sins out of you to save myself. Manual labor, mending fences — it's never going to be enough to make up for that."

"You bet it isn't," Everett says.

"You probably have enough skin for us to return the favor," Katrina says. Nick doesn't know if she's carrying a weapon or not, but he's pretty sure he'll be the only one to object if she pulls one on John now.

"Hey, now," Nick interjects, unable to help himself and absolutely unwilling to stop himself this time around. "We're better than that."

"Fuck you! You keep him around like a pet farm-hand on land that could keep us all safe and fed, forcing us to go fend for ourselves while you harbor a goddamn monster under your roof!" She points accusingly at the house. "Yeah, real nice place, you fucking traitor !"

"Who do you think we made fix everything !" Nick exclaims, throwing his arms wide. "The only reason we've got all this usable land is because of John, goddamn it! And you all want to leave. You said so yourself, you're not even from here! If you think you can just roll onto my property and act entitled to it, I'll teach you the same goddamn lesson I taught those Peggies nine years ago!"

"More like cult property," some jackass says, as though shouting something loudly enough makes it true. Nick scans the crowd for the culprit, but there are honestly too many guilty faces to choose from.

"Eden's Gate is dead," John says, as if somehow he's the person to bring reason and civility back into the conversation. "Whatever Joseph thinks he's doing now, it's a crippled organization of people more desperate than you. There aren't enough believers left to allow the Project to become a threat. Even if he wanted it, he could never take this property."

"As if I would believe you ."

"You don't have to believe me," John replies, shrugging off the disbelief. "It's true either way. I know what the Deputy did to the bunkers. The most faithful were being held there — if they weren't destroyed with the gates, then the Collapse would have left them feeling like sinners. And I know what eight years of isolation away from Joseph can do to a person's faith. He'll never have the numbers he wanted, much less the numbers he had before the Collapse."

Nick knows that most of the people standing here are never going to forgive him. They're never going to forgive John, either, and one day they might come back expecting the worst from Nick's bad decision. But at least for now, John's honesty seems true enough to reassure the best of them. Everett hasn't left to get his gun yet, anyway, and Katrina hasn't tried to burst through the crowd and flay John alive. That's something, anyway, right?

"What if you're wrong?" Sharky asks. He still looks pissed, but his arms are crossed defensively over his chest and he doesn't look willing to start a fight right now. "Not saying I believe you," he adds, just in case anyone had any doubts. "But if I did ."

John doesn't hesitate. "If I am, kill him. Of course, his followers will martyr him, so you'll have to kill them as well." He clenches his jaw for a moment, as though he doesn't want to say it, and then admits, "Anyone who would follow Joseph now has to be completely devoted to him. They'll take any outside aggression as a reason to attack. If you move on Joseph, you'll have to be willing to exterminate the whole group."

"That sounds like a whole lotta work," Hurk points out pragmatically.

"Sure sounds like you're telling us to let Joseph do whatever he wants," one of his biker pals adds. It's also a pragmatic observation, but Nick has no doubt it's meant as an accusation. "We show up here and find out John Seed is still alive, and he's telling us to just leave it alone , and you want us to believe you're not part of all of it?"

Nick doesn't realize at first that the guy is talking to him . "Are you kidding me?" Nick asks. "Are you forgetting who shot this sorry fuck out of the sky? He tried to rip the pride right outta me —"

"And yet here you are, defending him!"

"Of course I'm defending him! Nobody else is gonna do it!"

With his blood about ready to boil, it's a good thing that Kim arrives before Nick says something stupid. He's not sure when she rejoined the group, but now she cuts in front of the strangers in their home, resting a hand on his shoulder as she steps up beside him. He grabs it immediately, maybe a little too tightly, but he can't afford to lose his cool any more than he already has.

"I know, it's a lot to handle," she says. "It's been a lot for us, too. But Nick is telling you all the truth. It has nothing to do with the cult. We aren't being manipulated, and we aren't trying to betray anyone. Nick found him when he needed help, and we helped him. It's as simple as that."

She offers them an apologetic smile. "Things after the bombs have been hard on all of us. But the past still haunts me. It's been almost ten years and I still have nightmares about it. I want this world to be better than the last one, but there's still so much of me left back there. When Nick found John, I thought — I thought we might not be done, honestly. I felt the same way you all feel now. But then I thought, maybe if somebody like John could change, then maybe that meant better for me. For all of us."

Hurk, frowning heavily, crosses his arms over his chest as Sharky slowly uncrosses his. "You really wanna put that much hope on that guy?" he asks.

"Well — yes," Kim admits. "I know that maybe it doesn't seem like enough — I know it doesn't seem like enough to him — but John has been trying. And I can't afford to give up on anybody who wants to be better than the person they were."

Nick realizes that Clark has disappeared from the group. The family from the Honda is nowhere to be seen either; Mary Hall is standing at the back porch with her hands on her son's shoulders while Carmina stands next to them.

For a moment, the silence between the two sides seems insurmountable, and Nick worries that they might have to be ready to move or otherwise defend their home from an angry mob. But eventually, after a few tortuously long seconds have gone by, Sonny Hall comes to a decision.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter what happens in Hope County anymore," he says, scratching his chin. "Only time will tell if we'll have to deal with Eden's Gate in California. Still... Might be best if we get moving sooner, all things considered."

"Guess we're getting out while the getting's good," Merit tells Katrina, who looks like she still wants to pick a fight, even with a wide-open escape at her back. "Don't worry, nothing from this podunk piece of shit is gonna affect anything, ever!"

Katrina stares at John like she's memorizing a mortal enemy. "You better hope not," she tells him, although she looks at Nick when she says it.

Sharky doesn't move as the group begins to retreat, leaving Hurk to awkwardly stop some feet behind and wait for him. He stares at Nick like he doesn't recognize the ugly thing he sees standing there.

"It was a real low blow, bringing the deputy into this," he says. "You know that."

For the first time today, Nick feels truly guilty. True or not, throwing anything Rook-related in Sharky's face is definitely a low blow. "Yeah," he says. "I shouldn't have done that."

Deflating at Nick's apology, Sharky scowls in John's direction before eyeballing the Ryes. "Lucky for you, I like Kim," he says at last, sniffing dismissively. "Otherwise, we'd have a real problem here."

"Thank you, Sharky," Kim replies. "Be safe, okay?"

Nodding reluctantly, Sharky turns to join his and Hurk's small gang. Nick watches them all go, unable to decide whether or not that was the best possible outcome, or simply the least bloodthirsty. He can't help but worry who they're going to tell what , but at this point, it's out of his hands.

"I'll go get Carmina," Kim says after a brief silence. "It might be better if they don't see us before they leave."

"I'll do it," Jerome says. He breaks away somewhat guiltily, but Nick can tell that he wishes he could join the caravan right now and get as far away from this mess as possible. Hell, after the way things went today, he still might try.

It's only once Jerome is gone that John speaks, struggling to keep his voice from shaking. "It's not really over," he says, "It can't be."

"Well, we'll have to go through that a couple hundred more times," Nick points out, "But... I mean, yeah. It's over. Sorry I wouldn't let them flog you or anything."

It's probably too early to joke, but he manages to draw a sigh from John, which is better than nothing. He's saved from having to respond as Carmina jogs across the yard, bouncing from foot to foot once she comes to an antsy stop in front of them.

"Is everything okay?" she asks. "They're all leaving!"

"Everything is fine," Kim tells her. "They want to get some distance before night-fall, that's all. Did you have any luck trading with Liam?"

Kim distracts Carmina from the escaping caravan by talking about her new book, as well as some potential ways to find new reading material. Nick and John both remain in the same spots that they'd defended themselves from, until the last car rumbles out of the drive and Jerome reappears on the back porch.

"What now?" John asks.

"I dunno," Nick replies. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

#far cry 5 #fc5 #fcnd #new dawn #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #far cry fanfic #my fic

12 notes · View notes

laminy · 5 years ago

Note

Sorry if you already know this, but you know how the bananas used to be a different species of banana to the ones we have now, which is why banana flavouring in medecine and sweets taste so different to the bananas we get from the shops? Can we have Rami and Gwil being confused about this? And maybe one of them gets the liquid antibiotics in banana or the sweets with that flavouring and being like "FINALLY! This tastes of proper banana!!"

Ben looks at the bunch of bananas on Joe’s counter, making a bit of a face. “Uh, those aren’t…they’ve gone off,” he says, looking at Joe, who’s digging around in the refrigerator.

“Yeah, I know,” Joe says. “I bought them for breakfast, but I guess I bought too many. I can’t eat them fast enough. Rami doesn’t like them.”

“Hmm,” Ben says. “I can bake with them.”

“Yeah?” Joe asks, and Ben nods. “Heck yeah! Baking Ben. What are you going to make?”

“Do you want cake or bread?” Ben asks.

“Ooh, I don’t know,” Joe says. “Rami doesn’t give a shit, he won’t eat it. Gwil!” he calls out, walking out of the kitchen. “Gwilym!”

“Joseph!”

Joe grins as he walks into the living room, looking at Gwil. “Do you want Ben, your boyfriend, Baking Ben, to make us banana bread, or banana cake?”

“Oh,” Gwil says, “uh.” He reaches up, scratching at his beard. “I suppose I don’t— I really don’t have a preference.”

“No?” Joe asks. “Either or is good with you?”

Gwil shrugs, looking over at Rami. “I uh, I don’t— I don’t really like bananas.”

Joe frowns, and glances back at Ben, who’s got a bit of a disappointed look on his face. “How— neither of you guys like bananas. Is that like a…well, I’ll be frank— is it an old man thing?”

“Oh my god,” Ben mutters.

“No, it’s not an old man thing,” Rami says. “Bananas just aren’t that good now.”

“Aren’t that good— when?” Joe asks.

“What?” Ben asks.

“Are they different?” Joe asks. “They’re bananas! There’s— are there even different types of bananas? They’re not like apples, there’s just…a banana.”

“No, Rami’s right,” Gwil says. “It’s the taste, it’s different. I don’t— of course love, I will try anything you bake, but I don’t— you and Joe will probably have to eat most of it.”

“Okay,” Ben says softly, and he looks at Joe. “Cake then?” he asks.

“Fuck yes,” Joe says. “Let’s see what we have for ingredients! Do you have a recipe already or do you need one?”

Joe and Ben head back to kitchen, and Ben finds a recipe on his phone, going through the cupboards and refrigerator to see what he needs to make the cake. He makes a small list in the notes of his phone, looking at Joe. “Do you want to come with?” Ben asks.

Joe looks up from where he’s been staring at his phone, nodding. “Uh, yeah,” he says, pushing himself off the counter. “But we need to go here too,” he says, showing Ben a photo on his phone. “Cool?”

Ben looks a bit confused, but he sighs and nods anyway. “Yeah, sure,” he says. “Whatever. But I’m not taking you to hospital when you fall into a diabetic coma.”

“Oh shut up, yes you would,” Joe says, clapping Ben on the back.

They come back to the flat less than an hour later, and Ben heads back into the kitchen, starting to get together everything he needs to start on the cake.

Joe walks into the living room, a couple of cardboard boxes and a large plastic tub in his arms. “Heads up!” Joe announces, tossing one box to Gwil, and the other to Rami.

“Bloody hell,” Rami mutters, raising his hand to deflect the box from hitting his head. He picks up the orange box, looking at it. “What are Runts?” he asks.

“Candy,” Joe says.

“I’m not hungry,” Rami says, “but thank you.”

Joe rolls his eyes, and pops the lid on the plastic tub, reaching in to grab a few piece of candy, individually wrapped in yellow packaging. “Think fast!” he says, flinging a couple pieces at each of them.

Rami groans loudly, looking at the candy, while Gwil just grins. “Joe,” Rami says, “I’m not in the mood for sweets right now.”

Joe sighs, walking over to Rami, sitting down on the arm of his chair. “Babe,” Joe says, “please. For me. Have some candy.”

“Did you poison it?” Rami asks, picking up a piece of Laffy Taffy. “Why are you so insistent?”

“What's the catch?” Gwil asks.

“Is it a prank?” Rami asks.

“Babe,” Joe says, leaning down towards him, “I will literally do anything for you if you eat that candy right now.”

“What about me?” Gwil asks.

“Gwil, I’ll handle you later,” Joe says, and Gwil laughs, shaking the box of Runts, popping it open. “Rami,” Joe says softly, “babe, babe. Come on. Anything.”

Rami looks at Joe, and sighs, opening up a piece of Laffy Taffy. “Fine,” Rami says flatly, “we’ll discuss it later.”

Joe grins and glances over at Gwil, who’s got some Runts in his hand, picking through the pieces. “Gwil,” Joe says softly, and Gwil looks up. “Banana,” Joe whispers dramatically, and Gwil looks a bit confused but he picks up a banana anyway, putting it in his mouth.

Gwil’s candy crunches, and Rami’s is chewy, but they both have similar reactions to each other, slowly smiling, looking at each other.

“Yeah?” Joe asks, hoping back up off the chair. “Yeah? Is it true? Is this banana?” he asks, glancing back and forth between Rami and Gwil.

Neither of them say anything; Rami opens the box of Runts and Gwil opens a piece of Laffy Taffy, and they eat those next.

“The suspense is killing me!” Joe exclaims. “Someone, please!”

Ben walks in from the kitchen, looking around. “What the hell is going on?” he asks.

Gwil grins, tossing a piece of Laffy Taffy over to him.

“Oh, I’m so glad to know that Joe’s shared all his sweets,” Ben says, looking at the wrapper.

“Love, try it,” Gwil says.

“I’ve had it before,” Ben says.

“It’s banana,” Gwil says, and Ben smiles.

“I know.”

“No,” Gwil says, “it’s real banana.”

“Real?” Ben asks.

Joe grins. “I did my research!” he says. “That’s what banana tastes like!”

Ben makes a bit of a face. “Hmm, it’s a bit sweeter than real banana,” he says. “It tastes like candy.”

“It’s sweet like bananas should be,” Rami says, eagerly opening another piece of Laffy Taffy.

“That’s— holy shit, your bananas tasted like candy?” Ben asks.

Joe nods eagerly. “That’s what the Internet told me!”

“Thank you!” Rami exclaims, happily wiggling in his chair.

Joe grins at Rami, and then looks at Gwil. “Yes?” he asks, and Gwil looks up from where he’s got Runts spread out all over his lap, picking through for the banana pieces.

“Yes, thank you,” Gwil says.

Ben smiles, and then nods. “Well,” he says, “I guess I’ll just…go back. To the kitchen. To bake my cake that no one is going to eat.”

“I’ll eat it!” Joe says, giving Ben a thumbs up. “This doesn’t deter me at all.”

“I’ll still try it,” Gwil says, “I promise. It will be delicious.”

“Is there sugar in it?” Rami asks, eating another piece of candy.

“Yes,” Ben says. “In the cake and the frosting.”

“Great,” Rami says, “I’ll try it too.”

Ben smiles, shaking his head. “It’s alright, Rami, don’t force yourself. I know the Laffy Taffy has your heart now.”

Rami grins at him, pieces of yellow taffy between his teeth, and Ben just laughs, walking back towards the kitchen.

#answering asks #snippet headcanon #friendship fluff #rami loves food

12 notes · View notes

indigosandviolets · 5 years ago

Text

Quest of the Purple Hearts

Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x OC x George Luz

Word Count: 3,386

Summary: The battle of Carentan ensues. Andrew finally gets his Purple Hearts and practices his aim. Luz’s birthday is celebrated on the edge of bad news.

TW: Gore (someone gets shot and a bullet gets removed)

Part Seven of We Happy Few

D-Day + 6

Carentan, France

The outside of Carentan made it look like a ghost town. And by ghost town, Andrew meant a literal ghost town. It was strange — Andrew had expected to hear some sort of German gunfire, maybe some nonsense being yelled, but there was nothing. Just the squeaks of window shutters as they blew in the wind.

So, of course it made sense when Andrew’s heart skipped a beat as he saw Welsh and Luz get fired at and the two men with them go down. He held onto his M-1 and helmet as he accidentally knocked into Shifty as they all dove into the ditches on the side of the road.

“Shit, where did they come from?” Andrew said, not really looking for the question to be answered. The gunfire only made his heart sink deeper into his stomach as he prayed that Luz was okay.

The order to go around wasn’t one that Andrew wanted to hear, but he moved with Shifty and two other men up and out. As they crossed into the town, one man went down in front of him and Andrew had no choice but to move around him. He had been shot in the head. No way he was coming back.

Even though it would have bothered Andrew to do that just a few days ago, he couldn’t be bothered by it now. It was war, and if he was going to fight, he had to do it right. That included leaving dead men for dead.

Andrew ducked into the little chicken coop with Shifty as the gunfire rained down on them. The other man went across the road, hugging the side of the wall. He threw a grenade into the storefront beside him before he was shot.

“Shit, Shifty, where the hell are those krauts?” Andrew asked, fumbling for the mirror in his pocket. He dropped it, causing it to smash into a million little pieces. “Shit!”

Shifty has no choice but to reach around the entrance of the coop, shooting at the building in front of them. The gunfire soon stopped from the building.

“Shifty, Marin, you two okay?” Lipton called out.

“Yes, sir!” They both replied at the same time.

“We gotta take that warehouse! Shifty, Marin, hammer those windows!”

Andrew was not as good of a shot as Shifty was, what with Andrew only being a PFC and Shifty being a hell of a sniper, but they managed to get through the kraut gunfire.

“Shit, Shifty, you’re-“ Andrew started before it started again.

Though it seemed to rain bullets, one gunshot came a little too close to home for Andrew. He felt the searing hot pain as he collapsed into the wall behind him. This time, the pain didn’t subside as quickly as it first had. In fact, it only seemed to linger and burn. “Fuck!” He cried out, grabbing at his arm, which felt like it was on fire.

“Marin, were you hit?” Shifty asked, pulling Andrew away from the gunfire. Andrew nodded quickly. “Where?”

“My arm, fuck, this shit fucking hurts,” Andrew says, gritting his teeth. “Get the fucking— medic!”

“Medic!” Shifty called out, but no response. He kept calling, but it seemed like no one was hearing him. So, Andrew did the next best thing.

“Get the instaclot, fuck,” Andrew instructed, doing his best to tear open the hole in his jacket. The blood-stained fabric burned as it touched Andrew’s open wound, but he kept going as Shifty poured the white power on his arm. “Where’s the medic? Medic! Medic!”

Shifty did his best at wrapping up Andrew’s arm as he cried out for a medic. The blood had begun to stop, but it still continued to spread over his jacket as the red liquid on the surface started to get sopped up. Once Shifty was done, Andrew bared his teeth as he got back up, though Shifty’s hands were on his shoulders.

“Marin, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m not letting a kraut bullet keep me down, Shifty.”

“But the medic-“

“Fuck the medic!” Andrew said, readjusting his M-1. “He hasn’t come, and you’re not fighting alone, I’m not letting that happen.” He had been shot above his elbow on his right arm, otherwise known as the one he needed to shoot his gun. “We’re here to shoot kraut’s, and dammit, I’m gonna shoot a fucking kraut!”

Andrew’s words came just in time as the gunfire started back up. He and Shifty took aim at the building, firing until it stopped firing back, which didn’t actually take too long. IN all, the capture of Carentan for the American Army didn’t take as long as Andrew had expected. Andrew’s shots were a bit lopsided, but they got the job done.

“Never seen a guy shoot with a fucked up arm,” Shifty says, looking back to Andrew. “You think you hit any of ‘em?”

“I sure hope so,” Andrew replied, letting his M-1 hang on its strap as he put his left hand up to his arm. “Plus, I don’t think anyone with a fucked arm can shoot in general, Shifty.”

Eventually, everything had cleared, and Shifty gave Andrew a personal escort to Doc Roe.

“Why didn’t ya call out for a medic?” Roe asked, undoing the wrapping that Shifty had put on Andrew. “If I had any idea you’d been hit we would’ve pulled you outta there.”

“I did, Shifty too,” Andrew told him, voice strained, wincing as Roe’s hands touched the bloody flesh. “Mr. Luck-o-the-Irish never showed up.”

Roe sighed. “You’re so damn lucky it doesn’t look that deep, Marin,” Roe tells him. “Otherwise I’d be sending your ass back to Aldbourne right now.”

“Can we even get there?” Andrew’s teeth ground against each other as Roe started clearing away the blood. “Jesus fuck,” Andrew says as Roe sticks his finger into the wound, feeling for the bullet. Andrew can sense where it is, but he doesn’t know exactly where, so he must stick to the prodding of Doc Roe. “It feels deep as hell.”

“Deeper than Winters’, that’s for sure,” Roe says, getting his pliers and a metal bowl. “Christ, Marin, how did you keep fighting?”

Andrew’s about to speak before Roe goes in, feeling for the bullet. “Fuck, Doc, I think I had to,” Andrew strains. He sucks in a deep breath, which his chest protests against, making him immediately let it go. Roe notices this and quickly but carefully pulls out the bullet.

“Marin, you okay?” Roe says as he wipes away more of the blood. “You look like you can’t breathe.”

Andrew shakes his head. “No, no, it’s fine,” Andrew quickly says.

“You look like you broke a rib or somethin’,” Roe tells him.

Andrew, deciding that Roe’s explanation was the best thing for him to go with, nods. “Childhood accident,” Andrew lies, trying to think of a story he had heard from someone that would be believable enough for Roe. “My brother and I were climbing up a tree and I fell. It never healed quite right, as you can see.”

Roe, hesitatingly, nodded. “Alright.”

“Hey, Doc, am I allowed to keep on, uh, fighting with the rest of the men?”

“Are you kids in’ me? Not with that arm. Hell, even if I let you, you’d still be a shit shot with it.”

“Not according to Shifty,” Andrew says. “I mean, I was a little cock-eyed with it but I wasn’t too bad.” He looked over at the bullet in the metal bowl. Wincing, he leaned over, picking it up with his left hand. “I wasn’t letting this little shit stop me from fighting, Doc.”

“You could’ve lost your arm, Marin.”

“I didn’t.”

“But you could have,” Roe tells him, patching up the last of the blood. “You’re gonna need a sling.”

Andrew groaned. “What the hell am I supposed to do with a sling?”

“Do you want me to send you back to Aldbourne?”

Andrew sighed, shaking his head. “No, Doc.”

“Then shut your trap and wear it,” Roe tells him before finding a long piece of cloth and fashioning Andrew a sling as Andrew placed the kraut bullet into his pocket. Souvenir. “Consider yourself lucky I’m not sending you home immediately.”

Andrew nodded, moving his fingers slightly as the sling was tightened. He felt completely useless. Sure, he wasn’t going home right away, but what the hell was he supposed to do while they all were stuck here? Attempt to shoot at Germans with only one arm? Maybe he could use his sidearm and his left hand, but he wouldn’t be that good of a shot.

As he exited the medic station, Andrew looked around, trying to find someone to talk to so he could get his mind off his damn arm.

Then, out of the blue, came Luz.

“Luz?” Andrew said, and for a moment Luz didn’t respond. “Luz!”

Luz turned his head, and his face regained that beaming smile before his eyes landed on Andrew’s arm. Andrew walked over and Luz met him in the middle.

“Christ, Luz, I thought you and Welsh were goners,” Andrew says as he wraps his good arm around Luz. Luz is careful not to get too close to Andrew’s sling.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Luz replies, looking at Andrew’s arm. “Don’t tell me you’re missing another part of your body.”

“Nope, just the ear,” Andrew tells him. “Kraut got me when I was with Shifty. This little shit,” Andrew pauses, taking out the bullet he had pocketed, “Did the deed.”

Andrew handed the bullet over to Luz. “Why in the name of God did you keep it?”

“Spite, I guess.”

“Andrew, what are you supposed to do with it?”

“Don’t know. I haven’t figured that out yet.”

Luz stops, holding the bullet in the palm of his hand. “Christ, Andrew.”

“What?”

“You’re really working towards that Purple Heart, aren’t ya?”

Andrew chuckled. “That’s two right there, isn’t it?”

Luz looked around before pulling Andrew off to the side. Not a soul watching, no one could hear them.

“Can’t believe you called me an idiot even though you’re the one who got shot, Andrew.”

“Hey-”

“Twice! You got hot twice, and somehow I’m the idiot.”

Andrew sighed, frustrated. He couldn’t think of anything good to come back at Luz with. Luz, noticing this, laughed and smiled.

“It’s okay, Andrew,” Luz says, placing his hand on Andrew’s cheek. “You get so worked up when you’re injured.”

“Typing me, are we?”

“Oh, just a little.”

Luz placed a kiss against Andrew’s forehead before placing one on his lips. Andrew had no idea how much he had missed the touch of the older man. Speaking of older, Andrew thought for a moment as he pulled away.

“Hey Luz?”

“Yeah?”

“Isn’t your birthday comin’ up soon?”

Luz paused. “Shit, I guess you’re right.”

“It’s the 20th, right?”

“Every year.”

Andrew sighed. “We’re probably gonna be here on your birthday. That sucks.”

“Could be worse.”

“How?”

“I could’ve been shot.”

Andrew playfully hit Luz with his good hand. “Not funny.”

“C’mon, it was! Just a little bit, at least.”

Andrew shook his head, chuckling. “It still sucks you’ve got to be here on your birthday.”

Luz wraps his arm around Andrew’s good shoulder, standing beside him. “Just get me a good pack of smokes and some alcohol when we get back, alright?” Luz says, placing a kiss on Andrew's forehead.

“I’ll get you two, how ‘bout that?”

That just made Luz kiss him on the lips. “Thatta boy.”

Aldbourne, England

The overall Battle of Carentan took seven days to complete. It took almost a month since his initial injury for Andrew to get his Purple Hearts back in Aldbourne, accompanied by a brief stint in the hospital so Roe could take out Andrew’s stitches. With all the pictures being taken of everyone receiving their medals, it felt more like a show to Andrew. It all felt staged, almost as if they were injured on purpose, in order for the American Military to say, “Look at what your boys have sacrificed for you! Buy War Bonds to get them home!”

Andrew didn’t clip the medals to his jacket. Instead, he shoved them in his pocket, walking around the base in Aldbourne. He could hear Malarkey’s and Moore’s cheering from the motorcycle they had commandeered. It made him smile. It gave life to the dullness of the cloudy day. He kept his hands in his pockets, moving over the smooth metal of his Purple Hearts. Then, he felt a round object.

He pulled out the Kraut bullet, smooth a clean. The blood on it must’ve rubbed off on the inside pocket of his jacket. Andrew held it up to his face, rolling it in his fingers. The bullet was cold compared to the once-hot blood that it had shed. A little bullet in the arm had completely ruined Andrew in Carentan. It made him unable to fight like he wanted to, like he needed to.

Little German shit, Andrew thought. Makin’ me look bad. What’s wrong with you?

Andrew shoves the little bullet back into his pocket, hearing the metal clink against the Purple Hearts. So damn worried over gettin’ ‘em, and I don’t even care. Fantastic.

Andrew found himself a nice field by the house he was quartered in. It wasn’t too big, but it had a flat stump on it. He got a few bottles from the trash, placed them on the stump, and stepped back. Then, he got out his sidearm.

Target practice.

He tried with his left arm, the arm Roe had told him to mainly stick to for the next week,and missed the first few shots. “Fuck,” Andrew said, switching to his right arm. It was sore, far more sore than he wanted it to be by this point but he couldn’t complain. It wasn’t like he lost the damn thing.

Andrew took in a deep breath, aimed, and fired. The shattering glass gave him the okay to fire again, and again, until he had hit every bottle.

“You’ve still got it,” A voice says from behind him. Andrew turns to see Liebgott.

“You say that like I’m an old man,” Andrew replies, putting away the sidearm. “I never lost it, anyway. It was just put out of commission for a little while.”

“Damn, all three bottles. I’d hate to see the fucker you killed before you got your arm fucked up.”

Andrew chuckled a bit, pausing. Though he wasn’t as good as a shot as Shifty, he did have a killer aim, those two krauts from D-Day could attest to that. The only difference is that Shifty hit his mark every time, Andrew just got damn near close to it.

“Don’t say shit like that, Lieb,” Andrew jokes. “You might just get me promoted.”

“Who says that’s a bad thing?” Liebgott asks, stepping closer to Andrew. “I think a man with a little more cash to spare isn’t that bad of a thing to have.”

Andrew laughed. “Oh yeah?”

“It always helps, you know, sell an image.”

“Who’re you tryin’ to sell my image to, Lieb?”

Liebgott wraps his arms around Andrew’s waist before speaking again. “Anyone I damn well please, if that’s alright with you.”

“Course it is,” Andrew says before kissing Liebgott. As he does so, Andrew can taste that little bit of tobacco lingering on Lieb’s tongue.

Tobacco.

Cigarettes?

Shit!

Andrew pulls away before Liebgott can start to get into the kiss. “Fuck, I forgot.”

“What, what’s wrong?”

“Luz’s birthday,” Andrew tells him. “It’s his twenty-third, and I promised him two packs of smokes and some good liquor.”

Liebgott shakes his head. “Thinkin’ bout everyone, aren’t ya? How’re you gonna get his shit now?”

You’ve got no idea, Lieb.

“I put the smokes and liquor back in my foot locker, they’re safe,” Andrew tells him, stepping back and flattening out his jacket. “I might see if I can get something from the family I’m quartered with — maybe Mrs. Irene made something special.”

“Damn, you’re going all out,” Liebgott says. “I hope I get the same treatment for my special day.”

Andrew rolls his eyes. “How long have I got to plan for that? Almost a year?”

“That’s right.”

“Then quit worrying about whether or not it’s gonna be as good.”

Mrs. Irene had, in fact, made some sweet rolls that morning. She had made quite a few of them, so she wasn’t too upset to part with two for a few dollars.

Andrew cursed himself for having nothing to wrap his gifts with, so he carried the Lucky Strikes and booze (Andrew had nicked it back in Carentan and according to Webster it was brandy) in an ammo box and kept the rolls wrapped in a gingham cloth he had borrowed from Mrs. Irene.

Andrew walked into the makeshift pub of the base as Smokey was recounting what he called ‘The Night of the Bayonet’. Andrew didn’t really care. He had heard the story from Liebgott a few hours after it happened. He had heard it happen from the foxhole that Roe made him stay in. He then heard it from Martin, who had heard it from his foxhole. Within the month, Andrew had heard it almost a million times.

Before Andrew could reach Luz, though, came the word from Lip.

“Couple of announcements to make, men. First — Listen up. First, the training exercise scheduled for 2200 has been cancelled."

A few cheers. Andrew could’ve sworn he heard Muck.

"Secondly. All passes are hereby revoked,” Lipton announces, and the room falls silent. It’s dead quiet. Andrew can feel his heart beat in the back of his head. We're heading back to France, so pack up all your gear. We will not be returning to England, boys. Anyone who has not made out a will, go to the supply office. Trucks depart from Membury at 0700. As you were."

It was hard to go back to as they were, Andrew could sense it. He felt in every step he took as he spotted Luz.

“Hey, Marin,” Guarnere says. “This here’s Heffron, he’s from Philly.”

“I could tell,” Andrew says.

“Really?” Heffron says. “Where are you from?”

“Fulton.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard of that. Is it in Germantown?”

“Illinois actually.”

“What’s with the box, Marin?” Guarnere asks, reaching for it, but Andrew pulls it away.

“Not for you! It’s for Luz!” Andrew says, walking over to sit down beside the man, who was now grinning. “Happy Birthday, George.”

George? When the hell do you call him George?

“Christ, Luz, didn’t know it was your birthday,” Guarnere says.

“It’s not,” Luz replies as Andrew hands him the box. “We were stuck in France.” As Luz finishes his sentence, he opens up the box. The first thing he pulls out is the brandy. “Asbach Uralt,” Luz reads in a phony German accent. “Ori- fuck, Andrew, don’t give me shit I can’t read.”

Andrew laughed. “According to Webster, it’s brandy, and he can speak German a hell of a lot better than us.”

Luz then pulls out the Lucky Strikes, then the sweet rolls. Guarnere makes a grab for them but Luz picks it up and away.

“Hey, Andrew spent a good deal of money on these, and they ain’t for you!” Luz states before turning to Andrew. “How much was it?”

“Couple of tupines.”

“Andrew spent his own tupines and they’re not for you!”

Andrew laughed as Luz opened up one of the packs of smokes, giving one to Andrew, then Heffron, then Guarnere. As Andrew lit up his cigarette, he raised his zippo in the air.

“George Luz, you may be my best and closest friend that I have ever had. You, always amaze me with your impressions and every time I got down, you managed to pull me right back up, despite everything going on around us. I know you didn’t have a good birthday on its actual day, but I hope that this will make up for it,” Andrew says, in a toast-like voice. He’s never given a toast before, and there’s no drink in his hand, so he’s not exactly sure how it works. “To George Luz, and the many impressions he may bring!”

tag list: @alienoresimagines @fromcrossroadstoking @ghostyroses

#band of brothers #joseph liebgott x oc #joseph liebgott #george luz x oc #george luz #andrew marin #shifty powers #harry welsh #carwood lipton #babe heffron #bill guarnere #tw gore

10 notes · View notes

chobit92 · 5 years ago

Text

Resident Evil: Albert Wesker/OC Part 2

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol.

(Angel sits at the bar waiting to be served. Wesker is sat next to her. Chris picks up a tray of beers and carries them over to a table where Barry, Joseph, Enrico, Richard and Forest are sat. Ken is talking to a young woman at the other end of the bar. Rebecca is dancing with Jill.). Chris: Who’s up for a game of darts? Barry: I’ll whoop your ass Redfield. (Chris and Barry get up and head over to the dart board with their beers. Angel tries again to get the barman’s attention but he just walks off to serve a guy at the other end of the bar. She sighs as she then watches the barman serving two women while flirting with them. She wonders what it would be like to be flirted with. She’s used to guys not noticing her. She’s only had one boyfriend and it didn’t end up being anything much. She blames her father for that. Ben was so scared of him finding out that they were seeing each other he broke it off after only two months. She really liked him too. She told him that she didn’t care if her father found out. She’s an adult and she’ll date who she likes. Ben just said that her father wouldn’t see it that way. That he should never have started seeing the bosses daughter. She finally manages to get the barman’s attention and he walks over and smiles at her.).

Barman: What can I get for yah? Let me guess. Wine? Gin and Tonic? Angel: Wow. You assume a lot about women don’t you? Barman: It’s just what they usually drink miss. Angel: I don’t like wine. It tastes disgusting. I’ll have a whiskey. Neat. Make it a double. Like half the glass yeah? (The barman raises his eyebrows.). Barman: Okay. (He pours her a whiskey and she takes a large gulp. Rebecca walks over and leans against the bar next to her.). Barman: Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Coz you must be an angel with beauty such as yours. Rebecca: Her names Angel. Barman: Get outta here. Angel: Why are you still here? Barman: So uh...You seeing anyone? (Angel looks surprised.). Angel: I’m married. (The barman walks off.). Rebecca: I didn’t know you were married. Angel: Neither did I until about three seconds ago. (Rebecca laughs and Angel smiles taking another sip of whiskey. She turns to Wesker.). Angel: Did you want another drink? Wesker: Why not? Rebecca: You should come dance with us. Angel: I don’t really do dancing. I’d look like a right idiot. Rebecca: No you wouldn’t. Come on. (Angel tries to get the barman’s attention again. He’s too busy flirting yet again. She sighs and then gets up on the bar and gets behind it. Rebecca laughs. She pours Wesker a whiskey and the barman comes over.). Barman: Hey. Get out from behind here. Angel: Make me. Barman: Seriously I’ll drag your ass out of here. Angel: Oh yeah? You touch me you’ll be spitting out your teeth. If we didn’t have to sit here all night waiting for you to finish flirting with anything with a hole in it I wouldn’t have to pour my own drinks would I? (Angel slides the glass across to Wesker and hops back over the bar sitting down. She then slides a bill across the bar.). Angel: Keep the change asshole. (The barman looks stunned as he takes the bill and walks off. Rebecca laughs.). Rebecca: Jesus girl! You’re scary. Angel: Am I? Rebecca: Yeah. Now come dance with us. (Angel sighs.). Angel: Okay fine. (She downs the rest of the whiskey and gets up. She turns to Wesker.). Angel: Would you like to dance? Wesker: No. Angel: Okay. Back in a minute. (Angel walks over to Jill with Rebecca and they start dancing. Wesker watches Angel. She sways from side to side looking embarrassed. He takes a sip of whiskey and thinks about how she was with that barman. The anger in her eyes. Damn. He hasn’t seen that side of her before. He sighs as he realises she’s obviously one of those man hating feminist types. He’s wasting his time. Angel suddenly turns her head and looks over at him. She smiles shyly before turning away. Jill is showing her how to sway her hips and Wesker watches as Angel copies her. Jill then leans over and whispers something to Angel and she turns to look at him before looking back at Jill and saying something. Both girls start giggling. Angel shakes her head then shrugs.

---Angel can’t believe Jill. Teasing her about how Wesker is watching her every move then asking if she fancies him. Ridiculous. But as she turns and looks over at him sitting at the bar watching them she wonders how ridiculous it really is. She hasn’t failed to notice how attractive he is. She’s thought about him several times since she met him. Barry walks over.). Barry: And how are you ladies doing? Jill: Fine. Barry: I don’t think Weskers enjoying himself. Jill: Hm. We were just talking about him. Weren’t we Angel? Angel: Stop. Barry: Hm. Jill: We should probably head home soon. We’ve got a big day tomorrow. Barry: Yeah. God knows what we’re gonna find in those woods. Some crazy cult if you ask me. Angel: You think it’s just that? A cult? Barry: What else could it be? (Angel isn’t sure. Chris comes over.). Chris: You up for another game Barry? Barry: Why not? Well girls it’s been fun but I have another game of darts to win. (They laugh as Barry and Chris head back over to the dart board. Jill watches Chris go.). Angel: You like him don’t you? Jill: What? Angel: Chris. Jill: I... Rebecca: Yes she does. Angel: Have you told him? Jill: No. Rebecca: Have you told Wesker you like him? Angel: What? Rebecca: Oh come on. I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at him tonight. I’ve also seen you looking at him at work. Angel: Well...I dunno. I don’t see the point. He’d never be interested. Rebecca: I think he is. Angel: You what? Rebecca: Well he invited you for a drink tonight didn’t he? Angel: To discuss putting me back on the case. Rebecca: He said that yeah but I think he was after something else as well. Angel: Really? Rebecca: You didn’t get that? Come on girl. If he wanted to discuss putting you back on the case he could have done that at the office. He invited you for a drink. Then when you invited everyone else he looked...Disappointed. Angel: He did? Rebecca: Yeah. (Rebecca sighs.). Rebecca: When he invited you for a drink he meant just the two of you. (Angel doesn’t really know what to say. Or what to do. It isn’t that she doesn’t want him. Because she has thought about it...But he probably just wants a bit of fun. Nothing serious. She isn’t sure that she wants to just be someone’s bit of fun. She isn’t sure about letting a man use her.). Angel: Well I dunno. He might just want a bit of fun. I don’t know how I feel about that. Rebecca: How do you know he just wants a bit of fun? He might really like you. Angel: I doubt it. Jill: Nothing wrong with having a bit of fun. Right? (The girls giggle. Angel looks back over at Wesker.). Angel: You think I should just ask him? Jill: Ask him what? Angel: Well...If he fancies me or not. Jill: You could. He does keep looking at you. Rebecca: I’ve noticed it too. In the meeting earlier he kept looking at you. Angel: How do you know where he’s looking? He’s always got those stupid sunglasses on. (They giggle.). Rebecca: Why don’t you just go and sit with him for a while. Talk to him. Flirt with him. See where it goes. Angel: You think I should? Rebecca: Why not? Angel: But...Is it wrong to just have sex with a guy? I mean isn’t that...Slutty? Jill/Rebecca: No! Rebecca: Men do it all the time and they don’t get called sluts do they? Jill: Nope. Rebecca: Look you do what you want to do. Whatever you feel comfortable doing. If you want him then go for it. Who knows it might come to something. It might not. If it doesn’t... Jill: Least you’ll have had a good night. (Rebecca giggles.). Rebecca: Jill I never knew you were this terrible. You’re such a bad influence on me! (Jill laughs.). Jill: Seriously though. If anything does happen. We want to know. Angel: What? Jill: Oh yeah. You gotta give your friends the gossip. Rebecca: Jill! Stop. Just ignore her. You don’t have to tell us anything. It’s your business. Angel: I’m gonna go and get another drink. Jill: Uh huh. (They grin at her and she laughs before heading back over to the bar. She sits down next to Wesker.). Wesker: You didn’t get much dancing done. Angel: Oh I hate dancing. I just look like an idiot. Wesker: You didn’t. A lot of the men in here couldn’t take their eyes off of you. Angel: Really? Wesker: Myself included. (She freezes. Stunned. He is sat there staring at her. She swallows hard then turns away from him. The barman comes over.). Barman: Another drink? (Well...Damn. Maybe he does fancy her. But he probably just wants a bit of fun. She knows what men are like. But damn does she want him. She decides to just go with it. See what happens.). Angel: I’ll have another whiskey. Double. (The barman pours more whiskey in her glass.). Barman: You wanna go easy on that. Trying to forget something? Angel: No. I just want a drink. We ain’t all got little sob stories. Barman: Okay. So...You really married? Angel: What’s it got to do with you? Look I ain’t interested. You should really get the fucking hint and fuck off. Barman: Alright. Chill out girl. Jeez! Only trying to be nice. Angel: Yeah. Real nice to want to take a young girl home so you can treat her like a sex doll and then throw her away like trash the next day. Man you must be a catch eh? (The barman looks at Wesker.). Barman: Good luck with her mate. Jesus. (The barman walks off.). Angel: Fucking asshole. (She takes a large gulp of whiskey thinking about how Wesker probably wants the exact same thing the barman does. She finds herself again in two minds about this whole thing. Maybe she should just go home. But then she feels Weskers hand on her arm and she turns to him. He leans towards her and her heart skips a beat. He’s going to kiss her. But he doesn’t kiss her.). Wesker: Are you alright? Angel: Yeah. Wesker: We could go somewhere else. If you like. Somewhere away from that barman. (She smiles and turns away from him taking another sip of whiskey. Damn.). Angel: You wanna go out for a cigarette? (She stands up and downs the rest of the whiskey. Wesker raises an eyebrow then gets up and follows her outside. The night air is cool and crisp and Angel sighs and looks up at the starry sky. She then takes a packet of cigarettes out of her handbag and hands one to Wesker. He takes it and she lights for him before lighting one up herself. She shoves the packet and lighter back in her bag and leans against the wall. He moves to stand next to her.). Angel: So... Wesker: So... (She finds herself laughing. Rebecca suddenly appears.). Rebecca: Hey there you are. I thought you’d left. Angel: I will in a minute. You should get going soon too. Rebecca: Yes mom. Angel: Hey. I’m not old enough to be your mom. Rebecca: How are you getting home? Barry said he’d drive us. Angel: Um...I’ll probably just walk. Wesker: I can give you a lift. Angel: Really? Thanks. (Rebecca looks at Wesker then back at Angel then shakes her head and sighs.). Rebecca: Okay. Well I’ll see you guys tomorrow then. Angel: See you tomorrow. Wesker: Goodnight Rebecca. Rebecca: Night. Night Angel. (She winks at her before going back inside the bar. Angel sighs and shakes her head.). Wesker: Are you alright? Angel: Yeah. (She drops her cigarette butt and stubs it out with her boot. He does the same.). Angel: Are you going back in? Wesker: No. I’m going to head home now. Angel: Is it still okay to get a ride? Wesker: Yes. Angel: Thanks. (She follows him to his car and they get in.

---Wesker drives through the city following Angels directions. This whole evening has been a waste of time. She clearly isn’t interested in him. He doesn’t know why she doesn’t just say so. Women. Now he knows why he never really bothers. Perhaps she just doesn’t know how to tell him she isn’t interested. But then she told that barman clear enough. He also hasn’t failed to notice how she kept looking at him earlier when she was dancing. How the girls kept giggling and looking at him. They must have been talking about him. Maybe she’s playing hard to get. He is now driving through the rougher part of the city. He looks around as he follows Angels directions. She then tells him to pull over outside a small grotty apartment building. She lives here? A woman with a father that is friends with the mayor lives here? She thanks him for the ride and gets out. He watches as she goes to shut the door then stops. She stands there for a moment before leaning down peering into the car.). Angel: Would you like to come in for a drink? (Wesker smiles.).

#Resident Evil #Writing #My Writing #albert wesker #albert wesker x oc #Angel Isaacs #S.T.A.R.S.#Chris Redfield #Jill Valentine #Barry Burton #Rebecca Chambers #Umbrella #Racoon City #wesker x oc #Spencer Mansion #the umbrella conspiracy

3 notes · View notes

ma-sulevin · 5 years ago

Photo

So, there won’t be a chapter next week because I’m going on a work retreat and won’t have time to publish it, BUT I love you all and we’re so close to the end I can almost taste it.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw/Female Deputy Rating: E Warnings: Canon-typical violence, but nothing particularly explicit I don’t think Word Count: 6387, chapter twelve of fifteen (almost definitely this time).

Read it on AO3 instead and say nice things.

---

She wakes up slowly, each breath leaving her with a rattling noise, a sharp pain over her heart almost drowning out the ache in her shoulders and ribs. She doesn’t try to open her eyes. She can already tell that will hurt too. She just tries to regulate her breathing, counting slowly, inhale, exhale.

One, two, three.

She knows she's in the jail because of the smell, the distinctive scent of coffee and old linoleum penetrating even her cloudy sinuses. The sounds of people trying to live their regular lives around her, quiet but not quiet enough, make it too hard to go back to sleep even though she feels like she’s been run over by a car.

Maybe this is the end of it, finally.

Finally.

She makes herself open her eyes. The light stings, makes her want to close her eyes again, but she won’t let herself.

She’s not going to wallow.

She’s not going to fall into that trap.

She moves her legs first, pulling her knees up to her chest one at a time before twisting so she can let her feet fall to the floor. She heaves in several deep breaths, working up the courage and the strength to push herself up, and then she does. Her feet are on the floor, her hands white-knuckling the edge of her cot, her eyes closed again because her head is swimming.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…”

Sharky’s voice calms the tight ball of anxiety in her chest before he’s even in her space, but then he’s kneeling in front of her and cupping her chin in his big hands. She leans into his touch, smiling a little at his warmth.

“You okay?”

She thinks about it. “Mmm. Nope.”

She forces her eyes open so she can look at him, smiling a little just from being close to him. It takes her a second, but when her eyes focus she can see how fucking exhausted he looks. It’s like he hasn’t slept all night, or for like two days in a row — the shadows under his eyes are deeper than she’s ever seen them, the lines around his mouth more pronounced.

“You look like shit, babe.”

His frown deepens. “You scared the fuck outta me.” His voice is uncharacteristically quiet, serious, and she feels guilt creeping over her. “You wandered off and then you just dropped and wouldn’t wake up no matter what me’n Hurk did.”

His lower lip trembles and she surges forward without thinking, wrapping weak arms around his neck and pulling herself into his lap. He tumbles back, sitting down hard, but he wraps his arms around her waist and holds her as tight as he can. He buries his face in the crook of her neck and keeps talking but now she can’t make out the words he’s saying.

She just holds him, cups the back of his head with her fingers tangled in his hair, and squeezes her eyes closed against the tears that are threatening to fall. The fact that they’re sitting on the floor in the middle of the jail doesn’t even matter to her — she’s just happy she’s not in Faith’s clutches anymore.

Sharky turns his head a little so that his face is still mostly against her but his mouth is free. “I’ve never seen you die and remembered it later.”

She gasps, pain searing through her heart. “I didn’t die, baby.”

“Thought you did.”

His admission is a quiet mumble, honesty pouring out of him because it would never occur to him to lie about something like this. She squeezes him tighter, her tears finally escaping her control and dripping into his unruly hair. It’s more than she can take, this knowledge that he thought he lost her for good, that her luck (good or bad) had finally run out and left her to die for real.

He thought she left him.

He thought he was alone again.

She sucks in a deep breath, steels her emotions, forcibly stops her tears even though it makes her throat ache. “I wouldn’t do that to you,” she hisses, a promise she means down to her very bones even if she doesn’t know how she can keep it. “I wouldn’t.”

He grumbles something she can’t make out and then falls silent, content to simply hold her.

Somehow, for him, this is enough.

She loves him.

“I love you.”

He sits up finally, looks her in the eye. His are red-rimmed, bloodshot, utterly exhausted, but they crinkle at the corners when he smiles at her.

“I love you too.”

She smiles back and kisses him, just a chaste brushing of her lips against his, then she kisses him once more when he doesn’t open his eyes after she pulls away. This one lingers, just for a second more, and then she remembers who they are and where they are and pulls away to sit back up on the cot.

“Everything’s… okay?” she asks, voice tentative. Obviously what she saw was wrong if they’re just… talking in the jail, not hiding in a bunker or dead, but she has to be sure. “I mean, I just collapsed and you brought me back here and literally nothing else happened?”

Sharky hauls himself up and sits next to her, leaning over to rest his elbows on his knees. He stares at the dirty linoleum as he answers, “No? You expectin’ something?”

She shakes her head and then leans it against his shoulder. “Nah. Just… just making sure.”

He makes that same grumbling noise again. “Lying?”

Her breath catches in her throat, and she thinks about lying to him again… then, she changes her mind.

He deserves to know the truth.

“I just thought… um, I guess it was a bliss hallucination or something, but I thought…” She trails off, looking down into her lap as she tries to remember the details of what she saw. She remembers the feeling of peace, then of terror, and the absolute certainty that if she didn’t do what Joseph wanted… everyone would die. “Uh, I saw mushroom clouds, like we’d been attacked.”

Sharky reaches over and wraps one arm around her shoulders, pulling her over into his space. She moves with him, resting her head on his chest even though the position is a little awkward. He kisses the top of her head.

“Definitely nothin’ like that happened. Think they were just trying to scare you?” Sharky pitches his voice up like it’s a question, so Mattie nods against him. “Fucken bastards.”

Mattie giggles, surprised, then makes herself sit up under her own power to smile at him. He still looks like shit, but the tension has bled out of him a little, and he smiles back at her when he realizes that’s what she’s doing.

“Is there food here?”

Sharky perks up at the thought of being helpful, and he’s nodding at her even as he climbs to his feet. “Yeah, I’ll get you someth—”

Mattie grabs his arm and cuts him off mid-word as she pulls herself to her feet. She needs to stretch her legs, needs to look outside and make sure the air isn’t that awful radiation-green from her… not her vision. It wasn’t a vision. It was a hallucination, of some sort, that Faith… controls?

“We can go together,” Mattie says, instead of what she’s thinking, not letting Sharky argue with her this time either. “I need to see Whitehorse anyway.”

Sharky looks like he wants to protest, but he ends up just taking her hand after a minute and pulling her along behind him. There are a few other people laying down on other cots, but no one really talks to them. She gets one or two sympathetic looks, but that’s it. It’s reassuring, in a way, that no one looks like they’ve seen their fucking world obliterated in an explosion of terror.

Sharky pulls her past everyone else, not stopping to let her talk to anyone even if she wanted to, and she barely has time to look through the tiny, reinforced window in the outside door before he’s hauling her around the corner to the cell block where they’ve set up tables and chairs.

The sky looks blue.

No ash drifts past the window, not that she can see.

She relaxes until she turns forward and sees Whitehorse and Tracey standing side-by-side with Virgil, all three of them staring at her with varying levels of worry on their faces. Whitehorse looks the most upset, not at the fact that she’s holding hands with Sharky this time, but just at her.

She stares back at him and puts her hand over her heart where the pain from the shot is the sharpest.

He flinches. It’s a cold comfort.

“You scared the hell out of us, Rook,” he says, a grimace still twisting his face. Sharky’s fingers tighten on hers as he continues, “We weren’t sure if you’d wake up.”

She shrugs and pulls her fingers free of Sharky’s grip so she can sit down on one of the stools. She leans against the counter and puts her chin in her hands, smiling a little when she sees Sharky digging through a box of MREs to find one she’ll like.

The expression quickly disappears.

“You feelin’ alright?” Tracey asks, one hand on her hip and her eyes appraising. “Come out of the bliss too fast and you’re liable to scramble your brain.”

Mattie nods as she says, “Yeah, I’m fine. I thought there had been a terrorist attack, but Sharky said I was wrong.”

Whitehorse’s frown deepens, and Mattie smothers a laugh when his mustache twitches. “What kind of attack?”

“Does it matter?” she knows her voice is too sharp, knows she’s getting defensive, but she can’t stop it. “It was a hallucination.”

Whitehorse grimaces. “It matters what Faith Seed is trying to show you.”

Mattie sucks her teeth. “A bomb. A fucking nuclear holocaust. Fall’s End was destroyed, on fire, ash and radiation in the air, everyone was dead…” Sharky’s hand on the back of her head cuts her off, and she lets herself be drawn against his chest so she can hide the tears she hadn’t noticed before in his hoodie. He puts something on the table in front of her and then rubs her back, and she bites her tongue to keep herself from crying harder at the tender way he’s cradling her.

“Are you gonna arrest me if I tell you to give her some space?” Sharky’s voice is too high-pitched, showing his nerves, but he doesn’t let go of Mattie, and he doesn’t pull away from Whitehorse, and Mattie doesn’t think she could love him more if she tried.

Whitehorse sighs loud enough for Mattie to hear, and then he says, “You’re not bad, kid.”

Sharky flinches when Whitehorse pats his back; Mattie feels both the pat and the flinch with how closely she’s pressed to Sharky’s front, but she doesn’t move until she hears the door close behind them.

“I can’t believe people are staying here on purpose,” Sharky mutters. “I mean, I know it’s for protection an’ all, but every time I’ve been here, it’s been against my free will.”

Mattie giggles and wipes her cheeks dry with her sleeve.

“I'm just impressed you haven't been arrested since I moved here.” She offers him a little smile so he’ll know she’s just playing, and giggles again at the disgruntled expression on his face.

“I'll have you know I've gone longer without getting arrested,” he says, looking totally outraged. Mattie beams up at him and after just a second his ears tinge pink and he starts setting up one of the little flameless heaters from the MRE. “And, ‘sides, I was on probation anyway. I had to be on my best behavior.”

Once again Mattie finds herself marveling at the turn of events that brought her to this point, shaky and sick and pushing down false memories of nuclear annihilation to put her chin in her hand and croon, “Poor baby,” at her boyfriend.

Her boyfriend? She should probably ask.

For now, she enjoys the pink coloring his face and tries not to think about the bliss fields outside waiting for her.

---

Mattie’s fully aware she’s skirting the line of Claritin overdose, but she keeps popping pills as often as she dares and keeps a dirty handkerchief tied over her face to keep the worst of the pollen out of her face. Sharky hovers just at the edge of her line of sight, flamethrower at the ready, keeping up a steady stream of chatter with Hurk even though Mattie can’t work up the energy to respond. Boomer stays far ahead of them, somehow always leading them to the closest group of peggies.

It’s exhausting, trying to cover so much ground of the Henbane with her eyes watering and vision sparking at the edges when she breathes too deeply. She can’t even work up the energy to do more than offer a small smile when Sharky looks at her to see if she’s laughing at his jokes.

She can see it’s worrying him, that each time she doesn’t giggle makes the lines around his mouth deepen just that much more and his jokes get just that much louder. Hurk picks up on it, starts walking a little closer to her, veering close enough to give her a jostling nudge with his elbow every now and then, but she just can’t.

She can’t.

They go back to the Hot Springs Hotel and clear it out, searching it from top to bottom more thoroughly than strictly necessary. She feels like she’s missing something with every room that she searches. It’s like she’s looking at herself searching the hotel instead of looking at the contents of the overturned dressers and the abandoned suitcases. She’s even responding slower to faraway sounds, blinking at the sound of Sharky yelling “You’ve just been Boshaw-ed!” from across the grounds instead of smiling and realizing what it means.

It’s weird and she doesn’t like it and she can tell Sharky’s worried about her but she doesn’t know how to make him feel better about it. She just doesn’t.

One eye on her, they steal a car and Hurk drives them to their next location down the highway while Mattie stretches out on the backseat with her arm over her eyes.

Then they get out and start it all over again.

Hurk and Sharky are searching the recently-liberated brewery for beer the cult hasn’t destroyed when she hears yelling by the road. Boomer lifts his ears and starts to trot off in that direction, so she follows.

There’s a peggie standing in front of a bound, kneeling civilian. Mattie stares at them for too long, trying to hear over the blood rushing in her ears, trying to decide if this is truly happening or if it’s another hallucination sent from Faith.

She doesn’t see spots in her vision right now, but she didn’t last time either.

Boomer sits at her side and that doesn’t help her make up her mind either. She looks down at his cute little face (with one ear flipped inside out) and then she picks up a rock by his paw and throws it as hard as she can at the peggie.

If it’s a bliss hallucination, the rock will pass right through. If it’s not…

The rock hits the peggie in the temple and he falls back with a cry. The civilian flinches away, then pushes himself up to his feet so he can run away as the peggie unleashes a stream of words Mattie’s pretty sure aren’t Joseph-approved.

Boomer moves before she can figure out what to do next, leaping up and tearing out the peggie’s throat.

Mattie shakes off her stupor and follows at a jog, pistol in hand, and puts the peggie out of his misery.

The civilian is nowhere to be seen.

She’s still standing in the center of one of the lanes, staring down at the peggie, her gun clutched in her hands, when she hears Hurk shouting from back near the brewery’s entrance. She stands up straight and turns toward the noise, but it feels almost like she’s swimming, all her senses on a three-second delay.

She sees Sharky first, barreling toward her at full speed, his hat and weapons gone, and she doesn’t have time to do anything before he rams into her, wrapping his arms around her torso and lifting her with the sheer force of his momentum.

It knocks the wind out of her, pushes her back out of the way of the oncoming semi-truck. From the other lane, she watches as it flashes by, painted peggie-white, the ugly cross on the door taunting her as she gasps for air in Sharky’s bruising grip.

Neither of them speak for several seconds, several long seconds where she can see Hurk trudging across the brewery’s yard. He stops and picks up Sharky’s hat where it must have fallen off, and then her attention snaps back to Sharky as he moves his grip to her shoulders to hold her away from him.

“Mattie, what the fuck?”

“Wh-what?”

He shakes her, and it’s like it clears up some of the fog that’s been following her around since she woke up in the jail. She looks at him, really looks at him, at the bags under his wild eyes and his windswept, sweaty hair, and she can’t think of anything to say.

“You can’t just wander off! You gotta pay attention! What are you thinking?” A little shake punctuates each of his sentences, and she feels sweat breaking out on her skin as tears spring to her eyes. “That truck almost hit you!”

“I woulda been fine.”

The words are out before she can think about them, before she can think about how Sharky will react to that attitude from her again, and he drops her before he can shake her again. She rocks back on her heels, reaches for him because she can’t bear to stand on her own now, and he lets her tangle her fingers in his hoodie without moving away.

“I don’t wanna fuckin’ see that,” he says, voice too loud. Behind him, Hurk is slowly drawing closer, not quite aware yet that they’re fighting. “If you’re too bliss-sick to see peggies coming at you, we’ll go back to the jail so you can sleep it off.”

“It’s not bliss, I’m fine, I’m just… I’m so tired, Sharky,” she tugs on his hoodie so he won’t interrupt her, won’t stop her from saying what she needs to say so he can insist on returning to the jail. “I can’t stop — Faith has Burke, Joseph still has control of the County. If I wait, people die for good.”

“What happens when you get hit by a car and just break both your legs?” He grabs her arms again but doesn’t shake her, just holds her still. “Who’s gonna die if you don’t pay attention?”

“I’m sorry,” she starts, leaning her weight against him so he’ll have to hold her up, and he does, but Hurk interrupts them before she has a chance to say anything else.

“Dep, you scared the shit outta us!”

Sharky doesn’t look away from Mattie’s face, but she looks around him to meet Hurk’s gaze. He’s smiling, trying to calm her, but he looks nearly as worried as Sharky was.

“I didn’t mean to.”

Hurk shrugs, closes the distance between them and pulls her out of Sharky’s grasp with gentle fingers. Sharky lets her go, and she releases his hoodie, and Hurk tugs them behind him as he heads back to the brewery.

“Didn’t nobody tell you to look both ways before you cross the street? You’re a cop!”

She laughs, but she doesn’t mean it. She thinks the boys know that too.

Sharky’s right, though. If she runs herself ragged and just gets seriously injured, something more than the scratches and clean wounds she’s had so far, she won’t be able to rescue Burke or kill Faith or kill Joseph.

“I’m sorry,” she says, again, and each man squeezes the hand they’re holding.

“Listen, Sharky’s my baby cousin, and long as you’re with him, you’re my family too, okay? And I don’t know where you’re from, but we take care of family ‘round here.”

She doesn’t have a hand free to wipe her face, but she tries to dry her cheeks with her shoulder. Sharky squeezes her hand again, and she squeezes it back, and she lets them park her in a chair in the brewery’s office while they go looking for a cot for her to sleep on.

She’s asleep before they come back.

---

She wakes up feeling stiff and dehydrated, but more alert, alone on the cot in the brewery’s office. She finds a half-empty water cooler and drinks right out of the faucet, bent over and twisted around because finding a cup is too much work. It makes her feel less like she’s just slept for eighteen hours after pushing herself to the brink of exhaustion and more like she’s in the process of switching from night shift back to days, and this is a level of tired she can work with without accidentally putting herself or Sharky in danger.

She finds the boys together, both still sound asleep, in the brewery’s break room. There’s about a dozen empty bottles on the table, and Hurk is snoring on his back on the larger of two couches while Sharky’s contorted to fit his long legs on the loveseat.

She climbs on the cushions with him even though there’s no way they’ll both fit, and he contorts himself more to make room for her before he even wakes up all the way. When he finally comes to, it’s because she’s tucked her head under his chin and worked her hands up under his hoodie to press against the warmth of his stomach.

“I’m sorry, baby.” She starts apologizing in a whisper as soon as she’s sure he’ll understand her words through the haze of sleep. “I have to take better care of myself. I didn’t mean to scare you. Thank you for taking care of me.”

Sharky doesn’t respond right away, just takes a deep breath and then lets it out all at once. Mattie holds her breath and bites her tongue, not sure if he’s going to scold her again or if he’s still angry, but then he’s squeezing her body tighter against his and kissing the top of her head.

“You just scared the shit outta me, s’all,” he mutters, words nearly disappearing into her hair. “I thought that truck was gonna really hurt you.”

“I know,” she says, tilting her head up to press the words against his throat. “I’m sorry.”

He grumbles and squeezes her tighter. “Don’t do it again, okay? I’d miss you if you up’n left now.”

“Okay.”

“Now that y’all got that all worked out, can we get breakfast? I’m starving.”

Mattie giggles at Hurk’s words even as Sharky heaves a dramatic sigh, burrowing closer to him instead of giving in and getting up. “I think it’s your turn to cook, Hurk.”

The couch groans as Hurk heaves himself upright. “Alright, I get it. You want some alone time. You got ten minutes.”

Mattie’s still giggling when the door to the break room shuts behind Hurk, and then she shrieks when Sharky twists them around to put her between his body and the couch. He curls around her, tucking his head under her chin instead in a mirror image of how they had been before, and she wraps arms and legs around him to hold him as tight as possible.

It’s quiet, and it’s intimate, and she hates that it took all of this hell for them to find each other.

She hates it.

They deserve more than this.

---

Jessop Conservatory isn’t that far from the brewery, closer to the jail but on the opposite side of the river. Hurk pulls over down the street without being told so they can sneak in, grumbling about how Hope County is like having a war zone outside his house. A shadow passes over his face as he says it, and Mattie wonders once again just how much truth is his stories of the Rook Islands and Kyrat.

Peggies are swarming the Jessop’s old place, higher-ranking members supervising angels as they work with rows and rows of bliss plants growing in containers around the yard. Mattie pulls her handkerchief up higher over her face, covering her already running nose, and winks at Sharky when she catches his gaze.

“You ready for this, shorty?”

He’s uncharacteristically serious, fiddling with his shotgun shells, not quite looking at her now that he’s checked in with her, like he’s not really sure what her answer’s gonna be.

Honestly, with all the bliss pollen in the air, she’s not a hundred percent sure of her answer either.

“Yeah, babe,” she says, answering with confidence she doesn’t really feel. “It’s all good. It’s just the plants, not the oil. You and Hurk burn as many of them as you can without setting the house on fire, and I’ll take care of the peggies when they start getting too close. Deal?”

Sharky brightens at that, turning to face her fully, and she smiles back at him even though he can only see her eyes.

“You ready, Hurky?”

Hurk hefts his RAT-4 higher on his shoulders and flashes them both a grin.

“Ready.”

The peggies are so distracted by Sharky and Hurk that no one notices Mattie dashing in to yank the wires out of their radios, even when she trips over an angel and has to break its neck to keep it from screaming and alerting everyone to her presence.

As far as the peggies are aware, the Drubman cousins have decided to really fuck up their day totally independently of the Sinner everyone's supposed to be looking for.

She climbs onto the roof of one of the sheds and uses her rifle to pick off peggie stragglers, thinning the crowd for the boys. She can hear them cheering and laughing over the din of battle, more keeping each other's spirits high than really rejoicing in the carnage, and she smiles to herself as she scopes out her next target.

She really stumbled into some good ones out here. Jess and Grace might have helped her take this place without making a peep about it, but who looks out for her like Sharky? Who keeps her distracted from aches and pains like Hurk?

She leaves the boys in charge of burning the rest of the bliss plants while she heads inside.

It’s deathly quiet inside, even with Hurk and Sharky still wandering around outside, and the hairs on the back of her arms stand up as she walks through what used to be the nicest house in the county. There are dirty mattresses everywhere, Faith’s catchphrases painted in a shaky hand on the walls, notes and chemical formulas Mattie would never recognize in a million years scribbled on scraps of paper and post-it notes and directly on the walls.

Where are the Jessops now?

What would they think of what happened to their home?

The upstairs is a little better, but the clouds of pollen aren’t nearly as thick. She pulls her bandana down and takes a slow breath of the cleaner, cool air and sighs as the familiar stars start dancing around the edge of her vision.

This fucking sucks.

She replaces the bandana and sorts through the loose papers on the desk, looking for anything that might let her know where Faith’s base of operations is. This is obviously an important landmark for the cult, but so’s the Joseph statue and the Misery, and Faith isn’t working out of those locations either (probably — Mattie wouldn’t be wholly surprised if Faith literally worked in a giant statue of the cult leader).

She’s not entirely surprised when she hears footsteps on the stairs behind her, or the creaking of a floorboard to her right, but when she turns with a smile to greet Sharky…

“Welcome to the bliss.”

Another cloud of bliss hits her full in the face, clogs up her sinuses and infuriates her. She wants to lunge for Faith and rip her hair out, but she's not in control of her own body. She can't make her hands work, can't make her legs push herself forward.

Sharky’s going to be so pissed if this is the dose of bliss that finally kills her.

She’s back in that stupid field, with the stupid rabbits that have the stupid antlers, but she can’t do anything but watch as Faith shoves at her shoulders, sweet veneer starting to crack to show the anger underneath. She might not be a Seed in blood, but she’s a Seed in every other way that matters, and Mattie thinks she’s able to snarl back when Faith starts to talk.

“Don’t you understand what we’re trying to build?” Faith shoves her again, not hard, but hard enough to push her back a good ten feet through the tickling grass.

It makes her ankles itch, even through her dirty jeans, and she wonders if that’s part of the bliss hallucination or just a reaction to the pollen. Maybe she really is allergic, and she’s just going to go anaphylactic and die before anything else can happen.

Mattie’s still looking at Faith across the field when she takes her hands and turns her around. Faith is there, behind her, still angry, almost pouting, and Mattie blinks in annoyance. Can’t she just move like a human person? Why does she have to flit around like this?

“Do you just not care?”

Nope. She tries to say it, but she can’t. Her mouth doesn’t work, and that just pisses her off more.

“Why do you run this way and that inflicting violence on those who wish no harm upon you?”

That’s the biggest load of bullshit Mattie’s heard recently, and she’d tell Faith if she could. She settles for thinking it.

Loudly.

“We’re at peace here. We’ve worked hard to be here.” Faith pulls her along behind her, then releases her and starts to skip. It’s an innocent, little-girl routine that would have worked on Mattie too one or two bliss hallucinations ago, or before she saw what happened to the Conservatory, but now?

“I know you have your doubts--” That’s a fuckin’ understatement-- “but this is the only way the story ends! Nothing you can do can change that. Your friends on the outside are controlled by fear. They don’t understand… but he does. He’ll show you.”

Faith points, and Mattie looks, and then Faith is there again to help her climb into a rowboat.

A rowboat with Burke.

Fuckin’ Burke.

He’s smiling at her, so happy, so blissful, and he’s speaking gently instead of snarling and swearing at anyone who gets too close, and she’s so surprised she sits on the bench across from him and just… listens.

He’s stained and dirty just like Staci and Joey were, but he doesn’t look like he cares about anything except for Faith anymore.

“I know you’re here to take me back,” he says, and she’s at least able to nod at him as Faith’s hold on her loosens. “It’s okay. She knows. Everybody knows. You think you’re doing the right thing, you think I need to be rescued… but, I don’t. I don’t want to go back.”

He sighs and smiles as some of Faith’s butterflies land on the bulletproof vest he’s still wearing. Mattie stares as they flutter their wings, wonders if she’ll ever be able to see a butterfly again without thinking about fucking Faith.

She’s so distracted by a hummingbird hovering in front of her face that she almost misses Burke’s next words, almost falls for the illusion that Faith is painting for them.

“Have you ever looked at how your life has really turned out?” he asks, words eerily reminiscent of how Jacob was taunting her just a few days ago. Dread turns in her belly, but she just blinks at him and waits for him to finish parroting Faith’s thoughts at her. “I mean… what you’ve actually done with it, you know? We’re told we can be anything, right?” Wrong. “Um, a famous singer, a Hall-of-Famer, a movie star… we’re all gonna be a success, Rook.”

They’re still moving down the river, but he’s stopped rowing. He’s just gripping the oars in his hands and staring her down, like he can talk her into doing something just by the sheer intensity of his stare.

That might have worked before, that definitely worked when he came swaggering into Hope County with his fucking federal warrant and his fucking Marshal’s badge, but now?

Absolutely fucking not.

“Well now,” he chuckles, he fucking laughs, “that’s just not true.” He starts rowing again, apparently unconcerned with where they’re going, not even looking at her anymore in favor of admiring the green-tinged world around them. “We live mundane lives, just doing what somebody else tells us to do. Day after day… Everybody thinks they’ve got free will, but, c’mon, when’s the last time you did something that wasn’t required?”

And… okay, he almost has her there. Almost everything she’s been doing since the failed raid on the compound has been because she had to do it, because someone told her to or because no one else would. She wouldn’t have voluntarily killed the Seeds, or voluntarily raided their bunkers alone, or ventured out into the Henbane to even look for Burke -- she did those things because she had to.

But… she’s doing other things because she wants to. She’s spending time with Sharky, she’s falling in love, she’s building a new family from people she didn’t know would see her like that.

She wants those things.

She wants the love and the family so bad it hurts, and yet she’s putting those things at risk to fucking find Burke of all people? Burke who doesn’t even want to be rescued? Burke who’s actively working against her?

God fucking damn it.

“--we don’t live our own lives. We live theirs.” He’s staring at her again so intensely she doesn’t know what to do about it, so she just clenches her jaw and stares right back. “And when we think we have free will, well that is just a lie, an illusion. Ah, oh man, I am so done with that. I am done with being a Yes Man. I am done with being an errand boy, and I am done with being the garbage collector. I am so done.”

He pushes the oars aside and rests his elbows on his knees, looking away, and when he looks back at her, she can see tears in his eyes and hear the tremble in his voice. He must have been so miserable before Faith found him.

Mattie doesn’t fucking care.

“Because… if that is real life, then what is the point? This place gave me the chance to become something I thought I could never be: happy.” The boat runs up on the shore, and the butterflies fly away. Burke smiles at her, palms pressed together, then gets up and climbs out of the boat.

He turns back to her, smiles a little, and adds, “And in the end, Rook… isn’t that the only thing that really matters? Happiness?”

He presses his palms together and does a little bow, then wanders off, picking flowers as he goes.

No one comes to move her. Faith doesn’t pop up to tug her along or to plead with her. No bombs go off, Joseph doesn’t show off his chest, and she’s just… sitting there.

She blinks.

She stands up.

“Burke?”

Her voice works.

Her body works.

She climbs out of the boat and takes off after Burke at the fastest run she can manage with the bliss still in her mind and making sparks dance at the corners of her eyes. Her shoes are soaked, her feet sink into the mud, and she can practically hear Whitehorse telling her to rescue Burke as she pushes through waist-high grass.

She’s close enough to tackle him when it occurs to her she might be about to pounce on a bear, or off the edge of a cliff, or into the river.

She doesn’t care enough to stop.

She lunges, grabbing Burke around his knees and pushing him forward. He falls forward with a cry and her vision starts to go white as she hauls herself up his body to get his arms tied behind his back.

She can hear Faith from far away, furious, desperate.

She doesn’t care.

She finally got him.

Finally.

---

This time, she wakes up to Tracey checking her pupils with a flashlight nearly too big for the purpose, sore and nauseated with a pounding head, and she doesn’t feel afraid. She doesn’t think the world has ended or that the world is going to end, she doesn’t have the icky feeling of dread crawling over her skin.

“You’re doin’ great,” Tracey says, and Mattie smiles up at her for the half-second they have before Burke starts to lose his shit in the next cot.

Tracey jumps to help Whitehorse, and then Sharky’s in Mattie’s space, looking as haggard and worn out as he had the last time she returned from Faith’s grasp. He puts his body between her and the fight, carding his fingers through her hair and holding all her attention even as the other scene gets louder.

White sparks dance around him as the last of the bliss leaves her system, make him look like something straight out of a romance novel. He looks pretty like this, all dark hair and blue eyes and deep laugh lines, worried about her like she’s the most important thing in the whole world.

He smiles as she stares at him, not even flinching as Tracey and Whitehorse start yelling at each other behind him.

“You’re real pretty too, shorty. I’m glad you’re okay.”

#sharky boshaw #sharky x deputy #hurk drubman jr #far cry 5 #oc: mattie covington

9 notes · View notes