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christmic · 2 years ago

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Starts with: Gregorian Chants

When the prompts trickle in too slow for the rain to stop

Ends with:

Nurture a Covenant with God

When the prompts trickle in too slow for the rain to stop. The rain has been on again, off again. So I’m only allowing myself evenings for this whole exercise but did a morning one and now that night came need to go again real quick before more sight reading. Feels like I’m in trade school, the pressure is high to learn a bunch of piano books so that the students never catch up to me. And some of them could soon. Sight reading is so different from every other piano skill, it’s like I’ve spent weeks and am still not confident and a beginner. I can do it in my head but my fingers don’t cooperate. And then my fingers can do it easily but my eyes see blurred smudges on lines. Shoulda coulda woulda learned earlier. Shoulda could woulda never stared at the Sun. So today got a call from boss, thinking I was in trouble. No, you just have to learn We Are the Champions on guitar for band tonight. What a life! What a job! I love it.

So PDP and I are headed to an island for three days to camp. So I’m posting here for the lurkers as the only way to know I went missing. It’s cool the boat comes about every three days weather permitting so hopefully we get stuck out there for 40 days and 40 nights! My night vision binoculars record video and make everything look like a UFO. I have walkie talkies, a bible, a hammock, a recorder, and a guitar. I’m not sure if PDP will be able to make it sober, the vibe is he’s in the same boat but without the knock and is struggling with substances. His current life trajectory is his wife will leave him as soon as the kids are old enough and he’ll trade happiness for binging with the vets at Legion playing darts with Michelle. But destiny is not written in stone, the man can rise above and change his life plan. He shouts about how he’s all about truth but the hair trigger anger in his heart prevents the truth to be uttered by those closest to him. Yes there are extremely nefarious forces winning battle after battle in the world. Yes the dominant population is completely oblivious and on a local level participating in turning the world into a more evil place. But my favorite Bill Cooper quote again, and why he’s the top cheese in my burrito is “If you want to know what’s wrong with your country all you have to do is take one long hard look in the mirror”.

I like to do little checkins with The Lord throughout the day for figuring out what to do next. And the Lord is saying open the fields, what a friendship is could be more. You know my door is always open. You stubborn cat. Jesus. At this rate though the thought of a 10 year younger woman that puts the Lord first seems to be a trend out here. Though that doesn’t qualify as a carrot on the stick for the harder parts of my routine. Like this rabid 6 year old I have to teach for a whole hour but he’s Keith Moon + Jon Bonham + Jim Morrison on a bender trapped in a 6 year old’s body. Today I had to ask him who the teacher was because he was trying to tell me what to play. We have to jump to drums to piano to guitar to producing beats depending on the moment. Aha. It’s fun though it’s just hard to teach a 6 year old anything and the parents are the coolest they just like him getting exposed to stuff and are putting zero pressure on him.

Let’s not ban talking about ChatGPT but word in the sauna from my fav lifeguard Dioni is that the optimal swim is about 800-1000 yards, which is my SWEET spot thank God. Cause I’ve only been doing 500 like a bitch. but I was thinking I’m supposed to get up to 4 or 5k a day like when I was on the swim team. Just got to get 300 more in then focus on form and getting faster. Soul Fusion’s full of the most dedicated or frustrated moms who could kick my ass and over my head at the same time. Full volume club tunes and is hard AF. My sister’s has become the cool house where all the cool mom’s go. I tell them often I can’t wait to be a stay at home mom like them. You’ll think you’re having a heart attack at times. In Soul Fusion, that is. Fun stuff! S is preggers with her second and has blueberry bushes that haven’t needed water from the rain and are huge already. I’m going to steal her method once my greenhouse is built. I remember in the bible about if a tree yields no fruit, then cut it down. When was the last time she yielded fruit? Let me check in with the Lord. ‘Tone it down christMic’ okay. Recently when I nutted in her and refused to get plan b because she’s vaxxed and therefore infertile. Demon’s will do anything to feel right, and I’m genuinely sorry. What's recent is sometimes a long, long time ago.

Also I invented a new genre of music, instead of Bluegrass its called Greengrass and it sounds really awesome. It’s like Bluegrass instruments but all the songs are happy and uplifting, but not in an ignorant youthful way. Like Chad’s old lyrics from high school Bonjo and I would be in tears laughing singing them. They were so naive and innocent; stuff like ‘you and me we’re gonna make three and be happy’… You’d love to hear Greengrass sometime. I would too.

I shouldn’t talk about the bible without giving actual scripture because I have yet to read the entire thing.

Also why is Hotel California so popular? Because you can check in anytime you like, but you can never leave. Why is Stairway to heaven so popular? Because there’s a lady whose sure, all that glitters is gold. Please make these prompts one day.

I met Lightening Joe’s wife today and after getting picks and a tuner she took me upstairs to show me the studios and a dope graffiti bathroom her husband made. A living legend. But there was a social pho pa because I asked if I could take a picture of the 10 rock commandments painted on the wall and she said sure, her dad was really religious and wanted to take a picture of them too. I told her I’m really religious too and well was led back out on the pavement before I could say Love Everyone. I wish I told her I knew where she’s coming from about her silent obscure scars from religious family/people. I wish I told her I don’t like the word in the first place. But anyways that’s what happens, it’s funny how religious people have a worse rap than hobos in many nice parts of the country. And I understand how they feel. Now I’m scheduled to play keys for 1 rehearsal before the Easter service - probably on that $4k Nord I’d never be able to afford. That’s like 4 Siennas. It’s one of those churches where everything is top of the line, like the drum set has it’s own plastic room and everyone has fenders and ear peaces for levels and stuff. Fancy fancy, and I’m so blessed to be a part of it. The music is easy and you cannot deny how the holy spirit fills the room when we sing. The only number I feel a little hesitant about - and sad it’s one of their flagship songs and it goes something like “What can make me whole again? Nothing but the blood of Jesus” and the way it’s repeated and sounds it sounds like the whole group is saying they enjoy drinking Jesus’s blood in order to feel whole in like a kinda a dark and satanic way. But I’m sure there’s no one at church I can tell this too. Maybe the tongues dino’d understand, she’s seen some shit. Also the organizer wants me to download a scheduler app and I don’t have the heart to tell the fifth fellow Christian this month that I don’t use iOS or Android. It’s lonely at the top. JK Jesus is here in my heart and I’m all bottom of the creek with the salamanders anyways.

But I’m on island time soon in order to really focus on Nurturing a Covenant with God.

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xkaileo · 3 years ago

Note

For the one shot request:

Sasuke coming back from his first redemption journey a couple of years after the war. He meets naruto at ichiraku, then Sakura happens to walk by. Naruto insists she join and she’s so happy sasuke is back, but keeps the interaction “friendly” not “young girl talking to her crush”. Quickly after she gets a scroll from a bird and has to go. Naruto then explains that Sakura is in really high demand and basically brags about all of her accomplishments and everything she does for the village as a medic but also as a jounin. Sasuke is proud and happy for her but it’s not until later when he sees her sparring someone really good (Tsunade, Kakashi, Yamato, anyone from Anbu) that he is s t u n n e d. Like jaw to the floor. He can’t resist watching and maybe activates his sharingan by accident. It is not until like 10 minutes have gone by that he notices her ANBU tattoo for the first time.

So of course canon-divergent. I know it’s super clunky the way I laid it out (can you tell I’m no author?) lol anyways I thought it would be really nice to get a look inside Sasuke’s head the first time he’s gotten the metaphorical wind knocked out of him by Sakura haha.

Ask and you shall receive, nonny! This one was fun to write, having Sasuke sort of be stunned by her and feel just the need to do something about it; it was fun to put him in a position where he had to push a little to get something out of Sakura. Enjoy!

She's A Hot Commodity

It was amazing how much the Hidden Leaf Village could change over two years. More than Sasuke had expected, honestly; he'd thought the village was done with its constant renovations after multiple attempts for it to be destroyed. Well, they'd nearly come close one time, though he'd stepped in to assist. Meteors falling off the moon… who would have thought?

His first stop was Ichiraku, as he'd made one promise: he was going to treat Naruto to a bowl of ramen when he got back. His blonde friend was already there, waving wildly as he approached.

"Sasuke! You're back!" Naruto gave him a hug in greeting, to which Sasuke begrudgingly allowed. He wasn't one for physical affection, but one hug from his best friend wouldn't be the end of the world. Plus, he'd never hear the end of it if he didn't. Naruto would spend their entire lunch pouting and whining about it if he was turned down.

As they were seated, both boys heard a familiar voice behind them, and it was… None other than Sakura. Sasuke couldn't help but stare, just for a moment. It'd been a long time. She'd grown out her hair and seemed to be wearing it up in a ponytail. When had it got so long? Now that he thought about it… It'd been a little longer when he left, but now it had to be almost to her waist. He hadn't seen it that long since they were kids. He… liked it, if he was honest.

"Sakura." He nodded in greeting, the corner of his lips twitching into a smile. He was glad to see her. Maybe now he'd be able to take things… a little further, to put it simply. He'd left her with nothing more than a promise, and this was the start of it. He was here. He'd returned. Whether he would stay for an extended period was another question, but he did plan to offer for her to accompany him this time. He just had… a few errands to take care of before he left again.

"Sasuke! It's been so long!" Sakura came up between them and threw her arms over his and Naruto's shoulders, giggling as she was hanging out between them. "Would you look at that? My two favourite dorks are having lunch together. You know, Sasuke, if he's got you here against your will, all you have to do is ask." Well… Ramen usually would have been against his will, but this time, it wasn't. He was surprised when she leaned closer to his ear, her voice no more than a whisper.

"There's a new place that opened that serves rice balls if you need an escape." She clapped him on the back before turning to Naruto, who'd caught her attention.

"Sakura, join us!" He encouraged, and her expression went thoughtful for a moment before she agreed. Naruto shifted down one seat, allowing Sakura to sit between them. Sasuke didn't want to admit he was glad Naruto had shifted down; he wanted to sit next to Sakura, but he wasn't sure if she would have done that of her own accord. He couldn't blame her; it'd been a long time since they'd spoken, and there was… a lot they needed to talk about. She seemed… different. Not unfriendly, but there was something different about the way she was talking to him. No more blushing or bashful looks in his direction. He'd expected that much from her, but… was it possible something had happened?

Maybe… maybe she'd moved on. He didn't want to think that, but it seemed to be a possibility. Nevertheless, if that were Sakura's decision, that would have to be how things were. Friends were better than absolutely nothing.

Just as she was about to order, the sound of a messenger hawk could be heard, interrupting their conversation. Naruto and Sakura had been chatting animatedly, Naruto having made some dumb comment that Sakura was reaming him for while Sasuke chuckled at their antics. At least some things never change. He's still opening his mouth when he should be shutting it, and she's putting him in his place… as usual.

"Oh… I'm sorry, guys." Sakura's expression turned to a frown. "This is for me, and it's urgent. I have to get going. Sorry again. Let's pick another day to get ramen together as a team, though, okay? And… it's good to see you back, Sasuke." She gave him a smile that lit up her whole face, and it made his heart skip a beat. She was different, sure, but it was… nice. It made him feel a bit giddy.

"Yeah… Shoulda seen that one coming," Naruto admitted.

"Does that happen a lot?" Sasuke was genuinely curious. He knew Sakura was a hard worker, but she always knew how to make time for her friends. It seemed out of the ordinary for her to disappear so suddenly. If it was the hospital, wasn't Tsunade there to help out?

"Yeah, it kinda does. Sakura's kind of a big deal around the village now. It makes me a little jealous." Naruto, jealous? Sasuke wondered just how important she was, but as always, Naruto had the explanation. "She's done so much stuff! She opened a clinic for all the kids in the village that lost parents during the war, and she's been working with Ino and some professionals to get them the help they need. Just so they don't feel alone, ya know? You and I both know no one deserves to feel like that." After all, they were the very same kinds of kids that that clinic was helping. Sasuke was shocked and also touched. Had Sakura done all that in two years?

"Oh yeah! And she works super hard at the hospital. She's one of the only medical ninja in the village who's allowed to take missions alone, and that's a huge deal! She's been going to all kinds of places on missions, mostly deliveries or to provide medical help, but I swear she's always gone on a mission! She keeps asking me to water her plants like… every week." Naruto didn't mind her asking that, though. He liked taking care of them. Gardening was oddly calming.

"Wow," Sasuke remarked. It was not what he would have expected out of Sakura… not precisely, that is. He knew she was brilliant, but looking back to how they were as kids… no, when they'd first been put on a team, he never would have expected that much out of her. "Has she been doing anything else?"

"Oh yeah! She mentioned somethin' about taking on a team of genin, too. I think she'd make a great teacher, don'tcha think?" Naruto elbowed Sasuke gently, earning a grunt out of him and a nod in response. Sakura would make a stellar teacher. If she took on a trio of genin as their Jounin sensei, then they would undoubtedly be a force to be reckoned with.

He was… proud of her, honestly. To think she’d come so far from her capabilities when they were kids… she was so incredibly talented, it even made him a little jealous. He’d been a prodigy, but to see her hard work coming to fruition was exceptional. She was amazing. More impressive than he was expecting.

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

It’d been days since he’d last seen Sakura, and after only briefly meeting her, he decided the best way to pass the time until she returned was training. He liked training; it kept him in shape, allowed him to practice living life with just one arm, and helped him clear his mind when it got too tumultuous to handle. Making his way to the training grounds, he was stopped by a flicker of familiar chakra that crossed the vision of his left eye.

Sakura? She was… Training? He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. That, and he found himself deeply intrigued. Like a curious cat, he made his way to the edge of the trees, remaining at a safe distance where he could watch. It looked like she was training with Kakashi, whom he would have considered a force to be reckoned with. He was a former ANBU, after all.

Wait… no. It wasn’t just Kakashi there. Yamato was there, too, and… wait, was Sakura taking them both on at the same time? His curiosity was piqued enough that he activated his Sharingan, using it to track her movements; in high-speed fights like these, it was a necessity. He would've never been able to keep up with Sakura's motions otherwise.

He watched her, amazed beyond belief. Every movement she made was fluid, each motion flowing into the next like an unbreakable chain. There was no hesitation or consideration; she moved without thinking, her body reacting with an impeccable natural flow. He’d never seen such fluid movements before, not even back during the war. What had she done since he’d been gone? He knew she was a Jounin now, but this… no, she had to be more than that. She was well above the level of a Jounin. It was almost an insult to put her that low.

He stared for longer than he’d expected, watching as she evaded both Yamato and Kakashi’s tactics, dancing around them like they were nothing. He watched as her long, pink hair flowed with every movement, even the occasional piece sticking to the sweat that formed on her brow. Even as she turned, he could see the concentration in her gaze, focusing on every motion. There was strength and power in the way she moved. There was one thing that bothered him, though, one thing he couldn't shake.

When had Sakura become so beautiful? He remembered her being cute when they were kids, though he hadn't been in the right state of mind to say anything about it. He'd also noticed she was prettier as they got older, but he'd never been able to take the time to appreciate it. Now, staring at her, he realized how attractive she was. He was taken aback by what he was seeing. It made his cheeks flush, made his heart race, and also made his heart wrench. Maybe… maybe he'd have to say something to her: something direct, this time.

It wasn’t until Sakura stopped, calling a halt to her training with Yamato and Kakashi to take a breather, that he noticed something else. He knew that symbol. Other Jounin he knew and had met bore it too. This wasn’t friendly training between three Jounin. It was so much more than that. But it made Sasuke wonder…

When did Sakura decide to join the ANBU? That was undoubtedly one of the last things he'd expected of her. As he stared at her training, he hadn't realized her gaze had turned in his direction; once he did, he ducked behind one of the trees, heart beating rapidly. Had she seen him? Had she caught him staring so openly at her? He hoped not. The last thing he wanted was to seem weird or creepy. One thing he did know was that Sakura's temper was terrifying, and he would have preferred not to be on her bad side.

"You're not doing a very good job of hiding, Sasuke." He looked up to see her above him on one of the branches, a smile teasing her lips. He startled at the sound of her voice, grumbling under his breath and turning away as the faintest shade of pink dusted his cheeks. Damn. She really was good. She'd caught even him off-guard.

"I wasn't hiding," he lied. Oh, he knew he was hiding, all right. He simply refused to admit it. "I thought this training ground was empty. I was mistaken." He heard her feet land in front of him, which urged him to keep his face hidden from her; he didn't want her to see just how much his cheeks had coloured at her appearance. It was all he could do not to look back and stare, admiring every inch of her toned figure.

"You're also not very good at lying," she teased further, taking a step toward him. "What's got you all flustered?" Damn. She hadn't missed it.

"It's hot outside." Technically not a lie; it was a scorching summer day, and he was wearing a heavy cloak. "I'm just flushed from the heat." Definitely a lie. His cloak was designed to keep heat in and keep cooler air closer to his body, like a cat's fur coat. It kept him comfortably thermoregulated.

"Liar," she accused.

"Tch." He wasn't going to dignify that with a response. She giggled in response to his gruff comment, leaving him to straighten as if he were on his way. She… was in his way, though, which meant he had to brush past her to leave. As his eye opened, he realized she was closer than before. He could smell her from where he stood. Her skin glistened with the faintest layer of sweat from her training, hair sticking to her cheeks and forehead. It didn't bother him; he was used to much worse sights.

Nevertheless, her skin was glowing from the exercise, and the way her green eyes sparkled made her look prettier. So pretty, he could feel his heart racing. He couldn't bring himself to move. If he so much as touched her, he knew what he'd end up doing.

"Sasuke, are you… okay?" Her head tilted to the side, and he felt his heart skip a beat. Stop it, he tried to scold her mentally, knowing it wouldn't work.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about it." Liar. With one sharp breath, he took a step forward, his hand reaching to brush her out of the way gently. She stepped in front of him, stopping him and grasping at his wrist. He remembered that grasp; it was the same way he'd done it to her years ago, a firm but gentle grip. She released it after he stopped moving. Their gazes drew together instinctively; no words needed to be spoken between them. Sasuke felt a growing sense of worry after what he'd realized. Sakura was ANBU. That meant she put her life on the line every day, every mission, everything. It meant that at any moment when she wasn't on a mission, the Hokage could call her for one, and it could be the last time anyone would see her.

He couldn't wait. The moment Sakura released his wrist from her grasp, he reached up, tangling his fingers in her hair as need took precedence over logic. His lips crashed against hers fiercely, years of restrained emotions flaring in his chest as he kissed her. She seemed surprised for a split second but was quick to reciprocate; he felt her hands lock around his neck, leading him to skim a hand down her back, pulling her body tighter against his. At some point, he turned, pressing her back against the tree as they continued their motions, eventually breaking apart to breathe, staring at one another with wordless affirmations.

#sasusaku #sasusaku oneshot #sasusaku fanfic #sasusaku fanfiction #sasukexsakura #sakuraxsasuke #sakura haruno #naruto shippuden #anbu sakura #sasuke uchiha #uchiha sakura #sakuraharuno #harunosakura #sasukeuchiha #uchihasasuke #sakura uchiha #sakurauchiha #uchihasakura #xkaileo oneshots

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fandom-imagines-stories · 4 years ago

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Lost Boy

Sodapop Curtis x Reader

Words: 4305

Summary: 16 years of never belonging and you’ve finally had enough. You move in with your outcast sister in Tulsa and meet a group of boys who finally make you feel like you’re where you’re supposed to be. Inspired by the song Lost Boy by Ruth B.

Notes: Peter Pan is one of my all time favorite stories and I love this song. I thought it could bring a whimsical, yet still angsty feel to a Sodapop imagine so I hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of abuse

Sodapop and more: HERE

There was a time, when I was alone

Nowhere to go and no place to call home

You always wanted to know what it was like to fly. To soar above the clouds, too far away to hear your parent’s screaming. Watching the world zoom by through the car window was the closest you’d ever felt to flying. You were free.

Pulling up to the little shack of a house, your sister, Beth, gave you a small smile.

“It's not much. You’ll be sleeping on the couch until we can clean out the attic.” She rambled. Beth rambled when she was nervous. “We were going to have you stay in the boys’ room, but Michael has a fever so he’s had to stay in bed-”

“Beth,” You gave her the biggest smile you could. You hadn’t smiled like that in a long time. “It’s perfect.” There was a loud racket coming from the house at the end of the block and three rowdy boys came bounding down the street.

“Hey Mrs. Austin.” One greeted as you both got out of the car. Your sister waved and he grinned. You never knew a boy could have a smile as nice as he had.

“Steve, my engine is making that sound again.” Beth said to one of the other boys.

“I’ll look at it as soon as we get back.” He said and the three took off down the street again. The one with the nice smile looked back at you and for a second you thought he might have winked.

“Who was that?” You asked, turning your attention back to your sister as she helped you unpack. You didn’t have much. Just some clothes and a couple books.

“The one I was talking to is Steve Randal. He’s been helping me keep this piece of junk rolling.” Beth patted the hood of the car. “The others are two of the Curtis boys. They live with their big brother Darryl down the block.” She pointed to the house the boys had come out of. “Nice kids.”

You watched them walk for a moment longer before taking your things inside. Your brother in law greeted you with a suffocating hug and one of your nephews wrapped around your leg.

“John.” Beth laughed, prying him off of you. John was six-years-old and Michael was four. They were two of the sweetest and silliest boys you’d ever met.

“Look at how big you’ve gotten,” You said, feeling a twinge of guilt. You hadn’t seen the boys since Michaels first birthday. You were lucky if your parents let you write Beth letters.

Beth was your age when she got pregnant with John. Your parents kicked her out of the house and told her never to come back. Her and Jack got married and moved here, to Tulsa. Two years later, she had Michael. They were happy, which was more than you could say for your parents. But you’d never have to worry about them again.

After you settled in a little, you decided to find a quiet place in the neighborhood to read. You’d lost count how many times you had read Peter Pan, but you never got tired of it. The idea of a place like Neverland got you through every fight, every tear filled night, and every cigar burn.

You walked around for a while before you found a nice spot in the big empty lot. There were a couple of logs to lean on and a spot where a fire had been. With winter break coming to its end, the January air made you shiver. You didn’t mind. You were too happy to even notice.

Just as you opened to the first page, you saw a figure approaching. He was hunched over with his hands shoved in his pockets. He didn’t even notice you until he reached where you were sitting. This must be his usual spot.

“Hey, who are you?” He spat, though it was hard to be intimidated by his quivering voice.

“My name is Y/N,” You said calmly, setting your book aside. “I just moved here.”

“Yeah, well you better beat it.” He ducked his head like he was trying to hide his face from you. “There are some real creeps around here at night and you don’t look like no greaser girl.”

“I’m usually pretty good at handling myself.” You stood, not to scare him, but to show that you weren’t scared. “What’s your name?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Well, if we’re going to be friends, I’d like to know your name.”

“Who said I wanted to be friends?”

You sighed and tucked your book under your arm.

“Suit yourself.” You walked past him, bumping his shoulder as you went.

“Wait.” He squeaked. You turned around. “What… what are you reading?” A little surprised, you lifted up the cover so he could see it.

“It’s my favorite. I’ve read it so many times, but I never get tired of it.” You beamed as he read of the gold lettering on the cover, worn from years of being very well loved. You could see his face now and you held back a gasp. His cheek was red and swollen and his lip was split. He caught you staring and quickly turned away.

“Like I said, you better get out of here.” He huffed. Without thinking, you put a hand on his shoulder.

“My dad hit me too.” You didn’t know how you knew, but you did. At first, he seemed angry and jerked his shoulder away. But his face softened and he looked at the ground.

“My name’s Johnny.”

“Now was that so hard?” You playfully nudged his arm to try and ease the tension. He even smiled a little.

“Johnny!” Another figure appeared across the lot, barreling towards you like a steam engine. You were worried that it might be his dad, but as he got closer, you saw how young he was. He looked Beth’s age, maybe younger.

“Hey Darry.” Johnny greeted, his voice still quiet.

“I thought that was you I saw slinkin 'over here.” the man crossed his arms disapprovingly. “The hell are you doin out here? You’re gonna freeze to death.” Darry saw the signs of violence on the boy’s face and sighed. “Come on home with me and I'll fix you something to eat.”

“Thanks Darry.” Johnny muttered. Darry’s stare landed on you.

“Haven’t seen you before.”

“I just moved here today.” You meant to sound tougher, but your voice came out as a squeak. Man, he was scary. After giving you a once over and figuring you weren’t trouble, his hard stared turned a little more welcoming.

“You must be Beth Austin’s kid sister.”

“Yes, sir.”

“No need for that, now.” He chuckled. “You can call me Darry, same as everybody else. Your sister told me to watch out for you.”

“She did?” You knew Beth was protective, but she didn’t have to alert the neighborhood.

“Probably wants you to stay away from us greasers.” Johnny said and Darry tousled his hair.

“You can come over for dinner too, if you want.” He offered. You would have declined, but your stomach started growling something awful. Darry motioned for you to follow him.

“That’s Darry for you.” Johnny whispered with a small smirk. “He’s got a habit of takin’ in strays.”

He came to me with the sweetest smile

Told me he wanted to talk for a while

It was kinda funny how well you fit in at a table full of boys. Darry was still fixing dinner and Johnny was talking to the youngest Curtis, Ponyboy. It only took a little convincing from Johnny for Ponyboy to get comfortable with you being there.

“Damnit, where is that boy?” Darry exclaimed, throwing down a dish towel.

“He probably got caught up talking to all those girls that come to see him.” Ponyboy said, sounding a little jealous.

“Yeah, well if he wants dinner, he better get his butt back here.”

“Who are we waiting or?” You asked Johnny in a low voice.

“Oh, they’re just goin’ on about Sodapop. He’s the middle one.”

“His name is Sodapop?” You wondered. You didn’t laugh like other girls sometimes did. You were actually curious.

“Sure is. Our dad liked unique names.” Ponyboy beamed. “And Soda’s as unique as they come.”

“That’s one word for it.” Darry laughed, shaking his head. As if he heard his name, the middle Curtis burst through the front door, an excited grin lighting up his face.

“You shoulda seen her, Darry.” He howled. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“You say that about every girl.” His older brother scoffed.

“Well this time, I mean it. And she’s just down the street!” Sodapop leaned against the fridge with a dreamy expression. Darry cleared his throat, jerking his head towards the dinner table. Ponyboy and Johnny were ready to burst from laughter. As soon as Sodapop’s eyes landed on you, he nearly fell over, his face turning a very cute shade of pink.

“You must be Sodapop.” You tried your best to hide the nervousness in your voice, not to mention the furious blush lighting up your face. You had never been called pretty before. Maybe he wasn’t talking about you. After all, he only saw you for a second.

“Yes ma’am.” He straightened himself out and smiled. Lord, that smile. “You-uh-you’re the girl I saw with Mrs. Austin.”

“What’re you calling her ‘ma’am’ for?” Johnny exclaimed. Ponyboy elbowed him in the side. “Ow! What? She’s just one of us!” You laughed at the two, but kept your eyes on Soda.

“That’s me alright. Beth’s my big sister. I’m gonna live with her now.” You said proudly.

“Where are your folks?” The youngest boy wondered.

“Ponyboy,” Darry scolded sharply. He knew that the story probably wasn’t a nice one. In this neighborhood, they never were. You didn’t seem upset by the younger boy’s question.

“They’re still in Chicago. Be glad you’ll never have to meet them.” You shrugged, your gaze returning to Sodapop. His blue eyes were bright with curiosity. He sat down across from you and Darry put down a plate of sandwiches.

It was the liveliest dinner you’d ever had. Darry and Ponyboy squabbled back and forth while Johnny scarfed down his sandwich.

“Whatcha reading?” Sodapop asked, eyeing the book you had set on the table.

“Oh, um, you’ll probably think it’s silly.” You quickly pulled the book into your lap. His lips fell into a pout.

“I promise I won’t.” His voice was so sweet that you knew he wasn’t going to make fun of you. You slid the worn down and well loved book across to him. “Peter Pan?” He read. “I remember that Disney movie when we were kids. Never thought about reading the book.”

“That’s cause you don’t read.” Ponyboy snickered. There was a thud and Ponyboy cried out, rubbing his now sore shin.

“Is it any good?” Soda asked.

“Oh it’s my favorite.” You beamed. “I guess the idea of flying away to a place where you never have to grow up was a nice thought when I was with my parents and all their yelling.”

You felt the tone of the table change. Ponyboy and Johnny looked at each other, Darry clasped his hands together on the table and Soda gave you a sympathetic smile. The grim shift made you think of home.

“Alright, enough with the long faces.” You exclaimed, leaning across to playfully shove Ponyboy’s shoulder. “That’s all over now.” You looked at each boy with the brightest smile they’d ever seen. Your gaze landed on Sodapop and his lips returned your grin. “This is Neverland.”

Smiles returned to the boys’ faces and Darry even chuckled. You and Soda just kept looking at each other.

“You clearly haven’t been in Tulsa long enough.” A new voice sneered. Everybody looked at the boy standing in the doorway. He had a hard stare and a mean look about him, but you didn’t let that scare you. You’d seen meaner.

“Anywhere is better than where I was before.” You replied calmly. The boy narrowed his eyes and looked you over.

“Is there something you need, Dally?” Darry asked sternly.

“Little bird told me there was a new girl in the neighborhood. Didn’t think she’d be slumming with us greasers already.” Dally kept his mean glare on you until Sodapop stood up.

“Come on, Y/N. Why don’t I walk you home?”

“Soda must think you need protecting.” He smirked. “I think you look like you can handle a guy like me.”

“Cut it out, Dallas.” Darry’s voice was a warning now.

“It’s alright. I should be getting back anyway to help Beth get the boys in bed.” You pushed away from the table, thanking Darry for dinner and saying goodnight to everyone. Lastly, you turned to Dally as you and Soda passed him. “It was nice meeting you, Dallas.”

You could feel his stare burning into the back of your head as you stepped out into the cool night air.

“Sorry about him.” Sodapop said, shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans as he walked. “Dally’s really not so bad. He’s just acting like that cause he don’t know you yet.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You shrugged. “I knew plenty of boys like that back in Chicago, only I didn’t have a tough guy like Darry or a sweet one like you to stand up to them, so Dallas is right.”

“About what?”

“I can handle guys like him.” You bumped his shoulder with yours and laughed. “I appreciate you walking with me, though. Beth would kill me if she thought I was out here by myself at night.”

“Has she always been protective like that?”

“I guess.” You thought for a moment. “When we were kids, she was always sticking up for me to our old man. She never let him lay a hand on me as long as she was around.” You found a pebble on the sidewalk and nudged it with your toe. “When she got pregnant, she didn't have a choice but leave. I think she just still sees me as that scrawny 10-year-old.”

You walked together in silence for a moment. You stopped suddenly, looking up at the sky. Stars stared back down at you with their bright faces. You liked to think they were smiling. Soda was a few steps away before he noticed that you had stopped.

“What’re you looking at?” He asked, walking back to join you. He tilted his head upward, trying to find whatever had caught your attention.

“The sky’s a lot prettier out here.” You mused. “In Chicago, it’s all lights and smog. But here, you can really see the stars.” That feeling of flying was back, taking you up into the air just like the book.

“You’re a different kinda girl, you know that?” Sodapop laughed. You spun around with your arms extended.

“You have to be different to survive, Sodapop Curtis.” When you looked at him, he could have sworn that your eyes twinkled like the stars.

I am a Lost Boy, from Neverland

Usually hanging out with Peter Pan

“They were not nearly so elegant as Peter, they could not help kicking a little, but their heads were bobbing against the ceiling and there is almost nothing so delicious as that.” You read in a clear voice so that all the boys could hear you. It was strangely nice out and the afternoon had turned into a kind of gathering at the park. You were sitting underneath the jungle gym with Johnny and Ponyboy sprawled out across from you. Sodapop and Steve had their knees hooked on the bars to see who could hang upside down the longest.

“Do you think this counts as flying?” Soda grinned down at you. Even upside down, it was the sweetest smile you’d ever seen.

“Only until you hit the ground.” Steve swung out his arm to try and knock him down, but Soda was quicker than that and Steve was the one that ended up in the dirt. Everybody laughed and Steve was only angry for a minute.

“Let her keep going.” Johnny whined. He seemed less skittish than he had last night. Ponyboy waited until Steve wasn’t looking to nod eagerly in agreement.

“Pony, don’t you have studying to do?” Soda climbed down and gave his brother a pleading look. It didn’t take long for Ponyboy to catch on. He made a face and got up, nudging Johnny to join him.

“Don’t be too late, Soda else Darry’ll take it out on me.” He grumbled, thanking you for the story before taking off back to the house. Steve also came up with an excuse to ditch, leaving just you and Sodapop, who tried to look surprised.

“Is this how you pick up all your girls? Cornering them in parks?” You scoffed, putting your book back in your bag. Man, his face turned red.

“I don’t know what- um- I’m not… no.” He stammered, kicking the toe of his boot into the dirt. You laughed.

“Relax, Soda, I’m just teasin’ you.” You shoved him playfully and slung your bag over your shoulder. The wind picked up a little and you shivered.

“Don’t you have a coat or something?” Soda asked, watching the goosebumps appear on your arms. You’d picked one of your short sleeve shirts since it was so nice, but now the weather seemed to remember what month it was. “Here.”

Soda wrapped an arm around your shoulders, rubbing your skin to help warm you up. His hands were softer than you thought they’d be with him working at the gas station and all. Being so close brought a pleasant pink color to your cheeks. Before you knew it, you were inching closer and closer until he kissed you.

His lips were gentle and soft and perfect. You both forgot to breathe for a while, but that didn’t bother you. When you did finally pull away, you both had the biggest grins on your faces.

“Maybe I should walk you home.” Soda said breathlessly. You nodded and, with a rush of courage you laced your fingers together as you walked.

By the time you got home, you felt like you were floating. It wasn’t the same as flying. This wasn’t rushed or heart-pounding. It was quieter and sweet. You couldn’t help but give him another kiss goodnight. When he was walking back to his house, he seemed to have a skip in his step.

You swung the front door open with a wide smile, giggling to yourself like a little kid. But that happy feeling washed away when you saw who Beth was sitting with.

“Daddy?”

Run, run Lost Boy, they say to me

Away from all of reality

You ran until your lungs felt like they’d burst. All you heard were three terrifying words and you got out of there as fast as you could “Takin’ you home.” You were home. That bastard wasn’t taking you anywhere.

You took the back way to the Curtis house, ducking your way through other people’s back yards so that your father wouldn’t be able to follow you. You were too afraid to go around front, so you found a low window and knocked on the glass.

“Darry!” You whisper-shouted. “Soda, Pony, is anybody in there? Sodapop?”

The curtains were pulled aside and an irritated looking Darry peaked out at you. He lifted up the window pane all the way so he could lean out and get a better look at you.

“The hell are you doing here, Y/N?” He asked. “Soda said he just dropped you off at home a few minutes ago.”

“I couldn’t go around front, Darry, he might see me.” You sniffed, wiping your nose on your sleeve. You must have been crying cause your face was all wet. “Could you help me in?”

He nodded and pulled you up by the arms. As you climbed in the window, Ponyboy appeared behind Darry with big eyes. You must have looked worse than you thought from climbing all those fences and cutting through yards.

“What happened to you?”

“Pony, go get her a glass of water. And where’s that other kid brother of mine?” Darry shouted before turning back to you. “Jeez, kiddo, you’re shaking like a leaf.”

“Yeah, Darry?” Soda popped his head into the room. His eyes went as wide as Pony’s had when he saw you. “Hey, Y/N, what’s the matter?” Darry grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him forward.

“Sodapop Patrick Curtis, if you hurt his girl, I’m gonna-”

“It wasn’t Soda.” You blurted. You crossed your arms over your chest and stared down at the floor. “It’s my dad. He’s come to take me back to Chicago.” You jerked your chin up, trying to look tougher than you felt. “But I’m not gonna let him.”

“I thought they let Beth bring you here.” Darry closed the window and grabbed you a blanket from the bed. It was then that you realized you must have climbed into Darry’s room. There was a pair of work boots on the floor and an old, beat-up football on the shelf.

“They did.” You glowered. Soda gently wrapped the blanket around your shoulders. “Guess they missed having something to scream at besides each other.”

“Well you can just stay here til he goes away, right Darry?” Soda said, not losing his sunny optimism for a second. Before Darry could respond, a series of loud bangs came from the front door.

“I know she’s in there you little punks!”

“Oh god, it’s him.” You hid yourself in Soda’s embrace and Darry went to answer the door.

“Come out now you-” Your father’s shouting stopped abruptly. Darry, though half his age, towered over him. He didn’t look so confident anymore. “Where’s my girl.”

You held Soda tighter. Your old man must have really hurt you because Soda knew you were one tough girl. You stood up to Dallas.

“You need to leave.” You could just see through to the living room since Darry’s bedroom door was slightly open. Darry was fully blocking your father’s view of the house.

“I’m not leaving without that little brat.” He snarled, his cockiness returning. “An’ if you don’t bring her out here, I’ll call the cops. That wouldn’t end too well for you, would it son?”

“I said leave.” Darry growled again, his muscles tensing. You knew what could happen if the cops came. So you broke away from Soda.

“I’m right here, so you can leave these boys alone.” You snapped, stepping out before Darry or Soda could grab you.

“Thought you could run around with these bums and I wouldn’t come for you?”

“How did you even know where to find me?”

“Those brats of Beth’s started hollarin’ as soon as I raised a hand at her.” He smiled cruelly.

If you hadn’t been standing there, Darry would have slugged him. You just wanted to get this over with.

“Are we going or not?” You frowned, defeated.

“Y/N, you can’t go with him!” Soda cried, trying to reach for you, but you jerked away. Tears pricked at your eyes again.

“I have to, Sodapop.”

“I don’t think so.” A new, hard voice joined the scene. You looked over your dad’s shoulder and saw the rest of the boys circling the house; Two-Big, Steve, Johnny, Ponyboy, and Dallas. Dally was the one talking. “You know something, fellas? I don’t like old me. And I really don’t like old, stinkin’ drunk men hanging around my neighborhood. Especially one that yells in my buddy’s face.”

“I ain’t afraid of a bunch of rats from Oklahoma.” Your father spat, but you could tell he was a little shaken. Dally pulled out a blade.

“How about a New York rat?” He hissed, getting real close to his face. Your dad’s eyes went wide, shifting from the blade to the circle of tough looking boys around him. Then he looked at you.

“You ain’t worth the trouble.” He decided, carefully moving around Dally and walking into the night.

The whole group gathered around, hollering and cheering over their success. Soda pulled you into a tight hug and kissed you right there in front of everybody. One of them, probably Two-Bit, whistled.

“Ponyboy, where the hell have you been?” Darry asked, ruffling his youngest brother’s hair. Pony just shrugged.

“I saw that mean old guy standing out here, so I ran and got Johnny and then we got everybody else.”

You pulled away from Soda and glanced around at the other boys.

“You all came here… for me?” You gasped, a different kind of tears now welling in your eyes.

“As soon as I heard Soda’s girl was in trouble, I got the hell over here.” Two-Bit said and Steve nodded in agreement. You felt your heart swell. Soda’s girl.

You looked at Dally. Without him, it might not have worked. He just shrugged coolly and lit a cigarette.

“I had nothin’ better to do.” But you could tell that, underneath, it was more than that. Johnny gave you a small smile.

“You’re one of us now.”

“And we stick together.” Ponyboy added. And they were right.

“Alright, I’d better call Beth and tell her everything is gonna be fine.” Darry announced. “You all get in here. I’m sure we’ve got more chocolate cake somewhere.” This was followed by more cheers and stampeding feet as the gang rushed inside.

Sodapop gave you the biggest, bright smile yet, taking your hand and following the boys to the kitchen.

Neverland is home, to Lost Boys like me

And Lost Boys like me are free.

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

#rob lowe #patrick swayze #the outsiders #80s imagines #sodapop curtis #sodapop curtis x reader #darry curtis #dally winston #Ponyboy Curtis #johnny cade #stay gold #peter pan #lost boy #neverland

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moonlit-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Way Down We Go

Arvin Russell x fem!reader

warnings: well, just about everything from the movie is mentioned, death/murder/suicide, (non-descriptive) sex, pregnancy mention,

a/n: im begging you to read this in a southern accent - i did change it up JUST a little i hope thats okay (y/n was just w/ arvin when he did some of the stuff he did)

prompt: anonymous: “uhm, oneshot for being arvin russell’s girlfriend and him coming back for you after he kills the sergeant? and maybe you two run away and get married and name your first kid after lenora?”

Soon enough, you and Arvin needed to split from your boyfriend’s hometown, Knockemstiff. He’d just shot down the sheriff and you weren’t sure if any authorities were going to believe your story. You two had to run.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. ‘Shoulda never got you involved in any ‘a this.” Arvin was beating himself up as the two of you dragged your feet on the side of the road, hoping you’d find a less murderous ride along the way.

“Don’t you dare apologize, Arvin. They all had it comin’ and you know I wasn’t gonna let you go off alone.” You halted your step in the grass and grabbed your boyfriend by the bicep, forcing him to stop, as well. He hesitated to turn around and look you in the eye, but when he slowly did, you could see tears brimming in his eyes. You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t want to do the same, but someone needed to have a level head right now, and after everything Arvin just had to do, you were prepared to take that responsibility. “Baby, we’re gonna be fine, I just know it.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” He mumbled as the tears began to flow. Your hands found themselves gliding up his dirty arms and shirt, finally reaching his clenched jaw and helping him to relax. “You’re so good to me an’ I just made our lives so much harder.”

“So we start somewhere new, okay? We’ll take a ride with someone on the interstate, make it to Georgia or Florida. I’ve been hearin’ some good things ‘bout Florida, they’ve got it all.” Arvin nearly cracked a smile at your optimism, he never knew how you’d be able to find light such a dark situation.

“I was thinkin’ about doing what my daddy did all them years ago.” He mumbled to you, as if he were unsure about going down that path.

“You gon’ keep on going or leave me hangin’ over here? You never talk about your father, tell me something new.” You pushed on, finally getting a smile out of him as the two of you continued your trek away from trouble.

“Well, he met a girl, fell in love, settled down far from home...” Arvin told you, trying to remember wha his mother’s face looked like.

“You’ve done two ‘a those things so far, go on.” You laced your fingers through his and gently swung your arms back and forth with each step.

“They started a family.” He said, looking up at the cloudy sky. Almost as if he could see the two looking back down at him. “A family could be nice. Maybe a dog, too. Jack really was man’s best friend.”

“I could see us doin’ that. We just gotta find the right place and we’re as good as gold.” You nudged Arvin with your elbow and he forgot all about the heinous scenes he’d left in the hours before, all that was on his mind now was what your future may look like. And to him, it looked amazing. Maybe you two could put the past few weeks behind you and just be happy again. No more pain, no more fear, just love for one another.

“We’re gonna be okay, huh?” Arvin asked, knowing already that you’d agree. A good deal of time went by before any cars passed by, but sooner or later a Volkswagen slowed down beside you and let you hop in. You knew hippies were a little weird, but they loved peace more than anything on this planet. Your odds were pretty good, so you climbed right inside and took a seat in the back, making conversation with the driver while Arvin got some much-needed shut eye.

“So, where are you two lovebirds heading?” The long-haired man asked, thankfully snapping you out of a daze consisting of dropped bodies and images you may never get out of your head.

“Oh, nowhere in particular. Just south.” You nodded along with your answer and the hippie chuckled, liking the answer you gave him.

“Looking to get a little lost? I like it.” You were distracted by his long hair flying around with the window cracked open just a bit.

“Yeah, I guess we are. We were thinking Florida would be a nice place to go, ever been?” You sparked a bit of conversation.

“Definitely! ‘The Sunshine State,’ doesn’t that have a nice ring to it? You guys’ll love it, I’m tellin’ ya.” The man’s enthusiasm was no joke, you needed the upbeat attitude he gave you, though. For a while longer, you talked about travel and this mystery man’s eventful life, it gave you hope that this new life you were about to start wouldn’t be as scary as you were thinking.

—————

Arvin woke up from yet another nightmare, it seemed like it would never end. It’d been four damn years since you two had left Knockemstiff and ended up in a little town by the name of “Palatka.” It was home and it was just the way you liked it.

“Hey, hey? I’m right here, Arvin. We’re safe.” You raised your hand and placed it on his bare, sweating chest as it rasised and fell from his panting. His eyes finally adjusted to the darkness and he saw the concern on your face while he just stared back at you. “You alright there, hun?”

“Yeah...” Arvin sighed, wishing that he’d stop seeing the faces of the people he’d shot down all those years before, they always seemed to haunt him in his sleep. He leaned back against the wooden headboard he’d crafted himself and reached his hand out for yours. “Sorry, darlin’, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Your husband’s thumb trailed over the back of your right hand.

“It’s alright, I was just about to go check on Lenora anyways.” You gave him a kiss on the forehead and threw the covers off of yourself, swinging your legs off the side of the bed so you could get your slippers on. You shuffled out of your bedroom and across the squeaky floorboards, reaching the door of your daughter’s bedroom. Slowly cracking the door open, you tiptoed inside and found Lenora, still sound asleep in her bed.

She was a good namesake to her daddy’s late sister, you know she would’ve loved to meet her niece. What a shame it was, but at least you honored her memory the way you did. It was Arvin’s idea, after all. God, she looked so much more like Arvin every single day. You couldn’t help but smile as she let out a little moan while stretching in her sleep. And you couldn’t believe you created that, you were a mother with the man you loved most.

You made a stop in the kitchen real quick so that you could get your husband a glass of water, then went back on to your room. Arvin was now sitting there with his bedside lamp on, swiveling his head towards you as you came back inside and closed the door. “Water?”

“Please.” He reached out and grabbed the glass. “Thank you, y/n.” Arvin said into the glass before taking a sip and setting in down on the bare wood of the nightstand.

“Ahem.” You cleared your throat and cocked an eyebrow, leaving Avrin puzzled. “Coaster.”

“Right, sorry.” He lifted his glass up and put it on the coaster directly next to it. “There we go.” He told himself. You crawled back into bed and scooted closer to your husband, leaning your head on his shoulder and draping your arm across his body. He gently rubbed his rough, working hands over your upper arm and gave you a sweet kiss on the forehead. “How was Lenora?”

“She’s still asleep, thankfully.” You answered with a hopeful little smirk. Your daughter obviously wasn’t a sleeping angel every night.

“That sure is news.” He traced his finger back up your arm and to your chin, guiding it to move up so that you could face him. He placed his lips to yours and drew back ever-so-slightly. “You wanna fuck while we have a chance?”

“Yes, sir.” You whispered and he had spent no extra time jumping on top of you and getting right to work. Before becoming a parent, he never stopped to think about how he’d absolutely have to find the right time to do what he wanted, because the rest of that time was dedicated to caring for his kid in one way, shape or form. In the end, he didn’t mind a bit. Being a father and a husband were two things he’d loved more than life itself and he hoped that his parents would be proud of the man he’d become. But right now he just wanted to spend some time with his loving wife, and that’s that.

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @purpleskiesstorm //

#arvin russell imagine #arvin russell x reader #arvin russell #the devil all the time x reader #the devil all the time imagine #the devil all the time #tdatt #tdatt x reader #tdatt imagine

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jodfics · 3 years ago

Text

Two Men and a Baby

Something silly.

Sam blew a sigh out from his mouth and looked at the man sat opposite him, "This is a mess, you know that, right?" Then, not waiting for a reply, he leaned over the small car seat they had strapped to the side of the carrier plane and frowned when the baby's eyes locked onto his. "Why you gotta look into my soul like that - check out Bucky, girls love ken dolls."

"How am I a ken doll?" Bucky's eyebrows furrowed even further, but he reached out to check the straps over the baby's chest for the nth time in the half an hour they'd been in the air. "If it's because of my arm - it's vibranium, not plastic."

"It's vibranium, blah blah'" Sam mimicked him childishly and sat on the left side of the car seat, "I can't believe this, man. I sent you in to disarm the bad guys, and you come out with a baby!"

Bucky scoffed and shook his head, "C'mon!" He nodded toward the baby, "You sayin' I shoulda left her there? All alone?"

"No, I am not saying that! I am saying, though, that you shouldn't have told the powers that be that we were gonna look after her for the next few days until they can find her parents - there's literally a service for that shit, Buck!"

The baby let out a whine at the same time Bucky sent a glare Sam's way, "Don't swear in fronta the baby... and don't call me 'Buck'. Stop being an asshole - you have nephews. A baby is a piece a cake."

Sam pressed his fingers to his temples and rubbed, Bucky was a constant headache at the best of times, but today he wanted to 'Sparta kick' him off the plane. "I'm not an ass, and for your information - ass is a bad word, don't swear in front of the baby." He waited for an argument, and when none came, Sam continued, "I didn't raise the boys, Sarah did all that, I just got to hold them and hand them back when they got damp. We should have agreed to take the baby to child services, and they would have found her parents - you," he pointed at the other, "You had to mouth off and tell them that we were taking her until further notice."

A squeal came from the tiny human and the start of what was likely going to be wailing; Bucky wasted no time in unstrapping her and holding her to him. She was around six months old with curly hair and a polka-dot dress - small enough to be utterly helpless but big enough that Bucky wasn't too worried about feeding her. Sam watched his 'not' co-worker make a fuss of her, asking her what was wrong in a quiet murmur and feigning shock when she squealed in reply. "Really? Oh, Doll, you are having a bad day, huh?"

"I didn't know you had a babysitting module installed - is that included in the Winter Soldier brainwashing, or is it an add on?" He couldn't help but find the interaction kind of sweet. Same knew how good Bucky was with kids, whether it was his nephews or the neighbour's kids or the kids back in Wakanda; Bucky was a soft touch when it came to them. "Why were you so adamant we take her?"

Bucky's nose scrunched a little when the baby reached out and pat his cheek before going for his nose; he was grateful she was more interested in him than crying. "I don't want her getting lost in child services, they're stretched thin since all the missing parents, and kids suddenly showed up after five years and the guys we saved her from obviously planned to ransom her or worse. So her parents will look for her, and when they do, we can hand her back nice and easy, no lost babies or weird foster parents."

"Dude... you're calling the pot black."

"I'm not a weird foster parent." His tone was even, and Sam blinked at how oblivious the other was. "Here, take her a second." Bucky handed her over, and Sam settled her on his lap whilst he watched him head toward his mission bag. "You got any food in your bag?"

"Not unless babies drink protein shakes," Sam looked down at her and made a curious expression, "Do you want muscles on your muscles? Yeah? You do...? Damn, you're gonna show Bucky up with your miniguns - pow, pow!" He shook her little arms gently and pretended to feel for biceps, "Oh, I think I found a muscle!" She giggled at Sam as he proceeded to poke and tickle her in search of a sixpack; out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bucky glared and snorted, "Uh oh, I think the bionic moron is jealous!"

"No, I'm not!" Came a reply too quick; even Bucky winced at it and cleared his throat to appear calmer, "Put her back in the car seat before you drop her."

"Ooooh, he's so jealous!" Sam pointed at the other, and her eyes followed his direction, but she was too young to understand that Bucky was pouting at them. "Give him the soul stare, Sweetie, see if you can beat him at his own game."

Bucky had moved to Delacroix a few weeks after taking out the flag smashers, and to his surprise, Sam had offered to let him move into a little place he had been checking out. It was a nice place with plenty of space for them to train or have the kids run around in - Sam liked that it had a good road into town and his sister's place. Bucky liked the trees that provided them cover and the view of the dock at sunset. There had been negotiations about the living spaces for both of them. Mostly it boiled down to Sam keeping his baseball trophies and wings out of the shared living area and Bucky agreeing not to turn it into a vintage bar or hide knives in all the crevices he could find.

Sam stood at the kitchen counter, baby on his hip, and checked how his homemade applesauce was doing. It had been his turn to check on her when she cried in the night and to take the 'morning shift' - not that he minded as he rocked her slightly and sang for her. He called for the volume to go up and brought the wooden spoon to his mouth like a microphone, "You ready, Sweetie? Nah, you're not ready for this - here we go! Yeah..." The man nodded his head and joined in on the following line of the song, "'And baby, I can't hold it much longer - It's getting stronger and stronger! When I get that feeling, I want -"

"I want an age-appropriate song!" Bucky interrupted and turned the station over.

"Oh no." Sam pointed the spoon at him, his brown eyes wide in outrage, "You did not just turn off Marvin Gaye." The baby pat his chin, and Sam smiled down at her softly to show he wasn't mad at her, "Don't you worry, I'm gonna wait for your naptime before I kick Uncle Bucky into next, next century." He looked back at the brunette who was slumped at the kitchen table and barely awake, "Why do you hate Marvin so much? Hmm? What did he do to you?"

Bucky sat up and tipped his head back to roll his eyes at the ceiling fan, "I don't -" he looked at Sam, "I don't hate Marvin Gaye. I just don't think that song is appropriate for a little girl, ya know?"

"Mm-hmm... But giving her a little whisky is alright?"

"It wasn't even a thimble full! My Pa used to sneak me more than that to help me sleep when I was a baby."

Sam turned off the cooker and put the pan aside to cool, "I'm pretty sure cocaine and cigarettes were on prescription back then. Besides, she's not yours for another couple of hours."

"I'm not gonna give her cocaine, Sam!" Bucky snapped, and then he lowered his tone, "Gotta start her on the small stuff and work up to cocaine."

"I am applying for full custody, Buck! You can pay child support all you want, but I'm not giving you visitation rights!"

"What," A woman's voice cut in, "Did I just step into."

"Sarah, hi!" The brunette's previous grumpy face brightened in a smile as he gave Sam's Sister a wave and ignored the other man glaring at him. He made to stand up, to be polite, but Sarah motioned for him to stay where he was - her smile matching Bucky's.

Sam adjusted the baby on his hip, "As much as I loathe watching you two make eyes at each other... Bucky, don't you have something else to stare at?"

"I got the best view right here - how's your morning, Sarah."

Watching his sister grin like an idiot and knowing her cheeks were red hot, Sam cleared his throat loudly, "You're setting a bad example for the baby. So what do we owe the pleasure, Sarah?" The girl in his arms made grabby hand at the woman, and Sam passed her over.

"Hey, Honey, are your Dads fighting again?" She was ignored in favour of her necklace, and after making sure it wasn't going to hurt the Baby, Sarah let her play. "The engine in the pickup is playing up, I need to head into town, but I don't trust the darn thing not to break down on me."

Before Bucky could even stand up to offer, Sam rushed in with, "I'll take you. I'm not leaving you two together without a chaperone."

"I can take a look at the engine later for you?" He may have been beaten to offering a lift, but Bucky knew more than one way to impress a woman. "Besides..." his blue eyes landed on the baby as she babbled and played with the necklace, "I need something to do after we drop her off with her parents later."

"Did they pass all your security checks?" Sarah asked, only half-serious as she had made fun of them the day before for insisting the people claiming to be the baby's parents were checked by every security firm they could name. "That's a shame... a baby really suits you, Bucky."

He parted his lips to reply, his ears turning a little red as he tried not to blush; whatever he was going to say was prevented by Sam nearly choking on air and sputtering that they had to go, "There's no such thing as on time, Sarah! Bucky, don't give the baby anything illegal!" He took the baby from his sister and deposited her in Bucky's lap before ushering the woman through the door.

"Bye, Sarah."

"Bye, Bucky~."

#Sam Wilson #Samuel Thomas Wilson #Bucky Barnes #James Buchanan Barnes #Sarah Wilson #drug mentions #babies #fluff #original Post

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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years ago

Note

i randomly remembered when enzo broke his arm around a year ago, i know it sounds mean but could you possibly do one of mac/maya doing the same (nothing major to cause it)

"It's okay." Amy hears herself repeat the phrase for probably the hundredth time now. "It's okay." It's probably supposed to calm them all down, all three adults and one little crying, screaming boy in the car, but it's barely working.

"It's not!" Jake hisses into her direction, the fear and panic and worry in his eyes more than obvious as he clutches Mac's head against his shoulder some more, tightens the grip around his back.

"It's gonna be, though." Rosa says from the driver's seat in front - she was clearly the calmest of all of them after what happened, so she'd grabbed Amy's purse, pulled their car keys out of it, and then pushed all three of them into the backseat before starting the car. And now she was making her way to the emergency wing of the hospital at about 15mp/h higher than allowed in the inner city. "The arm's broken, but not in a bad way. It's gonna heal."

"How can a bone break in a good way?" Asks the man who once stated that as long as his blood was still inside him, things were obviously good. Mac starts wailing a little louder in his arms.

"You're stressing him out." Rosa states, matter-of-fact, before slowing down just a little before a right turn so the kid in Jake's arms doesn't get jostled too much.

"It hurt." Mac sniffles and looks over at Amy with the reddest, most tear-filled eyes she's ever seen, and it takes a lot not to cry with him.

"It's gonna be okay, peanut. The doctors like uncle Jorge are going to fix it." She tries to calm him, and maybe Jake a little bit, who nods and scratches through Mac's hair like he does when he's trying to lull him into sleep.

-*-

They make it to the emergency room in record time, frankly, and if Rosa's rushed past some traffic lights and speed radars, Amy's not going to complain once the tickets come in the mail.

A bored-looking nurse informs them that there’s only enough space for one parent in the room during the x-ray and the cast and treatment, and Jake wants to debate for the first time in his life, because that’s obviously bullshit, but Amy puts a hand on his arm and then lifts Mac out of them.

“Sit with Rosa”, she says in that voice she’s started using after Mac, that mom-voice that’s always right, “Calm down, and we’ll be back before you know it. And it’s all going to be fine.”

She’s off with the crying toddler and nurse before Jake can really protest, and Rosa is already sitting in a corner of the waiting area, so he drops down next to her instead and buries his head in his hands.

“Dude, you’re blowing this out of proportion. Kids hurt themselves all the time. He’s gonna bounce back like always.”

“I broke his arm, Rosa.”

There’s a beat of silence between them as the weight of that statement settles. Rosa gives up her nonchalant pose to lean forward as well, trying to get into Jake’s field of vision, but it’s kinda hard when he’s staring down onto the floor.

“You did not.” She hisses. “Jake, you didn’t. He fell. He was climbing. It happens.”

“I helped him up on that tower, he’s too little for it-”

“It’s on the playground, he was gonna go for it eventually-”

“I was right next to him-”

“So were Amy and I-”

“You were talking-”

“So at least you were paying better attention-”

“I coulda grabbed him, I shoulda-”

“You did what you could, immediately and without question. It’s not your fault the kid drops faster than a cannonball.” Rosa ends their little squabble, and the old lady across them lets out a little harrumph, but Rosa shoots her the deadliest glare she can muster, which means a lot. “You were over there in a flash, Jake, I’ve never seen you move so fast.”

“Wasn’t fast enough. Wasn’t good enough.” He mumbles into his hands, rubbing across his face and his hair that’s already a mess. Rosa watches him for a moment, and calculates. Pieces together the evidence, like she does as a detective, and comes to a solution that most people probably won’t like, but those usually get her results.

“Do you want to leave?” She asks, and he looks at her like she’s grown a second head. “Amy’s got it under control, she told you. It’s probably gonna take a while, anyway, we can dip out for a drink to calm down and come back and they’ll be none the wiser.”

“Are you insane?!” Jake hisses back now, giving her exactly the reaction she’d expected. “I’m not going to leave my son in the hospital to go to a bar-”

He stops and stares at her, and it seems like his own detective brain is finally catching up with his panicked dad brain, because he sees what she’s doing. So she nods.

“You’re still good. You’re still better.” She says, and they don’t need to mention who he’s better than. It was the first of his stories that he told her, after he hurt something in his wrist at the academy - how that wrist never really healed right anyway, not since he was 5 and Bobby Linder drove over it with his tricycle by accident and his mom had to rush him to the hospital and his dad asked ‘what is that?’ with beer on his breath when he showed him the cast later. They’d known each other for barely a month back then, and Rosa was still refusing to think of anyone as her friend, but the way he’d looked at his wrist in its bandage and smiled the most broken smile she’d ever seen had set something off in her head. Something that yelled Protect at her every time he mentioned his dad later, something that made her threaten Roger Peralta with one of her knives after their graduation when Jake was in the bathroom ‘real quick’, but she knew he was hiding in there so no one could see his hands shake. Good thing Rosa never gave a damn about going into the men’s toilets anyway, because she sure as hell went after him when Roger had dipped out as usual.

She watches Jake’s tense shoulders drop with another sigh.

“Being better doesn’t make me good. That bar is set so fucking low.”

“I’m not having this entire discussion with you again, Peralta. We’ve been through this way too many times anyway. You. are. a. good. dad. One accident doesn’t change that.”

“Okay.” He nods, and she can tell he’s trying to imprint her words into his brain, so she continues.

“Mac’s going to hurt himself, and others are going to hurt him, and things are gonna go bad sometimes. You’ll probably be back here in the hospital a few times, considering how much he seems to love danger. And it’s going to be okay, just like Amy said, because you’re going to be there, and you’ll help him through it, and take care of him while he heals.”

“Yeah.” He nods again, and Rosa leans closer to him some more, and finally gets into his field of vision.

“And you’re not going to even think, for one second, that you could be anywhere as bad of a father as that piece of shit. And you’re not going to believe, whatever anyone says, that Mac doesn’t know how lucky he is to have you as a dad.”

He nods a third time, and she remembers how he jokingly told her once, after a few drinks, that the little screaming voice of conscience in his head always alternates between either Amy’s voice or her voice. She hopes she’s given him some new tracks to replay if he needs to.

“Thank you, Rosa.” He says, and leans back in the most uncomfortable chair either of them have sat in, and they’ve both been to prison. He tilts over when she leans back too, lands his head on her shoulder, and she doesn’t shrug him off for once. She can have a soft spot for the Santiago-Peraltas when no one else is there to see, she supposes.

“You looked like you wanted to punch out that nurse.” She says with a quick grin, and hears him snort.

“Was thinking about it. Not enough space for two parents, what kind of bullshit is that?!”

“You couldn’t throw a proper punch anyway.”

“Hey, I know how to hit people. I trained to do it just as much as you.”

They share a giggle as the exhaustion and stress of the last hour flows out of them, and the old lady across them seems mildly shocked rather than annoyed by now, but who cares.

-*-

Amy comes back with Mac in her arms an hour later, and they’re both all smiles. Mac sports an impressive new sticker collection on his shirt, and a lollipop that’s painting his lips orange. (Amy’s have a slight tint to them as well.)

The cast on his arm is bright green, and he carefully lifts it to show Jake as he switches from his Mama’s arms into his. (Jake had jumped up from his chair so fast he almost threw Rosa, who was also getting up, to the ground.)

“Like ninja!” he says around the lollipop, and Amy wipes a bit of spit away before it can drop on Jake’s shirt.

“Yeah, just like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, buddy.” Jake nods because of course he understands his kid’s train of thought better than anyone else, and kisses Mac’s temple, stays there a second longer for that perfect toddler scent, even as it’s mixed with hospital disinfectant and playground mud.

“Look, RoRo!” Mac yells into his ear and leans over to show Rosa as well. “Turtle shell!”

“That’s pretty cool, dude.” Aunt RoRo answers as she inspects the cast to see if it’s well done or if she has to go back there and punch out a nurse herself. “Let’s get you three home.” She says after concluding that the cast is acceptable enough to let the poor hospital workers alone.

-*-

She was planning to drop them off, park their car and then head for the precinct where her bike is waiting for her, but Amy invited her up for some coffee for ‘her nerves’, and Jake offered dinner as a thanks, and Mac absolutely needed to show her the new toy he got in that package from abuela, and then suddenly she’s on a playmat on the floor for an hour after Chinese takeout and pretending to be a Ninja Tortoise or whatever. That soft spot is gonna be more trouble than it’s worth, she thinks for a second before Mac smiles at her as his Jedi figure shoots lasers at her turtle doll, and immediately realises it’s worth so much more than any trouble. Mac looks at his cast a little worried, whenever he thinks no one is watching him, and god, could he be any more like his dad? At least she and Amy already have a good instructions booklet on how to handle him, in that case.

“That green cast is pretty cool.” She says when she catches him look once more. “But you know what would make it even cooler? Drawings.”

“Drawies? On my arm?”

“Yeah, buddy. We can draw on it with a sharpie.”

He’s up and running to Amy, asking for a sharpie, in no time at all and yep, he is just as easily distracted as his dad. Mac grins wide and unworried now as he climbs on Jake’s lap on the couch, asks Amy to draw something when she returns with a set of markers, calls Rosa over to draw something too.

Amy does a little bear, his favourite animal at the moment. Rosa does a rocket ship and a pirate ship, the two best ships in the world, as they both agree. Jake does a Ninja Turtle cartoon face yelling PIZZA!, which is obviously Mac’s absolute favourite the moment it’s done.

When Jake wants to cap the Sharpie after his work of art, Mac grabs his hand and pulls it back down. “Steady, peanut. Don’t wanna scribble over Aunt RoRo’s cool ship, right?” He says with a grin over to her as she rolls her eyes. Mac’s already tried to cover several walls, most of his storytime books, and the kitchen table with his drawings as soon as he’s handed any sort of writing tool, so Jake won’t let go of the marker just to be safe, but he does let Mac’s little hand guide his big one as he makes him draw a wonky heart, right on the cast over the back of his hand, and then places a kiss on the same place on Jake’s hand.

You’re not going to believe, whatever anyone says, that Mac doesn’t know how lucky he is to have you as a dad the little Rosa voice in Jake’s head repeats as he smiles at her, and she actually smiles back.

#B99 #Brooklyn 99 #Peraltiago #Jake Peralta #Amy Santiago #mac peralta #auntie roro #rosa diaz #my writing #ficlet

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castiel-kline · 4 years ago

Text

Filling in the gaps of 15x20, featuring Castiel and Jack.

Castiel woke with a gasp, the Empty pressing in around him as usual. He sat up, quickly, trying to get his bearings. He was met with a watery smile on a face he thought he’d never be lucky enough to see again.

“Hello,” Jack said, fingers half curled into a wave.

“Jack,” Cas breathed, pulling his son in for a fierce hug. Jack clung to him just as hard, the two of them huddled on what passed for solid ground in the Empty.

They pulled back, just looking at each other. Castiel kept his hand on Jack’s shoulder, not wanting to let him go just yet. He looked at Jack’s face, at the tiniest hints of tears in his eyes, and felt his heart sink.

“Jack, what happened?” Jack didn’t reply immediately, and Cas felt even more dread building, dripping down his spine like a melting icicle. “No. You’re not- you can’t be-”

“I’m not dead,” Jack assured him. Cas could feel his whole body slumping in relief. “I’m… I really missed you, Cas.”

“Well, I missed you too.” Cas squeezed Jack’s shoulder, rejoicing when a smile flitted across Jack’s face. Dying without saying goodbye… it was one of the most difficult things Cas had ever done.

“Wait, I don’t- I don’t understand. How are you here?”

Jack shrugged, and in the shift Cas could see something different. If he really looked, there was something more, something bright and powerful and ageless burning under Jack’s skin. More powerful than his soul and his grace combined.

“We defeated Chuck,” Jack said. “We didn’t kill him, but I- I took his powers, and I sort of took over from him.”

Castiel remembered sitting with Kelly before Jack was born. And he remembered that one little word that had kept them going.

Paradise.

And Castiel smiled, wider than he’d ever smiled before. “You did it,” he whispered. Jack returned his grin, and the two of them laughed, the sound echoing off of the Empty around them, beating the sorrow back. “You did it. Oh, Jack, I’m so proud of you. I always- Kelly and I always knew you could do this. We always believed.”

“I know.” Jack nodded. He stood, reaching down a hand to pull Castiel up with him. “Come with me.”

Jack tugged him along by the sleeve of his coat and started to run, the gesture so young and childlike in contrast to his new position as the universe’s caretaker.

“Jack, where are we-”

There was a sudden flash of light, and Castiel gasped, back straightening as if he’d been struck by an electrical current. When the roar of his grace subsided, he realized it was- it was there. It was all there, his wings, his grace- and the Hellfire scars and charring on his feathers were gone. Jack beamed at him, hands tucked behind his back.

“Jack, I…” Cas didn’t have the words. He spread his wings, flared them out and reveled in how free it felt. There wasn’t pain anymore. He looked around, suddenly taking in where they were.

“We’re in Heaven,” he said, looking back to Jack.

“Yes.” Jack lifted his chin. “I know Heaven isn’t what a lot of people expect, or want. I know it’s not what my mother, or Sam and Dean, believed that it should be. So- I’m going to fix it.”

Jack snapped his fingers, and all the doors and walls came crashing down, the compartments folding away. And the people, all the souls in Heaven, they rejoiced.

--------

Cas half expected chaos, but he should have known better. Somehow, Jack made it all make sense. The people were milling about, all those souls trying to find their loved ones and choose a place to settle. Or keep on going, always traveling. It didn’t really matter.

He and Jack were walking through the crowds, guiding them on their way and explaining the situation as gently as they could.

“Hey, you. Shoulda known you’d have somethin’ to do with all this.”

Cas whirled around, coming face to face with an old comrade-in-arms. “Bobby,” he said. “It’s- it’s good to see you again. Are you alright?”

Bobby shrugged. “Seems like. Are my idjits with you?”

“No. They’re, uh. They’re not here yet.”

“Guess I should be grateful for that,” Bobby grumbled. “I do have to ask, though, what’s with the sudden change? There a management shift I should be aware of or somethin’?”

Jack came bounding over, grabbing on to Castiel’s arm. “Cas, I found her! We- oh.” Jack looked at Bobby, recognition and realization igniting in his eyes. He straightened, putting on a front of godly power. Cas would have to tell him later that he didn’t need to do that.

“Hello,” Jack said, unnecessarily nervous.

Bobby looked at Cas from under a furrowed brow, then to Jack, and back to Cas. “Well, feathers, didn’t know you had it in ya.”

Cas shook his head. “Oh, no, it’s not what you-”

“I’m Jack,” Jack cut in. “I took the power of God, and now I’m fixing Heaven! It’s nice to meet you. Sam and Dean have told me a lot about you.”

Bobby’s confusion only deepened. Castiel sighed, and started explaining.

--------

“So, you got a kid.”

“Yes.”

“And Sam and Dean helped raise him.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

Cas huffed a laugh, eyes trailing after Jack where he stood a little ways away, helping a man who’d died in 1432 reunite with his mother.

“No. We’ve all been saved.”

---------

Never let it be said that Kelly Kline was not a patient woman. By the time Cas caught up with her, millions of souls having been helped, it might well have been weeks. She was standing hand in hand with Jack, the two of them in animated conversation.

“Kelly,” he said, and she smiled at him as she brought her arms around him.

It felt like home.

---------

Jack kept busy. He and Cas swept through all of Heaven, the remaining angels having been assigned sections to comb through as well. They needed to make sure no souls were still lost without their families or their chosen place having been found.

The two of them spent plenty of time with Kelly, who had designed a little cottage like the one Jack was born in.

Jack worried about her getting lonely, and every time she had the same reply.

“I’m waiting for my parents to come. And I’ve got you two- my angels.”

One day Castiel and Kelly sat on the porch of that cottage, staring out across the lake at dawn. Jack had gone down to Earth to collect the wandering souls, those stuck in between. Like Kevin Tran. And he would bring them home.

“You were right, Kelly. You were always right. Jack changed the world.”

“He did.” Kelly smiled. “But we were right, Castiel. Both of us.”

They held hands and watched the sun rise.

---------

Jack was still Jack, despite the changes. He’d gone off in search of Mary Winchester, to make things right, as he said, and promptly threw himself into Castiel’s arms upon his return. They flew around for a while to calm him down, and eventually Jack smiled again.

Castiel was more than willing to be whatever Jack needed. That was his purpose- to aid in maintaining paradise, and to aid in maintaining Jack.

He’d never been happier.

---------

“I’m leaving,” Jack said. They’d always known it was coming.

Kelly hugged him goodbye, assuring Jack that she’d be waiting for him, and Cas walked him to the part of Heaven that remained free of human souls- the Lobby, as it had been dubbed. The throne had been removed, and in its place was a list. A list that always grew, of every soul admitted to Heaven. He let an anxious eye linger on the W column each time he passed by.

“Where will you go?” Castiel asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Jack answered. “But Amara says she’ll take me to see space. Like Star Wars, Cas!”

“Well, I bet you’ll enjoy that.”

Jack nodded, his eyes earnest. “I will.”

Castiel nodded back, feeling as if there were a knot inside him. Everything about this was bittersweet, pride dancing with sorrow in his heart. It was, he supposed, how every parent felt watching their child start a new chapter.

“Cas.” Jack settled a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be back. You don’t have to worry.”

“I know. I just- I’ll miss you, Jack.”

“I know. Me too.” Jack tucked himself into Castiel’s arms, burying his face in his shoulder. Cas just held him for a while, feeling the thrum of Jack’s grace and the effervescence of his soul.

They pulled apart.

“Bye, Cas,” Jack said, hand raised in a wave.

“Goodbye, Jack.”

And he was off. Absent from here, yes, but he was around, and he would be back. And really, what was a few decades when you had eternity?

---------

Castiel had tried to lead Heaven before, and he’d failed each time he tried. Now, though- now, the people were happy. Cas still visited Kelly, and he visited Mary and Bobby and the Harvelles and even found that the remaining angels were starting to open up to him again. When Jack got back, Cas would have to ask him about bringing more angels back from the Empty. Balthazar, Hannah, Samandriel, Gabriel… what he wouldn’t give to see them again.

He took a page out of Jack’s book, and hoping to have an inkling of Jack’s courage, found the Novaks. He’d known forgiveness was impossible, but at least he’d said his piece.

Then, one fateful day, a new name appeared on the list:

Dean Winchester.

And Castiel watched, waiting for Sam’s name to join it, but it didn’t. It wouldn’t for years.

And somehow, he knew that was alright.

--------

The decades passed, and Castiel waited. He waited for Sam’s name, and he waited for Jack’s return.

Sometimes he could hear Sam praying. It varied, the things he’d say. Sometimes he just prayed to Jack, and the only reason Cas heard was because he happened to be standing in the Lobby. He was glad to know Sam was happy, and living a good, quiet life. Like he deserved.

Hey, Jack. Cas. Dean. I hope you guys are okay. I’m just- I’m really missing you. I love you.

Eileen and I got married today. I didn’t have a best man, I just couldn’t- yeah. It was a little offbeat and quiet, but it suited us, you know? Anyway. I love you guys.

I have a kid. I have a baby, and he’s- you’d all love him. I wish you’d gotten to be a big brother, Jack. You would have loved it.

Hey, Cas- Dean Jr. loves PB&J. It, uh- it makes me think of you. I miss you, buddy.

Jody passed. Bad hunt. I feel like you guys should know. I hope you’re taking good care of her up there, Jack. She deserves it.

Dean started middle school today, and I can’t believe it. Time goes by so damn fast, doesn’t it? But I, uh. I still miss you. Love you guys.

Claire and Kaia are engaged. Dean Jr’s gonna be the ring bearer. He’s so excited.

Jack- happy tenth, bud. Double digits is a big deal. I miss you.

I never thought I’d be an attendee at Sam and Castiel Fitzgerald’s grad party, but here I am. Garth insisted. Eileen got to skip out because Dean’s got a school thing this weekend, but man, are they missing some good stuff. Garth throws a killer party. Who knew?

Eileen- she’s, um. She’s sick. I just- if you’ve got a miracle in you, Jack.. I know it’s probably a lost cause. But I don’t want Dean to lose his mom. And I can’t- I just can’t. Not again.

I love you, Eileen. Give your brother-in-law a big hug for me, okay?

Dean graduated from Stanford today. I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder.

Happy 65th, old man. I miss you, jerk.

I think I’ll be seeing you soon, Dean. Hopefully you too, Jack. Cas- I don’t really know where you are, but I hope I’ll get to see you too.

I love you. Jack- make sure my son’s okay. Watch out for him, okay buddy? And keep doing great. You got this. Thank you- thanks for my life.

---------

Castiel watched as the name he’d been waiting for joined the list, after all this time. And he sent up a prayer of his own.

When Jack came back, as Cas knew he would, they had some family to visit.

#ya'll know I had to #;)#spn spoilers #spn 15x20 #castiel #jack kline #sam winchester #dadstiel #spn #spn fanfic #idk if this qualifies as a coda but whatever it is #enjoy #kitkat writes

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jayeray-hq · 4 years ago

Text

He’s My Best Friend: Miya Atsumu

The start of a new series celebrating having 50+ followers thank you all so much! 😊💖 Post Time Skip/Manga Ending Spoilers!

Warnings: None all fluff

Choose your own ending platonic or romantic!

He’s My Best Friend Masterlist - Character Masterlist

Big thanks to Bri from our Haikyuu Headquarters discord server for beta reading for me she’s amazing! 😊💖 The Past : How You Met

The day you’d met Miya Atsumu for the first time, you never would’ve guessed he’d become your best friend. After all, you’d been at an age where you were utterly convinced that all boys had cooties and were absolutely gross and boring. However, you’d just moved to Hyogo prefecture with your family and you’d honestly been feeling a little lonely.

It was the end of summer break and you were going to be starting school in just a week, in what would technically be the middle of the school year as a second grader, and the whole thing had made you more than a bit anxious. Luckily one of the perks of your new house was that it was right next door to a nice park, which meant your parents were more than happy to send you out to distract and entertain yourself.

You’d done so with aplomb setting on to one of the swings and deciding to see if you could break your personal best for how high you could go, fully believing that if you just pumped your legs high enough you might actually be able to go over the bar the way some older kids had told you and your friends from your old school.

There’d been a few other kids at the park that day, but you hadn’t felt the need to approach them, though nowadays you couldn’t remember whether that was from shyness or because you’d been too focused on your aerial goals. What you did remember though was him, or them actually; the Miya twins.

They’d caught your attention because they’d taken up seats on either side of you. They hadn’t had a choice because there were only four swings, you’d chosen one in the middle, and the other one on the far-right end was clearly broken, the seat dangling from one of the chains. It wasn’t until later that you’d learn that the broken swing was their fault in the first place.

The two boys had barely seemed to notice you, swinging in between them, shouting over your head about how one of them was going to beat the other. You weren’t sure who’d said what, all you could remember was how incredibly annoying the two of them had been, so much so that you’d quickly gotten over your awe that there were somehow two of them that looked just alike.

It had been especially annoying because, despite their argument, it was very clear that you were the one who was going the highest, being the lightest of the three. Finally fed up with them ignoring you, and shouting over your head you’d decided to perform the neat trick you’d always done with your friends back home.

With all the absolute fearlessness of youth you let the swing get to the highest point of its arc and leapt free, landing in a perfect crouch in the sand. Your little maneuver had managed to shock the twins into complete silence, and you’d turned to look at them in surprise as you dusted off your shorts, freeing them of sand. Both had been gaping, and you’d managed to catch the eye of one of them, the twin you now knew as Atsumu. You’d given him an absolutely haughty look before sticking your nose in the air and stalking away, completely ignoring their shocked cries, and their calls to wait up, figuring it served them right for ignoring you in the first place.

Much to your dismay it turned out the loud twins lived nearby, and ever since your little stunt they’d been determined to befriend you. Atsumu in particular was relentless, chasing you everywhere and insisting on being your friend. You’d even ended up in the same class as him once school started, much to his delight.

In the end his persistence had paid off, and the two of you had become good friends once you’d gotten used to his loud, unabashed, blunt personality. The two of you just fit together well, though it helped that you were far more willing to be dragged into Atsumu’s schemes than his much more realistic twin. While you did become good friends with Osamu, an inevitability given the twins were practically attached at the hip twenty-four seven, you were always Atsumu you were closer with, who you considered your very best friend.

The Present : Your High School Days

“What happened to your face?” you demanded shocked and a little appalled that your friend had shown up on your doorstep his face covered in scrapes and a nice bruise forming over one eye, “Did you try to receive a volleyball with your forehead again?”

Normally you walked home every day with the twins, as you still lived close to one another, but you’d had a doctor’s appointment earlier that day and so had left school early. It just figured that somehow in the scant hours between the time you’d last seen him and now he’d somehow gotten himself into trouble. Honestly, trouble probably should’ve been his middle name; bold and brash Atsumu could be entirely too impulsive at times and Osamu tended to either egg him on or ignore him entirely. You, on the other hand, had taken the firm stance of compromise and while you did allow yourself to be dragged into his schemes far too often you also did your best to discourage some of his wilder ideas to keep both of you safe.

“I only ever tried ta do that once,” Atsumu protested in response to your accusation, as you stepped back to let him into your house and ushered him toward the bathroom.

“Once was one time too many,” you informed him dryly, “Especially since you’ve accidentally received with your face before and should’ve been well aware that it was an incredibly dumb idea.”

“A man screws up once and ya hold it over his head fer ever,” he grumbled unhappily, as he hopped up on to the counter at your urging, folding his arms over his chest, a slight pout on his lips that had you rolling your eyes in fond amusement.

“So, if you weren’t practicing receiving with your face, what were you doing?” you asked as you dug in one of the cabinets for the first aid kit. You’d had more experience with the thing than you cared to remember, patching up both yourself and the twins after all the scrapes you’d gotten into over the years, and made sure to keep it well stocked.

Of the twins Atsumu had always been quicker to anger, though he was also quicker to cool down and forgive, unlike Osamu who was a bit of a grudge holder. It meant you had lots of practice patching him up, not that you could complain as half the fights from when you were younger were started on your behalf. Despite how he would tease you at times, often viciously, only he was allowed to do it, not even Osamu was allowed to make fun of you without Atsumu taking extreme offense and getting vicious on your behalf.

It was why you never got angry at him when he got a bit snappy or came to you to be patched up. You knew you could always count on him to have your back though you were infinitely grateful he’d gotten much better at using his words over using his fists as the two of you got older, saving the physical fights almost exclusively for Osamu.

He grumbled something unintelligible in response and you pulled your head from the cabinets to give him a look, one that long experience meant he interpreted perfectly as ‘spill your guts or else’.

“I got in a fight with Samu,” he repeated a little louder so you could hear the words properly.

“What did you do this time?” you asked as you set the kit on the counter, flipping it open and pulling out some disinfectant.

“What makes ya think it was me? It coulda been Samu, it’s not always me!” he protested annoyed.

“Because if it was Samu you’d be with him gloating over what a terrible person he is and whining to your parents, but instead you’re moping around here at my place and clearly hiding,” you informed him bluntly, ignoring his indignant spluttering as you demanded, “hands.”

He offered the appendages without complaint, letting you gently clean his scraped knuckles, even as he sulked over what you’d said. You’d cleaned him up after fights both with his brother and with others he didn’t get along with more than once, so you knew despite how utterly vain he could be his priority was always his hands. Which was why you always started there, and were most careful with them.

He’d told you more than once that a setter was nothing without his hands, and he was always incredibly meticulous about their care. Funnily enough it was also only you he’d ever trusted to help him with his hands. Not even Osamu was allowed to touch, and certainly no one was allowed to wrap his fingers or put bandages on them but you.

“So, what did you say to Samu that ticked him off bad enough to try to break your face?” you asked, as you carefully dabbed his hands with the antiseptic.

“He was bein’ scrubby,” Atsumu protested clearly still moping, “My sets were perfect, he shoulda been able ta get them.”

“And let me guess, instead of just shrugging it off as him having a bad day, you decided to tell him he sucked to his face,” you finished with a sigh, already able to predict how your best friend would’ve behaved in a scenario like that. Honestly you wouldn’t be surprised to look up the definition of tactless in the dictionary and find a picture of Atsumu’s face next to it considering how utterly inconsiderate and blunt he could be at times. It was a good thing you’d managed to grow a thick skin over the years, otherwise your friendship probably never would’ve lasted as long as it had or been as strong as it was.

“So, what if I did?” Atsumu protested, annoyed, though he didn’t pull his hands from your grip as you carefully bandaged them, doing your best to ensure he’d maintain proper mobility of his fingers.

“Pretty sure Osamu would know he was having a bad day Tsumu,” you told him with a sigh, finishing up with his hands and moving on to his face, “He didn’t need you to rub his face in it.”

“What so yer takin’ his side then?” he demanded petulantly, eyes flashing with a mix of hurt and anger, his quick temper rearing its ugly head.

“Don’t be stupid,” you told him flicking him hard on an undamaged part of his forehead, “You’re my best friend Tsumu and you know it. I’m always on your side, even when you’re being a scrub.”

“I ain’t a scrub,” he muttered sullenly, “An ya shouldn’t go beatin’ on me. M’ already beat up enough, what kinda best friend are ya anyways?”

“The best kind,” you told him completely unbothered by his whining and well aware he didn’t mean it, amused at the pout he gave you in response, even if he would vehemently deny ever doing something as unmanly as pouting at you, “The kind that tells you when you’re being an inconsiderate jerk to people.”

“Nope,” you cut him off before he could open his mouth, “You were a jerk and you know it Tsumu, otherwise you wouldn’t be here moping.”

“I ain’t mopin’,” he protested half-heartedly, the fact that he didn’t protest the other part of your statement was as good as a confession and you both knew it.

You hummed in amused agreement not saying a word, simply patching up his face with infinite care, and absently ruffling his hair when you finished, laughing at his protests off with practiced ease.

“Can I hang out here for a little bit?” he asked quietly, the words almost inaudible as he refused to meet your gaze.

“Of course, you can,” you told him fondly, “You don’t even need to ask.”

He slumped forward, nearly making you stumble as he leaned on you, his forehead pressed to your shoulder in a rare moment of vulnerability, the ones that as his best friend you were privy to, his quiet ‘thanks’ muffled into your shirt. You rolled your eyes at him fondly, and gently pet his hair for several long moments until he lifted his head up and hopped off the counter fully prepared to pretend the moment of weakness hadn’t happened and loudly challenging you to defeat him at videogames.

You huffed in amusement but allowed yourself to be sucked in, well aware that this was what it meant to be best friends with Miya Atsumu.

The Future : Platonic

You grinned down at the court, decked out as usual in your MSBY jersey that had Atsumu’s number on the back. These days you didn’t always get to go to every game the way you had in high school, even if Atsumu always made sure you had a ticket if you wanted one. You honestly just couldn’t, as the two of you were living very separate lives. Still that didn’t stop you from trying to go to every game you could, even if it took you a little out of the way at times.

Your lives after graduation had been pretty hard on your friendship, what with Atsumu deciding to go pro right away and you off to fulfill your own dreams as well. Atsumu in particular had, had it rough as neither you nor Osamu could be there all the time for him anymore, and you knew he’d struggled to find and stand on his own two feet.

You’d done all you could for him at the time, keeping your door open and your phone on you, ready to talk him through his temper or chew him out if he needed you to, the same way he always made time for you when you needed a shoulder to cry on or a listening ear, even if his advice wasn’t the greatest.

Honestly, you’d been a little worried that your friendship would fall apart, that the two of you would grow apart because of the distance between you. You should’ve known Atsumu would never let that happen. He held on to your friendship with the same dogged persistence he’d used to procure it in the first place, reminding you of his presence and his support, brutal though it sometimes was, at every moment he could.

In turn you could do nothing but return his fervor, reaching out to him and ensuring you scheduled things like meet-ups, phone calls, and more. The two of you had a snap streak that had lasted almost five years and counting, and neither of you had any intention of breaking it.

The only small bit of trouble you’d had over the years was when the two of you had significant others. You’d noticed right away that the people surrounding Atsumu could be incredibly jealous and suspicious of you, the same way you’d had a partner or two who hadn’t liked how close you were to the nationally ranked pro athlete.

However, Atsumu had always been possessive and protective of what was his, and your relationship was something he treasured just as much as he treasured the one with Osamu. It meant that if his partner so much as hinted that they wanted him to stop talking to you or hanging out with you, he dropped them, oftentimes ruthlessly and with no remorse.

You did your best to do the same, hanging on to your friendship, and telling the people you dated flat out that if they had a problem with Atsumu then you wouldn’t continue to date them. After all you’d been friends with him for over a decade at that point, and there was no reason why you should put more value into a new relationship over the one you had with him even if one was strictly platonic and the other romantic.

Your combined stubbornness meant your friendship was still going strong even now, enough so that Osamu often referred to you as his twin’s other twin, because the two of you had proved to be inseparable.

Yes, he was rude, blunt, and still a little temperamental despite maturing a lot in the past few years, but he was also fiercely loyal, supportive in his own way, and goofy adorable dork. He was your best friend, one you knew you’d someday be sitting with side by side in the future, the two of you old and wrinkled as you argued over whose grandchildren were better as you reminisced about the good old days. Honestly you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The Future : Romantic

The fact that your relationship had bloomed from a steady strong friendship into something romantic had surprised absolutely no one except for you. Even Atsumu, who you’d thought to be completely and utterly oblivious to pretty much everyone’s feelings, had known before you had, much to your eternal shame.

You weren’t exactly sure where it had started. If it was in the moments where he’d lean on you physically and emotionally showing you the vulnerable moments he went out of his way to hide from everyone else. Maybe it was the way he’d go out of his way to touch you, ruffling or gently tugging on strands of your hair, an arm over your shoulder or around your waist, hugs everywhere in public and in private, completely and utterly shameless. Or it could be the times when he’d listen to you, simply making time, even when the two of you were busy, even when he wasn’t close by, pursuing his career as a professional athlete while you chased your own dreams, to hear anything you felt you needed to say. Whatever it was it had all come together in one moment, hitting you with startling clarity.

You remembered it clearly, you’d been sitting in one of the booths of Onigiri Miya, you plus the team and their significant others, all celebrating Osamu’s success at finally opening the restaurant of his dreams. Atsumu had been sitting next to you, a casual arm slung over your shoulders, gesticulating wildly with the onigiri in his other hand, talking with his mouth full as usual, and showing no table manners whatsoever.

Despite that you’d seen the way the light had caught in the gold of his hair, the brightness and clear joy in his eyes, and the wide smile on his lips and your heart had flipped over in your chest and squeezed near painfully as you looked at him. It had hit you then with all the force of a freight train. You loved him, you were in love with your best friend, with Miya Atsumu, the man who’d been by your side since that very first moment you’d met on the playground over a decade ago.

You must’ve had an odd expression on your face because Atsumu had abruptly stopped talking, and turned to you with clear concern in his eyes, and demanded in his usual tactless way to know what was wrong with you.

In a stunning moment of sheer blunt bravery and absolute recklessness that proved Atsumu had probably rubbed off on you a little too much over the years, you’d turned toward him looked him in the eye and blurted out ‘I love you’ right then and there.

Osamu would later congratulate you on managing to do something no one had ever managed to do before by stunning his twin absolutely speechless, but in that moment, you’d been too focused on Atsumu’s eyes to notice how quiet both he and the rest of the restaurant had gotten at your confession.

No matter what, Atsumu’s eyes had always given away exactly what he’d been feeling, and in that moment, he’d been staring with such blatant hope, and longing in his face as he searched yours for any sign of deception that you hadn’t been able to look away. Though you couldn’t help the way they fluttered shut as he leaned forward to press his lips to yours, cupping your face sweetly and holding you more tenderly than most probably would’ve thought he was capable of.

The kiss was everything you’d looked for in previous relationships, warm and sweet, with a feeling of rightness and familiarity that made you feel safe and completely and utterly loved. You’d broken apart to the sound of cheering from the rest of the restaurant’s occupants, all of whom had been extremely happy for the two of you, even if Osamu and Suna did tease you rather relentlessly over it.

Apparently, everyone knew the two of you were head over heels for one another, and Osamu had been listening to Atsumu pine over you since high school. That you’d finally realized your feelings had come as a major relief for the younger twin and you and Atsumu had been together ever since.

It was almost strange how easily the two of you fell together, years of experience meaning nothing surprised you. There were no ugly habits or dirty secrets to hide. You knew all about his temper, how blunt and vicious he could be, you knew everything about him, and he knew everything about you. It was comfortable, warm, and everything you could’ve asked for because there wasn’t anything better really, than being in love with your best friend.

#miya atsumu #atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu x you #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu x y/n #haikyū!!#haikyu imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyu fluff #atsumu fluff #atsumu imagines #atsumu headcanons #miya atsumu imagines #inarizaki #he's my best friend #JayeRayWrites

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breitzbachbea · 3 years ago

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Day 3: Culture [TurGre]

My second entry for @aphrarepairweek2021! Some embers don't warm you, but they still burn.

Ship: Turkey/Greece (Sadık Adnan/Herakles Karpuzi) Set in a Human/Organized Crime AU Read it here on ao3

The Turkish words are translated at the bottom - I marked the words in red, so that you can easily find where you left off if you jump to the translations!

The Iraqui kid that Sadık mentions in one of his memories is supposed to be APH Iraq. However, since I didn't have the time to look at Iraq OCs so far, they sadly have neither gender nor name as of right now. Or you could interpret it as them being non-binary. Whatever suits you. From what I could gather after a brief look at Iraq's history, I'd interpret them to be younger than Sadık in the same way Herakles is younger than him.

Much thanks once more to @amber-isnt-a-precious-stone for betareading this oneshot!

Küllerinden

The last rays of sun, not yet obscured by the taller mountains, fell through the trees’ leaves.

Sadık pinched his eyes shut and pulled a face. He wished he would have brought sunglasses with him.

Herakles yawned. The next moment, Sadık heard the old patio couch creak and the shuffle of the cushions. A warm, but heavy weight came down on his thigh and he opened his eyes to look down.

“Get off my lap,” he buzzed. “I’ve gotta make coffee.”

“Thought you were still waiting for the sand to heat up.” Herakles hadn’t even opened his eyes.

Sadık brushed a streak of hair out of Herakles’ face. “Should be ready any moment now.”

He’d been itching to do something since this afternoon. Herakles had made them dinner hours earlier – chicken gyros, so that it’d be halal.

At first, Sadık had enjoyed to kick back on the couch while Herakles cooked. Had indulged in the sounds that came from the kitchen and the feeling that had made his heart feel lighter with every beat.

But the feeling had worn off over time. The book he had been reading wasn’t very interesting. One of these stray cats that Herakles let in and out of his house as if they owned it had glared at him from the armchair. He had grown restless.

He enjoyed cooking, after all, even more so for other people.

“Herakles?” He had called from the living room.

“What?”

“Do you need any help?”

“No.”

Sadık had grunted to himself with brows furrowed. He glared back at the cat.

At one point, he had gotten up and strolled into the kitchen.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

Herakles had looked up from the rice he’d been washing and glared at him. “Yes. Just go back and take a nap or something.”

Sadık had surveyed the ingredients that laid around, half chopped up at times. “I ain’t sleepy.” A cat had jumped onto one of the kitchen chairs. “Maybe you need someone to keep the cats from eating our dinner.”

“I don’t. You really don’t need to be here,” Herakles had insisted. The cat had jumped onto the table.

Sadık had been kicked out of the kitchen after an argument and being hit in the face with a spoon. The fucking cat had been allowed to stay.

Now most of the cats were gone. Out on the town to wreak havoc. Hunt mice. Serenade each other.

“C’mon, off me now,” Sadık told Herakles. The sun had finally disappeared behind the mountains and stopped poking his eyes out.

Herakles lifted his head and Sadık stood up.

They had to improvise a little, but managed to find a large enough cast-iron pan and a bag of sand. Sadık picked up the long handle of the coffee pot and twirled it twice in his hands.

When he had been a child and travelled all around the Levant with his parents, Sadık had been delighted to see the same thing in every place. Especially because at first, the ritual had seemed like magic to him. The cezve – or ibrik or kanaka or any of the thousand other names it went by – that glided so effortlessly through the smooth hot sand. The foam that bubbled after a few minutes, that threatened to spill but never did.

Mohamed had done it for him the first time he had visited Egypt alone, after his mother’s death. He’d been a grown man by then and his heart had beaten slower since Funda had died, his head heavy with all the shit she’d left him to deal with.

But for this brief evening, he had watched Mohamed slide the kanaka through the hot sand and felt again as if he was seeing magic being worked.

After he had slid the pot through the sand to see if it’d work and then held his hand close to the bottom to see if it had been hot enough, he picked up the coffee grinder. He had an electrical one at home, both in Istanbul and Ankara, and so did Herakles, but using it tonight had rubbed both of them the wrong way. To leave the garden and have the loud mechanic shredding cut through the birds chirping and the dull sound of the city. So Sadık did it by hand, as he did every time he visited his father.

It was probably the best use he had for his strength that had been made necessary by the life he was living. A life his father had no interest in partaking in anymore ever since his wife had died and a life Sadık had little interest in telling him about either. Alaattin had made the right call by moving into the countryside and now using all the time in the world to grind his coffee by hand and light up a charcoal fire to make sand coffee in the evening.

Sadık finally put the coffee grinder down and poured some water into the pot.

There was the distinct sound of heavy fabric rubbing against each other behind his back and he looked over his shoulder.

Herakles had shifted on the couch and watched him with eyes half–lidded.

“Do you want to do that now, too?” Sadık asked him.

“No. I think it’s good that you’ve finally got something to busy yourself with,” Herakles replied and Sadık chortled.

He wondered if Herakles would struggle with the sand. He still remembered when he had been a teen, his parents had just met with their Iraqi partners, who had brought their kid along. When he had dragged them out into the city at night, Sadık had seen the same spark of recognition in the kid’s eyes when they saw the pans filled with hot sand.

He hadn’t expected that spark in Herakles’ eyes when he had told him about it a few weeks later during a visit to Athens.

“Oh, we do that, too. But not with sand.”

“Then what do you use?”

“There’s a shop in town that’s got a fire going to roast nuts and stuff and when they’re about to close, they make coffee in the ashes. I can show it to you, if your … parents would allow it.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it, I’ll find an excuse.”

Sadık slowly moved the pot along the sand. He lifted it and did it a second time, but quickly pulled it out when too much vapor rose from it. He dropped a few spoons of ground coffee into it and one of sugar. Herakles sometimes liked his coffee toothrottingly sweet, but Sadık wasn’t going to do that with the first batch.

“You’re not doing it the Greek way,” Herakles remarked.

“Why would I?” Sadık replied, focused on the task at hand. He ran the pot through the sand, lifted it and began the movement anew. “It’s similar enough, besides, you like it my way just fine.”

Herakles replied nothing. Some car drove through the neighbourhood. The birds had shut up. The embers of the charcoal fire and a few, distant streetlamps, all in different directions, were the only light.

He heard the couch creak. Herakles feet slapped onto the tiles, before he reached the grass and the ground swallowed the sound. He lit the electric lanterns in the garden.

“I thought of when I first told you about Turkish sand coffee,” Sadık said and laughed. “Can’t believe I was surprised to learn that you Greeks did it, too. Shoulda seen that one coming, Greece isn’t so different from the rest of what used to be Ottoman territory.”

Herakles turned the last lantern on.

“Hm,” he said and walked back to the couch. “We also share a lot of culture with the Balkans.”

Like that pork that I don’t eat. Dinner had been good, Herakles knew how to cook after all. He tried to concentrate on the warm, satisfying feeling of fullness. Not the twinge that Herakles’ words had caused for some reason.

“And I bet that some of that is also due to Ottoman rule,” Sadık said with a grin. “You know, like those spas in Hungary.” He lifted the pot from the sand, since the coffee was almost done anyways, and turned to look at Herakles.

Herakles was sitting up, one foot propped onto the couch and hands clasped together over his knee. “I suppose that’s part of it,” he replied and his voice is as soft as the face that’s framed by locks of brown hair and warm orange light. Sadık allowed himself to stare for a moment. “Is the coffee done?”

“Almost.” He got back to swiping it across the sand. “You know, it’s a pity, if you think about it. We’ve got so much in common, Turks and Greeks, and yet, we can’t get along. Wonder why.”

He shouldn’t have said that. Sadık knew he should not have said that.

Herakles couldn’t keep his voice low and soft, no matter how hard he surely tried. There was an edge to the words: “Probably because you people always act like you own everything.”

Sadık turned to look at him and saw the slightest furrow between Herakles’ brows.

A deeper one settled between his own. “That’s because you people can’t see further than your own nose,” he replied. “If you could get your head out of your own ass, maybe you wouldn’t think everyone’s out to get yours when they just try to be closer.”

Something hissed. Sadık whirled around.

The coffee had spilled over and one drop had hit the sand, which now sizzled as it congealed.

“Siktir!” he shouted and took the pot off the sand. He slammed it down so hard on the tablet he feared it might break and looked at the pan. He turned back to the tablet, grabbed a spoon and scooped the wet sand out of the pan. He flung it to the ground, where it disappeared between blades of grass.

His chest heaved. He felt his heartbeat thrum in his throat. He closed his eyes, but it didn’t help the dizziness that unfolded in his skull.

“Are you alright?” Herakles asked. His voice was soft and flat again. Because there was too much to be said, but nothing that they hadn’t yelled at each other before.

“Yeah,” Sadık said. He swallowed. He picked up the pot and peered inside. There were splashes of coffee on its rim from when he had slammed it down.

Again, the shuffle of fabric and Herakles’ steps. “I’ll throw it away,” he said. A moment later, he put his hand around the handle. His fingers overlapped with Sadık’s.

Sadık didn’t dare to look up at him, lest he did something he’d regret.

“I’ll make some again,” he said and let Herakles take the pot from him.

“Mhm.” That was the only response. Herakles’ steps receded and disappeared into the house.

Sadık dared to lift his head and to breathe, before he staggered back. Away from the coal’s heat that had been lapping at his thighs and arms the whole time. He sat down in the grass and took deep breaths to get the adrenaline out of his system.

Because the backdoor was still open, as was the kitchen window, he could hear Herakles rinse the pot.

You ruined the coffee. He closed his eyes and his head throbbed, because he knew that was what Herakles had wanted to say instead of Are you alright?

He hadn’t said it, because he didn’t want another fight. Or maybe because he hadn’t thought it at all, he tried to remind himself, because Sadık didn’t want another fight either.

He wanted a cup of coffee and Herakles next to him. He wanted talks about philosophy. He wanted to hang onto the other’s lips when they told about mythology and he wanted him to hang onto his own when he recited poetry. More than anything, he wanted to kiss those lips and taste all the godforsaken sugar that Herakles would’ve made him put into their third cup of coffee and have his tongue explore his mouth as if to lick every single last grain of it away himself.

“Tired?”

Sadık jumped when Herakles’ spoke up next to him.

“Lord, one would think you’re a fucking cat yourself with how you sneak up on me.”

“I didn’t sneak up on you. You just were somewhere else.” Herakles looked down on him, with eyes half lidded, and held the pot out so casually that it almost slipped from his fingers.

Yeah, in a far better place than the one we ended up in.

Sadık got to his feet and took it from him.

“Thanks, canım,” he said, voice soft and flat but exhausted, because he was worse at pretending without his mask. He brushed Herakles’ cheek with the back of his knuckles.

Herakles didn’t look at him. He wrapped his own fingers around his hand for a second.

The second passed and Herakles walked back to the couch. Sadık’s fingers felt even colder than before.

He twirled the handle twice. He’d make some coffee and it’d be delicious and if they kept their mouths shut, maybe he’d get to taste it on Herakles’ tongue.

~*~

"Siktir!" = Fuck! (A little bit more accurately: Get fucked!) "Canım" = My heart; My soul. Term of endearment.

#aphrarepairweek2021 #aph #hetalia #hws #aph greece #hws greece #aph turkey #hws turkey #aph turgre #hws turgre #I've done nothing but read and reread sadlygrove's turgre fanfics for the past week does it show #mohamed is egypt if that isn't obvious #storie nostre #hera #sadik

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slashedthroughtheheart · 4 years ago

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The boy behind the wall Pt. 2

She managed to quietly close the door to the basement she’d found, and slowly snuck her way back to the kitchen, putting her long forgotten empty glass in the sink and made her way to the front door just as it opened with a very vexed looking Mrs. Thompson at it. “Oh, there you are. Your fath-uncle is here.” She didn’t dwell on the slip up, and Layla didn’t point it out in any way either.

“I was just coming to check if it was him. Guess I lost track of time daydreaming and dozed off. Sorry about that!” She did her best to hide behind a sheepish smile, hoping that her lie was good enough and any face she might be pulling would be easily chalked up to embarrassment at ‘falling asleep’ at the kitchen table.

Mrs. Thompson seemed to readily accept this answer, shaking her head briskly. “No matter, but you better get a move on, your uncle seems to have places he wants to be, since he’s still got the truck running.”

And with that, she moved to the side and Layla scampered past her, stomach doing flip flops as she brushed by the older woman.

She felt cold inside, trying to figure out how anyone could treat someone else like that.

They didn’t stay long after she left the house, having bound down the steps as well as she could, making her way over to the passenger side of the truck her uncle was in, leaning towards his window, talking with Mr. Thompson.

They said their goodbyes, and her uncle reversed before heading off their property.

He asked how it was helping out around the farm, and she gave a non-committal shrug. His eyebrow quirked at this.

She knew her uncle to be a kind man, he loved his wife, loved his younger brother who was her father. It was a shame that they had gotten a nice big ranch with a big house only to find out he and his wife just couldn’t have children. They loved kids though, and loved her unequivocally.

So upon seeing his usually very talkative niece being aloof set off a warning bell in him, like the tornado warnings. It wasn’t right.

Before he could probe about the shift, she asked her own question.

“Do the Thompson’s have any children?”

At this he pauses, his first response was going to be no before an almost forgotten image of seeing Mrs. Thompson round with child popped into his head from a time long ago when he’d ran into her in town. She’d been so happy back then.

The Thompson’s were never the same after she lost the child during birth.

It was a very hush hush topic, never brought up in polite company, and not talked about except behind closed doors.

He made a low noise in his throat. “Well, not exactly. They were supposed to, but years and years ago they lost the baby she was going to have. It was tragic, and they’ve not been the same since, especially not Evelyn. She went from being happy and full of life to having a very… uh… tight lipped way of dealing with anyone.” He glanced over at her from the side before returning his attention back to the road.

“Did they… did she do something to you that made you ask that?” He had a feeling of dread in his stomach, hands gripping the steering wheel hard enough for his knuckles to turn white.

With the change in her demeanor paired with the odd question, he couldn’t shake the bad feeling taking root at the base of his skull screaming danger.

She looked at her hands clasped together in her lap for a long moment, almost long enough for him to prompt her once again, but she beat him to it once more.

“How long ago did they loose their baby?”

At this he really had to think. He tracked back in his memory as they were pulling up to the ranch. “Well, I think you were born just a year after it happened. I remember having that small fear of ‘what if?’ in the back of my mind when your father told me about your mother expecting so soon after it happened. So 19 years ago?” He ventured a guess, before turning to look at his niece now that the truck had come to a stop and the engine had been cut.

“Did something happen over there, little one?” He had a deep frown on his face, but the touch he used on her shoulder was light. He was concerned.

She worried at her bottom lip for a moment, before turning back to him, deciding to trust her uncle. He liked children, and he couldn’t have his own and that must hurt him so very deeply. So maybe, maybe if she told him the truth, he’d be willing to help her free the boy.

“I think they’re keeping their son locked up in the basement. I don’t think they lost him at all.”

He removed his hand for just a moment in shock at her words, not having expected the conversation to take this turn.

“You think… wait, why do you think any of this of the Thompson’s?” He sounded skeptical, but he also knew his niece was not one prone to lying or over exaggeration. In fact, his niece tended to downplay the seriousness of most things, especially her discomfort. She wasn’t one to inconvenience others.

So this kind of declaration from her was shocking, but he couldn’t immediately rule it out.

A small flash of worry crossed her face, before she seemed to take a moment to collect herself. He watched her hands tighten in her lap before she turned to face him fully, a very grave expression on her face.

“Because… I saw him. He’s kept in the basement behind a crude brick wall with just a single brick not in place where he can see out of. He looked… different. Like his face was smooshed up from something. Kind of like how a blood hound looks different from a german shepherd dog, but for people. His eyes have this… like.. extra skin around them. It looks rather painful, honestly. He can’t talk, but he understood me talking to him. I asked him questions uncle Andrew, and he said… well more like grunted in a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ way. He said he lives there with the Thompson’s, but he didn’t seem happy about that. And that he can’t leave the room! It’s awful!”

She had run away with the conversation, passion filling her voice now. She was almost breathless after explaining everything to him.

He took a moment, and looked real hard at her, trying to tell if she was pulling some sick joke or if she was being actually honest. And when she didn’t waver under his intense gaze, but instead switched to an almost pleading tone, he realized she was telling the truth.

“He couldn’t have been much older than me, so it fits. He’s gotta be the baby from back then. And they… they locked him up because he was different. I don’t know if he’s ever even been out of that room before. He didn’t even know what a hug was, I had to explain it to him. And he looked so sad after I explained it. He’s never been hugged before, I just know it. They’re being awful to him just because of the way he looks, even though they’re his parents and supposed to love him, all of him, unconditionally. He’s just… he’s just a kid, their kid. He shoulda gotten hugs…”

As she went on, trying to impart upon him the sincerity and the urgency, she wasn’t able to hold back the emotions she’d been tamping down for the better part of the day. Her voice cracked at the end, and the tears she’d held back in the basement resurfaced with a vengeance.

A very small and broken “I couldn’t imagine papa never hugging me… or teaching me how to read… or loving me.” And at that last bit she burst into sobs, the big tears rolling down her face as she hugged herself tightly, rocking softly.

Her heart was aching, but not for herself. For the boy locked in a basement, unwanted by those who were supposed to take care for him.

“It’s not right… he’s alone…” she barely managed to get those words out through her choking sobs, her mind too young to emotionally handle something of this gravity without breaking down a little.

He didn’t doubt his niece, not after seeing how broken she looked and sounded. He did scoot over, drawing her up in a hug and rubbing her back and shushing her softly, trying to get her to calm down. Doing his best to soothe her.

“Shhh shhh, little one. It’s alright, it’ll be alright. We’ll look into it, okay? We’ll figure it out, it’ll all be okay.” He didn’t want to make any promises about this supposed boy, but the story was plausible. He just didn’t want to promise anything in case the situation wasn’t as it seemed.

But she shook her head. “We need to get him out of there. I promised him, and even if I hadn’t… you can’t… he can’t just stay locked up in a basement. It’s not right, uncle Andrew. He was crying when I had to leave, I can’t… I can’t leave him there. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let him stay down there to-to… to just wallow alone.”

Her tears hadn’t stopped, but her sobs had lessened. She still sounded like she was crying, even while talking.

He pulled a grimace, but nodded. No one deserved to be locked in a basement with no contact from anyone. That was just cruel. And if it did turn out to be the long thought dead Thompson boy, then it was an even worse situation.

He finally nodded, his mouth still in a grim line. “If he’s down there with no way out, we’ll get him out, okay? That’s all I can promise. But we gotta be smart about this. Do the Thompson’s know you found him?” He turned to face her, still holding her in a reassuring way, but wanting to make sure she knew it was important to go about this the right way.

Shaking her head, she sat up straighter, hands going to wipe at her tear stained face before responding verbally. “N-no. Mrs. Thompson thinks I fell asleep at the kitchen table while she gardened.”

He took a breath, trying to think if that was believable enough or not, but then remembered that everyone knew his niece he took in for the summer was of frail constitution and tired easily. So it was entirely plausible.

“Alright, well you can’t go back right away, we have to think this through. So for now, no wandering around, you’ll stay at the house, alright?”

At this she seemed to resist the idea for a moment, before nodding. “I’m just worried about him. I trust you, but how are we going to check on him and get him out?”

Quiet fills the truck as they both sit in anxiety while turning over different ideas in their own minds. He breaks the silence first.

"Well, I think the easiest way is to get the law involved. I've known Dale since I moved here, him and Irene went to school together. He's good people. We can have him come out and check in on them." He seemed sure this was the best course of action, but Layla worried at her bottom lip.

"What if... what if that makes things worse? Like, if they hide him or hurt him?" She had only ever read about things like this. And even then, they weren't quite like this situation. The stories she'd read were detective novels. Ones where once the police closed in and the bad guy had nowhere to go, they lost it and hurt the person they were stalking or had kidnapped. It never ended well.

He gave a low hum at what she brought up, it was a fair thing to be worried about. "I could have him over soon, invite him early in the day and we could tell him what happened. Make sure he's gonna be on our side, and then when we go over to check, it'll be me and him together. They won't be able to hurt him if both of us are there little one. We'll make sure he stays safe, alright?"

She contemplated this for a moment, anxiety eating at her. She wanted to say no, that she didn't want him to be in danger, but she also knew he was an adult who knew what he was doing. Had been an adult far longer than she had been, having only just turned 18 at the end of winter.

A shaky sigh passed her lips before she nodded. "Alright. When can we have Mr. Dale over? I don't... I'm not gonna sleep well until we get that poor boy out of there." Her voice had started out strong, but trailed off, barely above a whisper by the end of it.

Shifting to rub soothing circles on her back, he looked out the windshield. "Well, we oughta tell Irene all this, run our plan by her. She's the brains, after all." A soft, affectionate chuckle left him at the joke.

With a bit lighter hearts, the two of them got out of the truck and made their way inside to run their plan by aunt Irene. Layla had hope that aunt Irene might have a better idea than involving the police or putting uncle Andrew in harms way.

#Max Thompson Jr x Original Character #Max Thompson Jr #Dead by Daylight fluff #Dead by Daylight #fluff #hurt/comfort #canon-typical child abuse #angst with a happy ending #eventual smut #nsft

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mercurryblack · 4 years ago

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Chapter 8: Rosario

A certain Garland girl spends a peaceful evening with LLAC’s leader.

❃❃❃

“You’re late, chica.”

Rosario Garland had never been the kind of girl to make others wait. She may not have been perfect, but she prided herself on making sure that she was at least fifteen minutes early when she was meeting with anyone, regardless of the importance of their meeting.

The girl was patient if nothing else, and that trait had proved itself invaluable when she started dating Lillian, who was also an early bird. It had come to the point where it had become a friendly competition— whoever was the last to arrive would pick up a check, and vice versa.

Not that it really mattered, however— she couldn’t recall the last time she had lost to Lillian.

“Of course you’re here already. Why is it that you always come first?” Lillian said, greeted her girlfriend with a side hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Would you prefer it if I came last?” grinned Rosario, nuzzling up to her.

Lillian shrugged. “You know, sometimes I wouldn’t mind if— wait.”

Rosario’s grin widened. “Heh. Gotcha again, Lilly.”

“Okay, I set myself up for that one.” Lillian sighed, her cheeks turning pink as she understood the entendre. Pretending that she wasn’t caught off guard, she coughed loudly and continued. “So, what have you been up to these past few days, Rosa?”

Rosario let out a long breath as she answered. “Ohhhhh, y’know, the usual. I’ve been helping my parents with th’ Dulcinea in my downtime, and making sure Sirocco and Socorro stay out of my room. School’s been drop-dead boring, though. Pbbbllltt.” She blew a noisy raspberry. “I shoulda become a Huntress like Dad used to be.”

Lillian nodded, as the two started to walk. “It’s got its ups and downs. How’s the restaurant doing, anyhow?”

“Pretty well. We got flatscreens installed, so with the Festival upcoming, it’s reached the point where we don’t have to eat leftovers from the day’s menu any longer.” Rosario rolled her eyes. “I know it’s saving Lien, but papa’s got a butt-load of dosh saved up from old contracts. You think he’d be less of a tightwad.”

“Eh, it’s practical. Huntsman mindset and all that.” Lillian shrugged. After a moment, she smirked and gently elbowed Rosario. “Maybe your folks should’ve invested in a McGarland’s franchise instead.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Rosario scoffed, shaking her head. Her brown hair swayed across her shoulders. “Y’know, I asked mamá about doing that a while back, and she said that— word for word— ‘she’d sooner shove her head in a boiling fry vat than ever involve herself with her shit-eating malaka of an idiot brother ever again.’”

Lillian nodded, humming pensively. “This ‘idiot brother’… the same one who tried to take her as his wife? Helios something-or-other?” She asked.

“Apollo, actually, and yeah.” Rosario replied. “I never actually met the guy, don’t really want to. All I know ‘bout it’s that papá found out and beat him up in some ritual fight, and won the right to marry mamá, and they eloped to Mistral City and lived happily ever after, blah blah blah. Just the same story they tell me on every single anniversary of theirs.”

“You swamp clans are a laugh a minute, aren’t you?” Lillian remarked dryly.

“Tell me about it. I’ll take the Dulcinea over being sent away to Laurelboros anyday.”

“If I get another break, I’ll try and pay you a visit over at your place. Who knows what my feminine charms could bring, hm?” Lillian half-jokingly suggested.

Rosario laughed. “Yeah, that’d be a hoot— see how many poor schmucks try and hit on the biggest lesbian in all of Mistral.” She said. “But enough about me, Lilly— what about you? Anything new in your life, my dear Huntress?” She asked, leaning her head sideways and curiously raising an eyebrow.

“It’s been… stressful. You heard about the whole SYBR case in the news, right?”

Rosario nodded. Days prior, the news of the two members’ deaths had flooded the news outlets. While the details of the case still remained confidential, the media hadn’t shied away from the gruesome way in which the murders had taken place. “Yeah, Dad was pretty shaken up about it. He used to be pretty close with Yaara and Berilo— well, all of them, really. They were in the same year, I think.” She bit her lower lip. “What about it?”

Lillian sighed. “Well, we’ve been assigned to help out with it.”

“Yeesh. How’s that going?” asked Rosario, wincing in surprise.

“Right now, the whole thing is shitty. It was done neatly, whoever did it made sure they weren’t leaving any clues.” Lillian pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“Ugh, we haven’t made any progress since the initial investigation. I feel like dead weight.”

Rosario affirmingly placed a hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder, giving it a gentle rub. “Hey, hey, don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m sure you and your compadres will find out who did it. Who knows? Maybe you just haven’t looked in the right place yet.”

Lillian turned to the Garland girl, her eyes half-lidded and her expression unamused. “Really. Not the right place. In the exact place where they were murdered, Rosario?”

“ … Okay, not my best moment of reassurance, but you know what I mean.” The Garland girl winced.

Lillian rolled her eyes. “Sure I do, cabeza hueca.”

Rosario glowered. “I may be stupid—”

“Yes.” Lillian cut her off, visibly holding back a laugh.

“This is you getting back at me for that “came last” bit, isn’t it?”

“Also yes.”

***

After twenty minutes’ worth of a pleasant stroll, the pair finally made it to the upper cliffs near the base of Haven Academy. It was mainly a residential area, but just behind the pagoda-style houses was a cozy picnic spot overlooking the mountain’s majestic waterfall. Only a select few were in the know, yet it was a popular dating spot among those few.

So it was just as well that they were here now, in the evening when nobody was about to interrupt them.

Lillian had thought it would be a good idea to bring Rosario to a place that wasn’t a restaurant. The Garland girl had more or less grown up in one, so a change of scenery was best for both of them. Undoing a backpack that Rosario had handed off to her earlier on, she tossed a blanket to Rosario, who spread it out on the grass while Lillian undid the cloth surrounding their meal’s basket.

The couple ate their food— a pair of bocata-style sandwiches the Garland had made herself— as they overlooked the city. It made each of them drift away from the issues in their minds; doubts, worries, and problems fading to the back as they took in the serene moment.

Naturally, Rosario figured it was a bit quiet.

“Uh…” She began, attempting to come up with an appropriate point for conversation. “So, Lilly, how’s your training going? The Vytal Festival’s coming up in a couple’a weeks after all, right?”

Lillian coughed on her bite of food. “Oh, yeah, right. Vytal.” She had almost forgotten about LLAC’s prior plans for the festival. For a second, it seemed like only yesterday that she and her team had been drilling for their matches.

“My cousin Robin— she’s in her second year, I think you’ve met— she’s popped around the shop once or twice while you were there. She’s entered her team already, says they really have a shot at the championship.” Rosario continued. “You could probably kick her butt, though.”

Lillian nodded. “I’ve run into her a couple of times. Her teammate… Kogane or something? She went and bought a couple of new Mistrali-styled uniforms for me and Am when we first arrived in Haven, after bawling us out for wearing what she called ‘unfashionable’ Atlesian outfits.” She huffed disparagingly. “Yeah, as if her three-inch heels are any kind of improvement over a tac suit, but whatever.”

She paused, taking a bite out of her sandwich. “Oh, and just so you know, I could kick your cousin’s butt. No sweat. But I doubt it’d happen anyways.”

“Whff’a maffr? Iff’ere—mllpp— s’there a problem?” Rosario asked, swallowing a particularly large bite as she turned to Lillian.

“No… it’s just that I think it’ll be much better for LLAC to not participate in the festival altogether. We promised to help Detective Yuen with solving the SYBR case.” She pursed her lips. “So I think it’s safe to say that we’re not going to be fighting anytime soon.”

Rosario threw her arms up, stunned. “Not going to fight? Are you shitting me? I’ve seen you guys throw down in exhibitions, remember— between that goth’s agility, your sister’s durability, the hat kid’s unpredictability, and your strength, you’re totally fit to win it! You’re one of the best fighters I know, amiguita, no way are they gonna keep you from the Festival!”

Lillian rolled her eyes. “Well, be that as it may, it still won’t change the fact that we’re busy with the murder investigation, and this year’s festival is being hosted in Vale. It’s too far away, no way are we going to get a pass from Detective Yuen to compete.” She replied.

“Man.” Rosario muttered, shaking her head. “That just ain’t right. You talked to the rest of the team about this yet?”

“Not yet, no, but I figured I’d tell them tomorrow. If they agree with me, I’ll talk to Professor Lionheart about withdrawing from the tournament.” She scratched the back of her neck. “And if they don’t… well, I’ll figure something out. But that’s not important right this minute.”

However, the nagging thought of how her teammates might not agree to her proposition stayed in the back of Lillian’s mind. Either way, she was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Seeing the girl’s troubled expression, Rosario leaned in to rest against the crook of Lillian’s neck. “Okay, I get it. Enough serious talk.” She said, before turning her attention again to the view from the mountaintop.

“I never realized how pretty it is when you get just a little higher up.”

She lived in the area just underneath the cliffs, and had little business anywhere higher, so she’d never paid much consideration to coming to the summit before. Now that she did, she was slightly awestruck by how small Mistral City looked from up on high.

“It’s even prettier when you see it all the way up, right from the academy grounds.” Lillian said, her voice calm.

“Lucky. Means you get to take it in all the time.”

“Well, after a few years there, you’ll get tired of the view and much rather be down in the city proper.” Lillian shifted her shoulder. “But do you want to know about the one view I’ll never get tired of?”

“Sure. Where’s that?” Rosario asked, looking up to face her.

“Here,” Lillian gently placed her hand atop Rosario’s own and stared at the city below them, before turning her gaze to her girlfriend. “Right beside you, Rosa.”

After a moment’s pause, Rosario pulled her beanie down and averted her gaze, trying to hide her suddenly flushed face. It was usually her who threw around corny romantic remarks and double entendres, but when Lillian said something to make her blush…

Well, she could dish it out, but she wasn’t very good at taking it.

“You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen, you know that?” Lillian said, giving the Garland girl’s cheek a soft brush as she gazed into Rosario’s turquoise orbs.

“Yeah, and you have the cheesiest compliments.” Rosario replied, still blushing. “But thanks, I like yours too. They’re, uh…” She trailed off, too distracted by Lillian’s eye contact.

They lapsed back into silence, looking over the cityscape dotted by lights under a darkening evening sky.

“…Time like this, kinda makes you wish this moment could last forever, doesn’t it?” Rosario asked offhandedly.

“You mean, this moment with your hand on my abs?”

Rosario tilted her head downwards, and noticed that her left hand had indeed found its way onto Lillian’s stomach.

“...You mind?” She asked in a faux innocent tone, glancing back up.

“Hmf,” Lillian smiled, wrapping an arm around Rosario’s shoulder. “Not even a bit.”

Rosario grinned, slowly closing her eyes as she melted into the embrace. “Then, yeah… this is a moment I could live with.”

#team llac #team llac fic #rosario garland #lillian armilde #fanfic #fan fiction #rwby fan fiction #rwby oc #rwbyoc #rwby

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guu · 5 years ago

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This will be long and purely for ppl concerned abt my situation who dont already know it. It gets a bit graphic; it is abt abuse afterall

alright, so i feel like for any curious parties i should go ahead and air out my personal laundry regarding my living situation, ya kno, since i’ve already had people telling me i should have just murdered my partner by now,

and i’ve had so-called concerned asks abt my kids in the past that any actual asks in good faith i’m instantly paranoid of (ex: so why do you willingly (yes, willingly) keep your kids in an abusive household) *before i was able to start amassing funds and making solid plans to get us out of here.

abuse looks different everywhere. i can see why people would wonder of the state of my children. i’m not saying “harhar well my situation aint THAT bad i mean he’s not a drunkard beating us on the regular” no no, i am a broken man.

like, mentally and emotionally.

but first, to my sweet children. xander and leon, going on 10 and 2 respectively. i bat heads with charles (my partner) when the need arises to keep them safe physically, emotionally, and mentally. perhaps i’ve been more battered because of, but i can take it for them. so no, i haven’t been a wimp who simply hasn’t learned karate to protect us (wtf? yes i was told that)

xander is a lively and enthusiastic kid, very empathetic and funny. he loves school, undertale, baldi’s basics, animal crossing, writing stories, making art, playing with his lil sibling, you name it. he’s inspiring. and yes, he loves his father very much.

previously when it seemed i would be able to get us in to live with my mom, unbeknownst that her situation wouldn’t allow for it, and she simply told me far too late bc she didn’t wanna hurt me. xander made it very clear he didn’t want us to split. he cried. he would ask not to talk about the subject.

all this has put indecision in me. i mean, he would be hurt, even if i could explain why it needs to be done. but staying with charles hurts him, in ways i don’t think he understands bc no, his spirit remains shining, unbroken. and i’m thankful for that and want to keep things that way.

at some point when he was younger i’d found out that charles had decided suddenly that xander was old enough to spank. he has it pretty solid in his mind that some level of physical discipline is needed to avoid “what happened with (me)” ie, my parents “spoiling” me. (even tho my actual at one point drunken bastard dad spanked me and it didn’t help.

i had to actually link him to articles on why, no, hitting ur kids isn’t doing what u want it to do, and could even do the opposite, but above all else tf is wrong with u? stop it, and hammer it in at every turn to chip him down till he finally agreed to stop.

i breathed a sigh of relief, now leon would be spared that once the bastard decided they were old enough.

that’s that part outta the way. as for me physically it doesn’t happen anymore but i have been smacked, punched in the stomach, choked, thrown down, raped at gunpoint, and put into submission holds.

he’s still a felon for one of those!

presently, he’s mostly just a fucking grump and a constant downer, a stressor on me greatly. he’s out of work and still sits on his ass playing video games making me do everything. bc he gaslights me that i put it upon myself to do everything bc i “dont like the way he does it” which is either far far too late or not at all unless i remind him 50 times, which ofc pisses him off and makes me a nag.

he’s cheated on me, repeatedly flirted with women, forced me off HRT and i’m currently pretending not to be a man to keep the peace, as he has stated he’s straight and could not continue to love me if i kept on my transition.

i’ll know more tomorrow abt solid PLANS but I've had to tell myself the reason why things will work this time is bc I've got my own source of income now. And with a car I won't lose it.

I'm not scared of the powerlessness of living off someone else and the constant threat of homelessness. Honestly Charles is so bad with money I'm quite optimistic. Itll be a relief actually having all the bill's only in my name. Last year's tax returns he nearly gave me an ulcer spending 1k on a gacha game.

I've heard p much everything someone's 2 cents have been in my 11 years with this man, and yes I shoulda booked it a longgg time ago but the past is outta my hands. What matters is I'm doing it now.

I'm tired. So tired. But I'm fighting back still. My kids are ok and I'll do whatever it takes to see to it that it stays that way under my care.

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shakespeareanwannabe · 4 years ago

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Play by Play

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x F!OC/Santiago Garcia x Rebecca Cooke

Summary: Santi gets in way too deep with this woman that he barely knows, but finds that sometimes a leap of faith can be worth it.

Warnings: References to parental issues, age gap in a relationship (both participants are well over the age of consent), child abuse/child trauma, misogyny, swearing, PTSD, low self-esteem

A/N: Hi everyone! So, I started writing this story way out of order. Started with Protective Instincts, jumped to Best Laid Plans, went backwards to Strange Comforts, then came all the way back to the beginning with New Beginnings. But that’s because I was just writing them as they came to me (or, if I’m being honest, as @darksideofclarke provided me with golden headcanons that I just expanded on). But now, I’ve sat down and written a general plan for this multichapter story that is turning out to be so astoundingly different from everything else I’ve ever written.

So, I’ll be posting in chronological order now, and I’ll make an announcement here in the A/N about where Protective Instincts, Strange Comforts, and Best Laid Plans fit into the whole scheme of things.

Anyway, here’s chapter 2!

**********

“Hey Jackie,” Santi greeted as he strolled through the front door of the clinic.

“Evening, Santiago. How’re you?” the red headed receptionist replied with a smile, looking up briefly before resuming her typing.

“Same old, same old,” he replied, eyes scanning the clinic. “How’re John and the kids?”

She smiled brightly at him. “Lorelai got accepted to Clemson with a scholarship!”

“That’s amazing, you must be so proud,” he replied, turning his attention back to her when he didn’t find who he was looking for.

“Why is Jackie proud?”

He smiled and felt his face heat up as he turned to face Rebecca, who was just slightly limping through the front door. She was dressed in her usual artfully professional work attire and toting a gym bag that was undoubtedly stuffed with her workout clothes.

“Hey Bex,” he greeted as he slid over to her. “Want some help with that?”

“Ugh, please,” she whined. “I spent the day running after three kindergarten classes, and my hip and back are aching.”

Santi relieved her of the bag and offered her his elbow, a slight tremor running up his spine as she leaned into him.

Three months. That’s how long he’d been going to physiotherapy with Steve. It also happened to be exactly how long he’d been working up the courage to ask Rebecca out.

That first day they met, he’d assumed it was the same kind of visceral reaction he’d had with other women in the past. She was stunningly beautiful, sarcastic, and witty. In other words, just his type. But he wasn’t looking for anything at that moment. He’d just gotten out of a year of trying the domestic thing with Yovanna, and it had crashed and burned spectacularly. He had a new home; he had his friends surrounding him once more. He was good. He was solid. He decided then and there not to do anything to screw up the upward trajectory he was on. That, plus he didn’t want to make things awkward for Charlie, who had a business to run.

So, he’d ignored it. Pushed down the desire to engage and romance, and focused instead on trying to get his knees back under him. But then, their appointment times had lined up and they spent their entire sessions chatting with each other and sassing Charlie. Then it happened again. And again. And, before long, Santi found himself listening in on Rebecca when she booked her appointment times with Charlie so he could book the same slots with Steve.

Three times a week for three months, he spent two hours talking and laughing with this resilient, funny, and kind woman.

That first week had been the introductory stuff.

**********

“So, what are you in for?” she asked, a sly grin on her face.

He grimaced. “Does a lifetime of poor choices count?”

She snorted, burying her face in her arms in an attempt to hide her embarrassment at the unladylike sound. “I’m pretty sure that’s why most of us are here.”

He nodded slowly in acquiescence. “Even you?”

She sighed as she settled further into her table, the heat from the heating pad soothing her sore muscles. “I got into a bad car wreck seven months ago. Idiot driver T-boned me when I was on my way back to work from an in-school art class. Fractured my hip, got a nasty concussion, and a wicked case of whiplash. I got lucky when the concussion symptoms stopped after a few weeks, but I had to come here to get my butt kicked to fix my hip and neck.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say. Being military, it was sometimes easy to forget that the civilians they were trying so desperately to protect could also be taken down by something as simple as crossing the street or taking a drive.

Rebecca leaned herself up on her elbows to fix him with a thoughtful look. “You know what? You’re the first person to say that to me.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded slowly as she relaxed back into the pillow beneath her. “My mom took the ‘Woe is me, my poor baby is hurt’ route and the doctors were more concerned with making sure I was physically okay than checking in on my emotional state. So, thank you for that.”

He shrugged as easily as he could lying down. “My buddy Will always says that sometimes the best thing you can offer someone are words, so they know you’re there.”

“Will sounds like a smart guy. How’d you two meet?”

“We were put into the same squad in the military. Worked together for years.”

“Ah, I shoulda guessed you were military,” she groaned as she shifted slightly, moving quickly to catch the heating pad before it slipped. “You’ve got that kinda look.”

“You mean the beat to shit look?” he sighed, turning his head away from her to stare at the ceiling fan rotating slowly above him.

A poke in the arm startled his attention back to her. She had strained herself across the gap between the tables, barely able to poke his arm with her middle finger without sliding off.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she replied gently. “I just meant that you look like the kind of guy who has seen too much bad in this world. Which isn’t fair. Nobody should have to carry that kind of burden.” Santi struggled to swallow; his emotions all caught up in his throat and his skin tingling from the slight brush of her finger against his arm. “I’m not gonna say ‘thank you for your service’, because I feel like that’s just an empty platitude at this point. But I will say that I hope you find a way to make that burden just a little lighter.”

He looked over at her again and smiled. “Thank you.”

**********

Okay, so the introductory stuff got heavier than Santi anticipated. Parental problems, traumatic events, talk of his service. He was in heavy with this girl and he didn’t even know her last name.

That came in week two.

**********

“Basketball or baseball?”

“Baseball. Same question.”

“Baseball. Hockey or football?”

“Football. Same question.”

“Hockey. Cats or dogs?” Rebecca grunted as she kicked her leg out, struggling against the sliding weights attached to her injured leg by a cuff and a cord.

“Dogs. Same question to you,” Santi replied, voice distorted as he squatted on the FitVibe.

“Dogs. You know, you can’t just say ‘same question’ every time it’s your turn. It kind of defeats the purpose of the game,” she gasped as she finished her first set, twisting around to grab her water bottle from the chair behind her.

Santi shrugged as the machine stopped vibrating, giving him 90 seconds to rest before his next set started.

“Did you have a dog growing up?” he questioned as he sipped from his own bottle.

She nodded as she gulped down her icy water, Santi trying and failing to keep his eyes off her delicate neck and chest, which were gleaming with a sheen of sweat. “A St. Bernard. Cookie. I loved that dog, but I hated his name. I mean, really? Cookie Cooke? What were my parents thinking?”

Santi chuckled as his machine began counting down to start the next set. “Probably that it was cute? Who knows? Your turn…” He grunted as he carefully squatted as the pad began to shake again. He closed his eyes against the twinge of pain and missed Rebecca blatantly staring at his ass before beginning her next set.

“Star Wars or Star Trek?”

“Star Wars. Books or movies?”

“Both. Goonies or Stand by Me?”

“Can’t go wrong with Goonies.”

“Ugh, and here I was just thinking that you had good taste! Who in their right mind picks Goonies over Stand by Me?” she teased.

He shot her a glance out of the corner of his eye. Even blurry from the vibrations coursing through his body, she was the prettiest girl he’d seen in a long time.

“Never said I was in my right mind, sweetheart,” he winked and that giggle that he was so enchanted by escaped her lips again.

**********

Week three was when he really tried to pump the breaks on his rapidly developing feelings for her. Not only had Yovanna sent him a box of his stuff via airmail, but he became privy to some information that assured him that this thing between them would never work.

**********

“Don’t tell me you’re done already!” he called from the Kin-Com as Rebecca practically skipped over to the table closest to him. She had her good days and her bad days with her injured leg, and Santi liked chatting with her the past nine days, but he loved chatting with her on her good days. There was this spark, this energy she radiated when she was feeling good that he just wanted to bathe in.

“This is what you get for showing up late, Santi! You’re strapped into the death machine and I get a massage to wrap things up.” She shot him a bright smile before lying down on the table, just out of his range of sight thanks to the half partition wall that separated the machine from the rest of the clinic.

“Don’t tease the old man, Rebecca,” Charlie cautioned in a faux-mocking tone.

“Hey, if I’m an old man, what does that make you? Frankie is two months older than me!” he pointed out, pressing against the mechanical arm that was slowly manipulating his leg.

“Apparently the term is ‘panther’,” she replied, straight-faced. “Learned that one at ladies’ night after one of my friends had a few too many and found out Frankie’s 10 years older than me. Me, I call it lucky.”

“Yeah, you better,” he warned as the machine stopped moving. A quick look at the computer screen told him he had finished his set for the day, and he quickly unstrapped himself and hopped down, walking slightly creakily to the table next to where Charlie was carefully massaging and manipulating Rebecca’s hip.

“Your fiancé’s ten years older than you, Chuck?” Rebecca asked, her eyes closed as she tried to relax her aching joints.

Charlie shot Santi an unamused glare as he lowered himself onto the table and laid back, Steve approaching with the cryo-cuffs and ice machine.

“Yeah, Frankie’s 40 and I’m 30. Why?” she asked, an accusation hiding deep in her voice as her body tensed up.

Inwardly, Santi was nodding approvingly. Frankie sometimes got too in his own head about his age, especially in relation to his fiancée’s, and Santi knew how much Frankie doubted himself when it came to their relationship. Charlie was a successful business owner and college graduate. Frankie was a retired soldier who almost lost his pilot’s license because he’d been desperate for money when his girlfriend got pregnant and knew just how lucrative drug running could be. It wasn’t difficult to see why Frankie felt so insecure about the relationship, but Charlie was so good at getting him out of that headspace, and even better about shutting down anyone who had anything negative to say about her man.

“Nothing!” Rebecca was quick to reply. “I was just curious. Age is just a number, right? Besides, I saw you two together when he came to pick you up that one time, remember? You two are cute as hell. He just doesn’t look 40.” Rebecca rolled her head to look at Santi, and he felt his own hackles raise a little, suddenly self-conscious of his greying hair and his weak knees. Then, she smiled softly at him and, if he wasn’t fooling himself, a warm affection infused her gaze. “Neither do you.”

He felt all the blood rush to his face and once again had to bat down the idea of asking her out. A box full of old mail and knickknacks had just arrived on his porch that morning from Australia. Domesticity didn’t work for him, and even casually seeing someone felt like too much of an effort. Still, there was something about that look in her eyes, the easy repartee they had going on, the support they gave each other during their workouts, that told him that, if he was going to try again, she was the one to try with.

“Hey Becky!” a loud voice boomed across the clinic. “Where you at?”

Rebecca smiled apologetically at him and Charlie before raising her voice just a little to call back, “I’m over here!” She turned her attention back to them, looking almost sadly at Santi as she said, “Sorry guys, that’s my date for tonight.”

A tall guy sauntered over from the reception desk and Santi felt himself reacting instinctively.

He was tall, well over 6 foot, and wearing a fancy, well-fitted navy suit with a white button down underneath, no tie and the first two buttons undone.

“Ah, there’s my girl!” he leaned down and gave her a claiming kiss, almost like he knew that Santi was watching.

“Uh, hi Derek. I thought you were going to wait outside?” she asked, looking away from them all as she raised a hand to her cheek.

“I was, doll, but I’ve been out there for twenty minutes. Our reservation is set for 7:30, and it takes ten minutes to drive out there, so go get yourself cute and let’s go.”

“Uh…” Rebecca looked between Santi and Charlie while worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

Santi had never wanted so badly to punch someone he hadn’t even officially met. He wanted to speak up, tell Derek that Rebecca was already cute in her leggings and off-the-shoulder t-shirt. Tell him that he can’t just barge in and interrupt an appointment in a place of business.

Charlie leaned into his line of sight and subtly shook her head and, deep down, he knew she was right. If he punched him, or called him out, he would be just as bad. Plus, what right did he have? He’d spent a few hours with this woman and had zero claim on her time or her attention.

“It’s okay, Rebecca. We’re done for today anyway. You can use the staff bathroom to wash up if you’d like,” Charlie assured, helping Rebecca off the table.

“Okay, thanks Charlie. Santi?” He slowly slid his eyes up to meet hers and read the apology there clear as day. “I’ll see you next week, okay?”

He cleared his throat. “Sure thing. See you then.”

Rebecca smiled, a hint of relief overtaking her features as she sighed. “Good. Have a good weekend everybody!”

She headed towards the staff bathroom with her gym bag in tow and ‘Derek’ left, presumably to go and wait in the car like he was supposed to.

“Frat boy lookin’ douche,” Santi grumbled under his breath.

“Yeah, and the bag it came in,” Charlie muttered as she wiped down Rebecca’s table.

“Isn’t he a little young for her?” Santi asked rhetorically. “He looks like he just stepped off the stage at college graduation.”

“Dude, she’s like, 25. They’re probably the same age.” Charlie flung the white towel she had been using over her shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone I told you that. Patient confidentiality and all that.”

Santi felt his heart sink but told himself it was for the best. Now he had a good reason for not asking her out. What 25-year-old would want to date a broken-down old man anyway?

**********

Week four didn’t happen, and it was the one time Santiago Garcia considered himself a coward.

He’d promised. He’d explicitly told her that he would see her the following week, but he’d called at the last second and rescheduled with Steve for times when he knew she would be at work.

He just didn’t know how to face her. Yes, he had no claim to her time or attention. Yes, he’d spent a grand total of 18 hours in her presence. No, he had never explicitly asked if she was seeing anyone. And, yes, he had sworn off dating for a while, so he had no right to get his back up about her having a date.

And yet, the thought of seeing her, all smiley and happy after her date with ‘Derek’ made him sick to his stomach.

Week five he tried to reschedule again. He picked a time slot that aligned with the closing of the museum she worked at, knowing she often stayed a little longer after closing to chat with coworkers and stare at the art. He should have known, however, that things rarely ever turned out the way he wanted them to.

**********

“Have you been avoiding me?”

The soft voice made him trip over his feet, his left foot tangling in the rungs of the rope ladder he was currently working with.

He looked up and met Rebecca’s soft eyes, tinged with sadness. He sighed and walked around her, stooping to pick up his water bottle before perching himself on a padded wooden block.

“No. Why?”

“Because I haven’t seen you in a week and Charlie wouldn’t tell me why,” she huffed, wrapping her arms around her chest as she moved to lean against the wall across from him.

“I was busy.”

“Really? Huh,” she chuckled sarcastically. “So, this has nothing to do with Derek coming in here?”

He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “Nope.”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Okay, Santiago. Whatever…” She turned and began to walk away, out of the back room where he was working out and back into the main gym area.

It was then that he noticed her clothing. A really pretty black blouse with a purple and red floral pattern and a black pencil skirt that pulled his eyes straight to her ass, and no red gym bag hanging from her arm.

“You not staying to work out?”

She turned back to him and laughed humorlessly. “No. I called reception and asked if you were coming in today. Gwen wasn’t going to say, but then Jackie got on the phone and told me you were here. Apparently, she’s got a soft spot for you. So, I left work early because I couldn’t stand not knowing if you were mad at me.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” he mumbled looking down at the silky fabric of his gym shorts, guilt beginning to gnaw at his core.

“Oh, I’m getting that message loud and clear,” she snapped, marching back over to him and getting right up in his face. “But I did. Because I was worried that I had offended you with my age comment, or that I made you uncomfortable by saying that you didn’t look your age, or that I somehow upset you by not telling you that I was, unfortunately, going on a date that night.”

He stood up, standing nose to nose with her. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, we both know you don’t owe me anything. I hope you and Derek had a wonderful time together.”

“Screw you,” she seethed.

Santi scoffed and shook his head, turning away from her to escape into the bathroom.

Once he had the door locked behind him, he sighed heavily and splashed cold water on his face.

This. This was why he didn’t want to seriously date anyone. He inevitably would screw things up. Or, worse, he’d ruin things before he even had the chance to really start with someone.

Fuck, Yovanna had been right. He somehow always managed to dim whatever light there was around him. Rebecca’s warmth and energy were so bright, so addicting, that he had thought it possible to bask in them without hurting her. She was like the Sun, drawing him in even when he wanted to stay away. Nobody could hurt the Sun. It was so warm and so bright and so uplifting that it couldn’t be damaged. Yet, there he was.

Santi sighed and stared at himself in the mirror, resolving to fix things next week. He’d switch back to his regular time and pray to a god he wasn’t sure he believed in that she would be willing to hear him out. That was his long-term plan. His immediate plan was to get through the day’s session and go home to drink that bottle of whisky he’d been saving.

Opening the door, he took two steps onto the rubber flooring of the back room and froze.

Soft sobs echoed in the airy space, and he felt his heart sink down to his toes as he followed the sound back to that padded block, finding Rebecca hunched over on it, a hand pressed delicately to her mouth as she tried to muffle the sound.

He grimaced to himself, knowing he was the cause of her distress. Hesitantly, he reached out and tried to place a gentle hand on her shoulder, but Rebecca caught sight of his shoes first and jerked back in surprise, looking up at him with tears gleaming like diamonds in her eyes under the harsh florescent lights.

He slowly crouched down in front of her, balancing on the balls of his feet.

“I’m an idiot,” he started, and felt his heart lift slightly as she choked on a laugh. “And I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head at him, desperately swiping at her tears. “No, you were right. We barely know each other, so we don’t owe each other anything. I had no right to get mad at you. For all I know, you had a family emergency that made you switch your appointment times.”

Santi was already shaking his head. “Your instincts were good, sweetheart. I did change times to avoid you, but not because I was mad at you.”

“The age comments—”

“Were sweet,” he finished for her, meeting her gaze for the first time since he had lowered himself down. “If you had said anything bad about Frankie, I wouldn’t have had time to argue with you before Charlie jumped down your throat.” She laughed again and his heart lifted just a tad higher. “And I appreciate you saying I don’t look my age. I always think the grey gives me away,” he added wryly.

“It suits you,” she rebutted quickly. “Not many people look good with the salt and pepper, grey thing. All I can think of are Idris Elba, George Clooney and you.”

Santi laughed loudly. “Well, I will take that compliment.”

“Good,” she nodded decisively. “Now get off your knees before Steve comes and yells at you.”

She shifted over on the block and he laboriously heaved himself to his feet, coming to sit next to her, a few inches of space between their bodies. They sat in a cloud of quiet calm, both knowing that there was more to resolve but unwilling to break the silence.

“Maybe it’s not my place, but I just think you can do a lot better than Douchebag Derek,” Santi finally said. “No offense,” he added quickly, silently berating himself for the slip.

She giggled at the nickname. “No offense taken. It was actually my first time ever meeting him,” she admitted quietly.

Pope’s mind rapidly went over the brief interaction and he felt his blood begin to boil. “But…”

She nodded sadly. “I know. He’s the son of the museum curator, so I felt like I couldn’t turn him down without affecting my job. And you know how much I love my job.”

He did know. She was the educational liaison for the local art museum. She led field trips that came through the museum, explaining different art pieces and their historical and artistic significance, while also leading the students through art lessons on how to either imitate an artist’s style or create their own styles. Occasionally, she would also make trips to low-income schools in the area through an outreach program, going into classrooms to teach art lessons and give the teachers a break. It was on her way back from one of those in school visits that she got into her car accident, but it hadn’t diminished her enthusiasm for her work. In fact, it had made her desperate to get back into the museum and back into the classroom.

“But he kissed you. And he called you Becky,” Santi commented, confused.

Rebecca allowed her head to fall into her palm. “I know…apparently his mom really talked me up and made me seem really desperate and really into him. Plus, he seems to think he’s God’s gift to women, so it was the perfect storm of misogynistic crap.”

Santi was shaking his head. “Next time, tell me. I don’t care if you have to do it in front of the guy, just let me know and I’ll get him out of your hair in ten seconds, tops.”

She sighed and shuffled closer to him. “Thanks Santi. It’s nice to know that someone has my back.” She ended up pressed right against his side and gently lowered her head to his shoulder.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

**********

That day marked the end of Santi sticking to his guns about not dating. After that, it became an increasingly difficult game that he was playing with himself.

Get closer to her, get to know her more, be that shoulder for her to lean on when she needed it, but don’t cross that line. Just because she said he didn’t look his age; it didn’t mean she wanted to be with someone his age. It didn’t reduce the 15-year age gap between them. She said it was nice to have someone have her back, so that’s who he became. Her constant cheerleader, her confidant, her friend. It was the first female friend Santi had had since Charlie. Before Charlie, never.

They exchanged numbers that day, and soon his days became filled with texting her different stories about his day, like how he ended up at the hospital with Benny because the idiot accidentally put a nail through his finger when he was helping nail down Santi’s new kitchen floor, or how he couldn’t move after a session where Steve had him in the therapy pool for 45 minutes. She’d send him funny quotes she heard her ‘kids’ say on field trips or in the classroom, or photos of paintings in the museum with ridiculous captions.

After she laid her head on his shoulder, he knew he loved her. After she sent him a photo of Queen Elizabeth the First’s portrait with the caption “wanna thank your mother for a butt like that”, he knew he was in love with her. And after she showed him a picture of her childhood dog Cookie and her at age 6, he knew he was drowning in her and that his only salvation would be asking her out.

Still, he kept drowning for months.

“Santi?” He turned his attention to Rebecca, still leaning gently on his arm as they stood outside the change room. “You okay? I lost you there for a second.”

“Yeah, Bex, I’m fine,” he smiled warmly at her and felt a silent thrill go through him when she got a little flustered. “Uh, Jackie was excited because Lorelai got accepted at Clemson.”

“Wow, good for her.” They both paused, a slight awkwardness hanging over them. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you out there?”

“Oh…uh, yeah.”

The door closed with a quiet click and Santi wanted to kick himself. They had spent weeks dancing around this thing, and it was pissing him off to no end.

He had never been like this. Not since he asked out Libby Stiles in the fourth grade. Why was this one girl sending his head spinning? Okay, he knew why, but it wasn’t fair. He could ask out any girl he ran into, except the one he wanted.

“Hey!” Santi turned around at the hissed greeting and found Charlie pumping up an exercise ball behind him. “If you don’t ask her out, I am going to ask her out for you!” she whispered.

Santi took a cautionary glance back at the door before stepping over to her. “What are you talking about?”

“Cut the shit, Santi!” she huffed quietly. “You think I haven’t noticed that all of your appointment times line up with hers? Or that you spend more time talking to her than you do actually doing your stretches? Or that you get this sad sap look in your eyes when you look at her?”

“And what the fuck do you know about it, Charlie?” he snarled under his breath.

“Because it’s the same way I look at Frankie, you dork!” she smirked. “It’s the same way Frankie looks at me, it’s the way Benny looks at every fucking Ring Girl who walks by. Oh, and it’s the same way she looks at you when you’re not paying attention. Now, get this ridiculous sexual tension out of my clinic and ask her out!”

“How?” he exhaled. “And what do we do? Where do I take her?”

“Jesus, Santi…” she breathed, straightening herself and running her arm over her sweaty forehead. “Who are you and what did you do with Santiago Garcia?”

He rolled his eyes and stomped over to the stationary bike. A minute later, Charlie rejoined him after adding the exercise ball to the ball bin.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she murmured softly, one hand on his back.

“I know,” he apologized, grinning at her and nudging her with his elbow.

“It’s just clear as fucking day, Santi. What’s holding you up?” Charlie crossed her arms and leaned against the handlebars of the bike he was riding. “And don’t say it’s the age gap. Not to me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Is 15 years not a good enough reason, Chuck?”

She shrugged, leaning down to rest her chin on her arms. “Not to me it isn’t. Besides, Santi, that girl is into you.”

“Right, yeah. These looks she’s been giving me. Okay.”

“Jesus…” Charlie swore under her breath, Santi chuckling as he recognized a few Spanish curses mixed in with the English. Charlie really was Frankie’s lady. “Okay, you didn’t hear this from me, right?” Santi nodded, leaning in as far as the bike would allow him. “Those first few weeks, before you started stalking her schedule to get the same time slots? She would call in and ask Jackie what times you were coming so she could book the same times as you. That’s why Jackie told her you were in here that day you made her fucking cry in my back room. Jackie’s a hopeless romantic and has wanted you two idiots to get together from the start.”

Santi sat back, feeling like the wind had just been knocked out of him. “S-seriously?”

Charlie nodded, a smirk on her face. “Yep. And if you ask her out this week, I win the jackpot.”

“You guys have been betting on us?” he hissed, leaning forward again.

“Oh, please. Like you and the Millers weren’t taking bets on when Frankie would finally pop the question, and I know for a fact you pulled the strings on that one to turn things in your favor, Mr. Best Man,” she rolled her eyes. “Look, ask her out today and I’ll use the winnings to cover your tab at the Beer Garden tonight. Deal?”

Santi fixed her with a suspicious look. “Is this you wanting to win or is this you actually having my best interest at heart?”

Charlie gave him a light smack on the back of the head as she moved away to her desk, conveniently located between the main gym and the back room, with the therapy pool behind her.

“You know me better than that, Santiago. Now get your girl, please.”

**********

Charlie was right. She was always right. It was one of the things that drove Santiago up the fucking wall. Frankie and Charlie were the perfect pair because, between the two of them, they were right one hundred percent of the time. Ben needed advice for his next fight? Forget Will, he was going to Frankie and Frankie’s future wife. Will revamped his speech and needed someone to read it over? Send it to Mr. and Future Mrs. Morales. Santi needed to pick paint colours? He just handed the paint chips to the couple of let them go wild. When they argued, it drove Frankie nuts because his lady had a knack for being right about almost everything. (The one time she was wrong in all their years of dating was when she claimed that Mateo would be a little girl, and Frankie wasn’t going to let her live that down as long as they lived.)

This time, she was right about Santi having to ask Rebecca out, and Santi was sure that ‘Fish would have the same advice if he were to call him up. This hurry up and wait bullshit was driving him crazy, so he needed to do it now, for his own peace of mind.

“Hey, man,” Steve hustled up to him, worry etched across his face.

“Hey Steve, you okay?”

He was already shaking his head. “My brother just called. Our mom took a nasty spill down the stairs. I’m really sorry, but I’m gonna have to cut this short. You’re basically done anyway; I was just gonna do some laser work with you but we can do that on Monday. I talked to Charlie; she can set you up with the cryo cuffs.”

“Yeah, man. No worries. Hope your mom is okay.”

“Thanks, man.”

Santi watched Steve leave for a minute before getting off the glider and heading into the back room, where he knew Charlie and Rebecca were.

“Hey Santi,” Charlie called from the goalpost set up in the corner. “Did Steve talk to you?”

“Yeah. Shame about his mom.”

Charlie nodded emphatically. “She’s a sweet lady. I’ve got my fingers crossed for her.”

“Me too…” Santi watched as Charlie bent to attach a weight to Bex’s foot. “You want me to go grab a table, Chuck? No rush.”

“Sure, if you want,” she replied distractedly. “Or…I was just gonna have Rebecca kick some soccer balls to work on her range of motion. Maybe you could goal keep for her?” she shot him a sly smile.

“I’d love that,” Rebecca piped up, a touch of embarrassment washing over her at her too-enthusiastic tone. “I mean, if you’re free.”

“Sure. Yeah, I can do that,” he agreed awkwardly, moving across the room to stand in the net.

“Alright then. Rebecca, you’re in good hands. Have fun you two.” Charlie turned and sauntered away, turning back once to mouth “Ask her out, dumbass” at him.

“You ever play soccer, Bex?” he asked, adjusting his stance so he stood in the middle of the goalpost.

“Ha, no,” she replied, kicking the soccer ball over to him. “My physical exercise is limited to yoga and swimming. Anything involving a ball or a racquet or running? That would be a no from me.” Santi kicked the ball back to her as it reached his feet. “You?”

“I played some when we would go visit my cousins in Colombia, and I played for my fifth-grade team in school, but that was about it. Sometimes we would play with some of the village kids when we were in Afghanistan. Give ‘em a taste of normal for a few minutes.”

She smiled sweetly as she returned the ball to him, leg moving a little steadier this time. “That’s really great of you.”

“Not really,” he shrugged, sliding over a step to stop the ball before kicking it back to her. “We were the ones fucking up their country. It was the very least we could do. But, god, Tom hated when we did that.”

She scoffed. “Well, that’s not fair of him. Those kids deserve something at least a little fun after all the crap they have to deal with.”

Santi grunted in agreement. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Bex laughed once, low and devoid of joy. “Oh but I do.” Santi stopped the ball and meandered over to her, looking at her questioningly. “Santi, most of my job revolves around kids. You’d be surprised how many of them tell me that their daddies hit them or their mommies throw things at them or that their grandparents intentionally starve them for being bad.” Tears welled up in her eyes and Santi quenched the urge to wrap her in his arms. “I’ve made more CPS calls than I can count and, the worst part is, I never know if that kid is safe after I make the call. Santi, there’s a reason my trunk is full of kid sized snack packs, granola bars, juice boxes. The museum doesn’t cover any of it, but at least I know that, when I walk into a classroom or those kids walk into my museum, they’ll feel safe and loved, and they won’t have to worry about food for at least a day.”

“Jesus, Bex,” he sighed, a small, sad smile on his face. “And they call us the heroes.”

She let out a tear-filled laugh and wiped at the single tear that had managed to escape. “We all do our part, Santi. You play soccer with kids in war torn countries. I feed the ones who get left behind at home.”

Rebecca turned away from him, heading for the main gym when he reached out and grabbed her elbow gently, giving it a squeeze as he turned her towards him and doing his best to ignore the electricity that ran up and down his arm at her touch.

He sighed and released her, his hand coming up to rub at the curls on the back of his head.

“Look, stop me if this is way off base, but if I don’t say this I’m gonna go crazy. I…I really like you, and I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while but, uh…” he smiled wryly and chuckled, hating how she made him feel like an inexperienced teenage boy.

“Santi?” Rebecca stepped closer and entwined her fingers with his remaining hand, giving it a tight squeeze.

“Do you want to go to the Beer Garden with me tonight?” he burst, the words falling out of his mouth. “A, uh, a bunch of us are going tonight. My old squad, Charlie and Frankie. Would you like to come with us? I mean,” he felt his cheeks heat up. “Would you like to come with me? As my date?”

A sweet, giddy giggle surged past her lips. “I’d love to.”

“Really?”

She squeezed his hand, more laughter bubbling up from her lips. “Yeah. I…I’ve been trying to build up the nerve to ask you out for coffee for the last, like, month.”

“Maybe if tonight goes well we could go for coffee next week?” he asked hopefully.

She sighed and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Awesome,” he breathed. “I’ll pick you up at 8?”

“That sounds perfect.”

**********

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#santiago pope garcia x oc #santiago garcia #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #fanfiction #oscar issac #pedro pascal

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