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seokahwrites · 3 years

Text

growing pains

2.5k

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pairing.

| high school graduate! min yoongi x high school junior! reader

summary.

| people always said you must let go of what you love, and you finally understand what it means.

tags.

| i am so sorry; this comes from a PERSONAL trauma; i love writing angst; blond yoongi supremacy; ykw min yoongi supremacy in general; reader is emotionally mature asf; reader is girlboss; you could say this could be canon/irl?

a/n.

| sorry for all my nuisance readers that are waiting for the next chapters :P IDK WHEN IMMA PICK THAT UP AGAIN. but i present this min yoongi angst that made me very happy to write, tbh came close to tears while writing it. sorry if the writing is kinda everywhere, hope yall like it tho <33 as always thank u for the massive support and love,, love u all

you weren’t quite sure where all the time went. one day you were brushing your teeth for your first day of school, then boom, you’ve finished your third year of high school. it’s similar to how just yesterday you were helping a tiny kid pick up his soiled cd’s and backpack from a puddle and eleven years later you’re watching him graduate.

well, you didn’t get to actually see yoongi graduate since you were too busy making preparations for the night, but that’s besides the point. tonight had to be perfect.

it is goodbye after all.

who knew that the inseparable min yoongi and y/n l/n would ever have to pull away from each other this way. that little shit better appreciate all the spine bending effort you put into making the spot so amazing — not that it wasn’t great before.

with a literal pat to the back and your hands on your hips, you look around the roof with an uncontainable grin, the flashes of purple and blue from the string lights reflected on the gloss of your eyes, every inhale was overtaken with the smell of coffee seeping from the ice cream tubs and a warm seat on the patio couch awaited, along with fuzzy blankets galore.

you’ve outdone yourself this time.

your hands lean against the cold stone at the edge of the terrace and your eyes wandered to the city that laid beneath your feet, from the green hills at the centre of it all to the luminescence of the glass buildings, there wasn’t a single droplet of air that didn’t feel like home.

tap, tap.

speaking of home, you hear familiar soft footsteps from the staircase, snapping you from your little daze and guiding your way to the entrance, your jazz hands in the air and a smile on your face. god, he was gonna love it.

“surprise!”

yoongi reacts a moment too late, his head snapping up and his graduation cap almost falling from his head. the boy was clad with a blue gown, he looked so mature for a mere second — but it was yoongi after all. his eyes widen before his peach lips make a silent “oh,” the entirety of his gums and teeth making an appearance along with the plumping of his cheeks. your heart falters for a moment at the sight, even worse when his eyes disappear into crescent moons that were surely stolen from the sky.

min yoongi looks pretty. not only that, but min yoongi was ecstatic.

“wow,” his head looked from left to right and top to bottom, “the spot looks great.”

you follow him with tiny steps and once you’re close enough to the couch, you push yoongi onto the plush seat, heading to the cooler and grabbing the ice cream, “i just put a few lights and blankets to be honest,” you take a seat beside him and he covers the both of you with the stack of blankets, “it wasn’t a lot of trouble, really.”

yoongi throws away his graduation cap and wiggles out of the flimsy gown, brushing his fingers through his platinum hair and taking a deep breath before snatching the spoon from your hold, “it’s still perfect.”

come on, y/n. pull yourself together. you tell yourself, but it’s hard when yoongi of all people is sitting beside you under the moonlight, stuffing his mouth with ice cream and glowing.

your memory isn’t quite clear as to when exactly did yoongi stop existing to you but glowing, instead. there’s so many moments to remember.

perhaps it was actually the very first moment you laid eyes on him. your rubber boots were muddy and your yellow raincoat was absolutely drenched, no puddle escaped from your stomps. but just as you were a few houses away from yours you see a figure laying beside a puddle and you realise that maybe that person did not want to be laying down in the cold rain.

and all it took was for you to pick up a kid’s shit from a pool of dirty water to meet min yoongi and shortly after, you were practically attached at the hip.

or it very well could be the night before your big sister moved away, your sobs must’ve escaped through the open windows because min yoongi was knocking at your door in no time — the signature two fast knocks and two slow ones. you were only an 11 year old who had never experienced such a change, and it only dawned upon you that night.

yoongi stayed with you for hours on end until you fell asleep on his lap, still with trembling breaths, but your mind eventually steered away from the fact you weren’t going to annoy your sister before going to school every morning anymore — she can’t put up with you during college — and it focused on yoongi’s cold fingers stroking through every strand of your hair ever so delicately and how warm he actually felt.

and there you were, the same kids with your head on his shoulder only this time, he was the one leaving.

“what’s up with you?” he asks as if he had read your mind.

you pull your hood over your head and you smile a bit for whatever reason, “i don’t wanna talk about it.”

he flicks your forehead, the fucker. the abuse makes you sit up, glaring at him with incredulous eyes and you’re about to say a profanity but he beats you to it, “we need to talk about it, y/n.”

and it pains you how nonchalant he sounds.

you slap your hands to your knees and purse your lips, “fine.”

yoongi finally puts down the ice cream — only a spoon of it left. “we both knew this was coming since freshman year, y/n.”

you scoff, as if knowing a goodbye was coming makes it any easier. “that doesn’t make it better.”

his hand makes its way to yours, placed on top of your fist, that melts into an open palm, with utter ease. still, you pull away, “please, don’t do that.”

and you wince at your own tone. it wasn’t like it’s yoongi’s fault that he’s moving away forever. or maybe it was.

it was unfair of you to say, but the weight on your chest had to have a reason, someone to blame. as yoongi’s best friend, of course you love him more than anything in the world and you’ll always support whatever decisions he needs to make to properly follow his dreams. but as the person that plays with the line of friends and more with yoongi, you almost want to beg him to stay. to stay so he could — for lack of a better word — like you, now isn’t that selfish.

yoongi blinks slowly, “we’ve talked about this y/n.”

ah, of course you have. you’ve talked about whatever the fuck this was several times, some of them were in between your interlaced fingers, others resided in the silence as you slept in the same bed and a lot of them echoed from your bitter words. but, once again, is that supposed to make things better?

the day you told him what you really felt for him is crystal clear in your memory, not only for the painful pubescent confession but yoongi’s own news he needed to share. perhaps your relationship was always ill-fated, yoongi had a scraped knee while you reeked of rainwater and you uttered an i love you while yoongi announced he couldn’t stay by your side. the irony.

your eyes are glassy with unspilled tears when you look up at him. why were you so weak?

“stop acting like it isn’t hard on me too,” he sniffles and shuts his eyes with more force than necessary. oh.

you bite your lip and look away at the guilty sight, afraid of what may come out if you don’t. but, if he does know of the turmoil you feel, why is he still insisting?

cold fingers meet your jaw, pushing you with that same delicacy from years ago until you meet his own concealed bloodshot eyes, “you’re not the only person who’s been in—,” he stumbles with his words, “—liked the other for the last decade, you know?”

why did he have to say it out loud? he’s only making it sound real.

maybe, it was actually your fault. if you hadn’t decided to tell yoongi of the butterflies in your stomach, you could’ve pushed them away and let the fantasy live as fiction. but no, you told him about the damn critters and they’ve been eating away at your core ever since, desperate to come out because min yoongi liked you and he was right in front of you ready to be liked right back, yet you could never reach him.

min yoongi was fishing stars from atop jupiter and you were still dancing on saturn’s rings.

you lean into his touch, placing your own hand on his and chuckling at his cheesy line, “that’s just how lucky i am,” and your attempt at humour makes the corners of yoongi’s mouth lift just a little bit.

his thumb glides on the skin it could reach, “so can’t we just have a night like every other one we’ve spent together?”

classic min yoongi.

but as to yourself, you were sick of ignoring things. you were tired of how your heart throbbed whenever you’d fit your face into yoongi’s neck so effortlessly, as if it was only natural; tired of your cheeks along with the rest of your skin burning with every thoughtless caress and sweet nothings he would whisper at the dead of night; and you were tired of your eyes prioritising yoongi’s soft lips over every other feature on his face and how much you yearned to touch them with your own — of how you’d always catch his gaze mirroring yours.

a person could only take so much and you were bursting at the seams already.

still, you only nod.

the silence became unbearable by the minute, even with your head on his shoulder and your hands in his pocket, there was so much that wanted to get out — yoongi would only need to say the right wrong words for all of it to come spilling out. so you speak first, making sure that doesn’t happen.

“it’s gonna be weird without you, y’know?”

you feel his cheeks puff up, subtle as ever “of course,” he squeezes your pinky out of pure habit, “who’s gonna make home cooked meals for me if you mom ain’t around,” and you wish you could white out the blue in his words.

“i swear—,” you chuckle and cross your arms, lifting your head to stare back at the constellations, “—she probably cried more than me when i told her you were leaving.”

before the words could echo back in your head, your eyes are back on yoongi and the boy is staring at the floor with a flood threatening to break out from his eyes.

you just had to open your mouth, huh.

your mouth forms incoherent noises in a miserable attempt to make up for your little slip up, but to no avail. yoongi only shakes his head and looks at you, the way his shoulders slumped exposing that he was trying just as hard to pull it together, maybe even harder.

“me too,” he utters, and you don’t fully understand what he means by that.

a bubble seems to form around the both of you, locking you in your own little world with yoongi, as it always happens when you let him entrance you for a moment too long, and in those seconds that spread to hours you just want to float away, you’re not sure where to but the gloss in his eyes are enough to guide the way.

“y/n,” don’t, “i’m gonna mi—.”

pop.

“please don’t,” you hate the venom that seeps from your tongue, “please stop, yoongi.”

and you want your tears to come thundering over your cheeks, for the red you’re holding in to shoot out from your heart, just so you could show him an inch of what you’re feeling. but you can’t. you shouldn’t.

yoongi’s soft eyes sharpen, “why don’t you want me to say it?”

no, no. that’s a lie.

of course you want to hear him say it. you want yoongi’s voice to sing every word of affection he has to tell you, you want to be wrapped with the smell of yoongi’s embrace, for him to whisper every sin for only your ears to hear and you want nothing more than to remain in every moment you’ve spent with him.

you look down, “if you say things out loud, they might come true.”

he races to grip your hands over his lap, “but it is.”

it is, it is, it is.

you blink away your tears before gazing back at your little piece of the sky, a smile never present in his pouty lips, yet you still read every pore of his skin like the back of your hand.

“yoongi,” you despise your sniffling tone, “let’s face the facts. you’re gonna be hundreds of kilometres away in a big city, i’m gonna be stuck in our little neighbourhood for who knows how long and all we can do is try to forget each other,” your voice breaks, “what could it possibly lead to?”

as you said those words, the reality of it all was coming to hit you with a second wave. the crack of what you both hoped to be was audible in the sounds of you settling back into yoongi’s hold, the silent sobs — that you convinced yourself came from the moon and stars, not from your min yoongi — even more so from the silence that came after your speech.

you could’ve asked yoongi to stay, of course you could have — you wanted it more than anything else. but you knew that he would stay and change his mind in a heartbeat if it was for you, and you couldn’t allow your boy to throw away his dreams for something as meaningless as love — or at least, you try to convince yourself it is.

perhaps yoongi would move on, he would find another person and start a family, have three children and a beautiful house and he’d be living off from all the music he gave to the world all this years ago, just like he always dreamed. perhaps you’d only be a fond memory he would look back on from time to time whenever he’d laugh at old memories after a few drinks with his beloved.

or maybe — and dare you say, hopefully — yoongi would never move on, he would work around the clock with the thought of coming back into your arms and nothing else. he would never leave his cheap tiny studio, only stepping outside during the rise of the moon and he would look at the stars, remembering that a person in daegu is in love with him with all they’ve got and that would be enough to keep him company. because you know for a fact, for the way your heart beats at the mere thought of him, that you would never stop loving min yoongi.

at the present, side by side breathing is more than enough.

“the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

and he truly is.

“i can die happy.”

should i make a permanent taglist? idk TELL ME IF U WANNA BE IN IT

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hxneyandespressx · 3 years

Text

we were both young when i first saw you

summary: jj and elle are friends, but are too scared to tell each other "i love you". that was until it was too late to even say goodbye

pairing: jennifer jareau x elle greenaway (jelle)

word count: 6k

a/n: inspired by love story (taylor's version)

☆。*。☆。

The evening sun slowly went below the horizon as a young blonde girl biked on the dark cobblestone path. A reusable tote bag, filled with organic produce, hung on her right shoulder as she weaved between people, trying to get home before dinnertime. Seeing a small bookstore up ahead, JJ pedaled harder. She parked her mint green bike against the side of the bookstore and entered the small boutique. The bell on top of the door rang, and an elderly man popped out from a room behind the cash register. He looked around to see who came in and smiled when his eyes landed on JJ.

“Ah– Miss Jareau. How may I be of your service today?” Alistair the bookstore owner greeted her, his thick Glaswegian accent rolling off his tongue. JJ smiled as she walked up to the cash register. She pulled out a brown leather-bound book and placed it on the countertop.

“Is there anything new this week?” JJ asked politely.

“Lemme see what I have in the back, lassie.” The elderly man shuffled back into the storage room, carrying the book JJ gave back. To pass the time waiting, JJ walked between the tall oak shelves, filled with wonderful stories to be read, to see any books she might be interested in. As she slowly walked down the aisle, her curious blue eyes spotted a rather peculiar book. Detailed artwork covered the book’s spine, intriguing JJ. The young teen gently pulled the book out from the shelf and brushed off the dust with her hand. Intricate floral illustrations decorated the hardcover. The burgundy color of the book complimented the floral illustrations. In gold lettering, the title of the book reflected the clementine sunlight coming in from the window. Romeo & Juliet. The blonde girl had heard of the tragedy play, but she never got the chance to read it.

JJ jumped when Alistair called out her name. She quickly put back the book and gathered her things. Coming out of the aisle, the young girl waved for the bookstore owner’s attention.

“Ali, I’m right here.” JJ called out as she approached the front of the store.

“Lassie, don’t just go and disappear on me like that.” Alistair said as he took a seat on the wooden stool.

“Sorry,” JJ apologized sheepishly. As she looked down, the book in Alistair’s hands caught JJ’s eyes. “What’s that you got?”

“This… is the new book I recommend you read this week.” The elderly man handed the rather thick book over to the blonde girl. JJ took her time inspecting her new read. Light scratches adorned the deep brown leather cover. The beautiful spine binding held the book together. Her thumb grazed over the gold title: Wuthering Heights. JJ smiled widely as she was excited to read her new book.

“Thank you, Alistair.” JJ thanked the bookstore owner as she made her way to the front door.

“Anytime, lassie,” The Scotsman waved goodbye to the blonde girl. “Say “hi” to your mum for me!”

“I will!” JJ said with excitement as she walked out of the bookstore. Feeling all giddy, the young girl carefully placed the book in her tote bag, trying not to crush the produce. She put on her helmet and started to make her way back home.

As JJ continued down the road, her ears caught the whispers of the townspeople. Snippets of how two girls were sneaking around, at odd hours of the day. The gossiping never bothered JJ, ever since five years ago. Some things would never change in this old town, JJ thought. However, one piece of gossip caught the young girl’s attention. Is Jennifer… you know… gay? This caused the young girl to gasp in surprise and stop her bike. If it came to light that Jennifer Jareau was gay, the whole town would shun her. The neighbors, everyone at school, her friends, Alistair, her parents. She can’t let that happen.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself down, JJ continued her trip back to her house. Once arriving, JJ parked her bike against the porch railing and entered her home. Her mother greeted her while her father sat silently in the living room, reading the Farmers’ Almanac. The blonde girl ignored her father as she took out her book from the tote bag and handed the vegetables to her mother.

“I’ll help once I put this book away.” JJ said, walking up the creaky staircase. Her mother nodded her head and went into the kitchen. JJ continued her way up until she entered her bedroom. A mahogany tall bookcase in the far right corner was showered in all the medals and participation trophies JJ won since playing soccer as a child. Coffee mugs cluttered her working desk. Pillows of different sizes piled on her medium-sized bed. CDs of various musical artists surrounded the small stereo system beside the bed. A large N*SYNC poster plastered on her wardrobe’s open door. Decorated simply, with a few more posters scattered sporadically, the bedroom was fit for a small-town girl.

JJ placed her new addition on her messy bed and proceeded to change into cleaner clothes for the evening. After changing, the blonde girl went to the window that was closest to the house beside hers. Moving the sheer white curtain and looking through the window, she hoped to see someone special in the house. But, alas, she wasn’t there. Maybe she’s busy, JJ thought. The sad girl exited her room, went down the wooden stairs, and into the kitchen to help her mother with preparing dinner.

Dinner went quietly as usual. The Jareaus weren’t the type to strike a conversation over dinner, not once since the tragic event that shook the family apart. JJ took away the dirty dishes and started to wash them, as it was her turn to do her chore. After washing the dishes, JJ headed up to her room for the night. She said “goodnight” to both of her parents before skipping up the stairs in excitement.

Closing the door gently, the blonde teen placed her back against the door and slowly let herself sink to the ground in a crouching position. She was glad that the day went all right. Her parents hadn’t argued, yet, so JJ was feeling content at this moment. Wanting to keep this mood going, JJ got up and went to her bed, grabbing the new book she got earlier in the evening. She laid on her bed, feeling comfortable, and cracked her book open.

A few hours went by and it was nearing midnight. The whole house was quiet, except for one room. Hey There Delilah softly played in the background as JJ was reading chapter four of Wuthering Heights. The blonde girl was enjoying her silence until she heard a small bang on her window. She sat up scared, her heart racing due to anxiety. Then, another bang on the window was heard. JJ got up from her bed and slowly walked to the window. She cracked the window open and stuck her head out, searching for the perpetrator. The warm summer air gently blew onto JJ’s face as the blonde girl squinted her baby blues. Just as she was leaving the window, her eyes caught a tall silhouette standing in the middle of the pathway between the houses.

Her dark chocolate locks gently swayed along with the summer wind. A Guns n’ Roses t-shirt hung loose on her lean frame. Dirty shoelaces left untied, lying on the dry clay soil. She was tossing a pebble into the air and catching it.

The girl waved a hand up in the air with excitement, calling out JJ’s name.

“JJ.” The girl yelled, the sound ringing into the night.

“Shush– our parents will hear you.” JJ hissed at her. The girl softly chuckled at the blonde.

“Meet me at our spot.” This was the last thing the mysterious girl said before disappearing into the darkness.

JJ smiled when the girl mentioned “our spot”. She was waiting all night to escape her house to spend some time with her favorite person. Closing the window, JJ turned off the music and lights. She hid some pillows to create a silhouette of a body under the comforter, making her cover for the night. The blonde girl grabbed her denim jacket and slowly opened her door, hoping that it wouldn’t creek into the pin-drop silence. She quietly tip-toed her way down the stairs, entering the kitchen. Opening the mint green door that led to the backyard, JJ stopped for a moment to make sure no one was awake. When it was clear, the blonde girl stepped out into the backyard, closing the door behind her.

A wide grin appeared on her face as JJ jogged into the woods. She made her way through the dark forest swiftly, as if she knew the land like that back of her hand. Seeing a sliver of moonlight ahead, JJ quickened her step while swatting away at any tree branches. Exiting the forest, the blonde made her way into a secret garden. This place was discovered one night by JJ and her best friend, when they were looking for a place to be alone together.

Making her way into the garden, JJ picked off a light pink rose from one of the bushes. Trying her best not to prick her fingers from the thorns, the blonde girl continued her way to search for her friend. And soon enough, JJ saw her, eyes closed while patiently waiting and leaning against the tall oak. Taking a small breath, the blonde girl walked up to her and laid her head on the mysterious girl’s lap.

Feeling a heavy pressure on her legs, the sleepy girl woke up in surprise, but calmed down when she saw JJ laying her lap.

“JJ.” A soft smile appeared on the brunette’s face.

“Elle,” JJ softly said. “Here, a flower for you.” The blonde girl lifted a beautiful pink flower in the air. Wanting to give the rose, she tried to pick off the thorns to make it safe to handle, while trying her best not to prick her fingers. Once done, JJ tucked some hair behind Elle’s ear while placing the pink rose there.

“There. Beautiful as always.” The blonde girl smiled widely as Elle looked away, a peachy blush forming on her cheeks.

“Anyways, how was your day? I missed you.” JJ said while twiddling with her thumbs.

“The usual. Fixing cars at my dad’s garage shop.” Elle said nonchalantly, folding her arms behind her head.

“Ooo what a tough guy.” JJ teased the brunette. Elle rolled her eyes at the cheesy line.

“How was your day, by the way?” Elle asked as she gently brushed JJ’s soft golden locks.

“I got a new book from Alistair!” JJ cheerfully said.

“Which one?” Elle asked.

“Wuthering Heights.” JJ stated. Elle chuckled when she heard the blonde girl’s answer.

“You do love your classics.” the brunette said lovingly.

“Said from the girl who thinks reading is boring.” JJ retorted back, sticking her tongue out to say I told you so.

“It is!” Elle exclaimed. “But I would only be interested in books if you read them to me.”

JJ raised her left eyebrow quizzically. Does this mean she likes my voice?, JJ thought.

“Would you?” JJ said, feeling amused.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Elle stated as she did the crossing motion over her heart.

The two girls continued their conversation for a while longer. They went from talking about literature to what they should do together next week. As JJ rattled on making a trip to Lake Erie, an idea popped into Elle’s mind. The brunette wiggled underneath the blonde girl’s head and made her way over to a few bushes, blooming with flowers.

Elle grabbed a couple of flowers from the bushes and some ivy from the iron gate next to them. After gathering her materials, the brunette girl walked back to her spot next to JJ. She started to make something out of them, knotting and tying them together with such skill. JJ sat up from her previous position and looked at her friend curiously, watching her hands working diligently. White gardenias and yellow stargazer lilies were tied together with strings of ivy, forming a flower crown. Elle smiled softly at her creation and gently placed it on JJ’s head.

“There. Fit for a princess.” Elle stated. She smiled softly at the sight in front of her.

“Elle…” JJ said with so much adoration in her voice. A deep peachy blush formed on Elle’s cheeks, not from embarrassment, but the fact that her best friend and crush liked what she made.

“I made it because it’s fun and I know you look good with flowers.” Elle explained. JJ brought Elle into a warm embrace, their blonde and brunette locks getting tangled together. The two girls stayed in the embrace for a while. The brunette girl’s nose got stuck in the tangles of champagne blonde locks. Taking a quick sniff, Elle caught the scent of peaches, recognizing that it was JJ’s favorite shampoo.

“Now It’s my turn to make you one.” JJ said with excitement, pulling away from the hug.

“No.” Elle deadpanned. The brunette was not the one for flowers. She only made the flower crown for her friend.

“Come on! Let me make you one!” The blonde pouted.

“Okay,” Elle said as she had her hands up as a joke, pretending she got caught for a crime she committed. “ Surprise me.”

JJ huffed and got up from the ground, dusting away at any grass that clung to her muscular legs. She walked over to a few bushes far away from Elle, thinking and deciding which flowers to choose. Once she picked her choices, JJ happily walked back to where Elle was. The blonde girl sat down and got to work, hoping to make her friend the best for crown ever. She tried to sow cornflowers and dwarf sunflowers together with strings of ivy that got leftover. Getting frustrated, JJ tried her best attempt at making a flower crown.

Elle was amused by JJ’s attempt at a flower crown, but not wanting to upset her, the brunette kept her mouth shut. JJ bit on her lip to keep herself from swearing as she was having trouble tying the ivy close, to make a circle. After a few attempted tries, the blonde finally got the final knot tied.

“Tada!” JJ exclaimed as she lifted the flower crown in the air. Feeling proud of herself, she gently placed the headdress onto Elle’s head. “Now we can be princesses together.”

“You know I’m only doing this for you, right?” Elle stated.

“I know.” JJ said as she stuck her tongue out, just to be silly. Elle laughed at the silly attitude JJ put on. The laughter slowly died as Elle leaned back against the tall oak tree. JJ sat across from the brunette as the two of them chatted the hour away. As it neared 2:30 am, a twinkling light shot through the night sky caught JJ’s eye.

“Elle! Lookup!” JJ excitedly said as she pointed at the dark abyss. The brunette girl squinted her eyes as she searched for what JJ was talking about. Just then, another twinkling light darted across the sky. Elle puffed some air out in surprise.

“Well, what do you know? We get a show tonight.” Elle joked as she slowly got up from her position. Brushing the grass clippings off her shorts, Elle held out her hand for JJ to take.

“Come on, let’s watch the sky.” JJ smiled as she took Elle’s hand. The girls walked onto the open grass patch, trying to take their seats to watch the surprise meteor shower.

Both the girls laid on the soft dewy grass as they watched the twinkling night sky. The moonlight shined brightly down upon them, acting as a spotlight.

As Elle looked at the sky, JJ was looking at the brunette. The bright moonlight illuminated the brunette’s face, showing off the little freckles that painted her soft face. Her chocolate locks swayed along with the warm August air. She smelt like lemongrass and sleep. To JJ, it was like she was admiring her from afar, like a polaroid picture hanging on her bedroom wall.

Slowly but surely, the blonde girl moved her hand towards Elle’s, gently grabbing the brunette’s open hand. JJ’s cold left hand held onto Elle’s warm palm as a smile appeared on the brunette’s face, her head turning to face the blonde. JJ felt so lucky to call Elle her best friend, but she wanted something more. But she doesn’t want to break the friendship they currently have. Her heart ached every second when Elle wasn’t hers.

JJ’s baby blue eyes stared into Elle’s own deep russet eyes. They observed each other’s eyes for a few moments before tearing their gazes apart to look up at the twinkling night sky. Both the girls continued to stargaze in silence, the crickets in the grass playing their nightly song.

“I wish we could escape this town for a little while. Just you and I.” Elle stated as she stared at the night sky. She wasn’t looking for an answer, as she knew that JJ wanted that too.

“If we were to get out of this old town, how would you imagine our lives together?” JJ asked as Elle’s statement piqued her interest.

“Perhaps an apartment in a city of our choosing. Preferably in Manhattan. I come home, bringing you flowers while you are baking cookies.” Elle explained. A soft pink blush formed on JJ’s cheeks, feeling warm as she heard Elle’s plans about their future together. She too hoped that one day they get to leave Pennsylvania together and live happily ever after.

“What about a pet?” JJ asked.

“What about it?” Elle asked, feeling indifferent about having a pet.

“Maybe… a turtle?”

“Why a turtle?”

“Because they are cute, duh.”

“And if we were to get one, what would you name it?”

“Henry,” JJ stated. Elle laughed quietly, hoping not to alert anyone. “What? I think it’s a cute name.” the blonde huffed, pretending to feel offended.

“I’m sorry.” Elle said as her laughs died out.

“You’re let off the hook for this one, Greenaway.” JJ jokingly said. The two girls continued their stargazing “date” with little blips of conversations here and there. JJ felt content being with Elle and she hoped that nothing would tear them apart.

JJ yawned softly as it was getting very late. She let go of Elle’s hand and slowly got up from the ground, dusting off any grass that clung to her legs. Elle softly smiled at the cute yawn that JJ just had as she stared up at the blonde girl.

“What?” JJ asked.

“Oh– uh nothing,” Elle said passively. The brunette girl also got up from the ground, making herself neat so she wouldn’t track grass and dirt into her house.

“Let’s go home.” Elle held out her hand, hoping that JJ would take it. Indeed did JJ take it because she may never know when she would see Elle last. The two girls took their time walking through the garden, almost acting like a couple. They got out of the garden, carefully closing the wrought iron gate, hoping the creaking metal wouldn’t wake anyone. Making their way through the dark woods, Elle and JJ continued to hold their hands to feel more connected. And it was also not to lose each other.

They reached the backyard of the Jareaus and had to part ways for the night.

“Night, JJ.” Elle said as she released her hand from JJ’s. The brunette girl turned her heels and headed to her house’s patio door.

“Night, Elle.” JJ smiled as she quietly made her way to the kitchen backdoor. Gently opening the mint green door, JJ tip-toed into the kitchen and prayed that no one heard her enter. Once the coast was clear, the blonde girl gently closed the door and locked it. She gently took each step one by one, not making a sound, as she made her way up the stairs and into her room. JJ opened her door slowly, as the metal hinges tended to creak when not oiled properly. She entered her room and closed the door in the same fashion. When locking the door, JJ let out a breath that she didn’t even know she was holding. Feeling content for the night, JJ took off the flower crown that Elle made off her head and placed it gently on her nightstand. She took one of the polaroid pictures off of her wall and flopped onto her bed, letting her muscles relax.

JJ brought the polaroid up to her face to see the captured moment. It was Elle, all dirty from car grease, smiling and posing like Rosie the Riveter. JJ kissed the picture and proceeded to close her eyes, holding onto the polaroid picture like a dream catcher.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A few days passed by and the warm summer sun shone onto the garden as JJ and Elle were giggling and having fun, having no care in the world. Like it was only them on their paradise island. That was until they heard some bustling and a shout behind a hedge.

“Jennifer, where are you?” The angry voice of JJ’s father rang in the afternoon sky. The blonde girl’s head never turned so fast in fear to face her father. Salty tears pricked her azure eyes as her father marched towards the two girls. Right behind him was Elle’s father, also raging in anger. Both the girls yelled as they were grabbed by their fathers, separating them apart. Shouts filled the air and the girls tried to kick their way out of the men’s arms.

“How did you find us?” Elle yelled as she tried to squirm her way out.

“Micheal saw her sneaking through the back kitchen door and called me over to investigate. We followed behind JJ as she went through the woods.” Robert explained, trying his best to use his strength to hold onto his daughter. JJ gasped in shock as she didn’t know that her father kept an eye on her.

“I didn’t know anything about this Elle! I swear!” JJ shouted. The blonde girl grunted as she tried to get out of her father’s tight grip on her arms.

“I knew you two were friends since a young age, but this? This is unacceptable. We heard the rumors circulating town so we had our suspicions.” Micheal said through his teeth, clenching his jaw to prevent himself from shouting more.

“But I love her!” Elle yelled out as her deep russet brown eyes caught JJ’s baby blue ones. The blonde gasped softly at Elle’s confession, trying to understand what she heard with her own two ears. I love you. She loves me! I have to tell her back!. JJ thought. Just as JJ was opening her mouth to say “I love you” back to Elle, her father interrupted her.

“Stay away from JJ!” Michael shouted at Elle, hoping that he wouldn’t have to see the brunette with his daughter again. Elle’s dad dragged her away from the Jareaus as Elle continued to shout, her voice fading away.

When the Greenaways were gone from the premise, Micheal Jareau let go of JJ and the blonde girl was exasperated, holding onto her arms.

“What the hell was that?” JJ said as she tried to catch her breath.

“What the hell? I should be the one asking you, JJ. I can’t believe you went behind my back for this. I know you and Elle are friends but it very well seems to be more than that.” Michael said in his normal voice, still keeping the anger in his tone.

“And so what? You would throw me out of the house?” JJ challenged him. JJ’s father scoffed at her.

“I don’t need another Roslyn situation,” Micheal yelled at JJ. “You better get your head straight.”

“Don’t you dare bring up Ros!” JJ shouted back, her voice quivering and angry tears forming in her eyes. She couldn’t believe that her father had the guts to say her dead sister’s name. If she were alive, JJ would have been living with her, away from her father’s wrath.

JJ pivoted on her heels and ran away as fast as she could from her father. She needed to get away from the situation, but especially away from him.

“I expect you back home in the next fifteen minutes!” Michael shouted as he turned his back to head home. JJ didn’t hear him. Her thoughts were muddled from all the rushing emotions. The blonde girl ran for as long as she could because she would have to think about what had happened if she stopped. JJ ran into an open clearing and a beautiful meadow presented itself as a sanctuary, a place where JJ could calm down and gather her thoughts. Wildflowers and dandelions flourished all over the bright green grass. A family of white-tailed deer hid behind the tall maple and oak trees from afar. Small bumblebees danced in the air as a chipmunk was gathering seeds near the ground to stockpile for the winter.

JJ tried her best to slowly catch her breath as she walked further into the meadow, trying to find a place to sit. She laid down once she reached the middle of the meadow and everything came rushing back. All the shouting, crying, and fading of Elle’s voice played loudly in her mind. JJ needed to get away from that but it followed her to the meadow, almost haunting her. Tears started to form and slowly dropped to the soft earth.

Why? Just why did all this have to happen? JJ thought. Why couldn’t I have my happily ever after like the other girls?

JJ covered her face with her hands as the tears fell harder. Her crying screams rang loud within the quiet meadow. At this moment, the blonde girl didn’t care if someone heard her. She got separated from the love of her life and she didn’t know how to cope with the loss.

After crying out for a few minutes, JJ’s voice started to grow hoarse. Her eyes dried up, no longer being able to produce tears. But her heart still longed and ached for Elle. Taking a big sniffle, JJ rubbed her face to get rid of the dried tears on her cheeks with the hem of her t-shirt. She got up tiredly from the ground and felt the wind passing through the meadow. Goosebumps formed from the chill summer evening air and JJ had to hug her torso to keep herself warm. Deciding to face her father’s wrath for the second time of the day, JJ slowly walked out of the meadow and into the forest, squinting her eyes as the sun was going down the horizon.

Once she reached her family home, JJ entered the house through the back kitchen door and saw her father at the dining table, reading the local newspaper. Her head hanging low, JJ shuffled to her room, without saying a word to her father.

As she entered her bedroom, a new emotion set in JJ’s heart: anger. Angry at her father, at Elle’s father, at the whole town. To JJ, there was nothing wrong with loving whoever you felt attracted to, but a small town in rural Pennsylvania thought otherwise. In a blaze of anger, the blonde girl grabbed all the polaroids that hung on the wall and threw them onto the carpeted floor with lots of force. She aggressively took the flower crown that Elle made for her and threw it out of the open window, wanting to get rid of any evidence that reminded JJ of the brunette.

Angry tears pricked JJ’s sad baby blue eyes and the blonde girl clenched her fists, trying her best to not scream. She felt life was being unfair to her. Everything that happened today was unforgivable to JJ. She hoped that her father goes to hell when he dies. Tears fell harder as JJ started to weep, hiccups coming and going.

Feeling hollow from her outburst a few minutes ago, JJ sat at the edge of her bed while staring at the floor. Her limbs felt exhausted as she laid down on the comforter. Her muscles ached from all the running she did earlier today. JJ let her eyes slowly close and Mr. Sandman did his job sprinkling his golden dust over the tired girl, hoping she gets good dreams that would distract her from the swirling emotions in her heart.

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A few weeks went by, and JJ hadn’t received anything from Elle. No phone call. No email. Not even a letter. Hope was slowly drained out of JJ’s heart as the days of August slipped into a moment in time.

Everything that JJ did or said reminded her of Elle. The blonde girl cursed herself as she wanted to get over the hurt quickly, but her heart did not allow it.

Monday. The overwhelming feeling of emptiness consumed the blonde girl as she stared at the ceiling. Her eyes trained onto a singular spot on the plaster as the golden rays of the summer evening cast down upon JJ’s face. Hurt by Christina Aguilera softly played in the background as JJ wallowed in her thoughts. Why did she have to leave? Was it because of me? It was totally because of me. Ugh– we should have run away together when we had the chance.

JJ wondered what it was like to be loved by Elle. She wondered if someday Elle would be by her side. A small headache slowly formed as JJ kept living inside her mind. Sighs filled the air and JJ closed her eyes as a way to escape the tornado of emotions that was swimming in her heart.

Tuesday. As the blonde girl was riding her bike back from the town’s bookstore, JJ decided to take a long detour. Taking the nearest alleyway, JJ changed course to head in a different direction. As each second passed, JJ pedaled faster, almost like she had an appointment somewhere.

A red building was approaching fast and JJ had to hit her breaks, almost falling off her bike. The blonde girl tried to catch her breath as she looked over at the empty building. People were not bustling about and fixing cars. The scent of grease was no longer present in the late summer air. All the spare cars were taken back to the local junkyard, ready to be rusting the days away. And most importantly, Elle wasn’t there. A white picket was staked in the front, saying “For Sale”.

With a sliver of hope, JJ prayed that Elle came back as the blonde girl started to pedal back her way home.

Wednesday. Grey clouds took over the typically light blue Erie sky. The warm summer rain danced rapidly across the black asphalt as JJ solemnly sat by her window. Hoping that Elle would tear the curtains open, JJ fixated her gaze at the empty room with glassy eyes. No one had bought the now empty house in the past few weeks, the “For Sale” sign gently swaying along with the wind. The blonde girl hadn’t moved her position in a few hours, also like a skeleton hanging on a hook. All empty inside and the only thing that filled the void was her hurt and longing for a certain brunette. It was like JJ’s soul was taken away when Elle left.

JJ sat with her knees up to her chest, with her chin resting on the kneecaps. The pain in her heart was far greater than the aching pain in her muscles and joints. The wind changed direction and the rain splattered into JJ’s room. JJ was unbothered by this as her clothes slowly started to get wet and her skin got chills from the rain. She sat in this position for another fourteen minutes before getting up from the ornate chair. The girl grumbled as she moved the chair back to where it was with the desk. She went back to the window and shut it with ease.

Feeling tired, JJ slowly changed out of her wet clothes into a cotton pajama set, designed with blue butterflies. She rolled up her wet clothes into a ball and threw it like a basketball into the hamper, scoring it inside. A tiny smile formed, but as quickly it came, it disappeared just as fast.

The blonde girl slowly climbed into her bed, covering herself with the comforter. Her eyes drooped with tiredness as JJ tried to relax her aching limbs.

I will spend my whole life loving you, was the last thought JJ had before she dozed off into a dreamless sleep.

Thursday. JJ took a walk after eating dinner with her family. She needed to get away from them, as tension was building up in the Jareau house. The blonde girl walked past the entrance to the secret garden that she and Elle frequented. She paused in the middle of the sidewalk. Tempted to enter, JJ held out her hand to hover over the rusted iron handle, only to hesitate. Memories rushed into her mind, reminding her of that fateful day. But a little sliver of hope was felt in her heart and JJ proceeded to enter the secret garden. Weaving her way through the tall hedges, JJ speed-walked towards a certain place and passed by some bushes blooming with pink roses. She was able to find the special spot that was her’s and Elle’s. Feeling blue, JJ walked up to the same tall oak tree from weeks ago and sat by the overgrown roots, curling up to a fetal position. She wanted to feel something, anything, as the scent of lemongrass wafted into the air. JJ looked up, hoping that it was Elle, but all she was greeted to was a blank space.

Friday. JJ was spending her night wallowing in her heartache. She slowly strummed her acoustic guitar, the dissonant chords rang into the silent air. A knock was heard at her bedroom door, signaling that someone was there, waiting to enter the somber room.

“JJ….” the blonde girl’s mother gently called out her name.

“....Come in.” JJ croaked out, her voice hoarse from the lack of talking from the past few weeks. Mrs. Jareau opened the door and entered JJ’s room with a peculiar package in her hands. She gently placed the package on the messily made bed.

“This package came from someone special.” Once those words came out of Mrs. Jareau’s mouth, JJ snapped her head up to look at her mother.

Knowing her daughter’s answer, Mrs. Jareau exited out of the bedroom, hoping the package would bring JJ out of her heartache. When her mother left, JJ stared at the package on the edge of her bed, the package taunting her to open it. The blonde placed her guitar by her bedside and grabbed the oddly-shaped package.

JJ carefully pulled the transparent ribbon off and peeled off the brown paper wrapping. Inside was a royal blue cotton blanket, with a scarlet letter laid on top of it. In messy handwriting, the letter was addressed to JJ. The blonde girl slowly opened the letter, unfolding the paper in her hands. Her tired eyes began to read the scribbled content of the letter.

Dear JJ,

I’m sorry for what happened. Everything was all my fault. I knew the consequences if we were discovered together, but I didn’t care. I only ever cared about you. This letter and the gifted blanket are a way for you to remember me.

We’ll see each other again — I promise.

Love, Elle

The blonde girl picked up the soft blue blanket and brought it close to her chest, to feel close to her lost love. A teardrop slowly fell down JJ’s solemn face. One by one, more tears fell, dripping onto the paper wrapping.

“I love you, please don’t go.”

taglist: @reidtheprettyboy / @morcias / @pagetsimp / @makaylajadewrites / @everything-im-a-fan-of / @j3lle / @gravelyhumerus / @temily / @fearlessed / @jellejareau / @girlbossjareau / @homosexualyearning / @wheelsup / @hotchsbabygirl / @lewistara / @a-writers-ramblings / @sapphic-prentiss / @hqtchner / @spencers-renaissance

#honeys stories #jennifer jareau #elle greenaway #jennifer jareau x elle greenaway #jelle #jelle fanfic #jelle fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #wlw yearning #userchips #userika #userhj #usersunlight #usercosmic #userablake #userkodi #userbabbie #gravelyhumerus

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alarawriting · 3 years

Text

52 Project #36: Escape from Sonnebend

Trigger warnings: This is a story about Meg. (Supervillain protagonist of my WIP novel, and the main character of story #18, “Thirteen”.) It does not have as much triggering content as the last story about her did, but Meg herself is triggering content. Story contains mentions of rape and torture, bioengineered diseases and horrible deaths. Also, being a victim of awful things doesn’t stop Meg from being a terrible person.

Title is shit and I may change it later.

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It’s been three days since anyone has ordered her to go anywhere, a week since she overhead two of the scientists talking about the future. Apparently Bush lost the election, and they expect Sonnebend to be shut down. Probably, the entire black ops agency that allows Sonnebend to exist will be shut down before Bill Clinton comes into power. She’d be eager to see it, except that she knows they’ll never let her go free. If Sonnebend is shut down, either they’ll send her to a different prison, keep her around to heal elderly politicians and work on their bioweapons… or they’ll kill her.

Activity has been winding down since mid-November. Now it’s mid-December and things are almost dead. High-powered researchers and administrators are taking their Christmas vacations. Meg doesn’t know if she’ll be alive when they come back. Are they moving their project to another location, or is it shutting down entirely? She doesn’t know if they know yet. She knows for a fact they’re not telling her.

Do they need to keep it open? They’ve got what they want.

She lays on the bed in her cell, because hiding under the bed doesn’t help. If she’s laying on the bed when the guards want to rape her, they’ll do it, and if she’s hiding under the bed, they’ll drag her out, beat her, and then do it. There’s no point to it. No point to trying to protect herself. No point in trying to protect anyone else.

Christmas is coming, but Meg strongly suspects she won’t live long enough to see it. Not like it matters. She remembers her last Christmas with David, the two of them in the tiny apartment on the 11th floor, a living tree that was heavy as fuck to carry but she’d gotten it up there with its pot and its soil, and she’d put it in the window so it would get sunshine, which meant they didn’t get any in the small common room because the tree was blocking it. David had experimented with chemical lights, blues and reds and greens and whites that ran on oxygen, slowly, and they’d covered the entire apartment with them, lights around every window they could see and lights around every door and lights criss-crossing the ceiling. She’d taken the drugs he was cooking up in order to test them, and as soon as she’d determined that they wouldn’t poison anyone, she’d let herself experience the high, giggling like the teenager she’d been as she lay back on the floor and pretended the ceiling lights were stars, making up fake constellations like The Butthole and Zeus’ Balls. All that December, she’d made cookies, pizzelle and horn cookies and Christmas-shaped iced sugar cookies and traditional New York black and white cookies, and eaten most of them because David had had a chronic low appetite and not much taste for sugar anyway. And then on Christmas she’d given him a Nintendo and a couple of games, and he’d given her a dozen CDs and Stuffy, a stuffed white and gray cat.

In August of the following year, the Special Service killed David, in his bedroom, unarmed. His blood ended up all over Stuffy. Meg never washed it out. His DNA embedded in her plush fur would comfort Meg when she cuddled Stuffy at night; it was a memorial no ordinary human would respond to, except perhaps in the abstract, but Meg could feel David’s DNA in the splatters of his blood. Slowly decaying – there wasn’t a lot of DNA in blood in the first place, since red blood cells don’t have nuclei, and it doesn’t last forever. But it was still there, the last time she saw Stuffy. In the townhome she shared with Tara, in her bedroom.

Is Tara still there? Is any of her stuff still there? It’s December. She was kidnapped in April. The billing service would probably have continued to pay the rent, but if Tara had moved out, Meg’s checks wouldn’t be enough to keep the lease.

Does it matter? Does any of it matter? She’s never getting out of here alive, is she? She’ll never see Stuffy or any of her other things or Tara or the apartment again.

She wants to cry, but she can’t. There’s no safety here, nowhere they can’t see her.

Four diseases, two viruses and two deadly bacteria, tailored to strike only Proximas. They’ll breed in the presence of catalysine, or they’ll look for the Proxima gene and insert themselves into the DNA there, breaking it in a way that will slowly poison them. They gave her no choice, but that’s a lie, there are always choices. She could have found a way to kill herself. She could have forced them to trigger the bomb around her neck. She could have waited until they had her in the sealed room, with the collar off, tasked with healing some important old man… and she could have killed whichever man she was supposed to fix that day, and forced her captors to shoot her.

But Meg wants to live. She did something terrible because she wanted to live, and she didn’t want to be tortured. She made those diseases. They gave her no freedom to do anything but study, genetics and biology and chemistry, on top of her medical school training and the training David used to give her in neurobiochemistry, and she used that knowledge to do what they asked. Because she knew they would check.

She remembers the blue homeless man vomiting, over and over, until he had no electrolytes left in his body and he died. The prostitute who could make a light show dance over her body, shaking and seizing until she was dead. The old man whose power mitochondria went into impossibly high gear, burning up all the phosphate and magnesium in his body to make too much ATP, and then his telekinetic power going out of control and tearing him apart. The homeless teenager crying as the poisons built up in his body. All her fault, and there will be thousands more, maybe millions, if her captors release the diseases they made her make into the population.

She hates herself, but she wants desperately to live, because she knows how to undo them all. She can immunize her people. She can. If she can get out of here alive. But the collar that suppresses her powers has a bomb in it. If she were to leave this place with it still around her neck… it would be the last thing she ever did.

There’s a click in the lock. Meg doesn’t look. She has no power over what’s going to happen, and if she turns her head to look, if she sits or stands up, if she visibly braces herself… then they’ll know she cares. They’ll know they’re hurting her, they’re frightening her. And she won’t give them the satisfaction… not until she can’t help herself, anyway. Without access to her powers, she only has a normal human ability to control herself.

“Get up,” a harsh female voice says.

Well. Small mercies. This isn’t going to be a rape, most likely. And they don’t torture her much anymore, not since she started cooperating. Torture doesn’t really work to get information – she knows that well, having tried it several times when she was a teen thug working for drug lords – but it works very well to terrorize people into doing as they’re told. But she’s been doing as she’s told. So it probably won’t be that.

It could be the execution she’s been expecting, but even if it is, there’s nothing she can do about it.

Meg gets up. Slowly, but not so slowly that the guard will decide she’s being insolent and shock her. The collar suppresses her powers, and it keeps her from escaping because of the bomb, but it’s also got electroshock capabilities, that all the guards can trigger by remote any time they want to. Electroshock’s how they captured her the first time – they went after her with the Special Service, the cops in hardsuits that her powers can’t get through, and the Special Service shocked her over and over, until her powers couldn’t handle keeping her conscious, and then while she was unconscious they put the collar on her neck. Since then, they’ve been able to shock her any time they want to, and they use it, frequently. Especially when they think she’s not being deferential enough.

She’s a former street kid and assassin for gangsters. She was living on her own since the age of 17. She went to superhero school with people who hated her, who’d fought her – and lost—when she was a supervillain. And she’s from Brooklyn. None of this lends itself well to respecting anyone’s authority or being deferential; she gave that up when she was thirteen and traded in a life as a Catholic school girl for a life in the criminal underworld. So when she first got to Sonnebend, they shocked her a lot.

She’s learned, though. Meg keeps her hate and her rage and her desire to commit bloody murder out of her eyes, out of her body language. If she ever has the chance, everyone who works here will die… but she’ll never have the chance, and she knows it.

The guard’s a black woman, head shaved, muscular. What progress America has made, Meg thinks bitterly. Now you can be a government thug and torturer even if you’re female and black! The guard motions her out the door, where there’s a second guard, this one a generic bland-looking dark-haired white man like practically every other guard in this place. “Keep moving,” the black woman says.

“Where are you taking me?” Meg asks. “What’s going on?”

“Keep your mouth shut,” the black woman says, but doesn’t shock her.

They’re taking her to her execution. She’s sure of it. Two guards usually escort her when she is taken anywhere, but she doesn’t recognize either of these two, and they’re not walking her in the right direction to be going either to the labs or the chamber with the one-way glass where she heals powerful old men, collar off but guns trained on her outside the chamber where she can’t see.

For a moment, Meg considers the possibility of killing these two guards. Even without her powers, she can fight; the absurd things she can do when she has her powers, the power-jumps, extending her arms, making tentacles, all that kind of thing… those are icing on the cake. All she needed to do to learn martial arts at master level was to find a dojo where the sensei had advanced skills and the urethane on the wooden floor had worn away enough that she could reach into her sensei with her powers and copy what he was doing down to the level of specific nerves firing and muscles contracting, and now she’s an expert. She could, maybe, grab the white guy, use judo to throw him into the black woman, then kick both of them in the jaw hard enough to snap their necks.

But what good would it do? She sees no evidence that they’re carrying keys that could unlock the collar; usually only a couple of specific people carry those keys, which have a distinctive appearance and are too large to hide in a pocket, and they wait for her in the chamber rather than walking around the base with them. She can’t get out, and any one of the guards can trigger the electroshock remotely, without even being near her, so she can’t escape. And if escape isn’t possible, what’s the point to killing these guys? It might make her feel better, for a few moments, but their friends will blow up her head, so it won’t help.

So she walks, with the white guy in front and the black woman behind, down a corridor she’s never traveled before. And probably never will again.

There’s a checkpoint, right before a door outside. The guard at the checkpoint looks up. “Where’s she going?”

“Where you think?” the black woman says, and hands him a sheaf of paper.

The checkpoint guy – another generic white dude, with sandy blond hair instead of black – looks at the papers, and then chuckles. “So I guess Williams and Becker aren’t getting a piece tonight, huh,” he says, and confirms what Meg suspects. Those are her execution papers. The guards who rape her nearly every night aren’t going to have the chance to tonight, because she’ll be dead.

Once again she considers killing them all. It won’t save her life, but at least it’ll take down a few of them with her. Once again she lets it go. Maybe, if she has a chance while she’s outside, since it looks like they’re taking her outside to do it. But she wants to see the sun again. If they’re going to bring her outside to kill her… then at least she won’t die in this nightmare building, where she hasn’t seen so much as a window since she was captured.

Is there snow outside? She doesn’t even know where Sonnebend is; no one’s ever told her what state they’re in, and with no windows, she can’t look at the sun and plants and try to guess. It could be Texas. It could be Florida. It’s probably not either since there aren’t enough guards with Latino names, but maybe it’s North Dakota. Maybe it’s Indiana. She has no way to tell.

The white guy with her chuckles, just a second later than you’d expect, like he’s not a native speaker and took a moment to parse what was just said. The black woman doesn’t. Stone-faced, she takes back the sheaf of papers. “Get moving,” she says to Meg, motioning her toward the door.

Outside, they’re behind the building. There’s a dumpster, and a loading dock, a short distance away. The black woman makes Meg walk in the opposite direction, along a wall with no windows or doors in it, nothing but unbroken beige brick. It’s cold; Meg’s breath makes clouds in the air. But there’s no snow. In the distance there’s grass and trees, but where they’re walking, there’s nothing but concrete. Meg stares hungrily at the grass and trees, at the sun in the sky, at the clouds overhead and in front of her mouth, as if she can make up for eight months of never seeing them by looking at them really hard, right now.

“Kneel down,” the black woman orders, and the tears Meg hasn’t shed in months well up. Not for herself. She has this coming. She may have tried to reform – first by being a superhero, then by becoming a doctor – but she’s always been a terrible person. She murdered her father, and then she became a murderer for hire, and then she’d helped David design drugs, and then she’d been a murderer again. She’d been a vicious jealous bitch around her first boyfriend, and had seduced her second, a man three times her age, just so she could take him away from her mentor. And then she’d gone to medical school, she’d tried to be a better person, but they’d kidnapped her and made her make diseases and because she was too weak to stand up to torture, many, so many, people will die. She’ll never have a chance to undo what she had done, to protect the Proximas of the US, or the world, against the engineered plagues she was terrorized into creating.

“Oh, you gonna cry now?” the black woman said.

“Fuck you,” Meg snarled through the tears. “I know you’re gonna kill me, so just do it.”

The woman sighed like she was at the end of her patience. “Kneel down, girl.”

“No. Shoot me standing up. I’m not gonna kneel to any of you anymore.”

“Have it your way,” the woman says, and points her gun at Meg.

It goes off, a deafening sound, but nothing that happens after that makes any sense. Meg sees her own body topple backward behind her, turning in time to see it fall, but she hasn’t been hit. There’s no pain. Is she a ghost? There’s her own bloody, headless corpse on the ground, and the black woman and the white man dragging the body off, but the black woman is also still here, tapping her foot.

“What—”

“Figure it out yet?” the black woman asks, and turns blue. The azurin mutation. In a small percentage of Proximas, melanin converts to azurin instead, and the person ends up blue. White people turn pale blue, with blue or green or purple hair, and black people turn deep blue, with blue eyes and blue hair. The buzzcut vanishes, replaced by a bright blue Afro that in shape and fluffiness looks like it came straight out of Cleopatra Jones. The woman’s face also changes, subtly, small aspects of eye shape and cheekbone placement altering, so she looks similar to the woman she was before, but not the same. Like sisters, or cousins. Except that one of them’s blue. Which means Proxima.

“You’re a Proxima?” Meg asks. She can’t quite believe this is really happening. She can still see the brown woman with the buzzcut and the dark-haired white man dragging her own corpse toward the corner of the building. Is this like Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge or something?

“Sure fucking am,” the blue woman says, and puts out her hand. “Shadow. Illusionist. And you’re Megamorph, the bio-controller.”

Meg has never heard her power referred to as bio-control, but it makes sense. Any organic tissue she’s touching, she can do nearly anything to, and any organic tissue she can reach through an organic channel, like a wooden floor or a shaggy wool carpet, it’s the same as if she’s touching it. She takes Shadow’s hand, tentatively. “Why… if you’re an illusionist, couldn’t you have told me what you were doing to begin with?” The tears are still in her eyes. Angrily, she wipes them away.

“Conserving power. I have to create the illusion of what they expect to be happening, and hide what we’re actually doing. The more you move around, the harder it is. Now kneel down. I was serious about that part.”

“Why?”

“Hard to rescue you if you’re missing a head,” Shadow says, and pulls off her belt something that looks almost, but not exactly, like the keys that unlock Meg’s collar.

“Those don’t look right. Are you sure they’ll work?” Meg hates that she sounds plaintive, almost whiny… but if Shadow’s here to rescue her, she really doesn’t want to get her head blown up on the verge of freedom.

“Tested them already. They’ve got some collared corpses in the pit around the corner.”

There’s a pit around the corner full of dead bodies. This doesn’t surprise Meg in any way – it makes perfect sense – but it horrifies her, hitting her in a nerve she’d have thought burnt out by all the horror she’s endured. Her knees go out from under her, which she manages to make look as if she’s kneeling like Shadow told her to, rather than that she’s half collapsing.

Shadow puts the key to the collar. There’s a clicking sound. Meg holds her breath despite herself.

And then the collar falls to the ground.

It works by magnetic induction, suppressing the part of her brain that controls her body’s production of catalysine, and suppressing the part that allows her to perceive and control her powers. Stopping the magnetic induction doesn’t instantly replenish her body’s catalysine, and without the catalysine, she doesn’t yet have any powers to perceive and control. So she doesn’t feel any different. “My powers will come back, right?” she asks, knowing it’s a stupid question – she knows how the collar works, she knows how Proxima powers work probably better than anyone. She knows they’ll come back. But at the moment, she feels painfully young, and not like an expert on anything. She wants Shadow to reassure her the way a mother might reassure a child.

Shadow nods, her expression gentle. “Of course they will,” she says. She reaches a hand down and helps Meg to her feet. “We need to get out of here.”

“Wait.” Meg takes a deep breath. She doesn’t want to admit to this, but she won’t let people die for her pride. “Do you know if… that pit, are there any of the victims there? The experimental subjects, of the bio-engineered diseases?”

“I figure that’s probably where they are, yeah,” Shadow says.

“I’m sorry, but… is there any way you can cover me to get in there? I… they made me make those diseases. I have to stop them, but I couldn’t keep samples. It’ll be a lot easier to inoculate people if I can get samples…”

Shadow grins. “Oh, yeah. We knew all about those diseases. That’s why the World Unity Collective decided to rescue you.”

World Unity Collective is Caesar Primus’ group, a supervillain gang dedicated to creating a world where the Proximas of the world unite and take over, which is supposed to bring about a utopia for everyone, Sapiens and Proxima alike. Meg thought it was a stupid idea when she first heard about it, training with Peace Force Tau, and she still thinks so. Proximas are different from Sapiens by exactly one gene, and there is absolutely no reason to think Proximas will treat the world any better than Sapiens have. But she doesn’t care anymore.

Over and over, in her prison, she called out in her mind, begging her mentor to hear her. Suri Chandrasekhar is the leader of the Peace Force, and an incredibly powerful telepath. Suri knew where Meg was going to medical school; if she was paying attention, if she cared, she would know Meg had been kidnapped, and with her powers she should have been able to find Meg… if she was looking. But she hadn’t. No rescue came from the Peace Force. And right now, Meg has reasons to hate Sapiens – reasons that are illogical, because there are billions of Sapiens and they cannot possibly all be responsible for the torments she’s suffered over the past eight months, but Meg’s reasons for hate are rarely all that logical anyway. If it’s Proxima supremacists who’ve rescued her, then yay for Proxima supremacy.

“I’ll ask you how you knew about the diseases later,” Meg says.

“Yeah. Let’s get this done quick.”

***

The pit’s covered with a tarp. As soon as she peels the tarp back, Meg has to shut off her sense of smell. She hasn’t eaten since the terrible cafeteria-grade scrambled eggs for breakfast, so there’s nothing in her stomach anymore – it’s all moved on to the intestines by now -- but if she had to smell this without her powers, she’d be puking up all of the nothing in her stomach over everything.

It’s not hard to find her diseases. There’s maybe twenty bodies in here, tangled together in a heap, most in a fairly advanced state of rot. All of them are infected. Or were, when they were alive. Apparently Sonnebend doesn’t kill lots and lots of people as a general rule. This isn’t a concentration camp; it’s a research facility, where part of the research is on how to kill people with diseases. And since the people had to be Proximas, that limited the supply; only one in ten thousand people has that one gene that differentiates Sapiens from Proximas. Can’t very well murder five thousand people in testing a disease if you have to screen fifty million to find them.

The viruses are easy. With the machinery of the cells stopped, they’re not replicating, but a lot of them are intact, easy to capture. The bacteria are harder. They’ve been dying since they killed their hosts. But there are a couple of subjects that still have live bacteria. Meg pulls them in and stores them in tiny nodules of fatty tissue in her breast, with no capillaries feeding them so they don’t have much chance to get out into her bloodstream. Not that it would matter; Meg’s powers automatically destroy any organic matter that would trigger an immune response. She can’t get sick. Even at Sonnebend, the fact that they removed her collar every few days so she could heal some politician or CEO or important donor meant that she couldn’t get sick; in the hour or so she had her powers, her body would destroy any potential source of infection. She’s going to have to be more careful to make sure her body doesn’t annihilate these infectious agents before she has a chance to engineer an inoculation or cure than she will to make sure they don’t actually infect her.

She climbs back out of the pit, with Shadow’s help. “I’m done. I’ve got everything I need.”

“Then let’s get the fuck out of here, okay?” Shadow says, and ten minutes later, they’re in a car parked outside the barbed wire fence, driving away.

“It’ll take them some time to figure out you’re not dead,” Shadow says, driving the car with a cigarette in her hand. “I took back the fake papers for your execution, so they’ll have a hard time figuring out who authorized it, or where I went, or who I even was. If they compare video feed of the outdoors to the indoors, they’ll see me and the fake guy I made walk back through the door but then never show up at the checkpoint right inside, and maybe that’ll give them a clue, but none of their video will have anything real.” She takes a deep drag from the cigarette. Meg wants to warn her about lung cancer and suggest she quit, but she looks up to Shadow too much to be her condescending prick doctor persona.

“What were you doing? Manipulating light?”

Shadow nods. “And sound, but fuck it’s hard. It’s so much easier for me if I just work on the brain. Altering myself and making another dude is almost the limit of what I can do with sound and light, whereas if I’m going in through the brain, I can make people see a full Hollywood spectacular. Aliens shooting laser guns all over the place. An army of Picts with bows and arrows. Whatever I want.”

“That’s really cool,” Meg says, somewhat awestruck. “Doesn’t that mean you really have two powers? Because a psionic illusion power and the ability to manipulate sound and light sounds like it’s two entirely different things.”

Shadow takes another drag on the cigarette. “Used to just be the psionic part. I got fixed up by a guy named Giovanni. Told him I wanted to be able to fool cameras. Closed-circuit cams were getting big around then. It was hard to pull a job when the security guys can see you on the cam, even if they can’t as soon as they get close enough to use their eyes.”

“Wait… this Giovanni guy can give people powers?”

“Yeah, though all he does is give Proximas new powers. He won’t give powers to a Sapien and he’s got some weird rule about what kind of powers he’ll give a Proxima, but what I wanted sounded to him like it’d work with what I already got. Gives me a motherfucking headache if I overuse it. I gonna need a whole fucking bottle of Tylenol tonight.” She laughs.

Meg puts her hand on Shadow’s shoulder. “No, you won’t,” she says. Her power can hurt when she invades people with it, unless she’s working to numb them or make them feel good, neither of which is safe to do while someone is driving… but it only takes a second, barely time for Shadow’s body to register that Meg’s power is inside it, to clear away the tension that’ll lead to a migraine.

Shadow turns her head. “What the fuck you doin’, girl?” she demands.

“I fixed it,” Meg says, beaming. “So you won’t get a migraine. I owe you a lot more than that, but that’s the least I can give back to you.”

For some reason Shadow does not look happy. She rolls her eyes and slumps slightly forward against the steering wheel, which is all right because they’re at a traffic light. “Listen, kid. I know you meant well, and I’m not mad. But you can’t just go doing things to people’s bodies without even telling them, let alone asking them. You gotta ask permission. If it’s a friend or an ally, anyway. I could give a shit, what you do to enemies and Sapiens, but with friends and allies you ask.”

“Oh.” Meg feels terrible. She’s overstepped a boundary she should have remembered, because in Peace Force Tau, Suri told her this, but she’s so excited to have her powers back and so grateful to Shadow and so desperate to show that gratitude, she forgot. “I’m sorry. I, I really should’ve known better, it’s just, I’ve been locked up so long… I’m really sorry…”

“Look, kiddo, forget it. S’alright. No harm done, and I do feel better. Just, remember next time. Ask.” She pronounces the word as “axe”. This makes Meg feel strangely nostalgic. One of her best friends from the days right after she got her powers, a teenage prostitute named Rhonda who was one of the most level-headed people Meg has ever known, used to talk that way. Most of the girls she’d known in those days had, actually. Whereas no one in the Peace Force or medical school would have used anything less than 100% proper English, like back in Catholic school.

***

It turns out Sonnebend is in Minnesota, near the Great Lakes. World Unity Collective headquarters is in Florida. They’re going to drive to Chicago to use something called a “transmat” to teleport to Florida, but lake-coast Minnesota to Chicago in Illinois is still what Shadow calls a “long-ass drive”. “We’d go faster if we had a boat,” Shadow jokes, and shows Meg the route on the map.

There are explanations. Shadow won’t tell her how she knew about the diseases – “you’re not cleared to know that, yet,” she says – but she explains eagerly why Meg was recruited. “We figured, since you created the bioweapons, you’d know how to stop them… and you might be able to stop others they come up with. Or create ones to threaten them with, if they keep pulling this kind of shit.”

“I don’t want to create bioweapons. Not against Proximas, not against Sapiens, not against anybody.”

“I hear you,” Shadow says. “You don’t have to. You do whatever you feel comfortable with, for the cause.”

Shadow talks a lot about the cause. Talks about being thrown out of her home for being a “devil child”, when she was 12 and turning from brown to blue. Talks about the Human Definition Amendment, a thing some conservative Senator has proposed that will define “human”, in the law, to mean “Sapien”, meaning Proximas will essentially legally be wild animals, with no legal protections whatsoever. Talks about Proximas being killed as “witches” in Africa, especially the ones with the azurin mutation, who couldn’t hide being Proximas, and being turned into weapons for the government in Russia and China and who knew where else.

Talks about the Special Service killing unarmed Proximas who are suspected of crimes, and that one hits hard, because that’s exactly what happened to David. His power was to see chemistry at the atomic level, completely useless for fighting, and he was a skinny twenty-something nerd and he wore coke-bottle glasses with a tint because he was photophobic, and he was unarmed, and they’d gunned him down in his apartment, and Meg had only lived because he’d sent her on an errand to find his lawyer. Because she’d assumed, when he said he’d need his lawyer after they arrested him, that of course, that was normal, that was how it worked. She was pretty sure he’d known they were coming to kill him, and had sent her on that errand because they’d have killed her too.

Caesar Primus – it means “Emperor First” and it’s pronounced the Latin way, like “Kaiser”, not like the salad – is, according to Shadow, the smartest and most experienced man on the planet. Meg assumes the experienced part is probably true, because apparently, he is somewhere around 2,000 years old, and was a gladiator in ancient Rome. She’s not so sure about smartest. The guy apparently still believes that Sapiens and Proximas are different species. A lot of people believe that, but mostly they are idiots, or at the very least, they know nothing of science.

He’s also bought into a lot of silly ideas about evolution, or claims he has and teaches them to his people. Shadow tells Meg that Proximas are the next evolution of humanity, superior because they are more evolved, destined to rule over humanity, and will survive instead of Sapiens because they are stronger. Meg can identify five errors in Shadow’s concepts of evolution off the top of her head, without any kind of deep dive, but she says nothing. If Shadow wants her to worship at the altar of Caesar Primus… Meg hasn’t done worship at an altar since she left Catholic school, not for anyone, but for Shadow’s sake, she’ll pretend.

And if it’s true, as Shadow implies, that Primus sent her to go rescue Meg, then she owes him as much for her freedom as she owes Shadow.

***

A transmat turns out to be a platform, where you put in some coordinates, step on the platform, and are instantly somewhere else, on a transmat platform elsewhere. It reminds Meg of Star Trek transporters, but makes more sense – she’d always wondered, how did the transporter beam know how to reassemble when it got where it was going?

The base is in a swamp, and the only ways out of the base are either to wade through alligator-infested waters, or take the transmat. Or fly, she supposes, for those that can do that. Wading would be annoying, but can’t hurt her; neither mosquitoes nor alligators, nor anything else in the water, can cause her any harm. But it’s obvious to her that that’s not going to be true for most people, and it bothers her a little. If the cause is so wonderful and important, why make it so hard to leave the base?

“It’s not to make it hard to leave,” Shadow explains. “It protects us from so-called superheroes, and it means that if you want to go anywhere, you have to take a risk. Keeps you strong.”

“But if you’re going by transmat that’s not a risk.”

“Yeah, but you can’t go anywhere by transmat unless Caesar agrees.”

The building’s far too much like Sonnebend. It’s made of concrete rather than bricks, a big brutalism box in the middle of a swamp, and there are windows all over the upper floors, but it goes down several floors underground. Sonnebend had linoleum tile and World Unity Collective headquarters has concrete flooring, like a warehouse, but either way there’s nothing alive, nothing for her powers to sense through her feet or the canvas shoes she makes herself from rubber and cotton. She’s not going to spend much time here, she can already tell.

“I need to go back to Baltimore,” she tells Shadow. “I don’t know what happened to anything I owned when I was kidnapped.”

Shadow is skeptical. “Do you really need any of that stuff, or do you just have a sentimental attachment to it?” she asks. “Revolutionaries have to be ready to break free of any material possessions, at any time. You can’t have sentiment. And here, your room and board are provided for, and I know with your powers you can make your own clothes whenever you want…”

“I want my medical textbooks,” Meg says. “I was trying to become a doctor when they kidnapped me.”

Now Shadow raises an eyebrow. “You think being a doctor is the best way to serve the cause?”

Meg smiles. That particular smile is the last thing some gangsters saw, once upon a time. “To heal, you need to know intimately how the body works and how everything fits together. That’s also what you need to know to be really creative about hurting people. You know, if it’s going to advance the cause to hurt someone in a particularly creative way.”

That makes Shadow laugh. “Oh yeah, I knew I was right about you. You’re gonna be a fantastic asset to the team, Meg.”

There’s no one else important in the base right now – Primus is apparently in DC, and his other top-ranked minions are away on various missions. No one here but Proximas with low power levels who work as grunts. Thugs, like she was once. The only person here to give permission for transmat use is Shadow, and she’s all in favor of Meg getting her medical textbooks once she understands what Meg can use them for.

Except that Meg’s read them all already. The term had been about to end when she was kidnapped. Her ability to directly sense bodies and how they worked had gotten her through med school in record time – she’d been there a year, and she’d learned two years’ worth in that time – and then Sonnebend had taught her more, because to create the diseases they wanted her to create, or heal the ailments of rich old men, she’d needed to know more. It’d been all she had to do that gave her any kind of pleasure in any way.

She’s not going back for medical textbooks. Shadow the true believer can give up material possessions and eliminate sentiment, if she wants. Meg believes in very little of this bullshit. She just worships Shadow for saving her.

World Unity Collective maintains a transmat in Grand Central Station, and Shadow’s able to advance Meg some cash, since of course she doesn’t currently have an ATM card, a credit card, or checks. Meg takes the subway from Grand Central to Penn Station, and from there the Amtrak to Baltimore, and then a cab to the Johns Hopkins medical school campus.

***

Meg walks down the street to the townhome she used to share with her roommate, breathing in the winter air. She can't stop looking at the buildings, the trees without their leaves, the sun behind the solid wall of white winter clouds. The people. There are so many people and they're so beautiful and they know nothing about the way the world really works, nothing at all. She wants to kill them, to save them, to tell them the truth. To take the men, at least, home and screw their brains out because she's free to choose not to, now. She doesn't do any of that.

She doesn't have the key to her old apartment any more, but the music inside tells her that her housemate Tara is there right now. Meg knocks, hard.

Tara opens the door. "Meg?" she asks, sounding shocked.

"Is my stuff still here?" Meg asks.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, of course. The landlady was just wondering where you were -- she says she's been getting your rent checks in the mail, but she sent us a note about the electric bill going up and you didn't increase the amount you were paying, and she was trying to get hold of you, but I had no idea where you were so I just paid it for you."

"I'll reimburse you." Meg walks into the apartment. She looks around the place. Everything is just as she left it. "Pack up my stuff for me and I'll have movers come get it. I'll pay the landlady for your share of the rent for the next two months."

"What happened to you, Meg? Where did you go?"

How does one explain that one was kidnapped by the government and has spent the past several months being raped, tortured and forced to work on biological weapons? One doesn't. "Something came up."

Stuffy is still sitting on her bed, David’s dried blood still all over her. Dried blood looks brown; she explained the stains on Stuffy as chocolate sauce to everyone in Peace Force Tau. Tara never went into Meg’s own bedroom, so she never had to make that explanation. Meg picks up Stuffy and puts her in her coat. She suddenly wants to cry, but badass supervillains don't cry, so she uses her powers to suppress the urge. She's going to have to figure out somewhere to put her. Obviously she can’t bring a stuffed animal back to a base full of supervillains.

"Meg, are you okay?"

She doesn't look at the Sapien who used to be her friend. "I'm fine," she says shortly, and thinks, No. Not even slightly.

Back on the street, it's cold and crisp and she can walk anywhere she wants. She can walk to a hot dog cart and get a hot dog. So she does. And ice cream. The whole time she was imprisoned she never had ice cream.

Tears sting her eyes again. Stupid that she has to keep using her powers for this. She should be tougher than this. She stopped crying after the first month in prison, never did it again until she thought Shadow was about to kill her. Why is she crying now?

When she was at Sonnebend, she never stopped wishing for her freedom, but she stopped believing or even hoping she would ever be able to walk around on a city street and buy a hot dog ever again. And then Shadow walked into Sonnebend and brought her out like Orpheus freeing Eurydice from Hades, except of course that Orpheus hadn't succeeded in the end. And Shadow did that because Caesar Primus had ordered her to. Most likely. She’d never specifically said, but Meg could read between the lines.

If Primus sent her to rescue Meg, Meg will do anything for him.

Meg knows his ideology is ridiculous. Right now she doesn't care. She'll burn the Sapiens' world down for what they did to her, and she'll enjoy herself doing it. Out of gratitude for the gift of her freedom, she will do anything for the people who saved her.

She’s got financial things to arrange – Meg has a lot of money. Being the most terrifying killer in New York City used to pay really well. She’ll reimburse Tara, get movers to take all her stuff to a storage unit. Buy some clothes – she doesn’t need new clothes, since her powers can reshape the ones she has, but she likes to shop for clothes. She likes to dress up in clothes that make every man around want to fuck her, and maybe she’ll pick some of them out and do it. She hasn’t had sex because she wanted to in eight months. Maybe she’ll fuck away some of the memories of Sonnebend before going back to Primus’ hideout.

And then she’s going to be the most vicious badass she can possibly be, with all the skills she acquired as a teenage assassin and all the knowledge she gained in Peace Force Tau, and Johns Hopkins medical school, and Sonnebend. She’s going to combine it all and she’s going to make Shadow proud of rescuing her, and Primus of telling her to do it. And she’s going to make humanity pay for what they did to her.

#52 project #proximas #cold light #holidays5 #superpowers

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jazzviewswithcj · 3 years

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A deeper look at Merci Miles: (Warner Records, 2021)

Miles Davis: trumpet; Kenny Garrett: saxophone; Deron Johnson: keyboard; Richard Patterson: bass; Ricky Wellman: drums

By July, 1991 Miles Davis was music royalty. The previous decade saw him reach a level of popularity and stardom seldom seen in jazz. By the early 80’s the trumpeter had changed music multiple times, 4 to be exact, with his foray into hip hop, the first recording to be issued after his death Doo Bop (Warner Bros, 1992) , marking the fifth groundbreaking turn in his career. Prior to his passing from stroke complications in 1991, he maintained a vigorous touring schedule, and the performances of his sextet of the period, the finest late career band he ever led (and arguably one of the best bands of his entire career) were supercharged. The music captured on the newly released Merci Miles: Live at Vienne (Rhino, 2021) marks the first time anywhere save two YouTube videos the concert has been available in full, and is significant and historically important for two reasons: it is one of Miles’ final performances in France available legally, and it features two compositions by Prince, the cheeky entendre laden titles “Penetration” and “Jailbait” that the late icon wrote specifically for Davis.

The picture of the late singer/composer/multi instrumentalist’s involvement with Davis is much clearer through the release of Prince’s own Sign O’ The Times multi disc mega box set and the official release of “Can I Play With U?” a track originally written by The Purple One during the legendary Rubberband (Rhino, 2018) sessions. Prince’s track was going to be included on what eventually turned out to be Davis’ first album with his new label, Warner Bros. Tutu (1986) but was eventually shelved. The track was then slated to be issued in the original, much more substantial The Last Word: The Complete Warner Brothers Recordings box set from the early 2000’s (of which promo copies existed) but was fazed out due to rights issues.

The trumpeter always regarded France warmly, from the time he first set foot on French soil as a 22 year old in 1949. The country was also where in the late 1950’s he recorded the innovative soundtrack to Elevator To The Gallows or Ascenseur pour l’echafaud director Louis Malle’s smoky noir film of which the trumpeter’s soundtrack, completely improvised featuring a top French rhythm section crystallized some of the ideas the trumpeter later would apply on Kind of Blue (Columbia, 1959). France was also the setting for the infamous romance with the late French starlet Juliette Greco. More importantly, France, being the first country to wholeheartedly embrace jazz and recognize creative improvised Black music to be on par with European art music, was ready for whatever Davis brought to the table, instead of the misdirected pining that many fans and critics demonstrated in the U.S. for his past, acoustic centered work.

Merci Miles was captured on July 1, 1991 at the Jazz a Vienne festival, at a picturesque Roman amphitheater filled to capacity. 7 days later on July 8, Miles would revisit the material from Porgy and Bess, Miles Ahead and Sketches of Spain at the Montreux Jazz Festival with a double orchestra conducted by Quincy Jones and featuring the late trumpeter Wallace Roney as a second voice alongside occasional spots for alto saxophonist Kenny Garrett. The appearance featuring this music was followed by an appearance with former band mates in Paris on July 10 (a concert that unfortunately of this writing is being thieved by bootleggers for album release), and the European swing wrapped up in Nice, France on July 16th.

Miles’ band that July 1st evening, featuring Deron Johnson (who grew up with Miles’ nephew and former drummer Vince Wilburn, Jr) on keyboards; Kenny Garrett on alto saxophone and flute) lead bassist and Parliament alumnus Foley, bassist Richard Patterson, and the late Ricky Wellman on drums were inspired and smoking.

“Hannibal” written by Marcus Miller, which appeared on the group’s latest studio album Amandla (1989) is the high energy set opener, with the rhythm section of Johnson, Patterson and Wellman in perfect sync. Miles flies free with some solo lines before the head appears, and Kenny Garrett makes his first appearance with a lengthy solo. Garrett (who has a new Mack Avenue studio album in August) is like a heat seeking missile, the rhythm section responding and creating inner dialogues with him in response to his impassioned, pulpit stirring cries. Deron Johnson, often alongside with Garrett in taking some of the best solos of the evening, briefly dialogues with Miles before spinning off into his own, substantial solo turn. Johnson is a complete history of the keyboardist’s who played with the trumpeter and distills everything in his sparkling, distinctive soloing voice, swinging slightly behind the beat against the mightily funky bass and drums underneath.

“Human Nature”, the classic ballad from Michael Jackson’s Thriller (Epic, 1982) Davis first debuted on You’re Under Arrest (Columbia, 1985). The sensuous existential track became a blank canvas for the Davis band to paint on nightly. The trumpeter renders the melody with longing, then gradually shifts into a resourceful solo with a double time sprint. Within Davis’ solo and the use of Spanish tinged scales, and the colorful keyboard backing, the intense drama of the beautiful arrangements that Gil Evans crafted for Sketches of Spain (Columbia, 1959) which Marcus Miller expanded upon in a sense for the film soundtrack Siesta (Warner Bros, 1989) are clearly felt. Davis quotes “Nature Boy” and a few other asides before passing the baton to Garrett, who used the tune as a nightly feature for intense late period Coltrane trance like meditation. Garrett fits in a quote of the old spiritual “Joshua Fit De Battle of Jericho” before rocketing into space; Wellman in particular follows him wherever he goes. Every now and then Miles jabs some mood setting chords with his Oberheim OBX synth as cues, while Garrett continues to combust. The saxophonist bursting at the seams as a fragment from the bridge to “Milestones” is used as an ostinato, Davis signals a quick blast with his trumpet and the tune ends. Garrett brought the audience and listeners at home on a thrill ride.

“Time After Time” , the Cyndi Lauper classic is ushered in as volcanic applause erupts from the audience, nearly drowning out the music. For 9 and a half minutes, the show belongs to Davis, as he gently finds all the melodic contours he can in the tune. Like “Round Midnight” and “My Funny Valentine” of decades past, “Time After Time” became one of Davis’ signature ballads. He drives his improvisation the same way as Aretha Franklin, Pavarotti, Bocelli or Carreras would, with a marked sense of passion and timeless beauty.

Disc 1 closes with one of the Prince tunes, “Penetration” where everyone gets off on the raunchy funk. Davis and Garrett are one during the track, and it truly shows the admiration and border less musicality that both icons would have shared, Davis struts with swagger between melody statements and Johnson rips into his solo with passion, Garrett’s searing alto ups the ante further. As a contrast, “Jailbait” on disc 2, is a gut bucket blues where both Johnson and Garrett take scintillating solos..

The show closes with “Wrinkle” a wondrous maze of a melody that is awe inspiring when played a top speed, and “Finale” a drum solo feature for Wellman that showcases his patented bass drum triplets while keeping rock solid time on the snare, a sort of shuffle where the bass and snare switch roles, and some lightning samba as well as his signature Go-Go groove.

Sound:

Merci Miles is taken directly from the original tapes recorded and mixed by Patrick Savey and Mastered by John Webber at Air Studios in London. Similar to Sony/Legacy’s Bootleg Series releases for Davis, the tape is from the official broadcast, in this case captured by the small Zycopolis studios. Curiously for 1991, the sound is mono which could be due to whatever technical limitations of the tape, but it is very good strong mono. The Schiit Bifrost 2 DAC manages to wring out very nice separation for the band in the mono soundstage: In particular, Davis trumpet is vibrant, brassy, golden and present. Richard Patterson’s bass is commanding and takes the center of the sound stage, deep and rich. Ricky Wellman’s drums are full of gusto, there is a reason his nickname was “Sugarfoot” and you hear that in all it’s glory. Kenny Garrett’s passion radiates past the speakers, Deron Johnson’s keyboards float above the proceedings and Foley’s lead bass provides a wonderful textural contrast to everything else.

Concluding Thoughts:

The 80’s and early 90’s Miles cannon has seen relatively scant archival releases versus everything from the 50’s-70’s. Merci Miles is a welcome document of a band that truly was at the top of it’s game and at the peak of its powers. Miles Davis, judging from this concert was showing little sign of slowing down in his playing, there is a vitality and joy here that easily places this alongside his Montreux concerts of the period and the excellent Live Around The World (Warner Brothers, 1996). A wonderful present honoring the great musical icon thirty years on from his passing. The CD (reviewed here) and LP packages contain some particularly touching photos in a triple gatefold in the French Flag colors of Miles memorabilia from that final tour provided by Vince Wilburn, Jr and a superb liner essay from noted scholar Ashley Kahn contextualizing the history of the trumpeter’s French sojourns and the event itself, alongside some great photos. The cover also features some nice embossing of the album title text and Davis’ name. If there is any doubt about physical media, this album is a compelling case for why it’s so good to OWN a physical copy of an album.

Music: 10/10

Sound: 8.5/10

Equipment used for this review

Audiolab 6000 CDT transport

Schiit Bifrost 2 DAC

Marantz NR 1200 stereo receiver (as pre amp)

Marantz MM 7025 stereo power amplifier

Focal Chora 826 speakers

Audioquest Forest and Golden Gate cables

youtube

#miles davis #jazz #trumpet #prince #funk

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caughtinkorea · 3 years

Text

Chasing Pavements(Excerpts of 2019)

Korea drained me.

It took me on an emotional roller-coaster I never want to experience again. I promised myself I’d never purposely try to put myself through that again. I came back a moody mess trying to pick up the bitter pieces of shoulda, coulda, woulda... but ultimately glad it didn’t.

When I came back I didn’t really have time to chill. I was just thrust into the next thing. I immediately jumped into preparing for my brother’s wedding. Everything and everyone around me kept me occupied. There was no time to focus on the mess of the past. I was leaving the memories of Korea behind. The good, the bad, and the ugly. In the end it all became so ugly.... except one part. Bond, James Bond.

Bond was the sweet guy that showed up out of nowhere when I was just about to leave. Story of my life *rolls eyes*. Curious things started happening at the time that I met him that made me a bit paranoid. I still don’t know exactly what to make of him or how he fit into my life. If I could tell you the full story you would understand why I said my life is a sitcom/drama.

So when I left Korea I guess you could say that was our official parting ways. At least I thought. After the wedding I had made plans to visit New York to see some friends. While talking with Bond one day we found out we’d coincidentally be in NYC at the same time. It seemed fate was bringing us together again. What were the chances that he’d be on my side of the world, in the same area, at the same time?

I landed in NYC and it wouldn’t be my life if some type of drama didn’t ensue. SO, of course, it did. Right when I landed. I was left stranded in Time Square because of a male ego -_-. Not Bond’s but another person. It left a bad taste in my mouth.

But I made sure not to let it ruin my trip. I decided to go to my hotel to change game plans and recoup. I knew I wouldn’t be able to see Bond much because he was on a business trip. When he arrived in NYC he let me know and we found out we’d be staying really close. Just across the bridge from each other. Then I found out his trip would be cut short and he’d actually be going back to Korea a few days earlier than planned. The day we had planned to meet was the day he would be heading back. Things just didn’t want to go my way. He told me he’d be taking a stroll down Time Square that night. I was disappointed at how things were unfolding and in a moment of frustration I let it be known. He seemed to be taking too much time to reply back to me. I asked if he really considered us friends. He asked if I was drunk. He said it wasn’t usual of me to act this way. I told myself I wouldn’t take that stuff anymore(holding my tongue to my true feelings). I was back on American soil and pledged I wouldn’t bend like that again due to so called “cultural differences”. I had had enough of that. But unlike the other kguys I dated, rather than gaslight me he apologized. In fact, he was very sympathetic and apologetic. From that moment he was extra attentive and promised to do right by me.

Even though he was busy he said he’d make time to meet during his lunch break. Unfortunately I couldn’t do that. So he made every effort to try to meet at a more convenient time for me. I told him I’d be meeting up with a friend for dinner, but we could meet up afterwards since we’d be around the same area.

After dinner with my friend I headed to our meet up spot. I remembered his birthday would be the next day so I stopped by a deli to pick up a cupcake, candles, and a lighter. I hid it away in a bag. When I got to the spot I called him and he snuck out of his hotel to meet me. We walked around to find a coffee shop, but they were all closed. While walking he saw a fancy bar across the street so we decide to head there. We get in and he buys us drinks. We go and find a small table for 2 away from the bar so we could sit and talk. Our drinks arrive. We start catching up on the short time I’ve been away from Korea. I didn’t particularly like the bartender’s recommendation and I guess he saw it all over my face lol. He ordered me a different drink (which was much better). I noticed he seemed a bit solemn and low spirited all night. It was almost midnight now(11:59) so I took out the cupcake and candle. I lit the candle and when the clock struck 12 o’clock I exclaimed “Happy Birthday!”. His face completely lit up.

I really enjoyed seeing how happy it made him. His demeanor completely changed and did a 180. He didn’t realize I knew it was his birthday. He told me he was really touched by the gesture and now completely let his guard down.

We ate a few bites of the cupcake and then left to take a walk down Time Square. On our way there we passed a few guys shooting dice. One guy was trying to sell his mixtape to people around. He comes up to us and makes his pitch. I hand him a few bucks and he hands me his cd. He thanks me, compliments me, then lightly taps on Bond and tells him he’s a lucky guy. He then hurries off. I chuckle it off and hand Bond the cd. I tell him when he goes back to his room he should play it. You never know. It may be good. He says “And get a computer virus? Uh, no.” I’ll pass. lol We walk toward the main area and a taxi passing by gets a little too close to me for his comfort so he pulls me into him. What in the kdrama nonsense is going on here?! *plays ‘You Are My Destiny’ theme music* XD He asks if I’m alright. I say I’m fine. We walk over by the red steps and take a few pictures together. We kinda just take in all the sights and sounds. It was a good little break to just enjoy the essence of New York City and get away. We walk down a couple more streets and just joke around enjoying each others company. We’re walking to cross the street and I was so focused on what was ahead that I didn’t pay attention to what was on the ground. I took a couple steps and *squish*.... I stop in my tracks. He looks back and asks what’s wrong. I stutter out “I think I stepped in horse poop.” I was just hoping it wasn’t true. He looks at me, then down to my foot, then back over to my eyes. The crosswalk timer is winding down. I pick up my foot to reveal what it is. Yeah... it’s horse poop T_T.

He jokingly pinches his nose and teases me as we run across before the timer runs out. Me with that awkward limp run you do in order to not make the mess even messier. We make it to other side and he’s cracking up. I playfully pat him and say “You think this is funny?” I scrape the poop off on the curb and he jokes that I now need to go home and take a shower because I stink ¬_¬. We laugh it off together. Unfortunately he can’t stay out long and has to get back to his hotel. He wasn’t really supposed to be out but he came out for me.

He walks me over to the subway station and we stop at the entrance. He finally confesses he likes me. I’ve realized the feeling is mutual. We say our final goodbyes and give each other a hug. It’s a little longer than usual. When we stepped away slightly we paused and looked at each other.

You could cut the tension with a knife. It was that very obviously perfect timing for a kiss moment but we mutually decided against it. We blushed, looked down, and lightheartedly laughed it off. We said goodbye again. He waited for me to walk down the steps and when I was there we waved each other goodbye one more time.

We still talk from time to time though it’s been a while now. We would call each other and have hours long discussions. I appreciated that he was honest telling me how he felt. If he was offended or uneasy about something I said he’d let me know and vice versa. Then we’d find out it usually stemmed from misunderstandings. One of those days my sister passed by and heard him talk. Like I’ve said before, he has a really attractive semi British accent with a deep tone. She was so shocked when she heard it and said “Who is that?! OMG, his voice is deep!”.

I wish you could see the level of amazement in her voice and on her face when she said that. lol Anyway, I promised myself I would never date a kguy again. Too many of them are too TOXIC and too much of a headache. But I would have made an exception for him. He would have been the last one I gave a chance. For the time I interacted with him he seems almost perfect on paper. He is well traveled, educated (also went to school for a bit in England), good personality, has a good stable job, not from Seoul(originally), and he’s tall so he’d fit right in with the guys in my family (wouldn’t be angry at the fact he’d be the short one like that ex and his 188cm ass XD). Not that he was short, he just made an insecurity complex out of it where need not be *rolls eyes*. Bond is 191cm. Around the same height as my little brother who is actually the shortest boy in my family. My two older brothers are 203cm and 205cm. They’d probably still joke that he’s short but all in good fun. Also I really liked that I felt protected around him with him being in the special forces and his job and all... I seemed to find all the special forces guys ;). And he never gas lit me. Not once! Which was a really big thing that happened constantly when dating kguys. It became one of the most irksome things about them, but he never did it. In fact, he was only ever genuinely apologetic when misunderstandings came up. It made me appreciate him even more.

But alas, I guess we were ultimately just not meant to be. We live in two different worlds and on different continents now and I don’t do that. Neither does he. But he let me know when I come back to visit Korea I always have a place to stay <3.

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namjoonchronicles · 4 years

Text

cognac & nicotine | nj

↳ pairing namjoon, you

↳ genre drama, suggestive smut, fluff

↳ words 2k

↳ warnings no chill, hidden love, pining on each other but too prideful to admit, namjoon’s a lawyer, graphic description of bed scene, nicotines and alcohol abuse, i miss writing namjoon and got a little frisky

“Don’t catch feelings.”

Fast forward for about three months, and you’re tangled in his sheets, woken up by the sound of the front door clicking shut. The cologne he wore left lingering in the room you shared just a few hours before. His side of the bed is empty, obviously, but there’s a note by the bedside table that sparks a smile on your face. Careful not to let the sheets reveal your bareness underneath, you scooted over to it to see them clearer, and what he wrote in scraggly writings,

“You’ve been served.” With a smiley at the end.

It made you chuckle, how his sophisticated humor eases in. Within these four walls, you still feel a little shy to what it has witnessed. There's the sound of the busy traffic travelling up his penthouse and strangely, it felt like home. It didn’t really register into your brain how massive this ordeal is until you try to step out of his bed and felt the need to clutch onto something to help you walk. You bit your smile and found relief in the fact that he wasn’t watching. He would have made fun of it until the ends of the earth. Looks like he was right, you’ve technically been served.

His lawyer robe disappeared from the hangers, and so is his document bag. That suggests that he left for work already. Which was good for him because you wouldn’t have let him leave if you see him in his black-white attire. Those long trousers, extending his long legs, belt buckle and the white dress shirt underneath his blazers and cufflinks--simply spell erogenous to you. He knows he captivates you in those fit and knows how to use them against you. There’s toast on the table that he spreads with butter and coffee mug ready underneath the coffee maker, still piping hot. There’s traces of his hobbies in this house; the photos he took, the boxing gloves, the figurine collectibles, his anime CDs--he’s just a big little boy.

There’s a bookshelf in the corner of the living room that just represents the lawyer in him. They’re neatly arranged, in alphabetical order, colors, and editions.The books are heavily manifested with notes and scribbles once you flipped them open, and it shows how hard he studies or how confused he was. All the question marks between this pages. He makes you smile even when he’s not here. This is another level of infatuation, now, isn’t it?

Infatuation, the word resonates in your mind.

How do you navigate this? How do you tell your father, his boss?

How will you explain those breathless wars on top of his desk at work when no one is around? How he pushes you against the file cabinet and devours you with his mouth, leaving handprints on your ass? How he has you sprawled on the files he’s supposed to read because you wouldn’t stop sparking his mind, into the dirty things you could be doing? Or how the late night drives almost always turn into something else? How sins taste like nicotine and cognac, laced on his tongue dancing with yours in the depth of night, in the backseat of his car. Soft music playing in the background and all you feel is his hand on your skin, your name in desperate whispers.

How would you explain the way his eyes look at you like he’s undressing you in his mind, amidst the office meeting you had no role in? How can you explain the way his hand cupped your buttcheeks in the lift, far in the back when no one saw and the flirtatious smile that’s thrown everywhere but to you? You know damn well that you would put your life through hell if your parents knew. Now that you’re in his penthouse, your fears began to pile on, one by one. You start listing the things that you hated about him, hoping it will make you hate him.

Those intentional touches, lingering stares from across the room, and how you find excuses to be at the office longer than you should. All those needs to stop.

Why is it that, when happiness finally finds you, you chase it away? Because happiness doesn't last? Because your past has proven to you that it is temporary and you wanted forever but you know it doesn’t exist. When your friends scold you about thinking to break the bonds before it becomes one, it hurts you. It hurts you because you thought of all the years, and all the time you spend with them, you thought they would at least understand your incapability, your flaws and defects. But they don’t. And if the people you trust your life with don’t understand you, you expect Namjoon would?

You shut the door behind you like you would your thoughts. His bathroom is very much like him, organized in its functions; shaving utility, facials, toiletries. And in the reflection, you caught yourself in a pensive expression and it dawned to you just how sad you looked. There’s a mark between your nipples that he left, and you remembered that you left a few on him too. He invaded your mind all too frequently nowadays. With his soap, you smell like him. And your hands glide over your skin where his palms was, the water trails down the valley of your breasts, in the back of your neck and between your buttcheeks. There’s a hickey on the inside of your thighs that tingles when you run your forefinger on them and you take the chance to mimic his hand movements in between your legs.

Drying up your hair, strapped in his robe, you searched for his bed sheets to change the soiled one he had on. Then you throw them in the washing machine while you ate the toast he made. Your phone had been laying face down on his kitchen counter, abandoned since he feels you up the moment you stepped into his space. He was some type of horny last night. It has been a while and you weren’t exactly responsive to his messages for the past few days and he grew needy. It doesn’t help that the new chambering lawyer enters exactly when he was piled with work and a difficult client going through a divorce. He wants to call and rant about it to you, but you’re always so occupied with the new member that he feels slightly neglected.

Standing in the bathroom to check his attire before the trials begin, Namjoon unbuttons the top two buttons of his dress shirt to have a peek of the hickey you made. For some reason, he likes to keep this as a trophy and it be quite a remembrance that if he could have you, he could have anything he wanted. You are the benchmark in his life. It’s a surge of motivation that could seem unconventional to most, but if you knew Namjoon, you know that he is everything but conventional.

He fairly admits that he was extremely affection deprived yesterday, that a simple glance from you would send his blood throttling straight to his groins. But he had to behave because your father was around to welcome Jeon, the new chambering lawyer that would be attached for four months, just like Namjoon was, before he was offered a position there. And for some reason, took ninety percent of the day. He was bitter. And extremely horny. He had to find excuses to have you come to his house and he knows it’s going to be hard because you’re not so gullible, but he hopes you would pretend because he doesn’t know if he’s gonna make it tonight without you. Nothing would have sufficed.

When you rang him to let you know you’re at his doorstep, handing the file he purposely left on your table, his heart leaped and courage set in. He knows there’s no going back to what was. He wanted you and wanted you so badly, his brain malfunctioned.

“Yea just place them on my desk down the hall….” he orders. “Do you not have hands?” you stared at him quizzically but walked in nonetheless, thinking that he might have a good reason why he said so, because he’s not usually so tactful. The sway of your hips as you walk in makes the cognac in his hand taste weaker than it usually is and he downed them whole and grimaced at the after taste. You’ll set those files in seconds, and he has to come up with another useless errands to make you stay longer than you probably should.

“I missed your coffee, you didn’t make me one because of that Jeon,” his voice grittles from behind the shell of your ear as you sort those files on his desk. The tail of your eyes glide to the view of the opened bottle of half-drunken cognac at the corner of the table and you mentally shook in disapproval. He just can’t stop drinking, can he?

“You usually get one from Starbucks downstairs, I didn’t think I had to make a jar,” you shrugged your shoulders, eyes focused on the files, shifting the orders to fit the schedule he had. He was leaning his shoulders on the door sill, hands in his pocket, dress shirt on, rolled up sleeves to his elbows, when you turned around, and the flicker in his eyes he passed you through his bangs was enough to bite your tongue. As if he had read your thoughts, he bits his before shifting his weight to another feet, bobbing his head down like he’s shy of his thoughts and barely in control.

“It’s been a week....” his voice pierced through the silence. “I noticed,” you leaned on the edge of his mahogany table, crossing your arms, giving away nothing. “Didn’t bother you?” he cleared his throat.

You responded by twisting your lips and unfold your hands to march towards him, pulling him by the belt loop and he towers above you with little to no hesitance, greeting you lips first. The kiss grew hungrier and hungrier until you’re backed up against the leather sofa of his office. Halfway through the lip-lock, you have your fingers fumbling on the buttons of his dress shirt, to unbutton them. His grip on your rib cage intensifies, pulling your dress up so he could run his hand on the back of your thighs. And then he parted, while you whined bitterly.

“Bed?” he breathlessly suggested. “I don’t care,” you matched his desperation.

He chuckles handsomely and leaned down to carry you over his shoulders before speeding down the hallway to his room. He throws you on the bed when he notices that you’ve unbuttoned him enough to help him off of those work attire. He unbuckles his belt achingly slow, with a hint of flirtatious smile on his lips, asserting his dominance in a way. As he watched your hand rubbing on yourself to keep the arousal going, he ran his tongue along his lips and told you to watch him as you touch yourself. You’re so far gone and he is barely getting your attention now, so he couldn’t even undress properly because of the look on your face was so inviting. He delved in a demanding manner, possessively taking over your hand and harshly whispered in your ear that he wanted his fingers there.

“You wore the dress I liked,” he nibbles on your earlobe while you responded in whimpers, shivering underneath him. “It’s the one you wore that night when we fucked in my car,” his voice was intoxicating, and he is making you drunk with his words. “I wore the dress I like,” you hissed through your teeth, feeling the familiar clenches below your waist, “You just happened to like it.” He chuckles darkly, smiling against your skin while his hands rode your dress up enough for him to bare your thighs and froze when he realised that you wore nothing underneath.

“You…” “What about it.”

Someone flushing in the bathroom takes him back where he is. Right. The trial. He’s donning a lawyer robe and he walked out looking rather dashing. Here it is. The very thing that makes him drink and smoke. He hates his job, but he loves you. His contract is ending soon.

With countless nights wondering where he stands, he hopes you know that you’re the reason why he even thinks his job is sexy. But how long can you hide this tryst from the public eye? With Namjoon’s constant need for touch, and the barriers your father has set?

And because of him, love will always taste like cognac and nicotine. Will this lungful drag of cigarettes, nicotine in his system, help him cope with what he’s about to lose? Will the liquor laced tongue make him forget the taste of your skin? What can he do? He caught feelings. He knows he wasn’t supposed to.

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andy-the-8th · 3 years

Text

Day Of and Day After - Sam (Part 5)

Part 5 of Creatures That Defy Logic

Read on AO3

That feel when you're 14 and your boyfriend turns out to be a merman, but you've still got things to get done this summer.

Sam's perspective at the end of the movie.

A/N: Sam was perhaps the least-developed character in the whole movie, so writing from her perspective was kind of a fun blank slate. I've given her a last name, individual background interests and information, and invented (mostly - Jennifer is Sam's friend who had like 2 lines) a whole supporting group of original characters for the chapters from her perspective - maybe they'll also be connected to other stories?

Sam got home about an hour after leaving the marina and Cody's parents behind. Hot from the long walk and summer air, she went immediately to the kitchen and downed two glasses of water, letting the coolness spread throughout her body as she sat and calmed down at the kitchen table.

It had been a good plan to walk back. Sam was as much an athlete as Cody or Sean or any of the boys they hung out with - her mind and muscles were connected, and one always worked better when the other was engaged.

With the open air and time to walk with purpose, she had managed to calm her emotions about losing Cody. She hung on to the mermaid's silent promise to have him back before school started, somehow communicated to Cody's mom via telepathy. God, telepathy. Another ontological thing to adjust to. Would Cody have telepathy when he returned?

She'd managed to stop crying about halfway through her walk. She knew it would come again that night, and probably the next several nights. She could hear her friend Jennifer laughing at how silly she would look crying over a boy going away for the summer, even a boy as socially desirable as Cody Griffin. Sam and Jen connected on a lot, but in the boys department she sometimes wished Jen could be a little less shallow. As far as Jen was concerned, a boyfriend only needed to be cute and popular - emotional depth, socializing, deepest-darkest secret keeping was for girl friends. Sam agreed on all the latter, but had always thought romance could be about something more.

She hadn't been attracted to Cody for his popularity. If anything, she was drawn to his drive, his energy when he would compete, the charisma he had among his teammates and with his friends. The way being one of the popular guys hadn't turned him into a cocky prick like Sean and some of the other boys on the team.

Sam felt like they were meant for each other, even if they'd only been going out since spring break. She thought Cody felt the same - Cody was like an open book, which was something she'd always loved about him. He was terrible at lying, and you could always see every emotion on his face. She had never doubted his feelings for her.

Which was part of why she was still not over him not telling her about this sooner.

Sam's older sister Jackie had come home from college last summer, talking about all the drama of dating in college with her high school friends once they were all back in town. The new thing she kept talking about was love languages - the way people show each other they care. Sam honestly thought most of her sister's talk was needlessly dramatic, and hoped that the boys she knew would grow up to be a bit less vapid and out of touch than all the boys Jackie seemed to encounter. Regardless, Sam took the little checkmarked quiz in the back of Jackie's magazine, and which said her love language was trust - being able to tell each other anything.

When she'd told Cody on the beach that she wanted him to be able to tell her anything, she could even hear Jackie's or her mom's voices in her head, saying that she was being a bit demanding for a three-month relationship in 8th grade. She didn't care. She knew she loved him, and to Sam that meant complete honestly.

So having to find out after Cody sprouted fins, apparently blew up the scoreboard (?), and ran away from the meet was justifiably infuriating. To be fair, she didn't really expect this to be what Cody was keeping from her. Part of her was relieved that it wasn't him seeing some other girl. She didn't think he would do that, but this was junior high after all. She only now slightly regretted storming out that day - she may have been sad to lose Cody, but he had hurt her too with his lack of trust and uneven expectations.

The fact that she had to learn about the details from that Josh kid only exacerbated the issue. Apparently they were close friends or something now? Then again, he looked at Cody like a science project - like he was something to study. Still, she could tell that he was important to Cody, and had clearly helped him out when the problems had started - even if she would rather have been the one to do it, the kid's science background probably helped a lot more. Even if Josh insisted they weren't problems, they were steps of Cody's metamorphosis, it sure still turned into a lot of problems for everyone else involved.

Josh's - no, Jess's - weird-ass comment about her "kissing" him after performing mouth-to-mouth was probably the part of the day she least wanted to remember. Like, sorry for trying to save your life. Thank God for junior lifeguard training and boyfriends who can apparently shoot lightning out of their hands.

Still, as she was thinking about school the next day, Sam realized it was going to be weird to not be able to talk about where Cody was with anyone. She was his girlfriend, after all - "the most popular girl in school" as Jen naggingly kept reminding her - and had always been an extrovert, wanting to talk things over with people she cared about to make them all make sense. Jess was now in the weird position of being her only peer she could be fully truthful with about what was going on her life.

That would make for an interesting summer.

God, and Sean would no doubt have a million questions after whatever he might have seen at the swim meet. It was bad enough that he still attempted to flirt with her whenever possible - him getting into a fight with Cody that had to be broken up by Josh Jess of all people surely was going to make him all the more insufferable.

Getting up from her chair, Sam tied her hair back and got up for another glass of water. She was reminded of Cody's weird sudden thirstiness at all times over the last several weeks, and how that finally made sense, and (thankfully, maybe) wasn't diabetes, as she'd repeatedly warned him. He'd insisted it wasn't, with the excuse that his mom wouldn't want him to go to regular doctors to get tested anyway. That part at least was true, even if only half of the story. Diabetes would have been a bit more normal, but imagining Mrs. Griffin dealing with insulin shots was almost scarier than her dealing with merpeople.

Merpeople of all things. She didn't doubt Cody's promise to her this time, but still: there'd better not be any mer-girls to hear about come the end of the summer.

Putting her glass in the sink, she stretched back and decided to put all the drama of middle school girls and boys - human and otherwise - behind her for the rest of the afternoon. She slid open the glass door next to kitchen table and stepped out onto the small porch in the backyard, lined with shelves of potted plants all sorts of colors and shapes. Sam had always loved her plants - succulents, aloe, bromeliads, spider plants, dracaena trees - things tied to the earth. Her room and the back porch had become her container gardens, where she'd retreat to care for them and decompress. She gathered up her watering cans - large spouts for rainlike streams, small bottles to directly water the soil - and the various pump bottles of plant food for each variety. As it was the beginning of June, it would be time to refresh the fertilizer in all of the soil. She filled the watering cans at the sink and moved smoothly and slowly from plant to plant, dabbing drops of liquid plant food to the soil, carefully parting leaves and stems, watering just the right amount for each species. The work was perfect, slow and relaxing - Sam focused on the diverse needs of each individual plant as well as appreciating its beauty and growth progress.

Sam was actually quite a good biology student herself, though she had always been more inclined to studying plants, both aesthetically and via agriculture, than anything to do with the oceans. Land management and endangered species conservation were at the top of her extracurricular interests - she had been president of the middle school environmental club the last two years, organizing recycling drives, local beach cleanups, and nature walk days for the elementary school.

This summer she had managed to get a part time job at one of the local greenhouses, which served both the florist shop and a few of the garden centers around town. Her job would start two weeks from the end of school. The prospect of spending the summer caring for things of the earth was far more comforting and appealing than tomorrow and dealing with people again.

Sam mentally noted the irony of her caring so much for things of the land, with her boyfriend turning out to be a literal sea creature.

She finished all of the care and cleaning for the plants on the back porch, then carefully went upstairs with the smallest of the watering cans and repeated the process with the small collection of indoor plants in her room.

After finishing up, she laid back on her bed, staring at the musician posters on her ceiling - Backstreet Boys, TLC, and Destiny's Child - trying to let her mind zone out. She reached into the bottom drawer of the dresser next to her bed for her CDs, finding what she had been looking for: TLC's FanMail, new just last winter. She popped the CD into her small player and put her headphones on, closed her eyes, and focused on following the rhythms of the drums and harmonies in the voices. The music worked - she found herself drifting off to sleep, exhausted physically and mentally from the rest of the afternoon.

It was almost dark outside when she woke to her mom coming in the front door downstairs. Sam quickly got up, taking a few seconds to reorient herself in space and time. Quickly trying to pull herself out of the weird fog of falling asleep midday, she made her way downstairs.

"Oh hey! Were you asleep?" Her mom rarely missed anything. Like Sam, she had long red hair, pulled back into a bun over her black dress shirt and blue blazer. Her mom was a lawyer, one of the only ones in their town who worked in environmental protection policy. Most of her days were spent with documents and plans from the various touristy planners, boat charters, and other industrialists looking to exploit the town's oceanside location, circumventing whatever environmental protection laws as they could. Ms. Lindsey Brathwaite was the main champion of the environment standing in their way.

Sam consciously widened her eyes and slightly shook her head to wake herself up. "Only a bit. Had a busy day earlier, lots going on with tomorrow the last day of school."

"Oooh, any plans for tomorrow night? Two weeks still til you start work, anything going on in the meantime with ze boyfriend?" Her mom always had a good sense of humor when discussing Sam's social life, even if it got a little annoying sometimes with not taking things quite as seriously as her daughter would like. If only she knew this one.

"Actually I was just going to maybe hang out with Jen and the girls tomorrow. Cody's, uh, Cody's going to be going away for the summer."

"Oh really? Family vacation? I would have thought they'd stay around, tourist season and all." Lindsey never missed a thing.

"Uh, no, he's going away by himself. Swim training thing, out in Australia." At that Lindsey turned right around from where she was busy taking plates out of the cabinets. "Australia? Really?"

Sam did her best to nod nonchalantly. "I think he has something going on there for like, potential Olympic training maybe? And Mrs. Griffin's sister lives there too." Sam turned away, slightly bit her lip, worrying she might be laying it on too thick. Best to avoid too many details with the story, in case she or Jess or anyone else couldn't remember them all if they had to. That said, a training camp for the Olympics wouldn't be too out of the ordinary to be in Australia - the next actual games were in Sydney next year anyway, and as she said, Mrs. Griffin had a sister who lived somewhere on the north eastern coast.

Lindsey was still no less surprised but at least seemed to buy the story, frowning at her daughter slightly. "Aw, I'm sorry to hear that, I'd imagine you'll miss him, especially with such little notice!"

"You have no idea." Sam's tone accurately indicated to her mom that she was annoyed but also wanted to drop the subject for right now.

"Well we can get on making dinner right now, then if you want to call Jen later tonight you can set up your plans and talk things over? I won't be needing the computer tonight so the phone'll be all yours." Sam really loved her mom, especially how she knew when to give her space to work things out socially. "Jackie will be coming back next week too!"

The thought of her sister showing up again for the summer made Sam even more glad to be out of the house at her greenhouse job. Jackie was alright, but ever since Sam had grown up enough to be dating, her sister was only too interested in being helpful - and prying - in that department. There were only so many details Sam would be able to give about the boyfriend she'd already told Jackie about.

"OK, thanks Mom! I'll call Jen after dinner." Sam walked over to the salad bowl Lindsey had already put out on the table, and began carefully mixing in croutons and putting the dressings out from inside the fridge. After the day she just had, something as simple as making dinner was an appealingly normal event.

#the thirteenth year #dcom #disney channel original movies #mermen #mermaid #TLC #backstreet boys #destiny's child

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sirjustice1355 · 3 years

Text

Ask could nelson northwhitehead finished the world all alone and if yes and not yet what made him to relent and which nations can he live best so he gets their dude AND WHICH SUBJECTS he knows best and the women he loves and cars or houses and given

what can be grown in seas at what height as in brooklynn tea can grow from 700 meter down the main land and with floating cushion cylinders which can fly when height above sea water needed 4 the plant growth can make many with soil and fix them at that height and boom like ya wheat or tea or make many islands on top on already made to reach water surface and that land dude

Ask is nelson sick, yep got teeth tata and growing nuts kinda of schizophrenia and answers given yes or no or not yet confirmed or cant be known yet have cash not, do nelson watch porn answer given no, read books or cook no

even wens Father is Lil scrappy and tychus mother Joyce and father lil scrappy was it artificial insemination, Cd burst or intercourse and answer given dude and the figures behind the sperm theft and insemination all given and even those 1 in love with, if one had sex last night or not and the kind of car one loves and the greatest scientist and who came up with the stolen invention as with scientist is Nelson Northwhitehead, Calvin clain, Einstein and Johnson though gave others his innovations and all those stolen goods the ones who stole and the killers of one and how many marks one will get b4 marking and those people who copied the exam or had papers prior and the plot killers of others and all the loophole to stealing cash in an economy

4 jayden Jlo and latifa and mary J TOOK kid 4 chingy, even within ya mind if u look at the forehead of those fathers real or adopter and u ask who is the father to Jayden u see a written script chingy and even Victor of driving school father lil scrappy taken by it 4 the infusion dude

And if a nation like Kenya can be rich than USA and in which perimeters in national income or in per capita and the population number 4 it to be rich as if population increase makes it poor all those options given to and what other nations ought to do to make such nations not rich and even when not in display in the net as hidden, what advances in militarily machines and vehicles a nation has or a particular tribe to know how to combat them if possible or not told

And if 1 Gold or property was stolen or has made machines in the boom if not certain gives ya the same and if u had these infection or not, a thing the Hindu uses and give other reasons so u know not and they get ahead as u fear them dude and even u can ask which combination treats aids as of which plant products or make this machine in the boom process and the how the boom environment ought to be and if one ready to marry or can marry and if one hates or love another or people planning to rob one, steal or harm and even exhume graves. With the photo fold thing of sharp dimension tells u all the above or written script within it but many b4 crossing and where were each tribe gotten into Africa or out of Africa and in what time dispensation and who brought them, the green man or which people and which nations in Europe and Asia occupied Africa b4 moving to their previous lands out of Africa and who came from outer space from which planet

It gives you the trio-logy of one as the one of Christ in the bible and if one is related to one in far distant lands dude and even if u want sermon on this bible topic given or speed touching on a subject u want given, autobiography, news paper news, school books mentioning the topics like parts of heart, lungs and kidney and their suctions and even taxonomy or radio activity dude and even who slept with that maid or kids or who beat them in people absenstia dude

Even what electronics has been made per every tribe of the world, foods, machines and office tool as u google as u write b4 crossing and folding pressing with knife or ruler so heap be one on the roads as either dry or all weather roads or within ya yard, either u go the stir way in porridge with ya finger or try with anything one hand or leg in heap of garbage kids caressing to wash or hurl out cold water or acidified water or grab the wall method as u wash ya feet in fruit, fluid or chemical mixture either with kids or cattle or pets or women or old people or go the chop fruit and extracts mixtures on wood soaked in mixtures as of fruits and berries or juices in dry posture in dry or wet mud or in cereal and even when voodoo on one as swollen skin those responsible 4 the same as with death and those who stole or ready to steal exams and even those infected dude and the desires and pleasures or plans of one dude so u stop to claim things as yours cause the devil knows and will be part of ya judgement in heaven or in earth to eliminate ya and options given as printed and even those who sunk this ship and fallen this airplane and these cars and even the type of airplane on air currently, drones or choppers or missiles long b4 the radar and those yacht or ships on sea on voyage or submarine on waters and even those in love and having sex as u can ask particularly where one is to tell u all above about 1 if possible and those who had TB or Corona previously or when one has had sex with another and on how many occasions and even if one is tired with life given bro and those who wants to eat in one house without cease or stop wanting war with those people whom he wants to eat in their houses

Even between cities which beautiful, secure or this and that which is beautiful or gorgeous dude like Nairobi and Kampala and answer given as with automobile or machines u cant refuse to heap blame on one and if one can be or is willing to be president or Mp of a nation instead of heaping blame as i remember i told China these when i was in Minneapolis and u can ask the Devil the same if Nelson Gave china all these and when and even talking phone app in ya local dialect dude and even those nation having the dredger to cut across the earth surface to below the outer crust and currently making which holes at what bearing in which places, like presently Italy and china making holes in KENYA sisal land, tea or flower, Germany and Brazil included and even in Uganda coffee land as they have stopped all given in print form at what height the stopped and if their is any intruder beneath the earth surface within ya land or all over dude as drones or space shuttle dude and where one was born, in which cities, countries with those shifted to dude and their ages as years of birth, dude stop and resort to the above either in the dark, moonlight or under light dimmers

Like even how many nations now got internet and web browsers, radar long range missiles, space shuttle, mini military drones, atomic bombs, one long range of the earth radius phone company radar servers, of TV, drone, Radio and radio call and Rps system and exam intranet thing or cashless money long range wireless booth and if liquid cash ending soon or to stay or nations with yachts, ships, tankers, airplanes, cruise ship home made

Go the smoke way, in dry sand land, step with polished shoes, to find the killers of Kobe and any or place photo in the cup facing up the add sugar or salt or both as sand off hour glass when their photos, suspect on ya hand as u squeezed with tangerine juice and outer peel legs in termite soil with raw mango juice or acidified water and boom down eps brown or partially green sugar or mix of dif colors dude. buy this one and save the day with ya knife. can have cash but not liquid cash to buy stuff as u bought a property even worth millions and another has less cash but did not buy property and have much exchanging cash than u like the obamas

gas or cushion inside armored glass cylinders placed on water can float to house your next tv/phone or any server on distant see as with Norwegian Highway, i wanted to rob USA her dignity and China by telling elon mask the same, new Zealand wireless electricity, Bulgaria digital tomb stone and Norway the Highway above which is beautiful and like missile to India Akash and e-voting machines and app like Tubidi with Kamba and the Arab search engine. Ask where obama father is answer in Kano bed ridden or in wheel chair, live in kayego kisumu in the past, senior not his father and Ann dun ham not his mother her mother was from peru living in bronx, mother from Kentucky and carlifornia to cement the truths of kebi sentiments. Ask if India is poor or rich answer poor and will they get out of Kenya lest shot or Kebi dies

The devil tells Isiah i new you b4 you were consecrated in ya mother tomb and ask why one hates another, has no sense of future dude to tell ya its not God but Mr devil the bible was rewritten and ask who bought kebi green-card and the cartel behind it and given and how much paid and those eating with organized sports betting as above and answers given, didy, minaj, Eddie Murphy, puttin and obama and more

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sirjustice1354 · 3 years

Text

ASk about NELSON

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sirjustice1353 · 3 years

Text

even wens Father is Lil scrappy and tychus mother joyce and father lil scrappy was it artificial insemination, Cd burst or intercourse and answer given dude and the figures behind the sperm theft and insemination all given and even those 1 in love with, if one had sex last night or not and the kind of car one loves and the greatest scientist and who came up with the stolen invention as with scientist is Nelson Northwhitehead, Calvin clain, Einstein and Johnson though gave others his innovations and all those stolen goods the ones who stole and the killers of one and how many marks one will get b4 marking and those people who copied the exam or had papers prior and the plot killers of others and all the loophole to stealing cash in an economy

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elopez7228 · 4 years

Text

Scenic Route 14/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

After giving BB8 more to drink in the parking lot, Rey met up with Ben to watch 4th of July fireworks with the band. There would definitely be a show in central town and Rey would rather sit with the party crowd than sip her beer all alone.

She headed towards the ski lifts, very much hoping that they could transport her and BB to the very top of the mountain.

Alas, they had a strict policy against dogs. She found herself relegated to the valley below. She was wearing her trainers and her backpack, the latter of which contained her hotel purchases: a water, a muffin, a banana, and a packet of beef jerky.

She looked around to make sure the blonde woman was nowhere to be found. Did she stop following or was she just getting better at being discrete?

She scratched BB’s head pensively, even as worry coiled in her stomach. And so she was fretting again—when she could be taking advantage of the day in front of her. After a quick google search, she decided to take a trek in the surrounding area. A walk could really do her some good.

The vast landscape looked nothing like the English countryside. Instead, mountain plants grew underfoot: traup flowers, pines, sage, heather, lichens and thorn bush. The air was buzzing with the sound of insects. Rey unclipped BB’s leash so the dog make her ascent freely.

Suddenly, she felt alone in her chagrin. It would have been nice to share the sights and sounds, the serenity of the moment with someone else. Where was Finn? What was he up to in that instant—after having ruined all her plans? She felt like she had spent an entire lifetime in London. One that blurred into the distance with her departure. She still thought about him every day, but doing so had become far less painful, less consuming. Her memories were instead soft and hazy, like she was looking back at him through a pair of rose-colored glasses. They had separated only two weeks ago and yet she found she did not miss him as much as she thought she would.

She felt utterly liberated, free to make her own choices and follow her own desires. She had been in a relationship for so long that she had forgotten what it felt like not to be beholden to someone else. To make decisions alone and selfishly, without having to compromise for anyone. And sure, having someone in her life had been reassuring—but it had also been stifling.

And besides, he had never really liked hiking, Finn was the kind of man who stayed within city limits. Their time together had consisted of television marathons, sushi takeaway, cinema outings, and concerts. Sometimes Finn would play football with his closest friends, especially Poe. Bloody hell—she should have seen Poe coming!

No, it was obvious now that Finn would never truly appreciate the value of a moment of peace and solitude in the mountains. She would rather share this moment with...

Ben.

Wait. That was ridiculous. They had only really known each other for a couple of days. Never mind that she had made a terrible first impression on him, and that was putting it nicely.

Why then did her mind imagine him there, alone at the top of the world with her? He always emanated a sort of melancholy. Why was his gaze so sad? Rey wondered how much of his cocky rockstar was just for show. Was music really his bread and butter? There was no way he could afford to drive a massive pickup like that after only three self-released CDs. So where did the money come from? Where did he—and his knights—really work?

It was useless to occupy her thoughts needlessly; she would have the chance to ask them about it tonight. If she played her cards right and asked discretely, that is.

Sitting on the river bank, she ate her last-minute picnic, turning to throw a few pieces of beef jerky in BB8’s direction.

BB8?

Where was that girl?

Rey got to her feet and places her hands around her mouth to amplify her voice.

“Bee Bee!”

Well, this was probably why they had put up that “dogs must remain on leash at all times” sign at the trail entrance. They were probably trying to save the squirrels from puppy wrath.

Chipmunks, whispered the voice in her head. Rey seethed mentally. Now was not the time to squabble over vocabulary!

The rustling of leaves a little further up the path got her attention. She recalled that BB8 liked to dig hiding places for her sticks. As Rey approached, a little striped rodent launched belly-down through the forest, zigzagging around rocks and roots as it flew into a thorny bush and found purchase on low hanging branches. BB8, previously disinterested, jumped up to chase the animal with a surprising amount of vigor. Before Rey could grab her, the dog disappeared into the bushes, like a greyhound chasing a lure.

Rey sighed a few choice words. Deciding not to waste time, she shoved the leash into her pocket and went in search of her dog.

And that’s how she found herself in a bloody sumac bush that left prickling imprints on her calves that caused agony with every step. The thorn bushes here were just as unforgiving as the ones in

England.

“I swear when I get ahold of that dog again I’m going to have an absolute fit,” she grumbled in between panting breaths. Her legs were on fire but the sound of BB8’s groaning wasn’t far off. She let it guide her toward a pile of withering branches. She found the little dog perched on her hind paws, barking at the trunk of a cedar tree that she had been leaning on.

Rey slipped the leash back onto BB’s collar and tugged a little harder than she probably should have. The dog yelped in protest. Feeling guilty, Rey leaned down to pet her.

“C’mon girl, let’s go.”

She retraced her steps, finally finding the place where she had stashed her knapsack. A large silhouette appeared to be rifling through her things. It looked rather large, and it turned to grunt at her like a bull.

Rey cried out. There, in the middle of the forest, stood a decent-sized bear. It was currently in the process of emptying out her bag, having eaten half of the banana and chewed up the muffin wrapper to sugary bits.

BB8 rose up and growled, baring her teeth. “Gently, steady now...” Rey whispered, backing away slowly.

She didn’t know anything about bears. Couldn’t it kill her and climb back up into the trees? But she had to get her knapsack back—it contained her phone and her travel papers—if the bear hadn’t already crushed them under its massive paws. She contemplated confronting the bear with the business end of a...stick? No, ridiculous. She could just imagine her equally ridiculous tombstone: Here lies Rey Jakku, who thought she could defeat a bear with her bare hands. Discouraged, Rey opted for patience. Surely the bear would eventually leave.

She took care to leave as much distance between herself and the beast, not realizing when BB8’s leash suddenly slipped from her grasp.

“BB8, NO!”

But the dog ignored her, descending on the bear at full height, teeth bared and frothing at the mouth.

The bear never saw her coming, too engrossed in sniffing out the food from the open bag. It turned around brusquely, getting up on its hind legs and letting out a roar that left Rey’s whole body shaking. BB8 retreated a few paces, though still maintaining a defensive stance. She certainly made up for her minuscule size with tenacity.

A nightmare scenario flashed inside Rey’s mind: The bear would kill her dog, and then finish her off.

Here lies Rey Jakku, mauled by a bear on her honeymoon. She was a rebel until the very end.

Or even if she survived, how was she to tell the Skywalkers—wherever they were—that she had left their little doggie at the mercy of a raging bear.

Here lies Rey Jakku, strangled to death by a woman who loved her orange dog above all else.

Without second thought, she began waving her arms around to distract the bear.

“Hey! Baloo! Over here!”

With the help of a stick she found on the ground, Rey banged on the trunk of nearby tree, still shouting at the top of her lungs. The bear turned towards her, snarling and roaring anew.

Rey felt her knees wobble.

Here lies Rey Jakku, devoured by a bear at age 26. Her life was shitty.

The bear then proceeded to swipe a massive paw at BB8, which she easily dodged. She snapped her jaws in response. Finally, the beast got onto all four paws once more and charged suddenly.

She was going to die. Without having told Finn that she forgave him. Without having told her mother she loved her. Without having the chance to slide her fingers through Ben Solo’s mesmerizing hair.

It was insanely stupid.

All of a sudden, a sharp click pierced the air, echoing off the mountain. A projectile whistled past, lodging in the trunk of the tree next to her. She didn’t immediately realize the situation. The bear stopped, jerking its head.

Rey stood paralyzed, comprehending the scene at a glance. There had been a shot fired in the woods. The animal’s ear was bleeding. The moment took forever to pass. Someone was shooting at her.

It was just too much for her, and she fell to her knees with her hands on her head. The bear, the shooter, the sound of fire, it was all too much to process.

The bear, to its credit, turned around to roar again. BB8 kept barking even as she began to run out of breath, as though she could chase the beast away with sheer perseverance. Another bullet whistled past. Rey curled up on the ground, a strangled noise escaping her. The bear growled once more and then, with agility belying its hulking frame, skittered off into the woods.

Rey hesitated, still lying in fetal position against the soil. Her entire body trembled. She looked up when she felt the warmth of BB’s tongue against her hands and face. It was then that she managed to catch her breath and clamber to her feet.

She gazed at the horizon, searching for traces of the bear, or the shooter. Everything was calm again. The birds that had scattered with the opening shot had once again returned to their branches.

Losing her adrenaline and her ability to stand, Rey crouched on the ground once more, eventually falling onto her back. Tears of relief flowed down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her trembling hand. She reached out and hugged BB8 tightly against her chest.

“Bravo, girl. Good dog—what a good dog, you’re not afraid of anything, are you?”

A voice inside her head whispered that it was ride or die with this dog. And the invisible shooter? Rey owed whoever that was a massive debt of gratitude.

Once the pounding of her heart had died down, she shouldered the remnants of her bag and took out her Swiss knife. She used the blade to carefully carve out the bullet lodged in the trunk of the fir. The projectile was buried so deeply in the wood that she had trouble dislodging it. When she finally managed to retrieve the gnarled piece of metal, she was overtaken by a violent burst of emotion. Someone had literally saved her life. She would have here, thousands of miles from home— and yet she was alive and unscathed. She held the bullet in her fist before slipping it into her pocket. And then she began the lone journey back up the trail.

Fifty feet away, Syed stood on a rocky outcrop overlooking the valley. She put away her gun, still warm to touch. His orders echoed through her mind.

Follow the girl wherever she goes. If anything happens to her, I’ll hold you personally responsible.

She hadn’t thought it would be so complicated. This Rey had a supernatural ability it seemed, she was a magnet for all kinds of trouble. Keeping her in one piece was not going to be easy.

It was almost three in the afternoon by the time Rey made it back to the city, exhausted and covered in scrapes and scratches. Fortunately, her car was still there and the blonde woman was nowhere to be found. She still checked to make sure that no one had slashed her tires or broken a window or stolen so much as the air freshener. No, it seemed the Falcon was a dingy yet invincible as ever. And that was the first good news she’d had all day.

It was still too early to join Kylo and the knights in the marketplace so she decided to take a nap. She was still crashing from the adrenaline high and her limbs could barely move. Not to mention that she’d barely slept last night, tormented by the looming presence of the blonde and the abrupt absence of Leia Skywalker. She had the feeling tonight was going to be an equally long night. Time to recuperate while she could.

She moved the car under the shade of a few trees at the very edge of the hotel parking, rolled down the windows, and let BB8 inside before blowing up her air mattress in the trunk. Just like last night. It was warm outside on that sunny summer afternoon, but a fresh breeze brushed against her skin through the open windows. And so she let go. But she wasn’t able to find sleep just yet. Something tugged at her mind, deep in her subconscious.

She had almost died today. Death had flashed before her eyes, and she’d thought it was over. And in those final, terrifying moments, she had thought about three people.

Finn.

Her mother.

And Ben Solo.

#reylo #fanfiction #Modern AU #scenic Route

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megalony · 5 years

Text

I’m staying here

A Ben Hardy imagine that is part of my Outnumbered series which I hope everyone is enjoying.

Taglist: @marshmallowmae @langdonzvoid

Outnumbered masterlist

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leaning her back up against the wall (Y/n) willed the tears to evaporate before they made a trail down her features, knowing that once they fell they would never stop. Letting her head fall to the right she locked eyes with the beagle sitting idly beside her, wondering what was so clearly wrong. Reaching out (Y/n) ran a hand through Frankie's fur, letting the beloved dog clamber onto her knees. Reaching up to sniff at (Y/n)'s features which was enough for her to let the damn break. Her face nuzzling into Frankie's fur as she wrapped arms around the dog.

"Mummy, it happening again and Lola's been sick again." A moment alone was too much for (Y/n) to wish for. She knew that as soon as she allowed herself to cry one or indeed both of the girls would now need her. It wasn't their fault of course, but (Y/n) couldn't help but feel like fate was playing games with her, it was letting her have a second to try and control her emotions to then have her needed somewhere else. Being alone to wallow in her emotions wasn't something that she was allowed. A sigh passed through her lips as she gently moved Frankie back to her feet so she could in turn push herself up.

Brushing the few stray strands of hair from her eyes (Y/n) tried to take a few calming breaths before daring to leave the solitude of the kitchen to venture up to where both girls were waiting.

Heading down the hall and over to the stairs, biting her lip at seeing Lily sitting at the top of the stairs, her head leaning against the wall as she locked her eyes onto her mother. A frown falling onto her features as panic started to bubble through her chest, not being used to seeing her mother crying like this.

"Let's get you to bed and then I'll go and see to Lola, okay?" Moving her hand (Y/n) brushed at the tears that continued to fall whether they were cruelly cut off in their tracks or not.

Looking down to Lily with a pleading expression when she made no attempt to get up from sitting on the top step. Simply leaning all of her weight onto the wall as she looked at her mother in a mix of pain and worry. Bending down so she was in front of the eldest girl (Y/n) ran her hand over Lily's features. "Can you walk, sweetheart?"

It was common for Lily to suffer from headaches and dizzy spells like she was today, sometimes standing up made the blood rush anywhere but her head. Sometimes she just didn't have the energy to move, she looked rather worn down as she leaned against the wall. This was one of the reasons (Y/n) needed Ben to be home especially when this happened. It was a frequent occurrence for Lily to feel like this and it was easier if Ben was around to help cope because if Lily had a spell and fainted (Y/n) couldn't really carry her up and down the stairs.

Rubbing a hand to her temple (Y/n) tipped her head back when Lily wrapped her arms around her middle, her head pressing into her mother's chest. The action simply making the tears fall faster.

"What's wrong mummy? Do you miss daddy?" Brushing her hand through Lily's blonde hair (Y/n) leaned forward to kiss the top of her head.

"He's home darling, I don't have to miss him." Gently pulling back (Y/n) held Lily under her arms to ease her to her feet, her own words sending shockwaves through her system. Ben was home from being away for two months on a new film, yet he was still out today finishing things up with his manager. Even when he was home lately (Y/n) didn't seem to have him around when she needed him. Today was one of the days that she needed him and he was gone.

"I miss him." The words were rather quiet before Lily's body suddenly folded like a piece of paper. Her chin pressing into her chest as she flopped like a rag doll, (Y/n)'s arms hooking around her chest to try and stop her from hurting herself. Unsure if Lily had fainted or just lost the energy or will to move.

"Shit!" The word tumbled from (Y/n)'s lips as she crashed onto the landing when her foot caught on the last step from leaning forward to catch Lily. Her hip jolting when it smashed into the carpeted floorboard on the landing sending a twinge rushing through her side resembling the feeling of hitting her funny bone in her elbow. Unwrapping her arms from Lily's middle she gently laid the five-year-old down on her back, ever so gently turning her head to see if she had fainted. Breathing in relief when Lily mumbled something that she couldn't quite make out, seeing her eyes fluttering like butterfly wings as her hand batted against (Y/n)'s arm as if for reassurance that she was still there.

Taking a few breaths to calm herself down (Y/n) slipped an arm under Lily's back and the other under her knees. Slowly getting to her feet, cradling the five-year-old to her chest who was limp in her arms even if she was awake. This situation would have sent (Y/n) into a state of panic if they hadn't of gone to the doctor just before Ben left to find out this wasn't anything to worry about.

Her teeth bit down into her lip when her hip twinged in discomfort, her leg jumping from the sudden feeling as she headed into her and Ben's room. Gently setting Lily down in the middle of the bed where she had been before.

Pressing her hand to her left hip (Y/n) turned and walked out of the room, tears drenching her face as everything seemed to be piling on top of her and crushing her. Making her way into Lola's room with a grimace (Y/n) walked in to find the one-year-old sitting up in the cot, tears leaving her eyes after having just thrown up all over the sheets and herself. Leaning over (Y/n) gently picked Lola up, her stomach churning with the urge to be sick herself when she peered over at the mess she would have to clean up soon.

Going over to the bathroom (Y/n) grabbed the changing mat and set it down on the floor in front of the bath, gently laying Lola down before getting to her feet again. The air being stolen from her lungs as she felt herself beginning to shake from exhaustion and pain. Making her way back to Lola's room she grabbed a change of clothes before yet again walking back down the hall to reach the bathroom. Peering into her room on the way to make sure Lily was alright, seeing she had turned to lay on her side, seemingly trying to get some sleep for the time being.

"Okay baby, let's get you cleaned up."

She gently sat Lola up on the mat so she could start changing her into new pyjamas, knowing both girls liked to stay in their pyjamas when they were sick or ill.

"Daddy." Pulling back (Y/n) had to fight another wave of tears as she watched Lola burst into another fit of sobs, clearly wanting the parent who hadn't been around that much lately. She was trying everything to hold herself together and look after both girls, not seeming to be able to grasp the chance to go back to her own work either. Maternity leave was already up and yet (Y/n) was still having to take extra time off to be with the girls. Lily was starting to miss school with not feeling well and putting Lola in nursery didn't seem the best idea at this point.

"I want him here too sweetheart. But you'll have to put up with me." Grabbing a wipe (Y/n) cleaned the toddler up before changing her out of her soiled clothes. Her being ill making it easier to change her as she didn't try and crawl away only half in her onesie like normal. Being too ill to dare move on her own in case she suddenly threw up again.

Seeing a certain look wash over Lola's features (Y/n) quickly flipped the lid of the toilet seat up, grabbing Lola's sides so she could hoist her over the toilet in time for her stomach to release whatever else it was trying to keep down. A sigh passing through her lips as she wiped her mouth again before getting to her feet, carrying the toddler back to her room and setting her down on the carpeted floor. Storming out of the room (Y/n) grabbed the wash basket from the corridor, heading back to dump the soiled bedding into the basket and then Lola's clothes from the bathroom.

Sighing as she knelt down in front of the crib to make sure it was all clean, thankful it was only the bedding that was soiled. Moving to the cupboard (Y/n) grabbed a blanket, deciding that would do for now instead of Lola being sick over clean bedding.

"Daddy." Lola whined before stuffing her hand into her mouth, watching her mother rush around the room before kneeling back down in front of her. Picking the one-year-old up and cradling her to her shoulder, trying to calm her down but Lola didn't seem like she would go to sleep anytime soon. Settling her down in the crib (Y/n) reached over to the side cabinet and turned on the cd player. Turning the volume down low to see if that would settle Lola or calm her down.

"He isn't here, baby. Wherever the hell he is, it isn't here." Leaving the door ajar behind her (Y/n) turned around, her hand pressing to her mouth to stop a frustrated scream leaving her lips when she kicked the washing basket. Not realising how close she was to it before she sent it flying by mistake. A silent cry shook her throat and bounced against the palm of her hand as she took a moment to try and compose herself. Feeling the pieces beginning to fall apart because Ben wasn't here to put them back together again.

Finding his new status in the world and gaining fame was all well and good until it was taking him away from what he always had before that. His family was what he had before fame took over and it should be the most important thing through it all.

When Ben wasn't here it was (Y/n) left to do everything alone and it wasn't fair. She understood it was Ben's work and he was damn good at what he did but when he was getting to go to work and she wasn't the balance was ruptured and it needed to be set to rights. She couldn't cope with all both girls on her own and having to deal with her own health and her own problems and taking time for herself didn't seem to be an option.

Feeling that all her cares were flying out of the window (Y/n) let the tears cascade torrential downpour on her features. Grabbing the kicked basket, making sure all the clothes and sheets were tucked back inside properly before heading down the stairs making sure she didn't fall along the way which would be the cherry on the cake. Her feet fumbling to come to a stop when the front door chimed and unlocked, sending her rocketing heart into a frenzy which only worsened the tears.

"Hey, I- babe, are you okay?" Ben breathed through the words, his body not even halfway through the door before he noticed the tears falling from his wife's face. His heart rocketing in his chest when (Y/n) suddenly let out a broken sob when she saw him which he wasn't sure if it was out of relief or anger at him.

Quickly stepping inside Ben closed the door behind him before attempting to reach out for her. His heart falling to his stomach when she pulled away, turning on her heels to speed into the kitchen.

"Hey, hey calm down. Baby, what's happened? Are the girls okay?" Ben needed to leave early this morning for a meeting to discuss the last part of his movie and the location they had just been to. But he was free for a few days now, then needed to finish this project and then he was properly free from any work commitments. He wasn't planning another role just yet so he would have time to be home with his girls, his manager knew this. Ben had made it clear he needed to be home because he hadn't lately and he knew that.

"No! No, Ben none of us are okay. Lily fainted, she just dropped down and I fell trying to catch her. Lola can't stop throwing up and she doesn't want me, she wants you and I can't compete with that because she always wants you when something's wrong. To top it all off I need you but I can't think about me because there's too much happening here."

Nothing felt right.

(Y/n) felt selfish but she wanted Ben here, she wanted all of him here with them all. She wanted his mind on the girls and her to help when he was here not when he was away. When he worked away his mind was on them when he was home his mind had to be on work because work was never really finished.

"Sweetheart- stop it, just stop moving for one minute." Reaching out Ben clasped his hands around her own, stopping her from turning away from him to try and sort the washing. That could wait in comparison to whatever she was worried about. Resting his hands either side of her face Ben gently leaned his forehead against her own, thumbs brushing away the tears that kept being replaced. "Come on, tell me what's wrong with you."

"Go see Lola. She'll only calm down for you- make sure Lily's okay and then find me when time stops for us." It was a common phrase thrown back and forth between the couple that they had to stop time to catch themselves a moment where no girl needed them. (Y/n) couldn't talk to Ben about what was happening with her if one of the girls demanded either of them. They needed to be sorted out and if one of them didn't do that and left the washing they would have more than one problem to sort out later. "She's calling you." Pulling back she pointed to the stairs, wincing at Lola's sharp cries mixing with her calls for Ben who she knew was now home.

Lola was ill, she needed comfort and looking after and she wouldn't just quieten down without seeing Ben. They both had things they needed to do, they would have to wait to talk properly later.

(Y/n) could see the wheels turning in his mind, his lips pressed tightly together to stop himself from arguing with what she had said because he knew she was right. If he didn't see to Lola she would only cry worse, if Lily wasn't checked on she could be feeling ill or fainted and they wouldn't know. It didn't matter that the pair of them clearly had things they needed to talk about or that Ben needed to know that (Y/n) was really alright. They had to wait.

Pressing his hand back to the side of her neck Ben rested his lips to her temple, staying like that for a few moments longer than necessary before he pulled away and headed for the stairs. His feet battering against the wooden panels of the carpeted stairs as he headed up into Lola's room. A small smile pulling at his lips when his eyes set on one of his girls, watching her arms reach out for him as she clearly didn't look very well. There was a drowsy kind of look to her very pale features that had a tint of red on them from her insistent cries for Ben.

"Hey, baby. I'm back, I've got you now."

Picking her up from the cot Ben felt his smile widen when she was finally in his arms. One of her small hands resting to his shoulder to balance herself whilst the other pressed to the side of his face as if she were studying his features. Her cries dying down although the tears continued to fall from her eyes as Ben gently rested his hand over her own, his lips pressing to her forehead.

Walking out of the room Ben headed into his and (Y/n)'s room, just knowing Lily would be there since she wasn't well. She usually stayed in there whether she was ill or not so it would be confusing to find her in her own room lately. Sure enough, when he walked in Lily was laid in the middle of the bed, the tv on quietly as background noise. Her head shifting a little so she could look at who was entering, a smile on her face at seeing Ben closing the door behind him before he made his way over to her. Laying down on his side of the bed, leaning up against the pillows, being careful as he settled Lola on his chest knowing she wasn't well.

"You're back!" Lily stated quietly but enthusiastically, pushing herself so she was snuggled firmly into his side.

"I'm back. Your mum said you fainted earlier, are you alright?" It was usual to find Lily with new scuff marks or bruises from when she just couldn't hold herself up any longer and flopped to the ground. Ben's hand rubbed up and down her arm as he looked down at her fondly.

"Mummy caught me... I think she hurt herself though, she fell when she caught me. She was crying earlier, I think she missed you." Ben knew it must be bad for Lily to have seen her mother cry. The couple rarely argued and when they did they made sure Lily wasn't anywhere in sight or within earshot, they tried hard not to cry or get mad around her too. Knowing how she panicked very easily and seeing them argue or get upset made Lily, in turn, feel upset and that wasn't fair to her.

"I know sweetheart. I missed you all too, I'm not going away for a while now though I promise."

Tipping his head back against the pillows Ben took a few moments to stop his racing thoughts and calm down. Taking in the peacefulness he wasn't used to lately, the feeling of just being able to be with his girls making him smile. Glancing down Ben noticed Lily seemed to be spark out now which was a good thing, he could also feel Lola's small breaths evening out against his own.

Carefully slipping from the bed Ben kissed Lily's temple before silently exiting the room to go and settle Lola back down since she was calm and not throwing up for now.

Settling Lola didn't take more than a minute, once he was reassured she was fine Ben headed downstairs, seeing (Y/n) in the kitchen still. Going about feeding Frankie her dinner who was sitting patiently at her feet waiting for the bowl to be set down in front of her. Once the bowl was placed in front of the beagle Ben slowly wrapped his arms around (Y/n)'s waist as not to scare her, his head burrowing into her neck to place a kiss to the skin there.

"Can you tell me what's wrong now, please?" He quietly whispered against her skin, the feeling sending shivers down (Y/n)'s spine. Pulling back a little to allow her to turn around in his arms Ben leaned his head to the side, his expression showing he was beginning to get worried about what was worrying her. He just wanted to know what was happening so he could help, (Y/n) didn't have to suffer through whatever was happening on her own, he was here and he was always going to be here.

"I can't do this alone, Ben. You've been away so much lately and I can't... I know it's your job and I would never want you to stop but I really need you here because I can't cope."

"Sweetheart, I talked to my manager earlier. After this I'm not going to be contracted to anything for as long as we need. I can look after the girls, you can go back to work if that's what you want, I'm not leaving-"

Ben knew he needed to take a break, his work was starting to take a toll on each of them. It wasn't fair on (Y/n) to be left alone to look after the girls and have to cope with her own troubles on her own. It wasn't fair to the girls when Ben wasn't around and it hurt him to have to be away from them like this or to only be home in the early morning and late nights when they were already in bed. Ben knew this was what was needed and so he had made sure this was going to be sorted out. If (Y/n) wanted to go back to work now they would just swap roles, Ben would stay home with the girls.

"I can't go back to work!"

"Why? What's happened?" Ben questioned sceptically. He wasn't blind, he could tell there was something (Y/n) was keeping from him. It clearly wasn't just about her not being able to cope on her own which he knew he needed to fix. His eyes narrowed when she dropped eye contact, her head falling to his chest as she wrapped her arms around his torso. Biting on his lower lip Ben unhooked his arms from her middle, his hands delicately resting on either side of her face. Gently moving her so she was looking at him again instead of hiding against him. "What aren't you telling me?"

"I need you here Ben because I'm pregnant and I can't care for three kids on my own."

Sudden shortness of breath came over Ben as his eyes searched (Y/n)'s features looking for any sign that he had misheard or imagined what she had just said. The sudden smile that spread over his features took her by surprise, having imagined so many different ways to break the news whilst he was gone and this hadn't been how she wanted to tell him.

"And you don't have to. I'm not going anywhere sweetheart, I'm staying here with my girls." Leaning down the small distance Ben pressed his lips against hers, feeling her arms wrapping around his torso again as a wave of relief washed over her like a tidal wave. (Y/n) didn't have to worry anymore because Ben was going to make sure he stayed, she wasn't going to have to fear about doing anything alone because he was going to walk by her side through it all.

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben x reader #dad! ben #imagine

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