"Not my sister John." Kyle doesn't even blink or flinch. He's been on edge all evening. So much so that he doesn't even say Johnny, he uses his friend's government name.
The smirk on Johnny's face is smug, a little wild. It's the look he gets when he's told something is off limits, "She's a grown woman, that's for her to decide."
Simon glances between the two of them and feels the heat radiating off of both of them in the November evening chill. He finds it comical.
John steps between his boys and frowns, "Behave." is all he says.
Kyle and Johnny behave...
Just barely.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/84235561
This is only available on AO3. A snippet of the prolog under the cut. You need an account to read it due to the nature of the fic.
Kyle had rules.
The kind of rules that were embedded into the body. Into the bones. Taught and figured out before he had the right words for them. Primordial in a way.
Kayla, his baby sister, stayed close to him. He took up after her with great responsibility as any older brother would. Fought off bullies and protected her even at the minor inconvenience of being seen as uncool by his friends.
Kyle stayed quiet about how things were at home. Breathing even so much of a word about water being shut off or lights being shut off was drilled into him by his mother as a no-no. The threat of being taken and separated from Kayla wasn't a threat but a reality that was always just out of reach. He's seen friends with siblings who were split up after talking to white women and white men that said they meant well. Those friends would leave on a random Tuesday and come back the next Tuesday different, quieter, or sometimes more destructive. It was a toss up, but he knew for sure that could never be him and Kayla.
Lastly, if an adult, or any authority really wanted something you had better figure out quickly what it cost. It could cost money, a favor, a secret, anything but you have to be able to honor it and live with it before you ever say yes.
That last rule lived in his body, mind, his very being whenever he was home. It's a rule he's been teaching Kayla subtly since the day he understood how the world treated kids like them and the day he realized that Kayla was all he had.
"Not my sister John." Kyle doesn't even blink or flinch. He's been on edge all evening. So much so that he doesn't even say Johnny, he uses his friend's government name.
The smirk on Johnny's face is smug, a little wild. It's the look he gets when he's told something is off limits, "She's a grown woman, that's for her to decide."
Simon glances between the two of them and feels the heat radiating off of both of them in the November evening chill. He finds it comical.
John steps between his boys and frowns, "Behave." is all he says.
Kyle and Johnny behave...
Just barely.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/84235561
This is only available on AO3. A snippet of the prolog under the cut. You need an account to read it due to the nature of the fic.
Kyle had rules.
The kind of rules that were embedded into the body. Into the bones. Taught and figured out before he had the right words for them. Primordial in a way.
Kayla, his baby sister, stayed close to him. He took up after her with great responsibility as any older brother would. Fought off bullies and protected her even at the minor inconvenience of being seen as uncool by his friends.
Kyle stayed quiet about how things were at home. Breathing even so much of a word about water being shut off or lights being shut off was drilled into him by his mother as a no-no. The threat of being taken and separated from Kayla wasn't a threat but a reality that was always just out of reach. He's seen friends with siblings who were split up after talking to white women and white men that said they meant well. Those friends would leave on a random Tuesday and come back the next Tuesday different, quieter, or sometimes more destructive. It was a toss up, but he knew for sure that could never be him and Kayla.
Lastly, if an adult, or any authority really wanted something you had better figure out quickly what it cost. It could cost money, a favor, a secret, anything but you have to be able to honor it and live with it before you ever say yes.
That last rule lived in his body, mind, his very being whenever he was home. It's a rule he's been teaching Kayla subtly since the day he understood how the world treated kids like them and the day he realized that Kayla was all he had.
"Not my sister John." Kyle doesn't even blink or flinch. He's been on edge all evening. So much so that he doesn't even say Johnny, he uses his friend's government name.
The smirk on Johnny's face is smug, a little wild. It's the look he gets when he's told something is off limits, "She's a grown woman, that's for her to decide."
Simon glances between the two of them and feels the heat radiating off of both of them in the November evening chill. He finds it comical.
John steps between his boys and frowns, "Behave." is all he says.
Kyle and Johnny behave...
Just barely.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/84235561
This is only available on AO3. A snippet of the prolog under the cut. You need an account to read it due to the nature of the fic.
Kyle had rules.
The kind of rules that were embedded into the body. Into the bones. Taught and figured out before he had the right words for them. Primordial in a way.
Kayla, his baby sister, stayed close to him. He took up after her with great responsibility as any older brother would. Fought off bullies and protected her even at the minor inconvenience of being seen as uncool by his friends.
Kyle stayed quiet about how things were at home. Breathing even so much of a word about water being shut off or lights being shut off was drilled into him by his mother as a no-no. The threat of being taken and separated from Kayla wasn't a threat but a reality that was always just out of reach. He's seen friends with siblings who were split up after talking to white women and white men that said they meant well. Those friends would leave on a random Tuesday and come back the next Tuesday different, quieter, or sometimes more destructive. It was a toss up, but he knew for sure that could never be him and Kayla.
Lastly, if an adult, or any authority really wanted something you had better figure out quickly what it cost. It could cost money, a favor, a secret, anything but you have to be able to honor it and live with it before you ever say yes.
That last rule lived in his body, mind, his very being whenever he was home. It's a rule he's been teaching Kayla subtly since the day he understood how the world treated kids like them and the day he realized that Kayla was all he had.
"Not my sister John." Kyle doesn't even blink or flinch. He's been on edge all evening. So much so that he doesn't even say Johnny, he uses his friend's government name.
The smirk on Johnny's face is smug, a little wild. It's the look he gets when he's told something is off limits, "She's a grown woman, that's for her to decide."
Simon glances between the two of them and feels the heat radiating off of both of them in the November evening chill. He finds it comical.
John steps between his boys and frowns, "Behave." is all he says.
Kyle and Johnny behave...
Just barely.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/84235561
This is only available on AO3. A snippet of the prolog under the cut. You need an account to read it due to the nature of the fic.
Kyle had rules.
The kind of rules that were embedded into the body. Into the bones. Taught and figured out before he had the right words for them. Primordial in a way.
Kayla, his baby sister, stayed close to him. He took up after her with great responsibility as any older brother would. Fought off bullies and protected her even at the minor inconvenience of being seen as uncool by his friends.
Kyle stayed quiet about how things were at home. Breathing even so much of a word about water being shut off or lights being shut off was drilled into him by his mother as a no-no. The threat of being taken and separated from Kayla wasn't a threat but a reality that was always just out of reach. He's seen friends with siblings who were split up after talking to white women and white men that said they meant well. Those friends would leave on a random Tuesday and come back the next Tuesday different, quieter, or sometimes more destructive. It was a toss up, but he knew for sure that could never be him and Kayla.
Lastly, if an adult, or any authority really wanted something you had better figure out quickly what it cost. It could cost money, a favor, a secret, anything but you have to be able to honor it and live with it before you ever say yes.
That last rule lived in his body, mind, his very being whenever he was home. It's a rule he's been teaching Kayla subtly since the day he understood how the world treated kids like them and the day he realized that Kayla was all he had.
"Not my sister John." Kyle doesn't even blink or flinch. He's been on edge all evening. So much so that he doesn't even say Johnny, he uses his friend's government name.
The smirk on Johnny's face is smug, a little wild. It's the look he gets when he's told something is off limits, "She's a grown woman, that's for her to decide."
Simon glances between the two of them and feels the heat radiating off of both of them in the November evening chill. He finds it comical.
John steps between his boys and frowns, "Behave." is all he says.
Kyle and Johnny behave...
Just barely.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/84235561
This is only available on AO3. A snippet of the prolog under the cut. You need an account to read it due to the nature of the fic.
Kyle had rules.
The kind of rules that were embedded into the body. Into the bones. Taught and figured out before he had the right words for them. Primordial in a way.
Kayla, his baby sister, stayed close to him. He took up after her with great responsibility as any older brother would. Fought off bullies and protected her even at the minor inconvenience of being seen as uncool by his friends.
Kyle stayed quiet about how things were at home. Breathing even so much of a word about water being shut off or lights being shut off was drilled into him by his mother as a no-no. The threat of being taken and separated from Kayla wasn't a threat but a reality that was always just out of reach. He's seen friends with siblings who were split up after talking to white women and white men that said they meant well. Those friends would leave on a random Tuesday and come back the next Tuesday different, quieter, or sometimes more destructive. It was a toss up, but he knew for sure that could never be him and Kayla.
Lastly, if an adult, or any authority really wanted something you had better figure out quickly what it cost. It could cost money, a favor, a secret, anything but you have to be able to honor it and live with it before you ever say yes.
That last rule lived in his body, mind, his very being whenever he was home. It's a rule he's been teaching Kayla subtly since the day he understood how the world treated kids like them and the day he realized that Kayla was all he had.
Where I am reminded with every anon message why I keep it turned off. There are plenty of people on this site using icons and photos that come from out of the clear blue sky and you have decided to bother me about it. I haven't been on here posting for months so it just tells me you had this in the chamber lol
In the mean time if there's any artists who actually know how to draw fat fems that are black and it's not racist hit me up I guess. I actually do want serious art work to gift to a friend
Warnings: emotional incest/incest. Talk of pedophile behavior. Mention of underage sex/statutory rape but it isn't seen that way. Adultification of minors. Mature and adult themes. Very much, dead dove don't eat.
Pairings: K. Garrick x OC Kayla Garrick. J. MacTavish x OC Kayla Garrick
Vanta's Note: This is very much a snippet of the prologue to that fic bit I shared earlier. This isn't a happy feel good story and it definitely covers mature themes. Think of this fic in the same category as The Coldest Winter Ever or some other type of old school urban lit book. This is very much the prologue but it's not the whole prologue. I'm just sharing this to gauge reception to be honest and to see if I need to edit it down or keep it as is because the story gets dark and moody and the prologue does some hell of the heavy lifting to set the tone and theme. Obviously this is a universe in which Johnny lives and doesn't die at the end of the game and I have taken liberties with a lot of stuff. Please leave feedback in the form of what you think and let me know if there are other trigger warnings and content warnings I need to add. I'll be posting the whole thing later tonight (Friday EST) on AO3. My pinned post has my AO3 linked.
Kyle had rules.
The kind of rules that were embedded into the body. Into the bones. Taught and figured out before he had the right words for them. Primordial in a way.
Kayla, his baby sister, stayed close to him. He took up after her with great responsibility as any older brother would. Fought off bullies and protected her even at the minor inconvenience of being seen as uncool by his friends.
Kyle stayed quiet about how things were at home. Breathing even so much of a word about water being shut off or lights being shut off was drilled into him by his mother was a no-no. The threat of being taken and separated from Kayla wasn't a threat but a reality that was always just out of reach.
He's seen friends with siblings who were split up after talking to white women and white men that said they meant well. Those friends would leave on a random Tuesday and come back the next Tuesday different, quieter, or sometimes more destructive. It was a toss up, but he knew for sure that could never be him and Kayla.
Lastly, if an adult, or any authority really wanted something you had better figure out quickly what it cost. It could cost money, a favor, a secret, anything but you have to be able to honor it and live with it before you ever say yes.
That last rule lived in his body, mind, his very being whenever he was home. It's a rule he's been teaching Kayla subtly since the day he understood how the world treated kids like them and the day he realized that Kayla was all he had.
The numbers on the clock read 2:30 am. Red and softly glowing. The only light besides the streetlight shining through the window like a star. He has been awake far longer than he wanted to be. Minutes ticking by slowly, seconds counted by the breaths his sister takes and he can feel them when his arm raises and lowers on the inhale and exhale. They were too old to be sharing a bed at ages twelve and seven. Twice the number of gangly limbs no twin bed should hold comfortably, but with Kayla it makes sense. She fits against him and between the wall, farthest from the bedroom door, by design, perfectly. On nights like this it soothes him when her breath hits his chest and she tightens her grip into his shirt. The feeling of her close lets him know she's safe and that anything or anyone would have to get past him first.
He doesn't move on nights like this. He listens. The sound of the apartment settling ended hours ago, but creaks of the floor boards and the bed can be heard in his mother's room. It's the rhythmic knocking of the bed against the wall and the abrupt stop and frustrated movements. It's not new these days and normally Kyle would tune it out but something in his spirit, deep in his gut tells him to stay awake and endure the sounds of what he suspects is pitiful fucking.
A concept he really doesn't understand, because the idea of bad sex is lost on him. Bad sex doesn't exist in his mind, the few times he's had sex had been fine and fun and Lorraine, the landlord’s granddaughter, had turned him out the right way.
“Shane, what's going on?” His mother's voice is soft behind the thin paper walls. She sounds more tired than usual, more deflated in the chest.
“Shit bitch you tell me.” Shane snaps hard. His voice gruff with the sound of aggression and agitation mixed with about ten packs of cigarettes. “You been fucking behind my back? Pussy looser than god damn sock puppet.”
It's quiet for a beat before his mother is heard moving about. Her voice was a bit quieter, “No babe, I haven't.”
“You shitin’ me Kariesha. Seriously no grip and dry, I may as well fuck sandpaper.” The sound of a lighter can be heard. Faint as it is, but the silence in the apartment and in the night is holding its breath for the real show. Kyle can feel it.
“Please don't smoke in the house it makes Mrs. Judy-”
“Shut up Kariesha, it's my house-”
“Our house.” She corrects in vain.
“See this that shit I be talkin’ bout. A nigga can't get no respect in the house he pays fucking bills in. If it ain't you it's your bastard ass son, the only person in this bitch that fucking cares-”
“Stop it!” It's the first time the truth has ever been brushed against out loud. “Don’t say that.”
Kyle presses Kayla closer to his body. As if he can shield her from a conversation about her existence even if she sleeps peacefully unaware. He knows his mom won't defend him against her fuck ass boyfriend. He just hopes that she does the right thing.
“You can't nut and finish because I'm not sexy to you anymore.” The twinge of disbelief colors her voice and Kyle closes his eyes.
Shane laughs a dry laugh, “What are you talking about?”
“I see how you look at her.”
A cold chill slithers through Kyle. The elephant in the room is being addressed in plain language. It means that their mother, despite everything, had seen and noticed the patterns. Has seen how her boyfriend was too sweet on Kayla. Too many candies and snacks offered for sitting close to him on the couch, for sitting in his lap while he smoked and watched television. Too many invites to go with him and run errands to the trap houses he worked out of. Too many lingering hugs and kisses on the cheek.
“No, don't be fucking ridiculous.” Shane tries, and Kyle will give him that, he tries to be offended. But the man's acting has zero range and the truth is too naked to dress up nicely. Instead he pivots, “I'm allowed to spoil my fucking daughter. The real question is do you see how that lil nigga disrespects me in my own house?”
And the thing is Shane isn't wrong entirely. He's wrong about Kayla being his daughter, that's for sure.
The constant disrespect though?
Yeah that tracks and it's only seen as disrespectful because Kyle keeps Kayla next to him and under him at all times.
Every offer of a sweet or candy, Kyle turns it down for Kayla with an excuse of recently brushed teeth or ruining her appetite for dinner or simply because she doesn't need it. Kyle cuddles his sister first when they are home and keeps her planted beside him at all times. Any invite to go out and Kyle is saying ‘Kay can't go, she's got homework.’ or ‘Kay is going with me.’ Kyle has even taken the liberty of sitting in the hallway when she uses the bathroom or showers.
He doesn't ever leave her alone.
The room becomes so still that for a moment he's worried that he's imagining this conversation in his sleep.
“You can't fucking cum because I'm not my daughter.” The words are hissed with such vitriol that is normally saved for Kyle's ain't shit father. “Why would you want her? I'm a grown woman?”
“Kariesha.” There's quick movement and a loud thud and the gasping of his mother, “Don't fucking play with me. Do something useful and send that boy to go stay with his bum ass father or his fucking grandma.”
“Shane let go…please, I'm sorry.”
Kyle presses his face into Kayla's hair. It smells like pink lotion and her knockers are cool to the touch. Each puff of her hair tickles him a bit and grounds him instantly. There's mumbling and the sounds of drawers being opened and closed. Stomping in the hallway, a pause by their bedroom door, before Shane slams the front door after him.
Finally Kyle lets out a slow breath he didn't know he was holding.
i would add the "tw slur" tag, personally, but that's just me. And I think it amazing!!!!! I would love to read the rest of it and I don't think it's too dark at all!!!!!!
Also now that I'm reading over the prologue again in its entirety. I feel like I should make it clear that Kayla isn't a damsel trope and that even though she's our female lead she isn't as innocent either. I feel like that should be clear because I don't want any complaints about it.
Warnings: emotional incest/incest. Talk of pedophile behavior. Mention of underage sex/statutory rape but it isn't seen that way. Adultification of minors. Mature and adult themes. Very much, dead dove don't eat.
Pairings: K. Garrick x OC Kayla Garrick. J. MacTavish x OC Kayla Garrick
Vanta's Note: This is very much a snippet of the prologue to that fic bit I shared earlier. This isn't a happy feel good story and it definitely covers mature themes. Think of this fic in the same category as The Coldest Winter Ever or some other type of old school urban lit book. This is very much the prologue but it's not the whole prologue. I'm just sharing this to gauge reception to be honest and to see if I need to edit it down or keep it as is because the story gets dark and moody and the prologue does some hell of the heavy lifting to set the tone and theme. Obviously this is a universe in which Johnny lives and doesn't die at the end of the game and I have taken liberties with a lot of stuff. Please leave feedback in the form of what you think and let me know if there are other trigger warnings and content warnings I need to add. I'll be posting the whole thing later tonight (Friday EST) on AO3. My pinned post has my AO3 linked.
Kyle had rules.
The kind of rules that were embedded into the body. Into the bones. Taught and figured out before he had the right words for them. Primordial in a way.
Kayla, his baby sister, stayed close to him. He took up after her with great responsibility as any older brother would. Fought off bullies and protected her even at the minor inconvenience of being seen as uncool by his friends.
Kyle stayed quiet about how things were at home. Breathing even so much of a word about water being shut off or lights being shut off was drilled into him by his mother was a no-no. The threat of being taken and separated from Kayla wasn't a threat but a reality that was always just out of reach.
He's seen friends with siblings who were split up after talking to white women and white men that said they meant well. Those friends would leave on a random Tuesday and come back the next Tuesday different, quieter, or sometimes more destructive. It was a toss up, but he knew for sure that could never be him and Kayla.
Lastly, if an adult, or any authority really wanted something you had better figure out quickly what it cost. It could cost money, a favor, a secret, anything but you have to be able to honor it and live with it before you ever say yes.
That last rule lived in his body, mind, his very being whenever he was home. It's a rule he's been teaching Kayla subtly since the day he understood how the world treated kids like them and the day he realized that Kayla was all he had.
The numbers on the clock read 2:30 am. Red and softly glowing. The only light besides the streetlight shining through the window like a star. He has been awake far longer than he wanted to be. Minutes ticking by slowly, seconds counted by the breaths his sister takes and he can feel them when his arm raises and lowers on the inhale and exhale. They were too old to be sharing a bed at ages twelve and seven. Twice the number of gangly limbs no twin bed should hold comfortably, but with Kayla it makes sense. She fits against him and between the wall, farthest from the bedroom door, by design, perfectly. On nights like this it soothes him when her breath hits his chest and she tightens her grip into his shirt. The feeling of her close lets him know she's safe and that anything or anyone would have to get past him first.
He doesn't move on nights like this. He listens. The sound of the apartment settling ended hours ago, but creaks of the floor boards and the bed can be heard in his mother's room. It's the rhythmic knocking of the bed against the wall and the abrupt stop and frustrated movements. It's not new these days and normally Kyle would tune it out but something in his spirit, deep in his gut tells him to stay awake and endure the sounds of what he suspects is pitiful fucking.
A concept he really doesn't understand, because the idea of bad sex is lost on him. Bad sex doesn't exist in his mind, the few times he's had sex had been fine and fun and Lorraine, the landlord’s granddaughter, had turned him out the right way.
“Shane, what's going on?” His mother's voice is soft behind the thin paper walls. She sounds more tired than usual, more deflated in the chest.
“Shit bitch you tell me.” Shane snaps hard. His voice gruff with the sound of aggression and agitation mixed with about ten packs of cigarettes. “You been fucking behind my back? Pussy looser than god damn sock puppet.”
It's quiet for a beat before his mother is heard moving about. Her voice was a bit quieter, “No babe, I haven't.”
“You shitin’ me Kariesha. Seriously no grip and dry, I may as well fuck sandpaper.” The sound of a lighter can be heard. Faint as it is, but the silence in the apartment and in the night is holding its breath for the real show. Kyle can feel it.
“Please don't smoke in the house it makes Mrs. Judy-”
“Shut up Kariesha, it's my house-”
“Our house.” She corrects in vain.
“See this that shit I be talkin’ bout. A nigga can't get no respect in the house he pays fucking bills in. If it ain't you it's your bastard ass son, the only person in this bitch that fucking cares-”
“Stop it!” It's the first time the truth has ever been brushed against out loud. “Don’t say that.”
Kyle presses Kayla closer to his body. As if he can shield her from a conversation about her existence even if she sleeps peacefully unaware. He knows his mom won't defend him against her fuck ass boyfriend. He just hopes that she does the right thing.
“You can't nut and finish because I'm not sexy to you anymore.” The twinge of disbelief colors her voice and Kyle closes his eyes.
Shane laughs a dry laugh, “What are you talking about?”
“I see how you look at her.”
A cold chill slithers through Kyle. The elephant in the room is being addressed in plain language. It means that their mother, despite everything, had seen and noticed the patterns. Has seen how her boyfriend was too sweet on Kayla. Too many candies and snacks offered for sitting close to him on the couch, for sitting in his lap while he smoked and watched television. Too many invites to go with him and run errands to the trap houses he worked out of. Too many lingering hugs and kisses on the cheek.
“No, don't be fucking ridiculous.” Shane tries, and Kyle will give him that, he tries to be offended. But the man's acting has zero range and the truth is too naked to dress up nicely. Instead he pivots, “I'm allowed to spoil my fucking daughter. The real question is do you see how that lil nigga disrespects me in my own house?”
And the thing is Shane isn't wrong entirely. He's wrong about Kayla being his daughter, that's for sure.
The constant disrespect though?
Yeah that tracks and it's only seen as disrespectful because Kyle keeps Kayla next to him and under him at all times.
Every offer of a sweet or candy, Kyle turns it down for Kayla with an excuse of recently brushed teeth or ruining her appetite for dinner or simply because she doesn't need it. Kyle cuddles his sister first when they are home and keeps her planted beside him at all times. Any invite to go out and Kyle is saying ‘Kay can't go, she's got homework.’ or ‘Kay is going with me.’ Kyle has even taken the liberty of sitting in the hallway when she uses the bathroom or showers.
He doesn't ever leave her alone.
The room becomes so still that for a moment he's worried that he's imagining this conversation in his sleep.
“You can't fucking cum because I'm not my daughter.” The words are hissed with such vitriol that is normally saved for Kyle's ain't shit father. “Why would you want her? I'm a grown woman?”
“Kariesha.” There's quick movement and a loud thud and the gasping of his mother, “Don't fucking play with me. Do something useful and send that boy to go stay with his bum ass father or his fucking grandma.”
“Shane let go…please, I'm sorry.”
Kyle presses his face into Kayla's hair. It smells like pink lotion and her knockers are cool to the touch. Each puff of her hair tickles him a bit and grounds him instantly. There's mumbling and the sounds of drawers being opened and closed. Stomping in the hallway, a pause by their bedroom door, before Shane slams the front door after him.
Finally Kyle lets out a slow breath he didn't know he was holding.
i would add the "tw slur" tag, personally, but that's just me. And I think it amazing!!!!! I would love to read the rest of it and I don't think it's too dark at all!!!!!!
Warnings: emotional incest/incest. Talk of pedophile behavior. Mention of underage sex/statutory rape but it isn't seen that way. Adultification of minors. Mature and adult themes. Very much, dead dove don't eat.
Pairings: K. Garrick x OC Kayla Garrick. J. MacTavish x OC Kayla Garrick
Vanta's Note: This is very much a snippet of the prologue to that fic bit I shared earlier. This isn't a happy feel good story and it definitely covers mature themes. Think of this fic in the same category as The Coldest Winter Ever or some other type of old school urban lit book. This is very much the prologue but it's not the whole prologue. I'm just sharing this to gauge reception to be honest and to see if I need to edit it down or keep it as is because the story gets dark and moody and the prologue does some hell of the heavy lifting to set the tone and theme. Obviously this is a universe in which Johnny lives and doesn't die at the end of the game and I have taken liberties with a lot of stuff. Please leave feedback in the form of what you think and let me know if there are other trigger warnings and content warnings I need to add. I'll be posting the whole thing later tonight (Friday EST) on AO3. My pinned post has my AO3 linked.
Kyle had rules.
The kind of rules that were embedded into the body. Into the bones. Taught and figured out before he had the right words for them. Primordial in a way.
Kayla, his baby sister, stayed close to him. He took up after her with great responsibility as any older brother would. Fought off bullies and protected her even at the minor inconvenience of being seen as uncool by his friends.
Kyle stayed quiet about how things were at home. Breathing even so much of a word about water being shut off or lights being shut off was drilled into him by his mother was a no-no. The threat of being taken and separated from Kayla wasn't a threat but a reality that was always just out of reach.
He's seen friends with siblings who were split up after talking to white women and white men that said they meant well. Those friends would leave on a random Tuesday and come back the next Tuesday different, quieter, or sometimes more destructive. It was a toss up, but he knew for sure that could never be him and Kayla.
Lastly, if an adult, or any authority really wanted something you had better figure out quickly what it cost. It could cost money, a favor, a secret, anything but you have to be able to honor it and live with it before you ever say yes.
That last rule lived in his body, mind, his very being whenever he was home. It's a rule he's been teaching Kayla subtly since the day he understood how the world treated kids like them and the day he realized that Kayla was all he had.
The numbers on the clock read 2:30 am. Red and softly glowing. The only light besides the streetlight shining through the window like a star. He has been awake far longer than he wanted to be. Minutes ticking by slowly, seconds counted by the breaths his sister takes and he can feel them when his arm raises and lowers on the inhale and exhale. They were too old to be sharing a bed at ages twelve and seven. Twice the number of gangly limbs no twin bed should hold comfortably, but with Kayla it makes sense. She fits against him and between the wall, farthest from the bedroom door, by design, perfectly. On nights like this it soothes him when her breath hits his chest and she tightens her grip into his shirt. The feeling of her close lets him know she's safe and that anything or anyone would have to get past him first.
He doesn't move on nights like this. He listens. The sound of the apartment settling ended hours ago, but creaks of the floor boards and the bed can be heard in his mother's room. It's the rhythmic knocking of the bed against the wall and the abrupt stop and frustrated movements. It's not new these days and normally Kyle would tune it out but something in his spirit, deep in his gut tells him to stay awake and endure the sounds of what he suspects is pitiful fucking.
A concept he really doesn't understand, because the idea of bad sex is lost on him. Bad sex doesn't exist in his mind, the few times he's had sex had been fine and fun and Lorraine, the landlord’s granddaughter, had turned him out the right way.
“Shane, what's going on?” His mother's voice is soft behind the thin paper walls. She sounds more tired than usual, more deflated in the chest.
“Shit bitch you tell me.” Shane snaps hard. His voice gruff with the sound of aggression and agitation mixed with about ten packs of cigarettes. “You been fucking behind my back? Pussy looser than god damn sock puppet.”
It's quiet for a beat before his mother is heard moving about. Her voice was a bit quieter, “No babe, I haven't.”
“You shitin’ me Kariesha. Seriously no grip and dry, I may as well fuck sandpaper.” The sound of a lighter can be heard. Faint as it is, but the silence in the apartment and in the night is holding its breath for the real show. Kyle can feel it.
“Please don't smoke in the house it makes Mrs. Judy-”
“Shut up Kariesha, it's my house-”
“Our house.” She corrects in vain.
“See this that shit I be talkin’ bout. A nigga can't get no respect in the house he pays fucking bills in. If it ain't you it's your bastard ass son, the only person in this bitch that fucking cares-”
“Stop it!” It's the first time the truth has ever been brushed against out loud. “Don’t say that.”
Kyle presses Kayla closer to his body. As if he can shield her from a conversation about her existence even if she sleeps peacefully unaware. He knows his mom won't defend him against her fuck ass boyfriend. He just hopes that she does the right thing.
“You can't nut and finish because I'm not sexy to you anymore.” The twinge of disbelief colors her voice and Kyle closes his eyes.
Shane laughs a dry laugh, “What are you talking about?”
“I see how you look at her.”
A cold chill slithers through Kyle. The elephant in the room is being addressed in plain language. It means that their mother, despite everything, had seen and noticed the patterns. Has seen how her boyfriend was too sweet on Kayla. Too many candies and snacks offered for sitting close to him on the couch, for sitting in his lap while he smoked and watched television. Too many invites to go with him and run errands to the trap houses he worked out of. Too many lingering hugs and kisses on the cheek.
“No, don't be fucking ridiculous.” Shane tries, and Kyle will give him that, he tries to be offended. But the man's acting has zero range and the truth is too naked to dress up nicely. Instead he pivots, “I'm allowed to spoil my fucking daughter. The real question is do you see how that lil nigga disrespects me in my own house?”
And the thing is Shane isn't wrong entirely. He's wrong about Kayla being his daughter, that's for sure.
The constant disrespect though?
Yeah that tracks and it's only seen as disrespectful because Kyle keeps Kayla next to him and under him at all times.
Every offer of a sweet or candy, Kyle turns it down for Kayla with an excuse of recently brushed teeth or ruining her appetite for dinner or simply because she doesn't need it. Kyle cuddles his sister first when they are home and keeps her planted beside him at all times. Any invite to go out and Kyle is saying ‘Kay can't go, she's got homework.’ or ‘Kay is going with me.’ Kyle has even taken the liberty of sitting in the hallway when she uses the bathroom or showers.
He doesn't ever leave her alone.
The room becomes so still that for a moment he's worried that he's imagining this conversation in his sleep.
“You can't fucking cum because I'm not my daughter.” The words are hissed with such vitriol that is normally saved for Kyle's ain't shit father. “Why would you want her? I'm a grown woman?”
“Kariesha.” There's quick movement and a loud thud and the gasping of his mother, “Don't fucking play with me. Do something useful and send that boy to go stay with his bum ass father or his fucking grandma.”
“Shane let go…please, I'm sorry.”
Kyle presses his face into Kayla's hair. It smells like pink lotion and her knockers are cool to the touch. Each puff of her hair tickles him a bit and grounds him instantly. There's mumbling and the sounds of drawers being opened and closed. Stomping in the hallway, a pause by their bedroom door, before Shane slams the front door after him.
Finally Kyle lets out a slow breath he didn't know he was holding.
Warnings: emotional incest/incest. Talk of pedophile behavior. Mention of underage sex/statutory rape but it isn't seen that way. Adultification of minors. Mature and adult themes. Very much, dead dove don't eat.
Pairings: K. Garrick x OC Kayla Garrick. J. MacTavish x OC Kayla Garrick
Vanta's Note: This is very much a snippet of the prologue to that fic bit I shared earlier. This isn't a happy feel good story and it definitely covers mature themes. Think of this fic in the same category as The Coldest Winter Ever or some other type of old school urban lit book. This is very much the prologue but it's not the whole prologue. I'm just sharing this to gauge reception to be honest and to see if I need to edit it down or keep it as is because the story gets dark and moody and the prologue does some hell of the heavy lifting to set the tone and theme. Obviously this is a universe in which Johnny lives and doesn't die at the end of the game and I have taken liberties with a lot of stuff. Please leave feedback in the form of what you think and let me know if there are other trigger warnings and content warnings I need to add. I'll be posting the whole thing later tonight (Friday EST) on AO3. My pinned post has my AO3 linked.
Kyle had rules.
The kind of rules that were embedded into the body. Into the bones. Taught and figured out before he had the right words for them. Primordial in a way.
Kayla, his baby sister, stayed close to him. He took up after her with great responsibility as any older brother would. Fought off bullies and protected her even at the minor inconvenience of being seen as uncool by his friends.
Kyle stayed quiet about how things were at home. Breathing even so much of a word about water being shut off or lights being shut off was drilled into him by his mother was a no-no. The threat of being taken and separated from Kayla wasn't a threat but a reality that was always just out of reach.
He's seen friends with siblings who were split up after talking to white women and white men that said they meant well. Those friends would leave on a random Tuesday and come back the next Tuesday different, quieter, or sometimes more destructive. It was a toss up, but he knew for sure that could never be him and Kayla.
Lastly, if an adult, or any authority really wanted something you had better figure out quickly what it cost. It could cost money, a favor, a secret, anything but you have to be able to honor it and live with it before you ever say yes.
That last rule lived in his body, mind, his very being whenever he was home. It's a rule he's been teaching Kayla subtly since the day he understood how the world treated kids like them and the day he realized that Kayla was all he had.
The numbers on the clock read 2:30 am. Red and softly glowing. The only light besides the streetlight shining through the window like a star. He has been awake far longer than he wanted to be. Minutes ticking by slowly, seconds counted by the breaths his sister takes and he can feel them when his arm raises and lowers on the inhale and exhale. They were too old to be sharing a bed at ages twelve and seven. Twice the number of gangly limbs no twin bed should hold comfortably, but with Kayla it makes sense. She fits against him and between the wall, farthest from the bedroom door, by design, perfectly. On nights like this it soothes him when her breath hits his chest and she tightens her grip into his shirt. The feeling of her close lets him know she's safe and that anything or anyone would have to get past him first.
He doesn't move on nights like this. He listens. The sound of the apartment settling ended hours ago, but creaks of the floor boards and the bed can be heard in his mother's room. It's the rhythmic knocking of the bed against the wall and the abrupt stop and frustrated movements. It's not new these days and normally Kyle would tune it out but something in his spirit, deep in his gut tells him to stay awake and endure the sounds of what he suspects is pitiful fucking.
A concept he really doesn't understand, because the idea of bad sex is lost on him. Bad sex doesn't exist in his mind, the few times he's had sex had been fine and fun and Lorraine, the landlord’s granddaughter, had turned him out the right way.
“Shane, what's going on?” His mother's voice is soft behind the thin paper walls. She sounds more tired than usual, more deflated in the chest.
“Shit bitch you tell me.” Shane snaps hard. His voice gruff with the sound of aggression and agitation mixed with about ten packs of cigarettes. “You been fucking behind my back? Pussy looser than god damn sock puppet.”
It's quiet for a beat before his mother is heard moving about. Her voice was a bit quieter, “No babe, I haven't.”
“You shitin’ me Kariesha. Seriously no grip and dry, I may as well fuck sandpaper.” The sound of a lighter can be heard. Faint as it is, but the silence in the apartment and in the night is holding its breath for the real show. Kyle can feel it.
“Please don't smoke in the house it makes Mrs. Judy-”
“Shut up Kariesha, it's my house-”
“Our house.” She corrects in vain.
“See this that shit I be talkin’ bout. A nigga can't get no respect in the house he pays fucking bills in. If it ain't you it's your bastard ass son, the only person in this bitch that fucking cares-”
“Stop it!” It's the first time the truth has ever been brushed against out loud. “Don’t say that.”
Kyle presses Kayla closer to his body. As if he can shield her from a conversation about her existence even if she sleeps peacefully unaware. He knows his mom won't defend him against her fuck ass boyfriend. He just hopes that she does the right thing.
“You can't nut and finish because I'm not sexy to you anymore.” The twinge of disbelief colors her voice and Kyle closes his eyes.
Shane laughs a dry laugh, “What are you talking about?”
“I see how you look at her.”
A cold chill slithers through Kyle. The elephant in the room is being addressed in plain language. It means that their mother, despite everything, had seen and noticed the patterns. Has seen how her boyfriend was too sweet on Kayla. Too many candies and snacks offered for sitting close to him on the couch, for sitting in his lap while he smoked and watched television. Too many invites to go with him and run errands to the trap houses he worked out of. Too many lingering hugs and kisses on the cheek.
“No, don't be fucking ridiculous.” Shane tries, and Kyle will give him that, he tries to be offended. But the man's acting has zero range and the truth is too naked to dress up nicely. Instead he pivots, “I'm allowed to spoil my fucking daughter. The real question is do you see how that lil nigga disrespects me in my own house?”
And the thing is Shane isn't wrong entirely. He's wrong about Kayla being his daughter, that's for sure.
The constant disrespect though?
Yeah that tracks and it's only seen as disrespectful because Kyle keeps Kayla next to him and under him at all times.
Every offer of a sweet or candy, Kyle turns it down for Kayla with an excuse of recently brushed teeth or ruining her appetite for dinner or simply because she doesn't need it. Kyle cuddles his sister first when they are home and keeps her planted beside him at all times. Any invite to go out and Kyle is saying ‘Kay can't go, she's got homework.’ or ‘Kay is going with me.’ Kyle has even taken the liberty of sitting in the hallway when she uses the bathroom or showers.
He doesn't ever leave her alone.
The room becomes so still that for a moment he's worried that he's imagining this conversation in his sleep.
“You can't fucking cum because I'm not my daughter.” The words are hissed with such vitriol that is normally saved for Kyle's ain't shit father. “Why would you want her? I'm a grown woman?”
“Kariesha.” There's quick movement and a loud thud and the gasping of his mother, “Don't fucking play with me. Do something useful and send that boy to go stay with his bum ass father or his fucking grandma.”
“Shane let go…please, I'm sorry.”
Kyle presses his face into Kayla's hair. It smells like pink lotion and her knockers are cool to the touch. Each puff of her hair tickles him a bit and grounds him instantly. There's mumbling and the sounds of drawers being opened and closed. Stomping in the hallway, a pause by their bedroom door, before Shane slams the front door after him.
Finally Kyle lets out a slow breath he didn't know he was holding.
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