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raisondetempete · 4 years ago

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Monochrome Obsession (Yandere Wu Chang x Female Reader) Part III (Final Part)

IMPORTANT NOTE: There is non-consensual sex in this chapter (basically, that’s the whole chapter). I do not condone these actions in any way. If you do this to someone in real life, you’re a piece of shit that deserves your dick/tits cut off.

Part I

Part II

If you like my writing, check this out

Story under line

Wu Chang - Black and White

Fan Wujiu - Black

Xie Bi’an- White

(a/c) - article of clothing

(s/c) - skin colour

(f/c) - favourite colour

(c/s) - cup size

(y/n) - your name

You squeeze your eyes shut as you feel someone kissing down your neck. It’s probably Black as the mouth harshly bites down on different places. You let out a squeak of pleasure mixed with pain as Black bites down on a specific spot: your sweet spot. You can feel his smirk on your skin before he sucks and nibbles on that spot.

“Love, did you forget about me?” White growls, jealously dripping from his words. Opening your eyes a fraction, you quickly shut them again as White puts his lips on yours. He sensually moves his lips on yours before nibbling on your bottom lip, asking you to take it further. You deny his request. Black, seeing his friend’s struggles, bites down hard on your neck. You automatically open your mouth to let out a yelp of pain but White’s tongue stifles it. You’re in this position for almost a minute, body rigid with fear as White makes out with you while Black bruises the right side of your neck.

“Xie, let me have a turn,” Black requests. White pulls away from you, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. You feel disgusting. Opening your eyes, you’re barely able to take a breath before Black forces his lips on yours, taking advantage of your open mouth. You see White smirk at your helpless position as he moves over to your ear.

“Are you enjoying having two men servicing you? My my, you’re not as innocent as we thought,” White cooly whispers in your ear before nibbling and sucking on your earlobe.

Black pulls away from you, relishing in your flushed face and glassy eyes.

“Don’t get too excited now, doll. This isn’t even the beginning,” Black purrs before walking into the other room. He returns with a menacing glimmer in his eyes, holding a pair of scissors in his left hand. You let out a scream before White covers your mouth with his hand.

“I’ll hold her down,” White tells Black. White removes his hand from your mouth and holds the sides of your waist down. Black begins at the top of your (a/c) and cuts downwards. The tears that have been welling up in your eyes begin to flow down your face. Happily, White laps them up. Black finishes cutting up your (a/c), revealing your (s/c) stomach and (f/c) bra. Black clicks his tongue in annoyance before cutting away your bra as well, revealing your (c/s) breasts. You blush harder than ever as White and Black gaze at your exposed chest.

“You’re heavenly,” White breathes.

“You’re so hot,” Black murmurs. They glance at each other, then descend onto your chest. White kisses and gently sucks on your left nipple while Black nips and licks your right one. You bite down hard on your lip to repress your moans. As they continue their actions, blood begins to trickle down from your lip. Black stops assaulting your already bruised nipple and moves up to your lip. Your body jolts in horror as Black licks the trail of blood to its source.

“You’re delicious,” he purrs, causing you to shudder in revulsion. White releases your breast from his mouth and goes over to the nightstand where the scissors were previously discarded. Your eyes widen in fear as he positions the scissors at the top of your (a/c).

“No!” you scream as you flail about in pure panic.

“Fan, may you hold her down?” White calmly asks. Black obliges and holds down your arms while White pins your legs down with his body. With a malicious smile, White cuts off your (a/c), revealing your (f/c) underwear. Though the chains prevent you from doing it fully, you’re able to slightly close your thighs. White releases a huff of laughter, pries your legs apart, and moves to cut off your underwear.

“W-Wait!” you shout. “This isn’t fair!” White hesitates.

“Angel, what do you mean? This is the only way to get you to love us,” Black explains. You pause, trying to think of an excuse.

“That’s not what I was going to say. Why am I mostly naked while you two are fully clothed?” you ask. Both men look at each other.

“She does have a point,” White murmurs. Then, a bright smile appears on his face.

“My dear, I didn’t realize you wanted to see use bare so badly. We are more than happy to oblige,” White coos

“I didn’t mean it that way!” you insist but the two guards are too busy stripping down to their underwear, their large bulges painfully obvious. You can’t help but ogle White’s beautiful bone-white skin and Black’s gorgeous ash-black skin. White is leaner than muscular while Black’s abs are clearly defined. Both men smirk down at you.

“Like what you see?” Black teases. You blush and turn your head to the side, only to quickly look back as you hear a snipping sound. Your eyes widen and you let out a scream as White cuts through your underwear.

“NO! Stop! Please!” you sob as the most private part of your body is fully exposed, leaving every part of you bare. You’ve never been fully naked in front of everyone (except your parents, but you’ve been able to bathe yourself since you were seven). White only “innocently” smiles as he lightly begins to run his fingers up and down your slit.

“My my, you say you don’t want this, yet you’re sopping wet,” White purrs before pulling his fingers away from you and sensually sucks on his fingers. “Ah! Darling, you taste delicious.” You turn red and close your eyes in embarrassment.

“Xie, move over. I want to have a taste,” Black requests. You feel shuffling around before you feel something wet touch your slit. Your eyes fly open. Black stares you dead in the eye as he slowly licks up and down your pussy.

“W-What are you doing! It’s d-dirty down there!” you stutter out, the words coming out slightly weird as you bite on your tongue to prevent any moans from escaping.

“You’re right! She’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted,” Black agrees.

“Let me have another turn,” White demands.

“No,” Black growls. The two hunters glare daggers at one another for a moment. Then, a smirk forms on both of their faces. You gulp.

White goes back down to your pussy and begins licking, groaning softly as he does so. Black winks at you before bending down to your clit and taking it in his mouth. He begins sucking and nipping at the bud, causing you to see stars. As their actions increase in their intensity, you’re unable to hold back your moans, much to their pleasure.

As an unfamiliar feeling builds up in your stomach, they hault their actions. Half relieved and half disappointed, you eye them carefully. Black grins at you before shoving two fingers into your hole. You shiver and throw your head back at the foreign feeling. He shoves them in further as if searching for something. When he touches your hymen, he smiles triumphantly.

“Good~ You’re still a virgin. I don’t know what we would’ve done if you weren’t,” Black purrs. You gulp. He begins moving his fingers in and out of your sopping hole, making you moan intensely. You feel a breath on your ear before your ear lobe is bitten.

“Love, did you forget about me?” White coos. “Tsk-tsk. I’ll have to change that, won’t I?” That’s when you feel a hand spread your ass cheeks.

“What are you- mmh!” You cut yourself off with a groan as you feel one of White’s fingers enter your asshole. The feeling of fingers in both of your holes is weird at first but the feeling is quickly replaced by an overwhelming pleasure. Unable to hold back any longer, you cum onto Black’s eager fingers. Both men retract their fingers, making you feel empty much to your disgust. Black sensually licks one of his fingers.

“Doll, you taste delicious,” he begins. “Why don’t you have a taste?” You open your mouth to object, but almost gag as Black’s fingers are shoved down your throat. Despite you not sucking on his fingers, the taste of your juices mixed with Black’s saliva fills your mouth. Black strokes your tongue with his fingers, continuing to spread your juices around your mouth. You try to move your head in defiance, much to Black’s amusement. He plays with your tongue for a moment more, before withdrawing his hand. He sticks his fingers into his mouth.

“Ahh! The taste of my angel’s saliva and cum mixed together is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” Black moans. Your face turns pale as you try not to throw up.

A tap on your left shoulder makes you turn, only to be let with a large member in your face. Your eyes widen as you push your head into the headboard. White only laughs as he grabs your chin. You close your mouth tightly as you grit your teeth together. White sighs as he carefully tries to pry your mouth open. Fortunately, he’s unable to do so. White growls as he pinches your nose shut with his free hand. For a couple of moments, you are fine. However, you quickly run out of air. Despite fighting against your instincts with all your will power, your mouth opens to get air. White smirks victoriously as he shoves his dick into your mouth.

You gag as he hits the back of your throat. Although his dick is of an average girth, his length is far above the norm. As a result, it’s hard for you to even fit half of him into your mouth. It didn’t help that you’re inexperienced. White happily hums as he rhythmically thrusts into your mouth, making sure you don’t gag too much on his dick.

“Xie, stop hogging her,” Black whines. White sneers as he pulls out of your mouth, leaving you coughing and gasping for breath. You’re only given a moment to regain your bearings before Black sticks his cock into your mouth. Although he’s slightly shorter than White, his thickness more than makes up for it. Unfortunately, unlike White who calmly thrusted into your mouth and made sure not to hurt you that much, Black didn’t have these qualms. You gag as he continues to roughly deepthroat you, your tears streaming down your face more rapidly as a result.

“Just like that--unhh--Doll. Take my big cock down that pretty throat of yours,” Black groans.

“Fan! Stop it! You’re going to kill her!” a very worried White shouts. Black pulls out and you cough harshly.

“I wasn’t thrusting that hard,” Black retorts.

“Yes… you… were,” you cough. Your throat hurts and your tongue still has the taste of their dicks on it. White clicks his tongue and places a cool hand on your throat, gently rubbing it up and down.

“Xie! I didn’t even get to cum,” Black whines.

“Neither did I for that matter,” White murmurs. They then shoot each other a devious smile. They place both of their cocks in front of your mouth and wait for you to proceed. You shake your head. Even if you did want to pleasure them, you have absolutely no idea on how to service two men at the same time. Both hunters let out a bemused laugh at your confused and reluctant expression.

“Lick them,” they command. You once again shake your head. Black growls and takes a fistful of your hair in his hands (If you don’t have hair or long enough hair, he takes the back of your head) and yanks your head forward. You keep your mouth firmly shut.

“GIve us a blowjob before we do something drastic,” Black growls.

“Like what?” you ask, your teeth still tightly clenched together.

“Although we won’t hurt you, that doesn’t mean we won’t hurt the other survivors…” White’s threat trails off. Your eyes widen.

“Fine,” you murmur. You eye both of their large cocks dangling in front of your face and give each one a tiny lick on each of the tips. Starting first with White’s cock, you lick and kiss up and down his shaft before taking the tip into your mouth and sucking.

“Damn it (y/n), you’re adorable,” White moans. You switch over to Black, kissing his tip before taking his as far as you can in your mouth without gagging. You begin circling his dick with your tongue before sucking slightly.

“You’re too fucking cute (y/n),” Black groans. You remove him from your mouth and begin alternating between the two hunters. After a couple minutes, they pull you away.

“We’re going to- ah!” Before they can finish their sentence, their cocks shoot strings of cum onto your stupefied face and open mouth. You move to spit out the foul tasting liquid but White covers your mouth with his hand while Black pinches your nose shut.

“Swallow,” they command. You don’t listen at first, only swallowing when you quickly run out of air. They release you and you gasp for air.

“Doll, that was so fucking sexy of you, swallowing our cum with that red face of yours,” Black purrs.

“Darling, you look so beautiful covered in our cum,” White says. You only cough, feeling disgusting both inside and out. You shrink back in fear as their limp cocks quickly become rock hard again.

“Fan, may I go first? You did take her first kiss,” White asks. Your eyes widen as Black nods his head.

“No! Don’t!” you scream as you begin to flail around as White positions his hard cock in front of your dripping pussy. White only laughs as he pushes down harshly on your stomach, preventing you from moving your hips.

“Here we go~” White cheers as he puts the tip in.

“No! Don’t- AHHH!!!” you scream bloody murder as White fully thrusts into you, breaking your hymen and taking your virginity in one fell swoop. Blood pours out of your core.

“IT HURTS!!! MAKE IT STOP!!! IT’S TOO BIG!!!” you scream as White begins thrusting.

“Sorry love. I’ve been wanting to do this for awhile. I can’t stop,” White moans. He keeps thrusting, not paying any attention to the blood seeping out of you.

“Fan! She’s so tight. She’s practically sucking me in~” White moans. You pause. You’ve completely forgotten about the ash-black hunter. You turn your head to the right, only to widen your eyes in horror and disgust.

Black is sitting on the bed, pumping his dick up and down with his hand, intently watching White fuck you. Blacks smirks when he notices you watching him and starts pumping his cock harder.

You groan as White thrusts into you especially hard.

“Don’t go looking at other men while I fuck you,” White growls, his usual politeness gone. You moan as he speeds up his thrusting.

“(y/v), I’m going to cum!” White groans.

“No! Take it- ah!” Your moan and White’s grunt cuts you off as he cums inside of you. When he does so, you’re overcome by pleasures as he fills your womb with his hot seed. You orgasm, eyes spasming out. A hot feeling on your chest makes you look down to see Black cums onto your chest. White pulls out, causing cum mixed with blood to leak out of you.

“No more! Please!” you beg. Both hunters cruelly laugh as they switch positions. Now, Black has his cock positioned in front of your pussy while White with his head by your chest.

Black smirks as he puts his dick as far into you as he can in one thrust.

“Fuck, Xie, you’re right. She’s tight,” Black grunts as he roughly thrusts into. Your body is jolted every time he thrusts in due to the intensity of his actions. White releases one of your hands with a grin and guides it towards his erect cock. You shudder as he forces your hand around his dick and moves it up and down, causing White to release a groan.

“Oi! Pay attention to me!” Black snarls as he slaps your right breast.

“Stop!” you cry in agony. Black laughs.

“How ‘bout no, angel~” Black purrs. As he continues to deeply thrust inside of you, Black alternates between slapping your right and left breast, quickly turning them red.

“Fuck, (y/n), I’m going to fucking cum inside of you,” Black grunts.

“Please don’t,” you feebly whisper. This only makes Black pick up his pace even more, making you moan harder. White increases the movement of your hand as you feel his dick harden.

“I’m cumming!” both men groan. You close your eyes, knowing that both yours and the hunters’ orgasms are inevitable.

Black grunts as he fills your womb with his seed, his and White’s cum combining. White moans as he releases on your hand, making it disgustingly sticky. Arching your back, you shake as you cum, realising your juices as you do so.

Black pulls out of you, causing even more cum to pour out of your sore pussy. You pant, slowly coming down from the euphoria that came from orgasiming. White smiles as he reaches over your body to unchain your other hand. Black leans down to your feet and unchains them as well, rubbing the red marks left by the chain. You sigh in relief, thinking the ordeal is over.

Black smirks as he picks you up, back pressed against his chest and waist against his crotch.

“What are you doing?!!” you ask. Black only chuckles as he moves one of his hands to your dripping pussy and begins playing with your clit. You involuntarily press your head into Black’s firm chest in pleasure. White advances towards the front of you and positions himself so that his cock is placed at your slit, the opposite of where Black’s is. As Black continues playing with your swollen clit, White reaches both of his hands towards your nipples, before attacking them, pinching and pulling harshly on them.

“No…” you murmur as you limply hang a couple feet from the ground. “Please… I don’t want this…”

“But your body says otherwise,” Black coos into your ear. You begin to reach your orgasm, toes curling in pleasure. Just as you’re about to reach your peak, both hunters retract their hands but still hold onto you.

“G-Good,” whimpering, you lie. Even though you hate what they’re doing to you, your body wants its release. Black and White easily see through your lie and triumphantly grin at you.

White moves first, shoving his cock inside your pussy. Letting out a yelp of surprise, you begin struggling.

That’s when you feel it.

Something hard is pressed against your asshole, trying to force its way in. You try focusing on clenching your ass together, but it’s rather hard to focus while White is thrusting into you at lightning speed.

Easily bypassing your defences, Black thrusts into your ass. You scream at the top of your lungs in pain. White halts his thrusting, allowing you to get used to having both holes full.

“F-Fuck. Her ass is even tighter than her pussy. (y/n), your body was made to take my cock,” Black grunts into your ear before slapping your ass, leaving a bright red handmark on your left cheek. White, jealous of your lack of attention towards him, thrusts into you sharply and grabs your right breast, causing you to moan in both pleasure and pain.

Taking this as a sign to begin, both men start thrusting into you, varying between thrusting at the same time and alternating their thrusts. Wantonly moaning, you finally succumb to the pleasure and cease your struggling. You see White’s smirk of victory in front of you and feel Black’s snake smirk pressed into your neck.

“Good of you to finally enjoy yourself,” White says, his moans interrupting his words slightly. You only whimper in response, tears of defeat falling from your eyes.

“Shit. I’m going to cum soon,” Black grunts, picking up his pace.

“So am I,” White moans, also picking up his pace. Their grunts and groans in your ears combined with their thrusts bring you to an orgasm. Feeling your walls tighten around the both of them, the hunters cum inside of you. You don’t even try to protest, instead closing your eyes and trying to block out what’s happening.

They both pull out, resulting in their seed to flow out from both of your holes.

“That was… amazing,” they both pant. You sigh. It’s all over. In horror, your eyes widen in horror as both of their cocks harden once again.

“We’re still not done yet,” they purr into your ear. “We could go all night~” You let out a sob as they stick both of their cocks back into you.

The three of you go on for hours, even after you’re beyond exhausted. Your body is covered in various hickies and bruises. Your ass has started turning purple from how many times Black has slapped it while your breasts hurt from White’s rough groping. After they finally finish with you, they wash you and themselves in the shower. Thankfully, they don’t do anything to your aching body other than wash it.

White tenderly holds you as Black, begrudgingly, changes the cum-covered sheets. After Black is finished, White places you softly onto the bed. Both hunters get into bed besides you and lie besides you, hugging your aching body, causing you to whimper slightly in pain.

Tears flow down your face as you sob, “I wish I was dead”. Both hunters growl, protectively holding you tighter.

“You can never leave us, so don’t even think about killing yourself,” White growls.

“And we’ll rip anyone to shreds who even thinks about killing you,” Black snarls. “Since you want to leave us so badly, we’ll have to keep a close eye on you, Angel.”

“I’ll send a request to the manor owner to remove us from matches indefinitely so we can watch you,” White replies.

“You can never escape us. We’ll be with you until the end of time,” they coo into your ears as they pull themselves closer to you. Before your exhausted body subcomes to sleep, you think one thing.

Escape is hopeless.

#Wu Chang #IdV #xreader #male yandere #yandere #tw: rape #identity v

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revlyncox · 4 years ago

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Democracy Is Not a State

Delivered to the Washington Ethical Society on January 10, 2021, by Lyn Cox

Congressman John Lewis reminds us what is possible when we join together, combining our collective action and sense of purpose to keep our country grounded in our best and highest ideals. His final instructions to us were to “walk with the wind,” to stay together and respond to the movement of our time in the spirit of peace and with the power of love.

That is what is happening in Georgia. This past week, we learned that Georgia will have two new Senators. The Rev. Raphael Warnock will be the first Black Senator from the state, of which about a third of the population is Black. The congregation Rev. Warnock leads, Ebenezer Baptist Church, is the former pulpit of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. It is also a congregation that Rep. Lewis attended. Jon Ossoff will be the first Jewish Senator from Georgia. Ossoff interned for Rep. John Lewis as a young man, after having written him a fan letter when Ossoff was 16 years old. Relationships built over years make a difference.

Regardless of political party, we can agree that democracy depends on the ability of citizens to exercise their right to vote. True democracy rests on free and fair elections, in which obstacles to the right to vote are not placed unfairly and disproportionately in front of voters from marginalized communities. The runoff election in Georgia was historic, not only because of the outcome, but because of the momentous turnout. Overcoming voter suppression was a major task, and one that grassroots organizations in Georgia have been working on for years. Multiracial democracy is a threat to white supremacy, and white supremacy has been trying to prevent the full flowering of multiracial democracy from the beginning.

Yet there is progress. Between 2018 and the November election, 800,000 new people registered to vote in Georgia. Registering and mobilizing new voters is the big story of this election, and that was achieved one conversation at a time, one knocked-on door at a time, one phone call at a time, one relationship at a time. Stacey Abrams is a strategic genius and a focused advocate, having started the New Georgia Project seven years ago and Fair Fight two years ago.

Abrams will be the first to tell you that a wide variety of leaders and grassroots organizations share the credit for voter turnout in this election. For instance, LaTosha Brown has been fighting voter suppression since 1998, and her Black Voters Matter project helped mobilize voters across the South. In a series of tweets on Friday, Abrams named 30 different grassroots organizations that coordinated their efforts to help Georgians exercise their right to vote, noting that the runoff election was a demonstration of “decades of strategy, grit, + building.”

Between Rep. Lewis’ reminder about clasping hands and moving together, and the turnout in Georgia’s runoff election, our takeaway should not be limited to admiration for the most visible leaders, candidates, and public officials. We can and should admire their good character traits and their dedication to service. We can and should thank the movement leaders who made this possible, especially Black women. But we should not elevate these officials and movement leaders to the point where we regard them as something other than human, an example too rarified for us to follow.

The lesson here is that organizing is happening all around us. Coordinated solidarity to enact structural change for liberation is part of how we help bring the full promise of multiracial democracy into being. There may well be someone like Stacey Abrams in the movements you are part of at your workplace or in your neighborhood. Let’s listen. There are definitely organizations in our own communities being led by the people who are most impacted by marginalization. We can follow the example that has been set out for us by supporting power-building and relationship-building that is already happening locally. Grassroots organizing takes a long time. It requires a lot of one-on-one conversations, very little in the way of immediate results, and broad participation. That path is available to any of us, nobody has to be a superstar to participate in repairing the soul of our nation.

We contrast the progress in building multiracial democracy in Georgia with the violent attempt to destroy multiracial democracy that happened on January 6. Because this Platform is being recorded for posterity, I feel that I have to be very clear about the events of this week; please take care of yourself if a reminder of these events is overwhelming for you. On Wednesday, at the urging of their demagogue, white supremacist insurrectionists invaded the Capitol building, threatened the safety of elected leaders and staff, looted the building, and left chaos in their wake for others to clean up, primarily janitors and facilities staff who are People of Color. They were not merely rascals ignoring the rules of orderly protest, they were an armed mob seeking to disrupt the practice of democracy. Computers were stolen, putting our national security at risk. Five people died, including an officer from the Capitol Police.

In our community, I know we are holding intense emotions about this incident. I am particularly mindful of the impact that this has on those who work for the Federal government, for whom the area around the Capitol is an everyday environment, a place full of memories and colleagues. My heart also goes out to those who live near the Capitol, who had to deal with armed white supremacists wandering the neighborhood unimpeded. To anyone who has ever been treated roughly by the Capitol Police for non-violently exercising their first amendment rights, the lack of resistance to the mob may not have been surprising, but it was yet another insult, a reminder that the level of force with which police respond to protestors is a choice. For People of Color, Queer people, Muslim people, Jewish people, immigrants, or anyone who holds an identity targeted for violence by these insurrectionists, Wednesday’s events were a chilling show of power that was precisely intended to make us feel afraid for existing as our whole selves. We cannot let that fear stop us from living fully, nor prevent us from persevering in the work of liberation.

On Wednesday night, I invited the WES community to gather by Zoom to process the day’s events, to overcome the numbness of trauma by feeling our feelings, and to lift up our shared values in a way that only a community like ours can do. It was short notice, and I apologize if you didn’t hear about it in time. Please reach out if you would like to talk to me or to a member of the Pastoral Care Associates about how you are feeling. More than twenty of you were able to attend. Just from that sample, I know that there are feelings of rage, worry, disgust, helplessness, disappointment, and confusion. There are also feelings of readiness, of curiosity about what to do next, relief about the Georgia election, and even optimism that there are long-deferred actions for repair that can take place with the new Congress. Emotions are what they are, and they will be affected by your previous experiences with oppression, trauma, and violence. Feel your feelings. Please know you don’t have to be in those feelings alone.

The violence on January 6 was designed to reinforce white supremacy. It was a reaction to the expansion of multiracial democracy, fed by the shock of racist white people that the votes of people who are Black, Indigenous, and People of Color were allowed to have an impact. White people have been told since the moment Europeans arrived on this continent that the land and its abundance and the benefits of government are for ourselves, that white people own this country, and that this is unassailable no matter what happens to the bodies, voices, and lives of those who are Black, Indigenous, and People of Color. This worldview is gravely harmful and wrong.

The incredulity with which the insurrectionists faced the results of the 2020 election, urged on by politicians who capitalize on their racism, is rooted in the belief that only white votes are legitimate. Their invasion of the People’s House was meant to mark their territory, to show that their ownership remains primary, and that they can and will use violence to maintain that ownership. White supremacist violence as an attempt to derail multiracial democracy is not new, and it has worked before. We all have choices ahead of us to reduce the chances that this tactic will continue to work.

One avenue is to confront and dismantle white supremacy in all of the ways it shows up around us. For those who have been the targets of racism their whole lives, simply living and thriving is an act of resistance. For those of us who were socialized as white, the construction of a wall of ignorance around the machinations of white supremacy is part of how the system operates. For those of us who were raised with barriers to perceiving racism, let’s not wait another moment before removing those barriers and taking action to uproot racism.

We saw again this week how deadly white supremacy can be. It shows up in the minds and hearts of well-meaning people and in the institutional practices of well-meaning communities. It shows up in the decisions of governments from the level of homeowners associations to the U.S. Congress. It shows up in art and music and literature. We don’t have to look far to find a place to begin uprooting racism. For all of us, the outpouring of voter empowerment in Georgia reminds us that there is room for everyone in expanding multiracial democracy.

Another thing we can do is to insist that the threat of violent white supremacy is real, and that we should take it seriously. Perhaps that seems obvious after this week, but we’re already seeing efforts to humanize, sanitize, and excuse the perpetrators of destruction. News articles about insurrectionists who died emphasize their good qualities or accomplishments instead of their criminal records; an obvious departure from the media treatment of racial justice activists and those who have been murdered by police. Jokes about the perpetrators seem to imply that they are too stupid to be held responsible. Calls to understand their pain and excuse their racism rely on stereotypes that are demonstrably untrue. Exhortations to “move on” without practicing accountability reinforce the idea that harm caused by white people should be consequence-free. White supremacy is and always has been a threat to our national security and our national wellbeing, and the sooner we recognize and address that, the better.

Failing to take white supremacy seriously contributed to our vulnerability to Wednesday’s events. Racist militia groups have been allowed to grow and thrive for years when anti-racist groups have been infiltrated, sabotaged, and undermined with outrageous punishments and mysterious deaths. After the Charlottesville event where Heather Heyer was murdered, nothing happened to reduce the potential for future right-wing violence. The Capitol Police knew that the crowds planned for Wednesday were likely to be dangerous. Congresswoman Pramila Jayapal said:

We all were aware of the danger. Ten days ago, Maxine Waters had raised the issue of our security on a caucus call to the Speaker and asked what the plans would be. And 48 hours before, we had gotten instructions from Capitol police about all the threats: that we had to be on high alert, that we had to get to the Capitol by 9 a.m. before the protesters, that we couldn’t plan on going out, that we should have overnight bags. It was very clear, and everyone understood what the threats were.

Rep. Jayapal points out the discrepancy between what the Members of Congress were told about impending events and how the Capitol Police were prepared on the outside of the building. Whether failing to have adequate staff or backup or hard barriers was a result of underestimating the threat or of deliberate collusion or both, the lack of preparedness is a product of white supremacy.

When we recognize the enormity of the problem, we are led to work on systemic solutions. That means examining laws and policies, and the uneven application of those laws and policies. At a Symposium yesterday, award-winning peacemaker and spiritual care activist Najeeba Syeed spoke about the “myth of interpersonal peacemaking,” and how it can be a distraction and derailment of the systemic justice-making that provides the foundation for authentic, lasting peace. Trying to understand and relate to Nazis does not yield systemic change. Attempting to de-radicalize loved ones is another project, not the same thing as building multiracial democracy or expanding liberation. Professor Syeed reminded us that “Peace is not the absence of violence … Peace is the absence of injustice.”

In a week with so many low points, even as we notice the high points, it is understandable to feel disoriented. I have said before that hope is doing the next right thing, working toward a better world even when the outcome is not assured or even clear. Yet if your sense of reality was turned upside down this week, or you were overwhelmed with an experience or a reminder of trauma, maybe the next right thing is especially elusive right now. In that case, the next right thing is to take care of yourself. Drink water. Eat nourishing food. Maybe go outside at some point during the day. Talk to people who care about you. The movement will still be there when you have regained a sense of the ground underneath you. You are a precious being of worth.

Another next right thing is to check up on each other. Remember your federal employee friends. Follow up on a Caring News email. If you’re reaching out to someone who might be having a hard time, you might ask, “Is it OK if I ask how you are?” Let’s try not to make people feel obligated to re-live negative experiences if they aren’t ready. Just being present is often helpful. Even if we can’t fix anything, we can give people the option not to be alone in their grief.

If you have a little more energy and want to channel your feelings into positive actions, consider something that will have a material impact on your local community. R was telling me about Mutual Aid in Washington, DC, especially in Ward 5. For information about Mutual Aid throughout the District, check the website for Bread for the City or find them on Facebook. I also checked in with D, who is involved with Silver Spring/Takoma Park Mutual Aid. You can find them on their Wordpress site or on Facebook. If you’re involved in Mutual Aid, feel free to mention it during Community Sharing or post in the Facebook group later.

R tells me: “Mutual Aid is a non-hierarchical way for neighbors to help neighbors. Anyone can ask for any kind of assistance, and anyone can offer to help. Some roles require some training and learning codes of ethics/responsible service. It's not a particularly ‘formal’ or ‘organized’ thing - it's all hands on deck, and everyone is just doing their best.” R went on to say that there are short-term and long term roles, and those who are able can donate any time.

If you’re wondering what this has to do with dismantling white supremacy, building relationships with your neighbors both is and is not about a larger goal. Building relationships with neighbors is a primary good; it’s something that is valuable and satisfying to do for its own sake. Similarly, offering care when you can and giving people a chance to practice care when you need it are both good, full stop. Neighbors helping neighbors is a form of resistance to oppressive structures.

In addition, neighbors who have strong bonds with each other are in a better position to advocate for their communities. If you and your neighbors are working to overcome environmental racism where you live, or redirect funding to basic human services, or update policies in the local school that have a negative impact on students of color, you will have a head start if you already know each other. This could be its whole own Platform, so I’ll pause there and just say that strong, connected, diverse local communities can be a manifestation of multiracial democracy and a home base for even more positive change.

Forming authentic relationships with our neighbors, community organizing, building power, paying attention to local issues, caring for ourselves and each other: these are some of the tools with which we will resist white supremacy and build multiracial democracy. This way is slow, and it is often hard, and it works. Growing multiracial democracy is a constant practice; Rep. Lewis reminded us that “democracy is not a state.”

When white supremacy attempts to use violence to enforce a warped and harmful vision of who we should be and how we should be together, one of our avenues for resistance is renewing our commitments to communities living into a vision of wholeness. That can mean your local mutual aid society, it can mean a project like the Food Justice Initiative, it can mean a coalition like the Washington Interfaith Network or the Congregation Action Network, it can mean a voting rights organization like Fair Fight, it can mean a community like WES. A better world is possible. There are pockets of it already living and moving among us and around us and within us. Clasping hands (figuratively, for now), traveling together with the winds of our time, let us gather our collective strength to stay grounded in a vision of the world that is possible.

May it be so.

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stusbunker · 4 years ago

Text

What Lingers Within: Seven

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Mini Series

Featuring: Past Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Written for: @thisismysecrethappyplace

Prompt: Amnesia

Word Count: ~4700

Beta’d by the amazing @itmighthavebeenintentional

Aesthetic by @thoughtslikeaminefield

A/N: Set in season 11. Flashbacks are still in italics. Blood and gore, show level violence.

Series Masterlist

^*^*^*^

Every time Dean got the phone call, it hurt. It wasn’t just the leaving, but the wanting to go that ate at him. It was still one of his jobs, and he wasn’t ashamed of it, but leaving her to do it kept getting harder. He tried not to take it out on Bobby, but so was the curse of the messenger. Since Sam was gone, it just hadn’t been the same.

He scribbled the details down as he listened, giving single syllable responses until Bobby was out of intel. He thanked Bobby and said he would keep him posted. She wouldn’t be back from work for another hour. He could make his plans, chart his course and drag his heels so he could say goodbye to her face. Or he could get on the road and figure it out on the way, leaving the worry-masked reassurance in her eyes for another hunt.

When had he become such a coward?

Dean tore a layer off the notepad by the phone, giving her the what and the where. He promised to call her when he stopped for the night. He didn’t bother to sign it. Once he was out the door, the wet spring air filled him with earthy possibility. It was good to be on the move, to go through the motions, the thrill of the hunt beckoning. Dean almost felt good about the case, just like he almost forgot he had someone waiting for him to get home.

^*^*^

Sam must have won because you ended up in Kansas afterall. While you crawled out of their Chevy and into a massive underground garage fitted with some of the oldest cars and motorcycles you had ever seen in person, you didn’t know what came next. Suddenly, hit with the alienness of your surroundings you held your breath, and hoped the blind trust you had in Dean and his brother was enough. That leaving with them had been the right choice.

Sam gave you a half smile and tossed your bag over his shoulder.

“Come on, I’ll show you around.”

You felt Dean watching you with Sam and you couldn’t help but glance back; the furrow in his brow could have been from annoyance but it felt more like a question. A silent check in.

“Yeah, okay, thanks,” you answered Sam before you took a deep breath through your nose and nodded, hoping you weren’t intruding.

The bunker was unlike any place else, part boarding school and part fall out shelter. The size was overwhelming, but the design uniform enough not to be too disorienting. By the time Sam showed you the kitchen Dean was already cooking dinner. Forearms bared and towel over his shoulder he looked completely at ease. The sight of him washed over you, excitement and relief warming you from the outside in. You had no reason for the emotional shift, and yet it felt good, right.

“That smells amazing,” you croaked out, following Sam down the short set of steps.

Dean leaned over the pot to take a whiff. “Yeah, well, it’s just chilli. Can’t screw that up too much. Got a few before it’s done. You get a room yet?”

“Yeah, Sam put me in number 15, I think it was?” You looked to Sam for clarification.

“13,” Sam corrected, which earned him a side eye from Dean.

“Alright, well, go get cleaned up. Just gotta put on the finishing touches.” Dean grabbed bowls off the shelf and you took the hint that he had something to say to Sam. Sam was clearly amused, but he just shrugged off your concern. Cautiously, you turned to climb back out of the room.

A faint ‘really, Sam?!’ reached you down the hall.

^*^*^

You had stuffed yourself on chilli and crackers, having forgotten how long it had been since the burgers at the seedy motel. Dinner wasn’t exactly awkward, but you felt out of place in the conversation which included searching for cases and touching base with other hunters. You tried not to ask too many questions, but if someone were to show up, you wanted to have an idea of who they were to Sam and Dean.

You laid staring at the blank wall, desperate for a show to distract you. The sheets were an old starched cotton, but they were clean. You weren’t falling asleep. It had very little to do with the fact that less than 36 hours before you had suffocated your boss in an abandoned subway service tunnel, and very much to do with the fact that Dean Winchester had entered your life and promptly saved it. Twice.

Once you understood what was the matter, you were suddenly knocking on Dean’s bedroom door. Which, thanks to Sam, was the one next to yours.

He didn’t answer.

Just as the impulsivity drained away, leaving you alone in the cold hallway standing in your comfiest pajamas that weren’t really pajamas, the door opened.

“Everything alright?” Dean asked, headphones tucked around his neck.

Shit. You gaped at his bright eyes, unable to answer him and wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

“I, uh, I don’t know why I bothered you. I’ma go back to bed,” you sputtered. But then he touched you, deft and warm, his palm dragged from the ball of your shoulder to just above your elbow.

“It’s okay. I don’t really sleep after the rough ones either,” Dean murmured, voice soft but deep. You hadn’t realized you had closed your eyes until he leaned closer, the heat of his body melting your bubble until you forgot what personal space meant. “Come on in.”

You felt his hand fall away like a severed lifeline.

You looked around Dean’s room as he wrapped up the impractically long audio cable and put the headphones away. It was almost regimentally clean, but the personal touches made it far more welcoming than your room. Even if most of the decorations were weapons.

“What were you listening to?” You tried for small talk.

“Jethro Tull.” He gave you a nearly bashful smile. Thick as a Brick was one of your favorite albums.

His room was definitely warmer than yours was.

“Is it weird that that makes me happy?” You asked as you plopped into his desk chair.

“Not at all,” Dean reassured before he sat on the edge of his bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “You wanna talk about it?”

He really was that kind. In your experience, guys that looked like Dean were only nice for as long as it was absolutely necessary, but he was the real deal.

“Do you?” You countered, watching as he licked his lips and cocked his head waiting for your explanation. “What if the reason I can’t sleep isn’t guilt or paranoia or --- I don’t know--- trauma?”

“Sometimes there is no rhyme or reason, you know. But something’s on your mind, so spill.” Dean sat up, face insistent, but not angry. Guarded and waiting. You thought about curling up in his lap and letting him play with your hair, longed to burrow your face in his neck and breathe him in. The thought froze and wedged itself inside your ribcage; terrifying because you were bold enough to attempt it. You needed only the slightest push.

“Tell me about how we met, the first time.” Your words made you both blanch, but once they were out, they felt like the best thing you had said all day. “Please?”

Dean looked at you like you were asking for a kidney, and he was considering doing it without anesthesia.

He stood up suddenly and pushed up the sleeves on his thermal. “Okay, yeah. That’s fair.”

He walked to his dresser and dragged open the top drawer while you waited for him to continue. He pulled out a handful of old photos and sat back on the bed. He started leafing through them until he found the one he was looking for, he flicked it around in his fingers toward you like he was handing out a business card.

“That one’s gotta be the earliest picture of us I’ve got. I ran into you after a quick salt-and-burn, Sam had ditched me for this, well, evil skank and I was feeling sorry for myself and pisssed at him and the only thing that kept me from starting a bar fight that night was the way you were eying me. Like I was some puzzle and not a loose canon. Anyway, this was taken about a month later. I weaseled my way back to town and somehow convinced you to grab a cup of coffee after your shift.”

You looked down at the photo, the booth was covered in cut out construction paper hearts. Your hair was longer and you looked like a deer in headlights in the photo, but what made you do a double take was the way Dean was grinning. You couldn’t believe how young you both seemed.

“Like an idiot, I had forgotten it was the weekend after Valentines, but the lady who ran the diner insisted on taking pictures of each of the couples that came in,” Dean explained.

The flash had muddled the fluorescents, but you had known those old metal rimmed tables and maroon vinyl booths anywhere. “This looks like the inside of Ma’s Table,” you whispered.

“Yeah, we were like the last people to show up before closing, but they took care of us.” Dean searched your face.

“What?”

He gave you a sad smile. “I guess I was hoping something would click and I’d get you back. Like if I hit the right memory, all of yours would suddenly resurface or something.”

You felt a shiver run down your back. You forced yourself to swallow. He wanted you back. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I mean, it’s my fault anyhow.” Dean cleared his throat and looked back to the stack of pictures in his hands, avoiding eye contact as you both composed yourselves.

Then you did something very stupid. You took two crouching steps over to the bed to settle yourself beside him, and looked over his shoulder at the next photo. “You could still keep telling me about them. Can’t hurt, right?”

Dean hummed, not in disagreement, but at your poor choice of words.

“Sam took this one at Bobby’s. Bobby, uh, was like a second dad to us. Lived up in Sioux Falls,”

“Like Jody?”

“Like Jody, yeah, uh, she’s the sheriff and he was supposedly the town drunk,” Dean chuckled. “Best person to go to for intel, one of those tough as steel, but soft on the inside type guys.”

“Hmmm, sounds like someone else I know,” you purred, before plucking the creased photograph out of Dean’s grasp. Dean was hauling you around a junkyard on piggyback. You couldn’t remember doing that since you were a kid. By the look on your face in the photograph you were either terrified or shocked by it, Sam had snapped the shot at just the right moment. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Oh my god, what were you thinking?!” You reprimanded.

“I was giving you the tour, but you were SO TIRED from the trip up there you didn’t want to walk,” Dean sassed back.

“Okay, that sounds like me,” you admitted.

“Uh-huh,” Dean huffed. “You know I can’t stop thinking about before. Not just the times I have pictures of, but how much you helped me. Sam was gone, for awhile, everyone thought he was dead and, uh, you helped me pull my head out of the bottle. You were so good for me.”

As much as his honesty dripped through your resolve like honey, it left a nasty after taste.

“But not good enough to keep around?” You didn’t try to hold back.

“It wasn’t like that. I, uh, I left before the thing with the demons and Cas wiping you.” Dean turned to face you, dragging one knee onto the bed that brushed your hip before he buried his stocking foot under his other leg. “We had already broken up.”

“What happened?” You asked, surprised, without any judgement.

“I’m the job, Y/N. I am not built for stability or a cookie cutter happily-ever-after. Sam came back from the dead wrong, long story, and I used him as an excuse. But honestly, I had already started checking out. I was using hunts like a junky uses drugs. Hiding from you because I knew there was more wrong with me and I didn’t want to bring that home to you.”

You hugged your knees, body completely on his bed, and let that revelation settle into what you knew about Dean and the timeline of your relationship. “But then why was I still on some demons’ radar?”

Dean sighed and rubbed his temple. “Because I kept tabs on you. I checked in, every so often, just make sure you were safe.”

“You watched me?” You balked. “You know that sounds really fucked up, right?”

“Yeah, well, I’m paranoid, so sue me. You do this long enough and you will be too.” Dean deflected.

You let that hang in the air. He hunched back over the remaining pictures, hands tense and shoulders tight. You didn’t want to fight, you just wanted answers. “Kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy then? You were worried about me, so you came back, and the demons found out you did and only then they attacked.”

Dean pursed his lips, ruefully. “Sounds about right.”

“But you were able to stop them,” you offered.

“Yeah, after you almost killed Sam,” Dean corrected.

“You still saved me.” You looked down at your hands. “That’s like three times, just that I know about. I’d say I owe you.”

“Honey, you don’t owe me shit,” Dean cupped your cheek, drawing your gaze to his. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you saved me from myself. We ain't even, but you're not the one in the red, you hear?”

You reached up and held his hand to your face, soaking in the steady strength of his palm.

“Is that why you’re letting me stay here?” You held your breath.

Dean looked away and whispered, “You know why we brought you home.” Then he pulled his hand back to grip the edge of the mattress.

“Because I’m a fugitive?” You broke the tension with ease, letting your legs fall into lotus pose. “You usually consort with wanted criminals?”

Dean shook his head and smirked. “Kind of par for the course. All our friends are either cops or criminals, and I’m usually playing cop.”

“Probably not the best time to make a handcuff joke, but I so want to!” You laughed.

“Oh, I bet you do,” Dean sighed and scratched the side of his head with his free hand. “Here, you can have these to look at, maybe something will click for you. But I’d like them back, when you’re done.”

You gently added the pictures to the two already in your hand. “Thanks.”

It felt like the time to go back to your room; looking over Dean’s memories without any recollection or context would possibly be harder for him to watch than it was for you to decipher.

You unfurled yourself from Dean’s bed and made your way to the door. Dean met you halfway, showing you out. Just as you had stepped into the hall, he had more to say.

“Look, I know when I talked about taking you to Jody’s, that wasn’t exactly rolling out the welcome mat, but I am glad you’re here.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks for having me.”

“See you in the morning, Y/N.” Dean sent you off with a little salute.

Luckily, you remembered there was most of a six pack left from dinner. You quietly helped yourself to the remainders before settling into the lonely bed in the appallingly generic room once more. You rifled through the pictures, determined to find something you could recall. Something significant enough to make everything spill out of the recesses of your mind.

But nothing changed, it was obviously you in each one, with Dean at your side in most of them. You were happy, of course you were, no one takes pictures of arguments or tears. But more so, you were happy together.

It was surreal seeing the span of the relationship in the half dozen pictures; understanding time’s progress by the small nuances of split lips or hair cuts or changing seasons. There was one taken in the apartment Dean had mentioned you shared, you had broken your leg and presumably Dean had taken the picture of you from the cast up.

Then you came to the last photo, one with Sam and Dean wedging you between them. You were laughing, but also making the most obvious goo goo eyes at Dean. You wondered who snapped the picture of you all on the trunk of the impala. You still owned the boots you had been wearing.

Eventually, your eyes zeroed in on the shirt Dean wore beneath his jacket, the same two toned flannel that you were wearing as a pajama top. The one that you always wore when you sought comfort, the one that was so ratty you should have thrown out ages ago. The one you couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of.

You gulped down the rest of your beer before setting the pictures onto the desk. You might not have any memories of Dean, but something inside of you certainly had held onto feelings for him. Feelings you didn’t know how to process anymore. With a heavy sigh you let yourself try and sleep them off.

^*^*^

Her smile turned into a snarl as it made her slam the knife into Sam’s gut, black eyes never leaving Dean’s face, drinking in his agony.

Dean’s voice cracked, but he kept reciting the exorcism, plowing through it even though he was frozen in place by the demon’s mental strength. It laughed, ruthless and ragged, almost a bark as she started to cough it up.

“Oh, Dean,” it tutted. “Too little too late.”

Then it turned the knife on her.

Time stopped, but Dean only hesitated for a moment, long enough for the blade to pierce right below her collar bone. Without even realizing he had been released, Dean lurched forward, final words shouted with all the fury and fear he had in him.

She fell to the ground before he could catch her, blood soaking through her shirt. He snatched the knife from her hand to try and temper the bleeding. Dean carefully wiggled them over to Sam, and as he held both of their wounds closed, he prayed for a miracle.

Dean knew the feel of blood as well as he knew the wear of the leather of Baby’s interior; opposite poles of familiarity. He was caked in the life that drained away from those he loved, and yet he could only see his own failure. He wouldn’t let go, he couldn’t, but he needed help and if the angel couldn’t answer him, maybe something more mundane could.

He closed his eyes and removed his hand from her shoulder, whispering his apologies as he searched for his phone. Her name was both a plea and a reminder, the hope and the loss oozing from him as thickly as the blood filled Sam’s belly.

Dean’s fingerprints smeared against the numbers, but then a deep voice stopped him middial.

“Dean? What happened?” Cas materialized before Dean hit send.

^*^*^

You slept through lunch, starting your first full day in the Wincehsters’ home groggy but steady on your feet. You told yourself that you had been reading too much into the feelings Dean’s memories had elicited. You were just empathetic and probably emotionally strung out over the whirlwind of the past couple weeks. You clearly couldn’t be in love with the man. No matter how kind, or handsome he was. He was essentially an acquaintance, no longer a stranger, but not yet a friend.

A savior, not the solution.

You found both Dean and Sam in the library, feet up and heads down, like a pair of flannel clad bookends. It was quite the picture, two well built guys studiously pouring through books for their next case. It made sense, but it also was such a specific level of hot that you definitely had to swallow before you could make your presence known.

“Hey, sorry, I guess I needed sleep more than I thought,” you offered, shrugging as you approached the massive table that had been covered with materials and laptops.

“Don’t sweat it,” Dean replied. “You eat? There’s some leftover chili, but we just had sandwiches for lunch. If you want, I can fry you up a grilled cheese?”

“Nah, it’s fine, I’ll make myself a sandwich. Thanks.” You brushed off Dean’s enthusiasm.

After preparing it, you trudged back to the library, plate in one hand, and a strong cup of tea in the other. You pulled a chair up to the clearest side of their work space and set up camp.

“What are you looking for?” You asked honestly, head tilted as you eyed the gold foiled title of the book in Sam’s hand.

“Uh, we’re looking into an entity known as the Darkness. It was originally locked away by God before the Earth was created, but it's now loose. So, we’re looking for weaknesses or ways to trap it again,” Sam explained tentatively.

“You’re trying to do something that God did originally?” You clarified.

“What Sam isn’t saying is that, we let her out. So, it’s on us to put her back,” Dean broke in.

“Her?” You felt suddenly out of your depth.

“Yeah, she’s actually God’s sister. Kind of a light and dark thing, we think,” Sam continued. “She goes by Amara.”

You didn’t miss the cringe that Dean tried to hide at the name, which meant that Sam definitely caught it as well.

After a few minutes of heavy silence you couldn’t help but ask, “How would one manage to let out an ancient dark power?”

“Very stupidly.” Dean sighed, not looking up from his book.

You finished your food and started to idly peruse the books stacked between you and Sam. You tried not to smile when you caught one of the brothers’ now familiar silent conversations. You didn’t have anywhere else to be, the least you could do was try and give them a little help in return. If they had a problem with it, they’d have to actually say it out loud.

They didn’t stop you.

A day turned into three, which became a full week of navigating their process for research, which started after Sam’s morning runs and ebbed off before Dean’s afternoon tinkering. You added yourself into their unofficial cooking rotation, not exactly acing their gas range, but managing to feel like you were close to earning your keep.

Dean always offered to do the dishes on your cooking nights.

You stayed back to help dry, preferring to work beside him, even in near silence, than retreat to your room early. Sam had found you an old laptop to stream on, so you had something to distract you from the barren walls and the slowly increasing nightmares. But that night the next season could wait, especially when there was Old Spice and the grounding grumble of Dean’s voice.

“Hey now, you with me?” Dean asked, waving his sudsy hand in front of your unfocused stare.

Your face burned, but you managed to smile through it. “Yup,” popping the ‘p’.

“You know you haven’t said anything about the pictures since your first night here,” Dean tried to be casual about bringing it up.

“Yeah, I guess I was waiting to see if anything came back,” you admitted.

“And?”

You turned to face Dean, his hands gripping the edge of the sink, leaning down so he was at your height. He knew by the apologetic look on your face and you could see his disappointment before he could fully retreat from the vulnerability.

“How’d I break my leg?” You took a plate from the rack, spinning it carefully in the towel as you waited for him to let you back in.

“You know I’m not exactly sure, you never gave up the whole story,” Dean licked his lips and shook his head. “I came back from a hunt and you were hobbling around with only one crutch. Somehow managed to get yourself to the hospital and home, even though I know they don’t let you drive with a cast. I think you were trying to either hang up new curtain rods or you fell up the back steps bringing them home. Because they were left in the trash, still in the plastic. But you insisted you ditched the old curtains to let in all the natural light you could.”

By the end of the story you were both giggling. It nearly made sense and yet it was so funny to hear how he figured it out despite your stubborn pride keeping you from admitting you had hurt yourself doing something stupid. Or presumably stupid.

“That’s why you took the shame photo? Because you needed physical proof I am a spaz?” You teased.

“Honey, I don’t need proof, we both know you are alive by sheer dumb luck at this point,” Dean taunted back.

You held up your towel in mock surrender. “Touche, but also? Too soon.”

“Oh come on, I wasn’t even talking about that!” Dean huffed in exasperation. You defiantly jutted out your chin, and snapped your hand closed like a mouth shutting. He rolled his eyes, before he suddenly splashed you with a gush of dirty dishwater. You squealed and swatted blindly at him.

Dean caught you at your waist, tugging the towel from your hand so he could wipe your face clean. You slowly stopped struggling in his hold, relaxing against his firm chest before you opened your eyes to see him looking back at you with nothing short of adoration.

Oh god, what were you doing?

You stood there, in Dean’s arms, for mere moments, but they felt like a lifetime. A lifetime where you had never been stripped of your past and he had never had to choose your life over his happiness. A lifetime you wanted desperately to relive.

“Sorry.” Dean released you. “I got the rest, you can hit the shower, don’t want you to catch cold.” He motioned to your half soaked tee and you nodded, rubbing your upper arm as if the suggestion of a drop in temperature had given you goosebumps and not the separation from his warm embrace.

“Backing out when you started it, real smooth,” you threw at him, walking backwards out of the kitchen.

Dean sighed and snipped back, “Would you watch where you’re walking, please?! I don’t want to have to drag your ass to the infirmary already.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, with your tongue firmly planted in your cheek, as you spun expertly on the ball of your foot before heading up the steps.

The smug high from your banter melted away with the pelting shower, the reality that you were needlessly toying with a man’s emotions sank into your every pore. You were not the woman he remembered, and you still didn’t completely know who Dean Winchester was or had become in the meantime. You needed to cool it.

An hour later, you restarted the same episode for the third time, because you could not focus on the new character’s introduction long enough to figure out why they were relevant. Couldn’t your mind just shut up?!

You don’t know where it came from, but slowly you realized you were speaking aloud, not to yourself, but to the angel you had yet to officially meet. You were praying, each word ripping something inside of you the moment it left your lips.

“Please let me remember him. Let me be who he needs me to be. Let him see me as I am and not only who he lost. Castiel, if you can’t fix my memories, then even the score, take me from his. Give me even footing or let him have a fresh start, too. Please, help me. Help us?”

^*^*^

Series tags: @tiggytaylor @vicmc624 @kalesrebellion

General SPN tags: @flamencodiva @dolphincliffs @dontshootmespence @thoughtslikeaminefield @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler @ericaprice2008 @princessofthefandomrealm @wingedcatninja

^*^*^

Read on: Chapter Eight

#supernatural fanfiction #what lingers within #dean winchester fanfiction #dean wincehster x reader #dean angst #amnesia #blood #demon possession #dean x reader #spn reader insert #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean fic

63 notes · View notes

ts-virgil-angst · 5 years ago

Note

I think you need stitches & Patton is hurt?

Genre: *gently chanting* angst angST ANGST ANGST ANGST

Word Count: 2,569

Prompt: “ I think you need stitches.”

—��

Virgil was tired of waiting. A week had already passed since Patton went out and there still wasn’t any sign of him. Jules refused to look and Neil wouldn’t undermine anything he said. Not even Cameron, who barely listened to anything anyone said, would go.

“Listen, V.” He wrapped his arm around Virgil’s shoulder, leaning in and fanning his perpetual booze-soaked breath all over him. “This ain’t got shit to do with me. Patton is a good kid, but I’m not risking my neck for him.”

Virgil ducked under Cameron’s arm and crossed his arms. “And how many times has he risked his for yours?” Virgil shot back.

“Eh, well,” Cameron shrugged. “That was his choice.”

“If Patton had a choice, he wouldn’t even be here picking up the slack dumbass adults like you who can’t even manage.”

Logan snickered at Cameron’s expression as they turned away. “What are you gonna— Hey!” Cameron grabbed a fistful of Logan’s hair and pulled him back. Virgil crossed his arms and watched revulsion, disgust, and anger chase each other across Logan’s features. Getting a rise out of Logan was difficult since he had such a laid-back-sarcastic-devil-may-care attitude, but he abhorred being touch. Be it his actual skin or something on his person, it moved him to violence.

Logan threw his head back, head-butting Cameron’s chin and forcing him to release his hold on Logan. He threw his elbow into Cameron’s solar plexus before kicking him.

“Touch me again and next time it’s your throat.” He took a deep breath, slowly relaxing his tense stance. “Look, whatever beef you have with V has nothing to do with me. It obviously has something more to do with what just happened, but leave me out of it and take it up with the offender.”

Logan was right that Virgil and Cameron had beef before this. Cam hated the way Virgil just sort of blended into to his new status and surroundings without blinking an eye when he, a grown man, couldn’t do it without too many beers and many more cigars.

“You’ve certainly gotten more violent,” Virgil said as they walked away, this time unbothered.

“I’ve always been violent—just in spades. Being here makes me feel like I have to be or else something might happen to me. Anyway, back to my question before Cam the Idiot cut me off: what are you gonna do about Patton?”

Virgil’s mood soured even more. “I’ll go look for him tonight. Nothing to get me in trouble, just a quick look around by Hit the Mark.”

He wrung his fingers together, shoulders hunching in as he asked, “Can I go with you?”

Virgil gave him a sideways glance. Logan looked like he was trying to make himself smaller. “Why are you asking when you never have before?”

“Well, this seems kind of personal whereas everything else was just work. It’s polite to ask.”

“Shoot first ask later.” They left the common area behind, going into one of the many halls housing rooms for the less fortunate—the only real service the casino offered. “It’s fine if you come with me. Nothing should happen anyway.” Yet, even as Virgil said that he couldn’t help but feel something had happened. That maybe, just maybe, Patton wouldn’t be coming back.

Virgil shook his head, shooing the thought away. Patton was good at what he did. Get in, take the tiara, get out—there’s no way Patton wouldn’t be able to do that. “Come by my room at midnight. Right now, I want to be alone.”

“Right. I have been attached to you since I got here.” Logan nodded as he went down the hallway, disappearing into the last door.

Virgil almost regretted sending Logan away as he fell onto his bed. He was used to having Patton’s constant company with brief breaks between. Having Logan around was nice, but his presence was much calmer than Patton. Virgil would have much rather been around him in spades then twenty-four-seven. Shame there was no one else willing to train Logan so Virgil could take a break from him.

“I miss you, Patton,” Virgil mumbled as he drifted off into sleep. It didn’t feel like long before he heard soft footsteps approaching his door.

Virgil opened his eyes as Logan knocked on his door. “Are you awake?”

“Just barely,” Virgil mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Just wait a moment.” Virgil rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, stretching and groping for his knives. Out of habit and comfort, they were the first things he went for when waking up. He could never know when he would need them. Hiding them expertly on his person, Virgil opened the door and pulled Logan in. “We’re not actually supposed to go out at night without permission—we could slip out and never come back. But we just have to be back before the casino closes and we’ll be fine. Probably.”

“So, we have three hours. Um, how are we getting out?”

Virgil pointed. “The window, of course.”

Logan edged over and peeked down to the ground. “How are we getting down from here?”

“Luck and skill.” Virgil opened the window and leaned out, pressing against the frame so Logan could see. “Look, there’s a ladder right there, from that fire escape. You’ll have to jump. Below that is a dumpster—a four-foot drop you should be able to make. If not, that’s on you.”

“Love your faith.” Logan pulled back and gestured forward. “Lead the way.”

“Make sure you close the window when you get out.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Just leave it open then. Follow me and try not to make too much noise.”

“Who’s going to hear us over the casino?” Logan asked as Virgil hopped onto the windowsill and dived out the window. The wind raced around him as he wrapped his hands around the ladder. After many trials and errors, he knew how much force to put into his jump so as not to face plant into the ladder.

Virgil dropped down the ladder then onto the dumpster. Logan was still leaning out the window, watching. “Get a move on.”

“What if I break my nose?”

“Like I said, that’s on you.”

He warily looked over the distance between the window and ladder, backed up, then jumped. He let out a small squeal as he almost fell short and banged against the ladder. “I’m starting to have second thoughts about this,” he gasped. “Can I just— Can I just stay here?”

“Would you like to dangle for three hours? Just let go of the ladder.”

“Pretty sure I bruised my knees and one of them is bleeding. In short, my legs really frigging hurt.”

“My soul hurts. Let go or I’ll leave you.” Logan looked ready to close his eyes but kept them open as he dropped onto the dumpster. His legs buckled beneath the sudden weight and caved. Tripping, he toppled from the lid and into Virgil’s arms.

“Jeez.” He puffed his hair from his face. “You’re deceptively strong for someone so scrawny.”

“You’re scrawny. And you weigh as much as a stop sign.” Virgil let him down and started forward, keeping an eye out for the callers.

“I have a high metabolism.” He said.

Just like Patton, Virgil thought. “Keep up with me and look inconspicuous.” Making it past the callers was the hard part, which is to say, making it to Hit the Mark was easy. They’d never seen Logan before (he liked to prowl the halls of the casino, making sarcastic quips about the people he saw and hated the cold) and if Virgil kept his head down he wouldn’t be recognized. From there they hustled through the crowds of people flocking to buildings to spend money and try their luck.

“How far away is this other casino?” Logan asked once the crowd had thinned. In between casino was always less crowded and loud.

“Give us ten minutes and—” Virgil stopped short then backtracked. The alley was nondescript and easy enough to look past and the smell from the trash cans made it easier to avoid. But Virgil didn’t care about the alley. His eyes were on the person lying face down, blood pooling around their still body.

“Uh, V? What are you—?”

“Stay here and don’t move.” Virgil started forward, panic swelling in his chest, trying not to let it overwhelm him. “Do you remember the way to the casino?”

“More or less. Why— What is happening?” Virgil could hear the worry building in his voice and could see the beginnings of stiffness in his posture as he tried to see what Virgil saw, like a spring coil being wound. But Virgil ignored him, creeping forward, the ball of panic getting bigger and bigger with each step.

The panic swelled and burst as Virgil looked at Patton’s bruised profile. His cheek had been cut and his breathing was choked and labored as Virgil rolled him onto his back.

Despite the scene, Virgil found his wits, checking for a pulse and calling out: “Logan! Go back to the casino and ask for someone who can tend to gun wounds.” There were too many times when Virgil had come across someone dead or dying to let this get the better of him. Even when—even when that someone was the one person he cared about most.

Logan stood, frozen against the background of the busy street, clutching his shirt for dear life. “Logan. He will die if you don’t move. Go.” He jerked into action, sprinting down the street.

Virgil moved Patton’s head into his lap, softly calling his name. “Wake up, Patton. Please wake up.”

Patton stirred and coughed, eyes fluttering and breath stuttering. Virgil made a sound—half sigh, half sob. “Thank God you’re awake.”

“V? Why are you here?” Patton tried to move then winced, hand hovering close to his side.

“That doesn’t matter, just stay awake for me, Patton. Stay awake.”

“But I’m so tired. I can’t…” He trailed off, his words slurring.

Panic started to rise again and Virgil shook him, trying to keep his eyes open. “Focus on me, Patton. I think you need stitches and you’ll be okay.” Virgil grasped at anything in his muddled mind that would grab Patton’s attention. What would keep his focused? “You had something to tell me. What was it? Keep your eyes on me.”

“What I wanted to say… It was important.” His breathing evened out as his eyes focused on something beyond Virgil. Virgil’s heart starting pounding as a minute ticked by without any movement, then Patton gasped as he said, “I love you.”

Virgil’s heart stuttered. “What?”

“You were always so hot and cold with your temper.” Patton closed his eyes, but there was a small smile on his lips. “I could never understand what you were feeling so I thought if I could do something like this, maybe I could say this too.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Virgil murmured. “I love you, Patton. I’ve always loved you.” Patton’s head cradled in Virgil’s lap, he lowered his forehead to Patton’s, a roaring ache in his chest. What Virgil felt for Patton was something fiercer that ordinary love. It was built on the foundation that they were both doing whatever it took to survive and they were willing to sacrifice whatever means to ensure the safety of the other. It was strong and needy and reliant and steadfast.

And now that Virgil could name it, that he could realize what he felt, Patton might not even survive.

“V,” Logan whispered. Virgil kept his head down, already knowing what Logan was going to say. Already knowing no one came back with him. He sniffed, his voice thick with tears. “V, they aren’t coming. He said…he said if Patton died then his debt would be repaid. I-I’m sorry, V. I’m so sorry.”

“V,” Patton murmured. “V, can you do me a favor?”

Virgil almost choked on his words as he said, “Anything.”

“Get out. Promise me you’ll get out.”

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see Patton die. Not wanting to see the life leave him. “Please don’t talk like that. Please don’t talk like you’re going to die. I can’t— I can’t take it.”

“I won’t,” Patton smiled. “I won’t. I can’t feel it anyway. I feel…tired.”

“Then sleep,” Virgil said. “Sleep and dream of something better. Something complete.”

“I can do that, I think.”

And so they sat in the alley as Virgil cried and waited for Patton’s heartbeat to fade. As Virgil pleaded and begged with any god to save him. To please save the one person who believed Virgil was more than a street rat. Who believed Virgil could be more than just a kid with nothing more half a name and a birthplace to go on.

As Logan stood at the edge of the alley, silently crying for a boy he’d never met. As he held himself so as not to run away. As he bowed his head to mourn.

“Hey, Patton,” Virgil whispered when Patton’s breathing had long since faded and his body had stilled for good. “Do you remember that day we first met? That day when it rained so hard and so long. I never told you, but I almost wished we’d never met. Maybe then I’d never have fallen for you.”

Virgil lowered Patton’s head to the ground, joints jerking and popping as he stood. “Call the police, Logan. Get them here somehow. He needs…he needs proper care now.”

Logan pressed his hands to his eyes. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I just…” Virgil’s legs felt wobbly and numb. How he was going to do anything, he didn’t know. And right now, he didn’t care.

“I’ll come with you—”

“No. I can’t— I don’t want—” Virgil took a deep breath although it only served to make him lightheaded and dizzy. “Go back and-and stay.”

“But I—”

“Logan, please. I just want to be left alone.”

Logan sniffled, wiping his eyes as he drew himself up and let out a scream. Virgil slipped by as people turned to see why he yelled. He put on a performance of falling down and pointing. But Virgil supposed maybe he really was afraid. Until a month ago, he’d never even seen a dead or dying body outside of a TV screen.

The numbness was fading, replacing it with a sharp, raging pain, taking root in his chest and spreading throughout his body and the only thing he wanted to get away. Away from Patton’s death, away from this pain, away from the thoughts swirling around him.

What reason would Virgil have for staying now that Patton was gone? What reason did he have for anything now that Patton’s was gone? What was he supposed to do now that the one person who understood him, who knew what it was like to be in that hellhole of a place with no escape, was gone? Was he to think of a plan to escape? He didn’t know what to do and he didn’t want to think about anything.

So he didn’t. He didn’t look back or give another thought. The cold air whipping around him and the lights blurring, Virgil did what he did best: he ran.

—–

send me prompts!

—–

@wikkedwolff @mira-jadeamethyst @genderqueerwriter-blog @raisin-oatmeal-cookie @finiteframe3 @frustratedwaffle @queerweare @zoeyheys @analogically-prinxiety @polysandershell @prinxietys @jadorefreedom @inalandofmythandtimeofmagic @thebaagelboy @vampyrsarah @winds-and-stardust @cisnesincorbata @fugitive-angel @netzoflix @angsty-anxxiety @saltequeen-deactivated @theanxofthethomas @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @miniritzcrackers @ninjas-forever @thesmallestalien @stjernemaskin @deathshadowrules @kenanscloud @tea–ghost @massivehoagiepastahumanoid @aznasalon @lilreadergurl @fury-of-rome @lunareclipse-13 @probablysomeproblems @choppedfestdelusion @julia-loves-cupcakes @aropicanipie @seukizuo @dragonetteeye @dontquestionmeagainsanders @romananalogicality

#it's a long boi #and full on angst y'all #answered ask #one shot #prompt ask #patton sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders

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yoongi-sugaglider · 5 years ago

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A/n: Inspired while listening to MONO and I felt the need to wrote this. I just...hope that one day they have the opportunity to actually hear this in person

"You were calling for world peace through self discovery. But the message got to be too big. The word reached too far and wide. And you got scared."

The man's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed,a cold sweat having broken out on his brow as the interviewer's word spoke a little too close to home.

So close in fact that it seemed she'd repeated the exact words he'd spoken to his brothers in confidence not 3 months before. And in the privacy of his own studio no less!

And yet as accusatory as the words should have been her smile was far too warm. Her soft brown eyes staring into his own with a sense of understanding that not even he'd had with him self when he'd uttered the words before.

He nodded briefly after a sidelong glance at his fellow members. They seemed just as stunned as he was, all except Yoongi who only smirked as he watched the interaction between the two. That all knowing self satisfied posture he carried himself with when he understood more than the translators let on getting under Namjoon's skin.

"You're not wrong Miss." Yoongi responded in his native language. "It became bigger than us. So big that we began losing touch with each other. We lost touch with our core fans and forgot that we had people waiting for us at home, always rooting for us and yet sadly forgotten in a worldwide show that we didn't really understand." Yoongi leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his crossed knees with a shrug, clearly finished with what he had to say.

"And so you created this current album as a message to your friends and families and fans. A message of love and hope and a promise to keep close to heart the memories that made you who you are."

Namjoon and Taehyung grinned at each other as Jimin and Jungkook wrapped an arm around each other. The group relaxed visibly at her words but the feeling didn't last long when the woman made her next statement.

"And you made that same promise to each other. An album that was an actual recommitment to your music and your fans and each other in a time where fame was causing so much stress that you were close to breaking apart and going your separate ways."

At this several managers stood at once, barking orders for cameras to be shut off and demanding that the interview stopped right then and there.

Namjoon sat for a moment, eyes locked with the hyper aware gaze staring at him over what he only now realized were the blank pages of a clipboard that should have been filled with the usual slew of questions any normal reporter would have had. But this reporter was hauntingly different and that alone brought to him and excitement he hadn't felt in a very long while.

The room was in chaos and yet the two continued to watch each other, twin pinpoints of calm in a whirlwind of accusations and heated words.

Namjoon broke first though as realization hit him with the tilted smile of cherry red lips. He stood abruptly, the motion alone cause all activity in the room to cease.

"Let's continue the interview please. You're all making it very hard for us to speak."

Several of the managers exchanged glances before waving for everyone else to continue.

"How is it you know so much about us Miss?" Jimin asked, his voice wavering slightly as he struggled to remain calm.

She smiled softly, the laugh lines around her eyes crinkling in the most endearing way as she answered honestly. "I am ARMY. I've followed you boys since the early days of your world wide success. And before your managers get up in arms over me tricking anyone just to get close to you, I want to assure you that this is not the case in the least. I begged my editor to pull me off the assignment simply for that reason. I didn't want to invade your space knowing as much as I do about you. Something no other reporter who interviewed you today would ever be able to say."

"About two days ago though,I came across a compilation on YouTube. Something so sad that it made my heart ache."

"What did you find?" Hoseok chirped up, ever the curious one among them and unafraid to ask questions right back.

Her smile reappeared, this time causing the group's self proclaimed angel to blush brightly and duck his head down for speaking up so loudly.

"Every interview you've done. Personally invading your private love lives. Begging for secrets about your next album and collaboration. How are you enjoying the current country. Do you get along in real life. What languages do you speak. What have you bought. How expensive is your clothes."

She shook her head and sighed, the groan that left her was one each of them had felt or expressed after days and weeks of the same questions she'd mentioned.

"I knew that if I did what the editor wanted you would come out of it this the same way you'd come out of every other interview. Tired, worn, hating the spotlight and feeling the same disgust with the media that us ARMY had felt." She gave a shy shrug and now it was her turn to blush, the heat spreading across her cheeks and the tip of her nose as she looked each of them in the eye.

"I knew if I wanted to hold true to ARMY and do you all the proper service of a proper interview I had to catch your attention. So I spoke the words ARMY across the world have been dying to say to you. So that I would know you knew we understood. And to be able to give you the message you boys deserve to hear."

The seven men sat up straighter, eyes focused solely on her. She felt dozens of other stares boring into her, hanging on her every word in fear and anticipation of what she was going to say next.

"To Jungkook. Thank you for GCF. Your edits are beautiful and your passion is felt. Your live for the cities and the brothers that travel with you is felt in each film and we are truly blessed to have such a wonderful and talented young man share his art with us. No matter what, stay true to yourself because you are what we love. Every bit of everything you do is cherished no matter the avenue you chose to take on the road ahead."

"Taehyung. Our dear sweet artist. You've suffered so losing those that loved you unconditionally. And when you sought approval for things you felt you wanted to change about yourself you were attacked and dragged down to one of the lowest points in your life. For that mo apology could ever heal the pain you felt. And yet we're sorry is all we can offer. No matter what you would still be you and no hair cut or mustache would have ever changed that. We're sorry you felt you had to change to please us when all we ever wanted was for you to be happy. That should have been enough and yet for so many it wasn't. We are ashamed and saddened. But thank you, because even in the ridicule you still stayed true to yourself and for that we are forever grateful."

"To our dear sweet Jimin. He who struggled the most to accept himself for who he was and how he looked. Jimin we are so proud of you. You've grown so much and you try so hard to be the best you can be. You may feel you've failed us when you make mistakes or let us down but we never feel that way. Because we saw your struggle and even in the mistakes we still feel pride. In learning from your errors you give us the courage to address our own mistakes and learn and grown from them to be better. Don't ever doubt that we love you. Because we do. Always and forever will will love you."

"Sunshine. Our hope,our angel, Hoseok. We see your pain. We watch the mask slip on and off. We know that you hide behind the sun so that we won't feel the pain you feel like you can't share. But that's the thing about family. We share pain. We grown in hardship and become stranger for it. So don't be afraid to set the mask aside from time to time and let us help you. Even the sun needs a break from time to time. Every now and again, let US be the sun for you."

"Min Yoongi. Our hard working, never sleep, precious Min Yoongi. Thank you for finding peace within yourself. We see. We know, that you've been happier. But we also know that the anxiety and pain can't be erased so easily. And that's okay. Don't worry that you're not as active on social media. We know you love us and that's enough. Don't worry. When the anxiety returns and the painful memories threaten to overwhelm we'll be right there beside you, ready to hold your hand and weather the storm together."

"To our world wide handsome ball of chaotic good. Seokjin, you've worked so very hard to get to where you are now. We never see you get pulled down though the hateful comments and negative energy is sure to take its toll. But we do live and support you. We see your skill and love you no matter what the haters say. You are the unspoken backbone of this team,supporting others even when they won't admit to it or see it. Thank you for that and always remember, we can be your strength too because we love you."

"And to our dear precious Namjoon. On who's shoulders rest the world. The one who started it all and led us down this fateful road to where we are now. Thank you. Your words and melodies bring us peace in the darkest of times. Calm our spirits when the chaos of the world threaten to take our joy away. You are our joy, you are our pride and we value you for more than just your intellect and musical prowess. We value you for your gentle guiding hands. We value you for your kinds words and soft spoken nature. We value you for the gifts you chose to share with the world even when the world thought to turn its back on you. Above all else we live you for the love you show to us and the members each day. For the heart that teaches and yet always learns. We love you for you and hope you never forget that."

She sighed,brushing away the tears that her formed and managed to spill before looking up and recoiling in shock.

Each of the member of BTS had broken into various states of distress and tears, the maknae line clinging to each other and wailing to the world while Jin comforted Namjoon despite the tears that streamed down his own face. Yoongi clutched his chest, slender fingers covering his mouth as he struggled to sob while Hoseok looked on with a tight lipped smile despite the emotion streaking trails down the apples of his cheeks.

"Oh...I...I'm so sorry!" As one the men stood, startling her further as the bowed to her in unison.

"We'll continue to do our best." Namjoon choked out between sobs.

Hoseok broke ranks first, rushing forward and embracing her in a bone crushing hug. The others joined suit, Yoongi included as the encircled her and wrapped their arms around her in a soul soothing embrace of live and thanks.

Jimin turned to the cameras that had been rolling to catch all of this live for the world to see.

"We've heard you ARMY."

"We love you too ARMY,forever and always." Jungkook managed to choked out between sobs.

"Thank you ARMY. You are us and we are you. Together we can weather the storm. Together we can beat whatever comes our way. Because that's what family does. We fight for each other. And together, BTS and ARMY will always win."

#bts #bangtan #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #bts min yoongi #bts kim taehyung #bts kim namjoon #bts jeon jungkook #bts jung hoseok #bts kim seokjin #bts park jimin #bts scenarios #bts meme #bts angst #bts reactions #bts fanfiction #my writing

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my-analogical-heart · 5 years ago

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I Think I’m Gone

Virgil ducked under Cameron’s arm and crossed his arms. “And how many times has he risked his for yours?” Virgil shot back.

“Eh, well,” Cameron shrugged. “That was his choice.”

“If Patton had a choice, he wouldn’t even be here picking up the slack dumbass adults like you who can’t even manage.”

Logan threw his head back, head-butting Cameron’s chin and forcing him to release his hold on Logan. He threw her elbow into Cameron’s solar plexus before kicking him.