#i told them how suicidal and the weight i’ve lost and how i’m doing drugs everyday to cope with taking care of our dad | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wouldpollyapprove · 5 years ago

Text

Soldier’s Reward

Request: Hi! Hope your having a great day or night. I was wondering if I could have a prompt for tommy prompt 6 and 10 if not that’s fine. Hope your staying safe.

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Language, suicidal thoughts, war

A/N: I feel that this could be a little bit better but I do really like how the beginning of it turned out.

The night was dark, shadows filling the wholes were life was in the daylight hours. It was by no means a perfect night for a walk. Rival gangs were at each other’s throats and few felt safe on the streets at night, but Y/n didn’t care. She held no care for the world as she walked down the empty streets of Birmingham. A bottle of rum bumped into her thigh as she wondered through town, no destination in sight.

How could she care about anything when almost all that held her together was gone? And no one cared but her, how sad. She almost laughed at how foolish she was to believe that someone would care about her loss. But Tommy and his brothers, they were to busy fighting with each other and trying to run their business. Polly was too wrapped in the drama that was Ada Shelby. So, Y/n was all alone. She was given false smiles and lies as condolences.

All she wanted was to be told that all was well. That she was strong enough to move past this. But that never came and she knew that now she was nothing but a shell of a person.

Y/n came to the canal and decided to walk alongside it. There was no better company than the water that barely sloshed against the concrete that held it.

She put the bottle of rum to her lips and drank down a good portion of the liquid, not caring that it burned her throat. If it helped to rid her mind of pain, she would drink anything.

“I’ve seen some beautiful flowers grow in my garden fair,” she sang, slurring her words and walked further down the canal. “I’ve spent some wonderful hours lost in their fragrance rare.”

She closed her eyes for a second, beneath her eyes lids, war played out. There were men, laying face down in the mud as the rain came down like gunfire. Screams of vengeance came from those still alive, they refused to let their enemy bask in their pain.

Eyes open, she held back tears. The past was nothing but the past, she tried to tell herself. But no matter how many times those words rang through her head, the horrors of war did alongside them.

“But I have found another wondrous beyond compare,” her voice wavered as she walked away from the water. “There’s a rose that grows on no-man’s land.”

Y/n leaned against a crumbling brick building and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. With one stuck between her teeth, she lite it and with shaking fingers, placed it between them. If only the war had taken her, maybe then she would be at peace. She laughed at the thought.

Oh, how she was one of the lucky ones.

She was never meant to see such violence. Y/n was sent to France when she was only 16 so she could take care of her aging grandmother. There she hoped to attended university and make something of herself, but that never happened. War broke out, along with hell. She thought for so long that it would never touch her, that war, as long as she couldn’t see it, wasn’t her problem.

How wrong she was?

It came knocking on her doorstep one fine morning and it consumed everything in its wake. She was thrown into the mess, doing her best to keep the French soldiers alive that littered her grandmother’s front yard. And that’s when the yard was uprooted and thrown all about.

Y/n had heard of what bombs could do, but she’d never seen it nor felt it. It left her ears ringing as she tried to steady herself. The world was tilting at an angle she couldn’t comprehend and she was covered in dirt and blood. Unable to tell whether it was her own blood, she fell to the ground where she was found hours later by the Franch army.

After that day, she wanted nothing more than to be one of those that was draped with their countries flag and put six feet under. There was nothing that could scrub her memory, no matter what she tried, everything came back. Her parents offered the option of electrotherapy. She grasped onto it like she was a sinking ship and it was the only thing that could save her.

It did nothing.

She tried drugs, but they didn’t numb, they didn’t stop the bomb or block out the screams. They did nothing but cause her more pain.

Nothing worked.

The only thing that ever helped her through her rough patches and the nightmare that was her brain was her grandmother. The woman had seen it all. She’d lived in a world of violence and poverty, yet she was kind and wanted nothing but the best for those around her. Y/n clung to her like a child, that woman was the only one that made a difference.

And now she was gone and Y/n was back in hell.

An hour or so later, the bottle of rum was empty and Y/n was getting cold. She slowly got to her feet and trudged forward. She turned the corner and walked to wherever the cobblestone street led.

Head in the clouds, Y/n didn’t hear when a man called to her, she simply followed where her feet were traveling to. Well, the man didn’t like being ignored and stalked up to her, chest puffed out like a tough guy.

“Are you ignoring me, bitch?” he spat at her.

Y/n turned to him, an alcohol-induced smile on her face. “Everyone’s ignoring you,” she laughed, unaware of the weight of her words.

In an instant, like a bolt of lightning, a silver blad had found itself against the skin of her throat. “You wanna say that again, you whore.”

“You’re not man enough to do anything about it.” Her words bounced with laughter. She hoped he was, hoped that he let her blood spill against the dirty stones. That’s where it belonged. It should have been spilled along time ago, call it survivors guilt, but she didn’t deserve to breathe when others had lost their breath for her.

The man was about to prove her wrong when a shout came from down the street. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Two men came walking down the street, the blade dropped to the ground and the man who once held it had disappeared down an alley. As the men approached, one hit the other and said, “That’s Tommy’s girl.” The other nodded and when they stepped in front of her, they offered to take her to him, knowing that they would be dead if they didn’t.

Y/n had no say in the matter, she just nodded and followed their every move. She couldn’t make herself do more than that. Thinking for herself would only get her in trouble and she just wanted to sleep. She just wanted to lay her head down and never get up, not if life was going to throw her around.

*~~*~~*

A fight was raging in the kitchen when Y/n entered. Everyone was yelling. Polly was red with rage, Tommy was trying to hold her back before she could hit Arthur. John was the first to notice her as the two Peaky Blinders informed him of where they had found her. He spoke to her, but she didn’t hear a thing he said. Her eyes focused in on the wallpaper as she drowned everything out.

In her mind, there was no fight. Polly wasn’t like a bull in a china cabinet and Tommy wasn’t the restraints holding her from destruction. Arthur hadn’t caused a fuss and John wasn’t speaking to her like she was a sick child. The world was nothing but an eggshell green wallpaper that was peeling off the wall.

John gently forced her into a chair at the table and turned to his brother once Polly had composed herself enough. “Two of the boys found Y/n wondering down by the canal. Someone had a knife to her when they got there.”

A fire had ignited itself behind the man’s eyes as he looked down at his girlfriend. She looked lost, she looked hurt. There were dark bags under her eyes that looked like hazed glass. Tommy moved away from his aunt and knelt in front of Y/n and grabbed her hand. “Are you hurt, love?”

She shook her head, “No.” But her eyes never moved from the wallpaper.

That answer just wasn’t good enough from Tommy and he asked again. “You can tell me, Y/n. Are you hurt?”

That seemed to be all she needed to snap her gaze and look down at him. A small smile adorned his lips at that. It wasn’t much but he felt it was something.

“Why were you out there?” Polly asked as she could see Tommy wasn’t going to get there anytime soon.

“I went for walk,” she told them.

At that, Tommy stood and ran a hand down his face. He sighed, anger bubbling, he thought she knew better than do that. “What were you thinking? You know how dangerous this city is at night. If you wanted to go for a walk you could have just called me or Arthur or John. Anyone of us would have gone with you! What, were you trying to get yourself killed?” his voice echoed throughout the room, but it held no effect on Y/n, she simply shrugged.

“Maybe I was! But it’s not like you lot would have cared much.” Her words stung as everyone didn’t understand what they meant. They all believed themselves to be supportive to her, Tommy believed he was always by her side. “I am nothing but a broken dish and the one thing, the one thing, that was holding me together is gone! And when that happened, none of you did anything, none of you cared!” she yelled, her eyes watered, tears threatened to escape. “I was locked up in my house for days and no one came around, no one knocked, no one called. It was silent. I wanted to scream, I wanted to burst into tears, I wanted to get drunk and kill myself, but all I could do was stare at the wall in silence. So fuck all of you! I wanted to go for a fucking walk, I’m no child so I can walk by myself if I damn well please.”

The room was silent as her words sunk in, Y/n never raised her voice and it broke Tommy’s heart to know that he wasn’t there for her when she needed him. His anger faded once he saw how broken she was, how he’d let her become like that. “It’ll be alright, love. We’re here now, I’m here now.”

At that moment, her tears escaped, sliding to freedom down her cheek. Tommy had his arms around her in an instant, soothing her as best he could. He hated that she had hurt so much and he had been blind to it. That would never happen again.

“I just… I don’t want to see it anymore, Tommy,” she sobbed into his shoulder.

He rubbed circles on her back, knowing exactly what she was talking about. All those that came back from war were plagued with nightmares, it was the soldier’s reward for walking off the battlefield. Y/n didn’t deserve the same reward. “I know, I know. I’ll help you through it, I swear.”

And, for once in his life, Thomas Shelby was a man of his word.

#the peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagines #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagines #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shleby imagines #tommy shelby

440 notes · View notes

magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics · 4 years ago

Text

Fangirl, Interrupted - Becca’s Saturday

Summary: Have you ever felt like you’re too far up your fandoms that you’re not really living your real life? Well, that. But more.

Word Count: 1,817

Pairings: Dean x reader, Sherlock x reader

Warnings: You’re not gonna like it. Sudden fandom changes, bit of smut which is not really smutty, lazy writing, suicidal attempt, usage of drugs and alcohol, OOC scenes.

Original A/N: Because of who I am, I like to exaggerate everything. With that being said, let me tell you that this is how I felt for many years, with multiple fandoms. I have lived a tortous life, therefore I was always seeking to live somewhere else. Almost all of my childhood and teenage years were an on-going loop between my fake life inside my fandoms and my real life. I barely remember anything now outside that make-pretend life I created for myself. Now I am living my life, in a way that I can no longer hide inside that fake life. Call it what you want. Anxiety is coming back to me, fyi, and I tried to hide there but I just can’t. This is my way of expressing it. The Girl, Interrupted theme is because I watched it yesterday after performing Lisa’s monologue at my acting class - a way of giving therapy to myself through art. Anyway, I hope you don’t read this fic. I didn’t like it at all, but I feel the need, nonetheless, to share it somewhere. To have evidence that I went through that. Probably, someone out there has too. Idk.

New A/N: I wrote this MONTHS ago, long before I got diagnosed, and I got scared of posting it because it could be too depressing. But I hate leaving drafts all alone so here goes nothing.

Have you ever confused a dream with life? Or stolen something when you have the cash? Have you ever been blue? Or thought you were moving while sitting still? Maybe I was just crazy… Maybe it was loneliness…

“Put her in restraints!” A woman yelled. “Withdraw blood… Give her five milligrams of Valium, IV”

“Turn her head so she doesn’t aspirate,” another woman advised. I felt my head being turned by a pair of terribly warm hands.

I was attacked. I had been attacked.

“You should check my hand. There’s no bones in it anymore…”

“What were you thinking?” The first woman asked.

“I was trying to save the world…” I replied, “Don’t worry, you’ll thank me later.”

Sometimes it’s hard for me to stay in one place.

“Hey,” I opened my eyes at the familiar voice. The image at first was blurry, but I could recognize the colors of their flannel shirts. My back was killing me, and my arms felt numb. “(Y/N) are you okay?”

“Yo, sweetheart! Wake up!” A rough voice called out. I could see his red flannel.

Red flannel. Dean was wearing a red flannel, and Sam had the green one. That could only mean one thing…

I looked down at my own clothes, I was wearing a brown flannel.

I smiled childishly, and my vision finally cleared. Both men were staring at me, worried. “I’m home,” is all I could say.

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes, Sam smiled back at me.

“Yes, you are,” he said, “you’re home with us. Where else would you be?”

“At a hospital or some shit,” I replied.

“We don’t do no hospitals, sweetheart,” Dean reminded me from afar.

“Did we get him? The djinn?” I inquired, with wide eyes.

“Yup,” Sam nodded.

Dean appeared back again, handing me a cold beer. It was closed. Sam took my hand and guided it to my forehead, so I could press the bottle to my forehead. I was probably wounded there too.

“We Jafar-ed the shit out of him,” Dean snorted. Sam inhaled profoundly, as an attempt to not slap his brother. “I Jas-min that we almost didn’t make it…” Dean continued, “but enough Abu me,” he giggled, “how was your daydream, sweetheart? Where’d Iago?”

“Please, stop,” Sam begged. Dean tried to argue but Sam was already looking back at me. “But do tell us where did you go?”

“I…”

“Where did you go?”

“(Y/N)” a strong light blinded me for a second. I suddenly felt something in my eyes, pulling them open. “(Y/N), we’re calling you!” The voice chanted. “Hello, Earth requires Ms (Y/N)...”

“Wha-what?” I stuttered, pulling away from the light.

The scenery had changed. I was no longer at a motel room with awful wallpaper, but instead at a very nice living room, though the wallpaper was still awful.

“Are you okay?” The man that had been calling my name asked. He kneeled in front of me.

“Are you real?” I tilted my head to the side, and he smiled tenderly.

“As real as your nose,” he said and booped my nose. His touch was soft and warm.

“What happened?”

“You fainted,” another voice answered. I looked back, only to see the familiar figure of Sherlock sitting on his desk, typing furiously on his computer. “I told you not to get too close to the evidence, but did you listen? No, why?” He gazed back, “Because ‘oh Sherlock, don’t be so stern, it’s just a flower bouquet!’ but I was right, as usual.”

“Let her breath,” Watson commanded. “We both smelled it too and nothing bad happened.”

“Yes, but so did the police officers… All male, I must remind you” Sherlock snapped. “The flowers were sent to a woman who, where is she now? Oh, yes, DEAD!”

“I don’t get it,” I interfered.

“I suspect the flowers are poisoned with some sort of chemical that only affects women, by reacting to their production of hormones.” Sherlock informed me.

“Right… And what does that have to do with your intoxication?” The female voice asked again.

I suddenly snapped back to the hospital. I was laying in a hospital bed, with lots of tubles connected to me. There was a woman in white, sitting by my side with a notepad on her lap.

“Well, obviously I’ve been affected… It’s the flowers, you see…” I spoke.

“Flowers? What flowers?” The nurse, she was a nurse, asked again.

“The poisoned flowers!”

“Do you see them now?” She inquired.

“Of course not!”

“No?”

The djinn stood behind her. “Say no,” he said with an ominous voice.

“No,” I obeyed.

The nurse looked behind her and the djinn disappeared instantly. “Are you seeing anything out of the ordinary at the moment?”

“No, why would I? I’m not crazy,”

“At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were…” Dean sighed. He was sitting by my side, in bed, and was connecting his phone to the charger. “I am a little crazy too, you know?”

“Oh, yeah?” I trembled.

“Yeah,” he muttered and finally let go off his phone. He turned to look at me for a second before cuddling me. I was the small spoon, he was shirtless. “I’m crazy about you.”

“Smooth,” I replied sheepishly. I could feel the ghost of his arms around me… Ghost, because I couldn’t really feel him. He was hot, yet cold as if air was blowing over my skin.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked.

“I am.”

I wasn’t. I’m not okay.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he whispered and pecked my shoulder. Again, I felt it but not quite.

“Dean?”

“Huh?” I closed my eyes, not wanting to see what would happen after I said what I wnated to say.

“I feel like I’m still inside the djinn’s daydream,” I confessed.

Dean sat up and fixed a lose strand of hair that was falling over my eyes.

“You’re not inside a djinn’s daydream…” He said, calmly.

“How can you tell?” I asked, still not opening my eyes.

“Because djinns don’t exist, that’s why,” he said.

I finally opened my eyes. Black locks and blue eyes were all I could see for a moment.

“Djinns are mythological, and that is all…” Sherlock continued. I could hear his voice turning from Dean’s to his own. “I understand that maybe the toxins from the flowers could affect your perception of life, but there is nothing to fear. The effects will pass and you’ll be good as new.”

“I don’t feel good as new.”

“Clearly,” he grunted.

Noticing my state, he decided to go a little further from his usual behaviour. He pressed his head to my arm… I was still laying on my side, as if I was still being the small spoon.

“I will be here, by your side, as long as you let me.”

My heart fluttered, but not in love but rather in pain.

“I can’t control that.”

“The pills are having a positive effect on her now, we can get her to be conscious for a bit longer than before…” I heard a voice coming from the hall.

“What is that?” I asked. Sherlock tilted his head.

“What?” He furrowed, “I don’t hear anything.”

“Well, I do.”

I got up from bed and opened the door. At the other side of it was a hospital hall rather than Sherlock’s. All white, with blinding white lights. The nurse was talking to what I assumed was a doctor.

I felt like I would faint again.

Sherlock got up as well and dragged me back to the bed, closing the door behind us.

“You know what could help?” He smirked. “I know… Because I know you.”

He got me back in bed, facing up to the ceiling. I was about to talk, when I felt him pulling down my pijama shorts. A sigh left my lips, as I felt his tongue rubbing my clit in circles. I closed my eyes, filled with pleasure, and tried to keep it quiet so neither Mrs Hudson nor Watson could hear us.

“Come here,” I begged after a while.

I opened my eyes and saw Dean crawling up to my face. His tattoo was covered in sweat and his hair was ruffled.

“You thought I would just leave it there, sweetheart?” He flirted and, without a warning, he thrust inside me. “You feel good today… Tight, and so wet for me…”

I moaned, getting lost in his green eyes. I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn’t.

I didn’t even feel his weight over me.

I blinked.

TARDIS.

I blinked again.

Dean was looking at me, dumbfounded as he made love to me.

I shook my head and closed my eyes again, letting my body fall back into the pillows as I succumbed to the pleasure he… they were giving me. I called both of their names in between whispers until I climaxed.

I sighed and opened my eyes.

I was in my room. Darkness surrounded me. I was alone, and my fingers were still between my legs.

I wiped them quickly with the bed sheets and took my phone to googled Dean Winchester’s name, only to find out that he was not being looked at by the US government, but rather a fictional character. Not only that, but I saw pictures of him in the most intimate moments… Moments I could recall from living them with him.

I clicked on one of his pictures.

Jensen Ackles… Married.

I clicked on Sam’s.

Married.

I clicked on Castiel’s.

Married.

They were all married. Click by click I undercovered the lie I was living in.

“But what about Sher?” I thought to myself.

I googled him. Fictional character, based on the books by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

There he was, my Sherlock, next to others who had also played him.

“I thought I was in a hospital,” I whispered.

“Maybe it’s just your unconscious mind asking to be treated by a professional.” Castiel’s voice spoke.

“Maybe it’s because that is where you’re going,” Sam gestured to the side of my bed. A bottle of vodka laid there empty, next to empty sets of aspirins.

“Is there an end to this?” I asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Jim Moriarty spoke from the darkness. “But aren’t you having fun?”

“What if I die?” I insisted.

“You won’t,” Sherlock said, “you still got enough energy to call an ambulance for yourself.”

“Please do,” Watson begged softly.

I grabbed my phone and dialed the number.

“I need an ambulance…”

“We’ll see you on the other side, sweetheart.” Dean smiled with a glimpse of sadness.

“I love you, guys.”

No tags for this one.

32 notes · View notes

hansoulo · 5 years ago

Text

partial to the cavatina pt. 3 - (people and places)

Pairing: Javier Peña/f!Reader

Warnings: cursing, spoilers for season 3 ep 2, brief mentions of suicidal thoughts

Word Count: like 1.17k soz the next one is gonna be a lot longer

Gif Credit: .....me 🤡🤡

A/N: if the tags for this don’t work i’m literally going to scream

part one part two playlist

The weather was miserable as Javier took a drag of his cigarette, holding the smoke in until it welled up in his chest and burned his throat. “Nice to see you again, Miss Alvarez.” Lie number one.

She faced back towards the street overlooking the Embassy. “Carolina, please.”

He cocked his head, not meeting her eyes. “Carolina.”

“I’m not here to interrogate you again, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“It’s not.” Lie number two.

Carolina let out an amused breath, the sound at odds with the tension thick between them. “Todo lo que quiero es un cigarrillo.” Javier obliged, silent as the roll of the lighter dragged against his thumb with a soft click. Nodding at her thanks, he tucked the paper carton back into his suit jacket. They stood like that for a minute or two, inhaling their respective cancers in the transient break. Then he saw you.

You looked a bit frazzled, quick strides down cracked cobblestone echoing faint with each step. A little girl was beside you - she couldn’t have been more than eight or nine- dwarfed by a backpack that was almost comically large compared to her small frame. Workbooks, thick and stuffed with loose papers, were clutched to your chest as you attempted to lead her down the street. He really, really hoped she was your student. Not a kid. Not your kid. You didn’t have any kids, right? Right.

Javier caught your eye a moment later, his expression softening a bit when you shot him an apologetic smile. You tried to wave without dropping anything, weight teetering dangerously for a second before you righted yourself with a small chuckle. You were wearing black dress pants and a formal top that did absolutely nothing for your figure, but he still felt his chest seizing up, tightening with a tiny, imperceptible squeeze that fluttered like cello strings. He hadn’t seen you since you went to dinner (a week ago exactly - not that he was counting), both of you too busy to do much else except leave hasty messages on answering machines.

Carolina turned, curious as she exhaled a thin column of smoke. “Do you know her?”

Yeah. He did. Javier didn’t want her to know that, though. You weren’t a part of all this- this shit. You weren’t involved in Cali or chlorine gas or journalists or drugs. You were just… you. Lovely and loud and far-removed. He wanted to keep it that way.

“No,” he rasped out. “No, I don’t.” Lie number three.

She hummed, holding the cigarette between her fingers with a raised eyebrow. Your attention had already been drawn back to the little girl - her fast chatter of accented English carrying over the asphalt - thankfully oblivious to being the subject of any conversation.

“She’s pretty,” Carolina observed. “Doesn’t seem like your type, though.”

He scoffed and put his cigarette out, its crumbling ash compacting underneath the heel of his shoe. “No comment.”

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

Javier wanted to die.

Well, not die. He wasn’t suicidal. If he could just maybe… stop existing. Just sort of fade into something non-conscious that didn’t have to deal with all the mess he’d dug himself into and couldn’t crawl out of. Steve wasn’t around anymore. Javier didn’t blame him.

He honestly didn’t know why he was still down here. Why he’d ever come in the first place, besides anger he didn’t know how to deal with and a weird, twisted wanderlust that could never be quelled no matter where he was. He’d spent his whole life running from things, trying to just get out and get away before the novelty of wherever he ended up wore off. There was really nothing keeping him in Colombia - with its gunshots and questions and deepening scowls - besides his own stubbornness to see it all through. What it was and when it would end, Javier didn’t really know.

He was just tired. Vices called, whispers of liquor voices and red lips that only told him what he wanted to hear, but he didn’t want to listen. The whiskey and women could only do so much and after a while, you get numb. Hunched over.

Then you came along, quick to smile and even quicker to laugh in a way that was infectious, growing on him like some sort of weird, positive parasite. That’s called a friend, you fuckhead, Javier thought to himself. Hopefully more than that. He really wanted you to be more than that.

And he knew you weren’t going to fix everything. He wasn’t stupid. You weren’t some angel sent to find some broken man and make him whole, some called-down messiah without flaw. If he was being honest, Javier found the whole concept of soulmates a bit ridiculous. The idea that someone was just supposed to complete you, to become the air you breathed. That sounded parasitic.

You were your own person, with a life that you would keep living even if he wasn’t in it - but he could still try to stay. Be someone better. Someone who wasn’t cruel or brooding, who didn’t drown themselves in things to feel less hollow. Someone who laughed, actually laughed until his stomach cramped and his cheeks hurt. Someone who was the reason you smiled. Someone who deserved to see it.

Maybe he should try the whole Nicorette thing.

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

“Hey!” you called out, running a bit to catch up with him. The market was crowded, throngs of people packed into narrow walkways all trying to avoid baskets and blankets and feet.”I’m sorry about yesterday. It’s just, you looked busy and I was a bit preoccupied so I didn’t wanna-”

“It’s okay,” Javier assured you, slowing in his stride until you were shoulder to shoulder. “You looked like you had your hands full.”

Another laugh. You always seemed to be laughing. “Yeah,” you said. “We were coming back from a field trip but she got a bit lost, so…”

“Where to?” he asked as he moved to take the groceries from your arms. You didn’t have a chance to protest before the weight of the straps digging into your hands was lifted, his movements careful as to not hit anyone walking beside you.

“Thanks,” you smiled. “Cerro de Monserrate, actually.” For all the years he’d been down in Colombia, Javier couldn’t remember going there. Or anywhere, really, that wasn’t the Embassy or field work or shitty dive bars.

“I’ve never been,” he admitted as you neared the end of the market.

“Really?” you turned to him with wide eyes. “It’s beautiful, Javi. You should go.”

Javi. No one had called him that in what felt like ages. It was always Javier or sir or Peña, clipped and impersonal. Never Javi. He liked the way you made it sound - a little breathy, young and alive and washing soft velvet over the air between your bodies. He could hear you say it over and over.

He moved a little closer. “You should take me.”

translation: “Todo lo que quiero es un cigarrillo.” - “All I want is a cigarette.”

permanent: @ah-callie @itzagoodthing @spookypym @opheliaelysia @watsonwise @damndamer0n @amarvelousmandalorian @bunnyart-blog @agirllovespasta @pascalispedro @pascalplease @coffeencontemplation @chelsfic @lesqui @javierpenaspinkshirt @symbiont13 @glowingpena @squidlywiddly87 @1zashreena1 @hiscyarika @lostingoogletranslate @keeper0fthestars @bobafvtt @halfwaythereroyal @starwarsiscooliguess @huliabitch

partial to the cavatina: @longitud-de-onda @way-too-addicted-to-anime

part four

#literally no one is online rn but idc i just want it out of my drafts asfgsahdjs #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #narcos tv show

96 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

Text

Survey #348

“nothing will be free / nothing will be done / black out the sun”

Do you have any famous relatives? My third or so cousin is the author of Not Without My Daughter, but she's not like a smash hit or anything that most people know. I really do recommend the book, though. It's a long read, but a beautiful, true story. Do you care about celebrity gossip? Nah. Have you ever failed a science course in high school? No; I was very good at science. What’s your favorite breakfast food? Cinnamon rolls. Does your house have a basement? No. No house I've ever lived in has had one. Do you like Hot Topic? Well duh. Do you think imagination is valuable? VERY! Just imagine how many incredible things wouldn't exist without it. What was your reaction to your first time falling in love? Unspeakably happy, and I felt like I was building a future with someone. I felt like I had purpose, which I should mention to anyone reading is a mindset to NEVER adopt. No one gives you purpose; you're born with it. How much weight can you lift at once? Ha, not a lot. When you have your own house someday, what color Christmas tree do you want and how will you decorate it? I want a black one with faux snow on the branches, then maybe red ornaments. Kinda look like blood dripping off. Sounds metal. Name three YouTube channels you’ve been loving lately. Lately, John Wolfe, The Dark Den, and Aim To Head Mix. Have you ever bought a designer purse? No. Do you wear jewelry often? No. What color was your senior prom dress? Black. Are you colorblind? No. Name the people you know who are colorblind. Jason's older brother is colorblind to two colors, but idr which. Would you ever consider a career in writing? I'd love to. What was your first favorite color? Red. What do you think about horror movies? I love them. If you love them, what’s your favorite? I really enjoy The Crazies and both The Blair Witch Project movies. Oh, and of course Silent Hill. Got any cool Christmas presents picked out for family or friends yet? I don't have the money to get anyone presents... and while I sometimes get ideas about something I could make someone, then it wouldn't be fair to the rest of my family if I don't make them something, too. What’s your favorite word and why? I really like the sound of "serendipity," as well as its meaning. It's just a pretty, nice word. Do you like to do craft projects? If so, what’s the coolest thing you made? Not really... I think the coolest thing I made was when I put the clay heart I made in Art into a shadowbox, and a poem I wrote was in the background. It was a gift for Jason. I remember working really hard on the whole process and being really happy with it. I don't want to know what he's done with it since. What’s one occupation you think gets paid too much and doesn’t deserve to? I don't know. What’s something you are currently saving money for to buy? Everyone knows about Venus' terrarium by now... Do you smoke/vape? If so, what brand do you smoke/what device do you use? No. Ever done drugs? No. Tell me one of your worst habits. Catastrophizing. I take a tiny seed of something potentially bad, and in seconds it's a damn redwood tree. And I do mean "in seconds." What’s a weird quirk you have that no one else you know does? I don't know, I don't have any particularly unique ones, I think. If you game, what type of headset do you use? I just use earbuds. Do you think you would be a good therapist? You know, it's funny, I've actually pictured myself as one a few times, given my level of understanding and empathy for people, as well as how deeply I want to see others succeed and spread the word that recovery from things like depression is very possible. I've never truly entertained the thought, though, given I'm quite sure I legally couldn't be given my suicidal past and mental illnesses. There is also NO way I could listen to so many people's suffering and manage to stay healthy myself, so, no therapist position for me, thanks. Have you ever been to a Chinatown? No. Do you prefer chunky or creamy peanut butter? Creamy, 100%. Do you stop to pick up heads-up pennies? No. Do your pets have collars? Describe them: Roman has an adorable navy one with a bowtie. Do you have any friends that speak any languages you don’t understand? Old friends, sure. What is something you want to begin learning? I want to improve my ability to perform what in therapy is called "opposite action," where you do the opposite of what your depression (or other conditions) make you want to do. It always helps me feel good, like when I draw even when I don't initially feel like it, but it's rough to really force yourself to do it. What is a food you find comforting when you are sad? Ice cream is my comfort food. What is a quote you find comfort in? There are really a lot, but none come to mind immediately, gah. What is one Tumblr blog you really appreciate? I actually haven't been on my main Tumblr in months, but oh my god there is a Markiplier blog called "lady-raziel" and she is FUCKING HYSTERICAL. The meme quality is A+. What is a comfort movie/show for you? When I actually liked watching movies, I enjoyed watching Silent Hill when I was down. That whole franchise just makes me so happy. What is a recent creative project that you are proud of? That I'm PROUD of, idk. I'm not that happy with the last drawing I made, and I haven't done any serious writing lately that I find noteworthy. What is a video game that you find comforting? Shadow of the Colossus is probably #1. I find it so relaxing while equally epic as fuck. The soundtrack is to die for, and after playing it a billion times, it's pretty easy for me to kinda breeze through and just enjoy myself. Do you know how to bake bread? If so, what is something you’ve baked recently? No. Would you rather live in the mountains, city, beach, or the forest? THE MOUNTAINS!!! Particularly in the woods IN the mountains! Are you closer to your mother’s or father’s side of the family? Mom's. I don't even remember anyone from Dad's. Have you ever been in a “perfect relationship”? I thought so. Have you ever lost a fingernail or toenail? No. Were you a Disney or Nickelodeon kid? I preferred Disney. Have you ever been inside a jail/prison? No, and I don't plan on it. Have you ever dated a guy with a beard, mustache, or goatee? Jason had a goatee usually. He'd go clean-shaven sometimes. Did you ever name your stuffed animals? I named every single one I got as a kid. Now I don't, really, unless they're really special. What’s the name of the person who cuts your hair? I'd rather not share, given her name is very unique. Do you like cheeseburgers? Yes, they're one of my favorite foods. Do you have a Flickr? Yes, but I don't use it anymore. Did you ever want to be a fashion designer? No. Do you drink milk? Yeah, I love milk. Where was your FB display pic taken? My room. Have you ever burnt your tongue like REALLY bad? If so, what on? Yeah; white rice. My dumb ass didn't realize it had JUST come off the stove. My tongue hurt literally for weeks. Have you ever gotten your legs waxed? No. Do you own any CLOTHES from Victoria’s Secret? Er, are undergarments not clothes? But I know what you mean. No. What are your grandfathers’ names? William and... I can't remember Dad's dad's name. Have you ever seen a snake in real life? Well yeah. Are you against seances? I don't know if I believe in them being effective, but either way, they seem like a bad idea. Even risking luring a negative energy/spirit to you is something I'd stay away from. Do you own any superhero shirts? No, just Harley Quinn ones, some with the Joker on them, too. I need to toss 'em though because I am like, violently against romanticizing their abusive relationship. I used to just like them as a story character couple, but I got to a place where it just seemed... wrong to "glorify" it by wearing merch and stuff. What band has the best guitar solos? Metallica, durrrr. Who is the biggest jerk you’ve ever met? Can you believe that would be my former best friend? Have you ever swerved off the road to avoid hitting an animal? I've never had an animal in my path. Have you ever grown your own herbs? No. Do you like kissing in public? If you're my serious s/o, I could care less, so long as it's a simple peck. I'm not making out in front of people. Do you think someone has feelings for you? I don't know. Do you want to be in a relationship this year? I don't know. I'm lonely and love feels amazing, but I need to get my life on track before I can be a good partner to someone and not just dead weight. Has anyone told you they don’t want to ever lose you? Huh, funny, he's the one that walked away. How long can you just kiss until your hands start to wander? Uhhh that would depend on how serious we are, where we are, and just what mood I'm in. What’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for you? ugh What’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for someone? also ugh What’s your dirtiest secret? TMI AHEAD. Probably receiving oral while bare-ass naked on the chaise in the living room while we were home alone. Or having sex in my sister’s bed. Oops. Would you ever get lyrics tattooed on yourself? Yeah. I already do, anyway, and I plan on getting another. Can you photoshop images well? I'm decent at it. Where did you last drive to? Mom and I went to go get our Covid vaccines today. What’s the first verse of the last song you listened to? "I don't know what we're supposed to be, but I know we lost it along the way to something better, something so much more than pleasure that we seek, so blind inside to fill these holes left by these lies that we tell to ourselves as we manufacture our own hell." What do you hear right now? The aforementioned song: "BLACKOUT" by 3TEETH. What was the last thing you laughed about? This is so fucking immature lmao but when we were driving earlier, we passed a gas station that had a sign that was advertising Coke, but due to space limitations, it abbreviated to "2 liter Cok" and I cackled like a child. Mom laughed harder than I did. Do you know any gay people personally? Ye. What was the last thing that startled you? I think it was a car hoonking at somebody the other day. What was the last thing to make you even remotely sad? Today's been a kind of rough PTSD day thanks to Facebook. My old high school friend had her beautiful daughter, a childhood friend just got married the other day, another friend is due to have her baby in just a couple weeks... It's just weird but even more painful to know it was the life I once fantasized about with a guy that just dropped me and made a break for it. I hate admitting that there's this deep, deep bitterness in me about it, like he took my life away from me, even though that's of course very unfair to say. I don't want to talk about this anymore, so moving on with my day.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''blackout'' by 3teeth

5 notes · View notes

length-of-rope · 5 years ago

Text

Not everything is black and white. There’s no “bad guys” here.

I feel like this fandom doesn’t do well with nuanced situations and tends to look at everything in a very black-and-white manner. Which is a shame because I feel like the way the characters have behaved so far has made a lot of sense. This isn’t a black-and-white situation here and neither of the characters should be villainized nor left off the hook.

There seems to be a lot of Lucas and Lucille comparisons going on here, which are completely unwarranted and they seem to come from looking at both Eliott/Lucille and Elu relationships at a very surface level. Lucas is worried about Eliott potentially being triggered by someone who’s in a very turbulous time in their recovery has to mean he’s controlling, right? Well, no.

Here’s the thing about having an MI. It’s not something that defines people who have it. We’re not suddenly incapable of making our own decision nor are we any less of an individual. However, pretending that MI doesn’t have a significant effect on our lives and relationships is… not a good take to have. Lucas being cautious of potential triggers to Eliott’s treatment is not him being controlling.

Before I say the next thing, I want to say that I’m a person with an MI who’s had suicidal thoughts and self-harmed in the past. I’ve been through therapy and was able to find a way to manage my issues for the most part. But it took me YEARS to get to this point in life and I sabotaged myself and screwed people over in the process. Recognizing that was an important part of my recovery. Now onto what my experience has taught me.

Navigating around a person’s MI is not an easy thing. It’s not. No matter how much the two people care about each other, no matter how much trust there is in a relationship, there’s a balance that needs to be found.

On one hand you want to ensure that you’re not encroaching on a person’s autonomy and individuality, while keeping an eye out for something out of the ordinary. And where do we draw the line, really? How much can we ask of the other person and how much we just have to agree with and accept as their decision? Is it okay to ask them to take their meds, or should we just accept it when they say that they don’t want to take them anymore even if those meds have a tremendous impact on their behaviour and well-being? Should we be okay with a person on heavy medication drinking and taking drugs and risking overdose or should we say something? Should we insist on keeping a person in the midst of a depressive episode company or should we respect it when they want us to leave, even if we have a strong suspicion that they’re suicidal? Those are not easy things to navigate and sometimes there’s a very thin line between being respectful of someone’s autonomy and being neglectful.

Lucas has been trying to navigate this aspect of his relationship with Eliott for a year and so far, he’s been doing a decent job of it. While Eliott has his insecurities, those stem more from his internalized issues rather than the state of his relationship with Lucas. He’s been able to recognize that Lucas was worried multiple times but not once (not even during the clip on Saturday) did he call Lucas controlling. And that, more than anything, tells me that Lucas has done his best to give Eliott the space that he needs and be there for him when things are tough.

What we’ve seen so far this season was Lucas having an impulsive reaction to seeing someone in their bed but he did not try to interfere with Eliott and Lola’s friendship in any way, even accepting and supporting her playing a role in Eliott’s movie. He chose to trust her and even attempted to bond with her because she was important to Eliott. The fact that he was worried that someone who’s in the middle of a very unsteady recovery could potentially trigger Eliott wasn’t nearly as unfair as people think it was. That’s a perfectly valid concern to have. Now, we can argue about whether or not it’s a concern he should have voiced to LOLA of all people, however I don’t think his intention was to bring her down with that comment. I can go into all the ways this behaviour is different from Lucille but this is already quite long so maybe another time.

Now, onto Lola.

She has a lot of issues and has been through a lot of trauma at a very young age. She’s only at the beginning of her recovery and has many slip ups but holy fuck, she’s really trying. The real Lola, the one we see when she’s not under the influence of any substances and weight down by her pain, is gentle and empathetic. She cares about the happiness and comfort of the people close to her and does what she can to make them feel cared for. She’s a loving and gentle person.

But addiction and pain are ugly things. Hurt people hurt people. We’ve seen this happen a couple of times this season, how nasty and hurtful Lola can be when she’s suffering. We saw it in how she spoke to Maya when she was drunk, how she blamed Daphne for her addiction, the hurtful word she said to her father when she blamed him for her mother’s problems and in how she played with Eliott’s insecurities on Saturday. All of this is quite familiar to me, I’ve done the same things time and time again to the people I loved and it didn’t matter to me how that was affecting them at the time, too preoccupied with my own pain. Lola knew what she was doing on Saturday, she deliberately called Eliott to join her and played on his insecurities, made him question his relationship with Lucas, because she wanted him down in the pit with her. It made her feel less lonely and seen.

Lucas wasn’t wrong when he said she was being selfish on Saturday, because she was. Selfishness is not just one thing, it’s not always about gaining something valuable at the expense of hurting others. Sometimes, selfishness can come from a place of unbelievable pain and desperation. The way we feel overshadows everything around us and we fight to get ourselves out of that place, without considering how much our actions can affect the ones we love. But once the moment of clarity comes, we get to see the consequences of our actions and are left with the feeling of guilt.

None of this makes Lola a bad person and she deserves to be loved and cared for. That doesn’t change the fact that the people she hurt when she was in her dark place are also entitled to their feelings of hurt and anger.

We don’t know how much Lucas knows about what happened that night, perhaps Eliott told him what Lola said about their relationship, perhaps he didn’t. However, he clearly knows enough of it to understand what was her intention in calling Eliott that night. Is he wrong to be so harsh with her? Yes, for sure. No one should ever speak to another person so harshly but it too comes from a place of pain and he tried to avoid the confrontation twice, before he lost his temper. It’s quite possible he will regret his words as soon as he calms down as well.

In short, there’s no “bad guys” in this scenario. Only people who have normal, human reactions to hurtful situations in their lives. It’s okay to understand that while Lola messed up, she recognizes her mistakes and is still trying her best, and that does not make her a bad person. We can also understand that Lucas’ is entitled to his feelings of hurt, because Lola’s actions affected him in a big way, too. None of them are bad people, there’s really no need to pit them against each other.

#Skam France #Lucas Lallemant #Lola Lectome #Eliott Demaury

30 notes · View notes

homo-sex-shoe-whale · 5 years ago

Text

You guys don't need to read this but if you want to, it's here

Content warning: depression, suicide, addiction. Probably some others so just beware

Hey guys. It's about time we have a chat.

I know I'm not running this blog like I used to. I know I'm not as active. And I'm not here to apologise for it because at the end of the day I don't owe y'all shit. Even content. But I do want to get my thoughts out into the universe. Not as a confession, but as a way of making all that's happened to me feel more organised. You'd be surprised how much peace of mind organisation brings me.

My main focus at the moment is keeping myself alive so time can drag me along and frankly, that's taking a surprising amount of the little energy I have.

I always knew I was at a higher risk for depression than most people. My great aunt committed suicide and my whole family found her. I grew up watching my other aunt be clinically depressed. 90% of my relatives are alcoholics or addicts in a way or another. I had emotionally abusive (yet astoundingly unaware) parents growing up. I was violently rejected by my parents when I was outed to them before I was even ready to come out. Yet somehow I thought I was immune to depression. I always thought "That can't happen to me. I'm pretty, I'm smart, and I have everything I need and more."

Then I started feeling this weird emptiness inside. I stopped caring about things I used to love, like TV series or books. I just thought I was maturing and was soon going to develop new interests. Then I stopped caring about maintaining the relationships around me. I didn't have the energy to talk properly even to people I loved. I grew cold and my gf and I broke up. I lost some friends here and there. I just thought I was moving onto a new chapter and that this meant new relationships were coming my way. Then came the sleep disturbances. I woke up 1-2 times almost every night, and took over an hour to fall back asleep. But I've always had trouble sleeping. I started taking sleep supplements at age 10. Just anxiety over college applications, I thought.

Then I started losing weight. I thought it was kind of weird that I felt nauseous every time I started eating, but didn't give it much thought. After all, I've always been underweight. Both my parents were underweight as teens and struggled to reach a healthy weight until their mid-late 20s. At first I was barely 2kg under. But then it dropped more. 3kg. 4kg. 5kg. I had no energy for anything eventually. I couldn't even exercise anymore without feeling like I was gonna faint.

Then I started doing riskier things I wouldn't normally do. Talking to random girls in hopes of hooking up. I knew they didn't care about me, and in turn I didn't care about them back. I just hoped they would make me feel something, even if for just an hour or two. I went out to parties I wasn't supposed to be at and hoped I could perhaps drink my troubles away. I understood why so many of my family members were alcoholics. I processed alcohol faster than anyone else around me- I could take 3 shots of vodka and be sober again by the time everyone else was still on the high.

I went to a pharmacology course once and we talked about why some people were heavier drug users than others. We discussed how some people were genetically fast-metabolisers and others were slow-metabolisers. Fast-metabolisers were more likely to be addicts since they felt the "high" faster than others, but also came out of it faster, meaning they take higher amounts of drug. Just for fun some of us at the course got tested. My genetics told me I was a fast metaboliser, and I wasn't surprised.

I did all this knowing I was genetically and psychologically more susceptible to addiction. And like everything else in my life, I didn't give a shit. I never needed alcohol. I could go weeks without even thinking about it. I knew I wasn't an alcoholic, especially not as a teenager. But I knew how much more than the average person I could drink, especially for my size. I knew it could hurt my body. Again, I just didn't care at all. I wanted to care. I loved my body and I wanted it to last long so I could see better days. No one peer pressured me. No one even suggested these parties to me in the slightest. I was fully at fault. Rather idiotically, I hoped the chemical numbness would distract me from the emotional one. That failure goes without saying.

When I realised it, I had no energy for anything. And that's where I am now. It feels like everything takes so much effort. Getting myself out of bed. Writing pieces of schoolwork that would normally be dead easy. Don't get me mistaken here- I am not, and have not been, suicidal. I already feel dead enough. What I want is to feel alive, not more dead. I'm searching for these things that will make me feel alive. Girls and whatnot. I don't even hate myself or have low self esteem. Fuck, I'm beautiful. I think that every time I look in the mirror. I'm so smart. I just get things. But I just have this emptiness inside of me I can't shake. I just can't seem to care about anything anymore.

I know the appropriate response here is to see a professional. I'm not a fool. I'm not going to say I am depressed because I don't believe in self-diagnosis. However, again, I'm not a fool. I've seen depression before. I know what it looks like. I'm unfortunately well acquainted with it. I know there is a chance I am depressed.

However, it doesn't really matter. I am a minor and my parents don't believe in mental health. Last time I told them I wanted to see a psychologist, they grounded me. They're the type of people who think you can just "get over" depression. So seeing a professional isn't exactly an option.

This is why I say I'm just keeping myself alive and letting time drag me by. I'm moving out in less than 9 months. I'm not a minor anymore next year. I'm in not-so-ideal conditions, sure, but these are not permanent.

It's a shitty situation, but that's ok. Unsurprisingly, I don't seem to care about that either.

If you read this post up until here- congratulations! I don't really expect any replies. Please don't DM me. I don't have the energy to chat. Comment whatever you want, if you decide to do so. I appreciate the well intentioned anons you guys have been sending me, even though the attention is just a bit overwhelming.

Thanks,

Ana.

272 notes · View notes

puddygeeks · 5 years ago

Text

Wᴇ Cᴏᴍᴇ Rᴜɴɴɪɴɢ - Tʜᴇ 100 Bᴇʟʟᴀᴍʏ x OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 30: Uɴғɪɴɪsʜᴇᴅ Bᴜsɪɴᴇss

Masterlist

Episodes: We Are Grounders - Part 1, We Are Grounders - Part 2

Rating: Mature

Summary: During her time in the Skybox, Indigo formed a precious friendship with fellow outcast Octavia Blake, the girl under the floor. At first they thought their departure from the oppression of the Ark was a blessing, but quickly came to rely on Indigo's keen survival instincts. The 100 struggle to meet the challenges of Earth whilst Bellamy strives to lead the wavering teenagers and his irresponsible attitude fuels constant conflict with Indigo. Their only shared interest is in protecting Octavia and Indigo beings to suspect that there is a deeper cause to Bellamy's seemingly irrational choices. As the consequences of his actions mount up around him, he finally begins to confide in her and she discovers more than she ever bargained for.

Fandom: CW’s The 100

Pairing: OC x Bellamy Blake

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Non-consent, language, sex, self harm, suicide, anxiety, helplessness, torture, captivity/confinement, alcohol/drug use.

Chapter Thirty

The camp was bustling with people who prepared to leave, but we remained rooted to the spot. Once Clarke stormed away, we were left staring at each other with no desire to move. I tried to force some words out in support of him, but I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I didn’t know if I could find any strength to share.

“For what it’s worth, I want to stay…”

I quickly trailed off as I felt my breath hitch and a single tear slipped out of my carefully controlled facade. I bit my lip in an effort to contain the wave of feelings that was crashing over me but it was too late. Bellamy noticed my reaction and pulled me to a quiet spot so that we could talk without the audience of camp.

“Hey, you’re okay, it’s okay.” He spoke soothingly and put his hands on my shoulders as he leaned down to meet my eyes.

At his kind gesture and concerned eyes, I finally cracked under the pressure. The tears flooded suddenly from me, pouring down my cheeks and I shook violently all over. I was completely unable to consider my actions as the storm exploded in my mind. I threw myself into his chest and he wrapped his arms tightly around me with no hesitation. Although our enormous height difference had been nothing other than an inconvenience until now, especially when I was furiously yelling upward at him, in my despair it became an unexpected blessing. As he squeezed me into him and I tucked my head under his chin, I got the sensation that he was my shield against the world. There was a sense of safety that was foreign to me and it allowed me a moment that I didn’t realise I needed until now, a chance to express weakness. Since our arrival on Earth, I had been exhausted by the constant illusion of strength that I depended on and it was a welcome relief to drop the act for even a few minutes. I closed my eyes tightly as I burrowed my face into his chest and was comforted by the warmth of his body that ran slightly warmer than my own. I was jolted by the image of him dangling by his neck which was burned behind my eyes and not even the safety of his arms could remove it.

“I lost you.” I whispered in a terrified voice and he pushed me back to peek down at me in confusion. “For a few seconds, I lost you.” I confessed as I met his eyes and he furrowed his brows. “When I climbed through the vent and saw you there...I thought you were gone. That image of you hanging, I feel like it will haunt me forever.” A small sob escaped my lips and I abruptly could not manage any more words.

“But I’m not gone. I’m still here thanks to you. You saved my life today, again.” He clarified firmly as he stared into my eyes and carefully brushed away a tear from my cheek.

“It was my fault!” I exclaimed causing him to frown. “I defended him when you wanted to throw him out, I put you in an impossible position and I was cruel to you. Only for it to turn out that you were right all along and it nearly cost you everything!” I hissed in a stressed stutter as I sniffed back any further tears.

“No. It’s not your fault.” He argued in a tone of disbelief as he assessed my expression. “He wanted to kill me because of the decisions that I made. This was on me.” He insisted and I felt guilty for making him reflect on his mistake with Murphy again. I stared at him for a few seconds, absorbing all of the details of how he looked, committing them to memory for fear that one day I might truly need it. He was perfect in the soft afternoon light, even with the worry that dominated his face as he studied me. I couldn’t control the fear that gripped me as I gazed upon him and I realised just how close I’d come to losing him.

“Bellamy, I know that you had to save Jasper and I really am thankful for that. But please, don’t ever take a risk like that again, I don’t think I could go through that- to not be able to get to you-” I stumbled over my words as I strained to explain the panic that I’d felt and fresh tears rolled down my cheeks just at the thought of ever experiencing a repeat of this type of situation. He gently wrapped me in his arms again and my chest wracked as I wept against him.

“Shh.” He soothed, rubbing a hand gently on my back whilst I whimpered. He was tender and comforting as he allowed me to calm down in my own time. I couldn’t tell how long had passed in his embrace and he made no effort to rush me. The world seemed to stop around us as he held me in the quiet bubble of safety and my heart raced when he placed a feather-light kiss on my forehead. I finally felt the shaking in my body slow to a stop and the chaos in my mind subsided. I took a few deep breaths in an effort to regain control and when it was clear that I had settled, he cleared his throat.

“We should probably start packing up, it sounds like the others want to get going as soon as possible.” Bellamy suggested in a soft voice and he patiently waited for me to move first. I reluctantly extracted myself from him and he released me back into the cold air.

“I don’t want to leave, this is our home.” I whispered as I met his eyes with a regretful expression. I was glad that I was finally calm enough to express my thoughts and I could tell from his reaction that he was pleased to find that I was on his side.

“Neither do I.” He sighed in frustration and rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. “But, no offence, I don’t think you and I can fight off the grounders, just the two of us, even with your killer shots.” He commented playfully and I managed a small laugh. I noticed that his eyes lit up at the sight of it and it made my stomach flip.

We stood in comfortable silence for a few lingering moments and I explored him with a fond smile. The heat that radiated between us was suffocating, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from him. I was drowning in his deep-set, whisky brown eyes and they gave me the sensation that I was being drawn into him. I couldn’t recognise my own thoughts as my body moved without my consideration. All of the things I’d been told to do by everyone else no longer mattered, all the advice filtered away into silence and my mind offered no guidance. It was as if the world around us fell away until it was just him and I. I stepped closer to him with a desperate need to feel his touch and he obliged as his hand fell naturally onto my arm. My breathing hitched at the contact and I regarded him with sultry eyes. I slowly shifted my weight onto my toes, raising myself up into his space and my hand settled gently on his shoulder. My instincts led me to apply slight pressure, guiding him down to meet me and as he did, our faces grew close enough to feel his hot breath on my skin. This time, my heart wasn’t hammering; my hands were steady, my nerves relaxed and every moment felt exactly right, like it was meant to happen. I felt the tip of my nose touch his cheek and our lips brushed so slightly that I couldn’t feel anything other than the sensation of electricity as it shot through my body.

“Bellamy! Indigo!” A sharp call interrupted us and I jumped back, startled out of the moment. “Come on, we need to go!”

I cleared my throat awkwardly and felt my face burning with heat as the world returned in a crash around me. I couldn’t manage to meet his eyes and instead I stepped past him without another word. I jogged over to Octavia who was inspecting camp for us but I was reassured to find that she didn’t seem to have noticed us yet. She seemed relieved as I reached her.

“Come on, we need to get our tent packed and I’ve got a present for you.” She stated and I forced a smile despite the overwhelming temptation to glance back to Bellamy.

I followed her back to the tent with a heavy feeling of unfinished business. We tried to be efficient in packing, ensuring that we had stowed rations, water and plenty of weapons. Octavia presented me with an assault rifle, assuring me that I was ready for the upgrade and that I would need it for the journey. It took very little time to pack our modest possessions and we left our tent for the last time. I parted from Octavia to check on Raven and wandered into the dropship to find Finn and a couple of others rushing to put together a stretcher. I glanced around worriedly in search of her.

“What’s happening?” I called out to Finn as I observed the commotion that filled the tightly packed space.

“Clarke cauterised the wound but the bullet is still inside.” Finn answered over his shoulder as he worked. “She can’t walk or she’ll move it. We’re gonna carry her.” He stated firmly and I raised my brows at his words. I moved closer to the surface that Raven was lying on and peeked down at her with a heavily guilty expression.

“I shouldn’t have left you, I’m sorry.” I breathed, hardly able to meet her eyes without feeling a surge of anxiety. The calmness that I’d felt with Bellamy had already dissolved and I returned to stressing over the consequences of my choices. She reached over to take my hand in hers and squeezed it firmly to draw my attention to her face.

“Hey, don’t do that.” She asserted, leaning forward to force me to meet her eyes. “You did what you had to. I’m gonna be fine.” She confirmed as she smiled at me supportively and I sighed.

“I should be the one reassuring you right now.” I confessed guilty and she chuckled under her breath before flinching from pain.

“Indie, we need to get going.” Finn cleared his throat and spoke in a hurried voice. “We’ve gotta get her ready to move.” He ordered and I nodded back at him in acknowledgement. I smiled appreciatively at her and squeezed her hand one last time before stepping out of their way.

I couldn’t stand to watch how delicate she was as they lifted her into the stretcher, so I returned outside to find Octavia. I scanned the stripped, bare looking camp as people started to gather together to leave. I felt a sense of reluctance as I reflected that this would be the last time I would see the place that I now considered home and before I could think twice about the decision to leave, it was time. I noticed that Bellamy was searching around for someone as we organised into a planned formation. I hid in the crowd, sticking closely to Octavia as I tried to avoid his notice. I couldn’t pretend that I hadn’t almost kissed him a few moments ago and the idea of discussing this at such an emotionally charged time was overwhelming. As the gates opened and we all filed out, Octavia and I walked side by side. I wasn’t sure how we ended up leading at the front of the pack and I was relieved to hear quiet pockets of conversation happening around us. Octavia shot at an analysing look at me and I prepared myself for a grilling.

“You alright over there? You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind?” She quizzed in a poor attempt at a light tone. I could easily identify the warring emotions in her eyes that she tried to cover with a brave face and I smiled weakly at her in a similar manner.

“I’m fine, it just feels strange to be leaving. It’s been insane here, but it finally feels like home.” I sighed in an avoidant manner. I didn’t consider it lying, it was troubling to leave our camp for uncertain shores. I couldn’t discuss the issues with Bellamy whilst we were so crowded with people so I stuck to the simple issues. I tried to keep my guard up as I spoke, scanning our surroundings for any sign of grounders. “Plus, I can’t let go of the niggling feeling that we’re leaving Monty behind.” I confessed as I acknowledged the knot in my stomach.

“I know what you mean.” She sighed deeply and I peeked at her in concern. “Finn says there’s no way Lincoln survived with the odds that were against him, but I still feel like I’m abandoning him.” She breathed and I could easily recognise the reluctance that was in her eyes now I took a moment to examine her.

“Hey, your boyfriend’s a grounder Octavia, I wouldn’t count him out. Last time you said goodbye, he turned up again just in time to save our friends. I get the feeling we haven’t seen the last of him.” I stated firmly and my words earned the hint of a smile in the corner of her lips. “Now, I just have to convince myself to feel the same about Monty.” I muttered, as I returned my attention to our surroundings. “Maybe I’ll even get really lucky and we’ll run into Murphy.” I added bitterly and noticed that my grip on the comically large gun in my hands got tighter. Octavia glimpsed at me with her brows knitted together in worry and I could sense that she was assessing me.

“That whole thing with Bellamy really messed you up, huh?” She probed and I flinched at her perceptiveness. I maintained a careful measure of the anger in my voice as I answered her.

“For a minute when I first got to him, I thought he was dead. I’ve never been so terrified.” I whispered, before shaking my head violently to dislodge the agonising memory that replayed in my brain. “But what made it worse was that I trusted Murphy, I gave him a second chance. I defended him, I patched his wounds, I fucking comforted him. I need to pay him back for that.” I spat with a fury that rose like acid from my stomach as I remembered his convincing little act.

“Well, I hope you get your chance.” She commented and I was surprised to find bitterness in her tone too. “I certainly wouldn’t mind getting a few hits in.” She added, gritting her teeth as she spoke and I remembered her frantic cries on the radio whilst I hid in the bottom of the dropship with understanding.

“I’m pretty sure there will be a queue.” I chuckled darkly under my breath and she nodded back at me with amusement.

We continued in silence through the forest with our eyes trained on our surroundings as we gripped our guns nervously. Octavia stopped abruptly on the spot and held a hand up to halt the following group. I raised my gun to stare through the scope and held my breath as I scanned the area in nervous anticipation. There were several panicked comments from behind as those around us strained to see what had alarmed Octavia, but like the rest of them I couldn’t see anything. In a flash, something shot through the air and planted itself into the face of the man standing behind us.

“Grounders!” Jasper yelled in a deafening roar, spiralling the group into a panic.

Octavia and I fell into positions to navigate the group back towards camp, with people rushing frantically to get behind the walls. As we reached the gates Jasper ran ahead of us and positioned himself on the wall to cover our return. Octavia placed herself at the gate to guide people inside and I witnessed Bellamy out of the corner of my eye. He climbed up beside Jasper to cover the gate, so I quickly took a position on the other side to provide full covering fire if needed. The gates slowly dragged closed as the last of our people filtered inside and I continued to stare out between the trees, scouring for any sign of movement. I could hear Bellamy, Clarke and the usual leadership building into an argument over whether to stay or go again and I glanced over at Jasper. As it seemed we were the only two people that were still on watch for an attack, I opted not to get involved this time and allowed them to fight until someone was victorious. I couldn’t deny that I was pleased when they agreed to stay and fight, as I felt that running was the wrong choice from the beginning.

“Okay then. This is what we’ve been preparing for, kill them before they kill us. Gunners to your posts. Use the tunnels to get in and out, from now on the gate stays closed.” Bellamy addressed the crowd assertively and they immediately sprang into action, running to their assigned posts.

I glanced around nervously at the bustling camp. I’d learned the routes to the foxholes, but I was busy setting up landmines as part of Raven’s crew the night that groups were assigned and I suspected that Bellamy hadn’t assigned me a role on purpose. I witnessed him halt Octavia in her tracks as she headed for a tunnel with a sword that Finn had gifted her from Lincoln. I seized the moment to sneak past whilst he was distracted. I followed Jasper as he moved with a determined purpose and I overheard Octavia firmly informing Bellamy that she was a grounder now. I smiled in amusement at her newly developed confidence and was proud that she had finally found her place. As I neared the exit from camp, I had to pause as she jumped into the tunnel just ahead of me. Unfortunately, she carried Bellamy’s attention with her and he reached out to snatch my arm in the first second that he registered my presence.

“No, not you too.” He spoke firmly but the grip that he clung to me with revealed his desperation. I met his eyes with an apologetic expression but I couldn’t deny my frustration with him for even attempting to keep me out of this.

“Come on Bellamy, you said yourself that you need my aim. It’ll take everyone we have for us to survive this.” I argued in a bid to reach his sensible nature but he simply furrowed his brow at me regretfully.

“I know, and I understand why you want to fight but…” His voice trailed off and his gaze fell to his boots as he shuffled awkwardly on the spot. “Does it have to be you two?” He asked as he met my eyes with an insecurity that was unfamiliar on him.

“You don’t have to worry about us, we can do this.” I responded with a reassuring smile and I gazed at him sympathetically. I understood his concern; I hated the idea of him and Octavia fighting, but when I considered what would happen to them if the grounders got inside, I knew that I had no other choice. “I’ll stay with Jasper and see you back here when we win.” I expressed, squeezing his arm with a smile and he finally loosened his grip on me with an anxious look. I turned from him and rushed into the tunnel before I could think twice.

Once in the cramped space of the foxhole with Jasper and Harper, we waited in nervous silence. The radio Jasper was holding crackled and he held it up for us to hear.

“All foxholes, listen up.” Bellamy’s voice announced and I sat up straighter as I waited for instructions. “Keep your eyes and ears open. Inflict casualties, as many as possible. You can hold them off for long enough to make them turn back. That’s the plan.” He cut off abruptly and I could only imagine the argument that was currently taking place between the leadership.

“So our plan is to scare them off?” Harper repeated as she glimpsed between the two of us in disbelief.

“We don’t have enough of anything to kill them all.” Jasper explained and his eyes grew wide as his fear became clear in his movements. I realised that this was difficult for him and I wished that there was a way to protect him from the fight that was unfortunately inevitable.

“We don’t need to kill them all.” I stated firmly, drawing his attention to me. “We just have to kill enough to make them think that we will.” I smiled in an attempt to reassure them, despite my own reservations about the reliability of this plan.

We waited for what seemed like hours as the tension grew thick in the air. Harper kept watch whilst Jasper gave his best effort to build my confidence in the new gun. I hadn’t had a chance to even test firing something this size and we didn’t have the bullets left for me to practice. We got comfortable sitting with the muzzles of our guns pointing out of the shelter and kept our eyes keenly trained for any sign of movement. Jasper suddenly tensed and I caught the distant sound of drums as his eyes widened.

“We can do this Jasper, you’re not alone.” I whispered as I met his terrified eyes and he nodded back shakily. I could feel a slight tremble in my hands and took a long, slow breath to steady myself.

“I see them, they’re moving!”

Stirling’s frantic voice on the radio alerted us to the start of the battle, but we couldn’t see anything in the area surrounding our foxhole. There were several other panicked responses as other foxholes identified grounders but from the information that was given, no one seemed to be able to hit them. We waited, staring at the trees until I caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. Within seconds they descended on the area and Jasper was shooting in a panic.

“They’re everywhere! Harper, get down!” He panted as he sprayed bullets at random in every direction and I could barely hear over the incredible noise of the gun. “We need backup!” He called down the radio in a fluster, joining the flurry of manic messages that flooded through. I put a hand on his arm and shook him to get through his shock.

“Jasper, stop shooting! We don’t have enough bullets to fire at random!” I yelled in an effort to reach his logical nature and he caught sight of me with a panic stricken expression. “Don’t shoot unless you know you can hit them, otherwise let the landmines do their job!” I ordered firmly and he nodded back nervously.

We resumed our positions, waiting for the movement to return after Jasper had scared them off as we watched down the barrel of our guns. It was barely seconds before grounders sprinted past us again and a bomb exploded just ahead of the foxhole. We glanced at each other in an elated mixture of surprise and excitement.

“Raven, our mines actually worked!” Jasper announced into the radio in an ecstatic voice. We high fived in a moment of childish delight and grinned widely at each other. It was comforting to experience a fleeting moment of friendship in the middle of the chaos and I was thankful that I’d chosen to follow him.

“Jasper, we need you in the dropship right now.” Clarke’s voice declared over the radio at the perfect timing to force us back into reality and my face dropped at the realisation that he couldn’t remain at my side.

“Negative, we can’t give up the west woods.” Bellamy argued in an overly aggressive tone and although I knew that he was speaking from a tactical perspective, I couldn’t help feeling that some of his reluctance to allow Jasper to leave was because he knew that I was here.

“The west woods are mined Bellamy, the grounders just figured that out!” Clarke’s sharp voice responded and her impatience was clear even through the radio. “Jasper get in here.” She demanded and I felt my stomach churn as I considered what could cause such a desperate reaction from her. I had to force my mind to remain focused as I wondered if some part of the plan had already gone wrong. Before Bellamy could continue to make excuses, I snatched the radio from Jasper’s hands.

“Who said anything about giving up, we’re still out here!” I taunted in a determined tone as I smiled at Harper and signalled to Jasper to go. He assessed me for a long moment in concern, before reluctantly tearing himself away and climbing into the tunnels towards camp. “Harper and I have got this, girl power and all that shit.” I smirked in the hope that I could inspire confidence in her nervous face. I leaned over to offer her a fist bump with a playful wink. She slowly bumped her fist against mine and a small smile crept in at the corner of her lips. “Only take the shot if you’re sure, make every bullet we have left count, alright?” I recapped assertively.

“I see one, there! There!” She exclaimed as she pointed ahead and I stared down the barrel at the rapidly moving blur as it passed through the trees. I held the gun tightly in place and was ready to shoot at any sign of threat, until another mine went off and I widened my eyes in understanding.

“They’re drawing our fire!” I breathed as I kicked myself for not analysing their tactics sooner. “Harper, keep an eye out but don’t shoot unless it comes at you.” I spoke sternly and although she was obviously terrified, she nodded in acknowledgement. I snatched up the radio that Jasper had left on the floor and took a deep breath to prepare myself to take control of the situation. “All gunners! The grounders are not attacking, they want us to waste our bullets. Don’t shoot whilst they’re just running around, let the mines pick them off and only shoot when you absolutely have to!” I quickly passed the information so that I could stow the radio and resume my grip on the gun.

“Indigo's right, don’t fire until you’re sure it’s an attack!” Bellamy’s reply was prompt and I smiled involuntarily. I was reassured to hear his voice, not only because I enjoyed knowing that I’d been able to prove myself but also because it meant that he was still safe. “Repeat, do not fire until you’re sure.” He confirmed and I glanced over to smile at Harper, only to find that she was shaking from head to toe. I sighed sympathetically at her.

“You can do this, we’re not gonna let them past. I’ve got your back.” I reassured sternly, before returning my focus to the space in front of the foxhole. I observed several grounders emerging from the trees and just as I was lining up my aim, I realised that they were leading a hoard that was crowded into a tight formation.

“Shit.” I spat under my breath as I felt dread creeping down my spine. “Okay, take slow shots, make sure you get a grounder in the face with every single one.” I gave my instructions clearly to Harper and she met my eyes with horror as she clocked the approaching force. “The second you’re out of bullets, you get back up those tunnels and you don’t look back.” I ordered and I was proud to discover that she wasted no time in following the command. I switched the radio on and leaned it against a surface so that I could talk and shoot at the same time. “West foxhole, the grounders are attacking! At least 50 in a unit right in front of us! We’ll use the ammo we have and pull back. This is it gunners, hold your ground and make them pay for every life they’ve taken from us!” I reported in the hope that I could inspire confidence as I stared down the scope with determination. Harper was as efficient as I demanded, but by her fourth shot she was done. She regarded me with wide, terrified eyes.

“Go, get out of here, I’ll be right behind you!” I shouted forcefully. I was only on my second shot and had no intention of quitting whilst I could still shoot. She surveyed the group that was closing in, then peeked at me with a final reluctant glance before she frantically jumped into the tunnel. I took a deep breath and attempted to stay focused on the rapidly approaching horde. I knew that once they passed this checkpoint, there was nothing left between them and Bellamy. I was the last stand at protecting him and everyone else I cared about, and I knew that I had to bring down every last grounder that I could. I fired again, resulting in a shot that hit one of the troops directly in the face and they sank to the ground in a satisfying manner. Three shots. I moved my barrel to focus on the next target with a determined fire in my gut. I took another steadying breath, finding it hard to keep calm as I acknowledged that they were barely metres away. I squeezed the trigger and another shot launched from the barrel, landing squarely in my target's chest. They stumbled in a shocked reaction but quickly recovered to continue marching toward me. Four shots.

“Indie, what are you still doing in there?! Get out!”

Bellamy’s frantic voice filled the space and I realised with horror that the radio was still on; he could still hear me shooting. I aimed one more time at the same attacker’s face, imagining him reaching Bellamy to bully myself into remaining in the foxhole despite the growing risk. My heart skipped a beat as I squeezed the trigger and the bullet flew right on target, stopping one more grounder dead. Five shots. The gun jammed in a telltale sound and I realised almost too late that they were right on top of me. I dove into the tunnel in blind faith just as they reached the foxhole and the leading grounder swung an axe into the centre of it. I barely escaped the assault by a couple of inches and slammed closed the entrance to the tunnel behind me. I noticed with horror that I’d left the radio behind but I had to force myself to concentrate on manically crawling through the tight space to reach camp. I had to get in, find another gun and get to Bellamy before the grounder’s forces did. I knew that there were only two others with him at the final position and that it was impossible for them to last against the numbers that were stalking toward them. Every part of my mind focused on getting to him as I rushed through the tunnel and I felt my chest tightening with anxiety. The same thought echoed over and over in my mind: I can’t lose him.

28 notes · View notes

godsofmonster · 5 years ago

Text

Bangtan MC ≽ IV.

Reader x Bangtan- Motorcycle Club

Word Count- 8.9k

Warnings- sexual content, death, murder, guns, drugs, violence, betrayal, mentions of suicide, mentions of rape, etc.

For as long as I can remember back, I always wanted to be in a motorcycle club. Since I was six years old, the only thing on my mind was getting my hands on a Harley and a cut. I was a wolf, a wild cur, cut from the pack with bloodstained on my fur. Every wrong has marked a debt because a beaten dog never forgets.

My foot tapped against the pavement while I kept shuffling in my seat. The surrounding tables were empty, despite it being lunchtime. I could see over the balcony from my place at the table. My eyes watched down the street for any oncoming cars. I played with the glass of water in front of me, swirling the straw and knocking the pieces of ice against the rim.

"(Y/n)?"

I caught a glimpse of his figure from the corner of my eye. I immediately rose to greet him but hit my knee on the metal edge in the process. The feeling tickled my bone and shot down my leg.

I attempted to groan quietly but could not mask the injury in my expression.

"Are you alright?"

I felt his hand on my shoulder as I leaned over in pain. Great first impression, I thought.

"Yes, I'm fine," I replied, sucking up the pain and standing straight. When I turned to look at him, I was taken back by a pair of dark eyes. A set of thick black brows hung over his eyes, matching a head of full black hair cut short on the sides. His skin was tan and his jawline was cutting, I didn't expect him to be so young.

"Anthony Romero," He said gently, offering his hand out for me to take in a greeting.

I held his hand and couldn't help but stare at how attractive he was. "Please, sit."

I looked down to take my chair, being wary of the edge of the table, before seating myself. He took the opposite seat across from me, allowing us a moment to settle before speaking,

"Well, you certainly look the part," He joked lightly, trying to break the tension between us.

I looked down at what I was wearing. It was a rendition of what I had been wearing this entire week; dark-colored jeans, a Guns and Roses t-shirt, and my leather jacket. It was definitely a 180 to his city boy outfit.

"I haven't had time to go shopping," I replied, stiffly. Even though, my current style was simply a more mature version of this.

"Have you looked through the-" He took the menu in his hands, speaking casually.

"I'm not very hungry." I cut him off fairly quickly. I didn't mean to be rude, however, I was uncomfortable being seen in public.

I had advised him beforehand, that meeting, and staying out of Blackburn would be the best idea. The town could recognize an outsider from a mile away. In my opinion, the next town over was not far enough. "I'd like to say something first before we begin,"

"Of course," He set the menu down and gave me his full attention.

There was a switch in his head that brought him from casual to business. I could see it on the night of his eyes. It was almost intimidating.

"I've been working with the DEA for three years, this job has given me a sense of moral direction- if you will," I said, hoping for him to understand where I was coming from. "I've had to leave this life behind a long time ago. I literally left everything here in California."

Romero watched me intently, his eyes searching my being for any signs I could give off. He read my body language, how tense and worried I was.

"I can still leave all of this behind, but I can not- will not let this club die."

He sighed at my words, sinking back in his seat, as I continued,

"I want to help you take down the Camilo Cartel, but I need to know that our investigation isn't going to hurt the MC."

"(Y/n) I understand your relationship with the club, but you said it yourself, you haven't had a connection to them in seven years." I grabbed my drink, taking a sip of the cold water as I felt my body heat with emotion. "Bangtan has been on ATF's radar for years. They aren't a Robinhood club anymore- they're a gang. One that's been dealing arms to gangs all over California."

"We aren't ATF," I told him bluntly.

He looked at me severely offended. I knew what my words sounded like to his ears. I had looked at him in the eyes and told him I didn't care.

"You want us to cut a deal with the club?" He scoffed at the idea. "You know they'd never take it."

"No, I want you to make a deal with me," I tried not to sound demanding, but I needed to be honest with him if this was going to work. “Nothing I say about this club can be used against them.”

"You had a deal," He snapped. He didn't have to raise his voice to make me feel his rage. I could see it in his gestures, the fire burning in his eyes. "Don't forget, you came to work with us so you wouldn't serve a ten-year sentence for heroin possession."

"The deal was I helped the DEA put away a shot caller," Back when I was shooting up heroin nearly twice a day, I had grown close to a high ranking gang member, who was part of a large network of dope dealers. "I came to work afterward because it was the only good thing I had ever done with my life."

His stare only became more troublesome. I sighed to myself, also leaning away from the conversation. "I understand if you can't make me this deal. But then, I need you to fire me and find another way to get to the Cartel. I'm not going to destroy this club or let them destroy themselves."

"You think you can save them?" He asked as if I was filled with senseless hope.

"If they don't taste this drug money, I think we can," I was stubbornly hopeful.

"The DEA just wants the Cartel. As long as you help us through the information from Bangtan, we won't prosecute them." Agent Romero stood from his chair and pulled out his phone. "I'll make the call and get you the paperwork."

I could finally breathe easy once he stepped away to make that phone call. Bangtan could never understand my situation, why I would be working with the DEA in the first place. It was everything our lifestyle preached against. We were anarchists.

Emma Goldman said,

Anarchism stands for the liberation of the human mind from the dominion of religion. The liberation of the human body from the coercion of property; liberation from the shackles and restraint of government. It stands for a social order based on the free grouping of individuals.

That's what Bangtan was supposed to represent and it did, a long time ago, before it knew the payment of sin. When your life is moved off the social grid, you give up on the safety that society provides. On the fringe, blood and bullets are the rules of the law and if you have convictions, violence is inevitable. When you take action to avenge the ones you love, personal justice collides with social and divine justice. You become a judge, jury, and god. Some people cave under the weight, others abuse the momentum. But the true outlaw finds the balance between the passion in their heart and the reason in their mind.

Bangtan was lost under my father's leadership. I didn't realize that until I was gone from his side. I hated to admit that maybe, under Namjoon, the club could find their way back. I just had to make sure that happened.

"I'll have the paper ready for you later tonight," Agent Romero said, returning to the table. He pulled the chair out for himself, "I'm hoping to just go over some basic information with you for right now."

"Alright," I would still be mindful of the information we discussed, nothing would be set until I signed those papers.

I moved into the front of my jacket, taking hold of a pack of cigarettes that I regretted at the moment of purchasing, but now was grateful for. Romero remained with his phone in his hands, looking through images that I couldn't make out from my seat.

"As of right now, the number of members in the club is unknown to us. However, we think it's somewhere between twenty-five to thirty." He said, his eyes still trailing over the screen. I pulled out a square from its tight pack, arranging it between my dry lips and flickering my zippo lighter. Romero reacted to the sound, his eyes finding their way to me but not daring to say anything against it. "Of course, there are the eight members who are at the head of the table as of right now- well, seven now,"

He stammered over the sensitive information. Romero looked over my expression for any sign of discomfort. The only thing he found was the nicotine leaving my mouth in smoke form. "Bangtan was established in 1987, all of the original founding members are either in prison or dead. They are what is identified as part of the 1% of motorcyclists that practice in criminal activity for a living."

That was something that Bangtan wore as a patch on their cuts. The 1% patch referred to a comment by the American Motorcyclist Association, that 99% of motorcyclists were law-abiding citizens, implying the last one percent were outlaws. "According to ATF reports, Bangtan established a direct line to a secret Russian group that dealt with firearms. Despite constant observations and raid attempts, they've never been able to catch them with a large possession of illegal firearms."

"Bangtan doesn't cross their money streams, the bar is a legitimate business. They have a separate location for their illegal activity." I said to him.

They learned that the hard way. The only thing you would find in the bar is watered down alcohol and burner phones.

"They built a compromise with the Pure Brotherhood fifteen years ago, to keep the drug trade out of Blackburn." My father knew what drugs could do to a person. He didn't want me, or any of the youth in the town to grow up knowing that trouble.

"Until now," Agent Romero placed his phone on the table and sighed. He knew my words were true and that things were about to get much worse.

"You have to know, as well as I do, that Bangtan joining the Cartel is a matter of when- not if." I did know. I just didn't want to admit it. "If it comes to supporting a neo-nazi group, who are preparing for the great race war- or an organized, billion-dollar trade. The option is pretty clear to me."

Romero was right. Supporting a racist organization was never something the club appreciated. It was bad business and the Camilo Cartel was the perfect way out of it.

"The club knows how commanding Camilo will be. They won't give in without some kind of backlash of other members." I said, hoping that was enough to stall them.

He didn't seem very convinced by my reasons as a waitress came by with a glass of water for him. He thanked her and ordered something for himself that I didn't quite hear.

"For you?" She politely smiled at me. I waved her off with a hand gesture, trying to be as pleasant as I could.

We observed her leave the balcony to place his order. Romero set the notes of his phone away and began to ask me questions.

"What can you tell me about the local law enforcement?" There wasn't much to say.

"They obviously don't appreciate the sense of authority the club has over the town. But they have let a few things slide from time to time." I took another drag, a deeper one than before. "Are they going to assist in this investigation?"

"We'll have to let them know so that they don't interfere with anything." It was just courtesy but I didn't trust the Blackburn police. Bangtan would definitely have cops who were on their side.

"How is your relationship with the current members?" A combination of the question and the nicotine made my hand tremble.

"I went to school with some of them. They're rather polite to me because of my father." I'm sure he wanted more detail than that.

"What about your step-brother? Namjoon Kim?"

"It's complicated," I said growing sick of the cigarette in my hand, tossing it to the floor.

"Can you get close to him?" I looked Romero in the eyes and knew what his words meant.

However, with our history, his words took on a whole other meaning in my head. A twisted smile appeared on my lips.

"Yes, I can."

After I met with agent Romero, I retreated to my crappy motel. I sat on my standing Harley in the parking lot and dreaded entering the depressing space. Then I recalled the comment Romero had made about my outfit. I decided against entering, taking his advice, and putting my father's money to good use.

I left my bike parked at the motel and went on foot to the nearby boutique shops. I might have been raised by bikers, but I liked to think I still had decent taste in fashion. At least, when it comes to dressing myself, I'll wear anything as long as I can put my leather jacket over it.

I stared at the racks filled with hanging clothing, the colors arranged in no particular order, made me feel discouraged. There was nothing but low-cut blouses that would slip off the second I hit 20 miles on my bike. I was pleased to find pants that weren't ripped or acid dipped. This particular store also had a fine selection of vegan leather. It wasn't as nice as real leather, but it was certainly cheaper.

"Hey, (Y/n)."

I didn't recognize the male voice at first, but when I turned around, I was greeted by a sunny smile. Hoseok was standing a few feet beside me, and Yoongi was just behind him. "Doing some shopping?"

"Uh, yeah," I responded, placing the brown leather jacket in the pile of clothes I had already picked out. I turned to face them a little more before asking, "What are you guys doing here?"

I specifically referred to the fact that this was a female boutique. The two of them looked humorously out of place in their leather cuts, standing in the small, soft-colored store.

"His sister's back in town," Yoongi responded fairly bored.

"I wanted to get her something," Hoseok explained further. I assumed he had dragged Yoongi along for some reason. "But honestly, I have no idea what to look for."

Hoseok looked a little flustered in his expression. I sensed that he was entertaining the idea of me offering him guidance. I suppose this could be my chance, to put my fashion senses to the test.

"Well, what does she like?" I prompted, hoping he would have some kind of outline for me to think in.

"She's really into fashion but I don't know what size she wears," He said. His hand lazily pushing through the rack of clothing, like he didn’t know where to start.

"If that's the case, you can get her accessories," I told him. I figured that would be easiest for both of us. My eyes peered around the room, remembering having seen some stuff earlier.

I spotted some things hanging on the wall on the other side of the store. I advanced in that direction with Hoseok trailing behind me. We pushed through some racks of clothing to reach the large wall of accessories.

"There are hats and scarves,” I said, reaching out to touch some of the fabrics. Jewelry also hung in packs and pairs, the false metal reflecting the sunlight. “Maybe not this jewelry though, it looks cheap."

Hoseok chuckled as he eyed the things on the wall. Any of the things on the wall didn't seem too horrendous. I even kept my eyes open for anything I might like. Most of the wall was fool’s gold of necklaces and earrings. The bottom shelf held hats, nothing I found particularly interesting though. Some of the items looked to have been savaged by kids who could reach. That only left the scarves. They were dangling, one after the other, rows and rows of them. I came across a silk scarf that was cool to the touch.

"Look at this," I said, getting Hoseok’s attention. It was a square shape scarf, with berry colors of flowers and patterns. "These colors are in right now, since it's almost autumn. The silk also won't stick to her in this California sun."

"Yeah, this looks nice." He sounded satisfied with this item. He fiddled with the material in his fingers and then found the price tag. "$80?!"

I knew that silk scarfs were expensive, especially in a little boutique like this one. I patted his shoulder and gave him a fake empathetic look,

"That's the price of beauty," I joked.

"As if this scarf is going to do all the work," He responded, a little annoyed.

Hoseok settled on the scarf as a gift, regardless. I felt content with the hangers in my hand. It was enough clothing to keep me from looking like an angsty adolescent.

"I didn't see your bike parked in front," Hoseok mentioned as we strolled together to the register.

"I'm staying at the motel nearby," I replied vaguely. Hoseok stood back and allowed me to put my things down first. I greeted the woman politely and turned back to look at them.

"That lousy place down the street?" Yoongi then questioned. Just by the look on his face, he seemed to know exactly which one."That place has roaches."

"Thanks for reminding me," I bantered lightly. I should definitely look for a better place, I thought as the woman began to scan my items. I leaned against the counter, my feet aching a bit from just being up and around.

"I thought Namjoon told you to stay at his place," Hoseok said, recalling the exact moment.

"The prince doesn't always get what he wants," I shrugged.

Then I failed to hide the sneer on my mouth as I found myself to be hilarious. I made eye contact with the other two also, only Hoseok smiled at me, while Yoongi awkwardly nodded his head. I thought they were a strange pair as I searched for my wallet on my person.

"Well, you should check out my new Harley," I was admittedly intrigued by Hoseok's offer. I located my purse in the depths of my jacket and peeped his way. By the look on his face, I could tell he was excited to show off. He was like a child in a candy shop.

"Oh, yeah?" I was interested to find out more. My eyes scanned the monitor of the register for my final price of the clothing.

"Year model," He beamed proudly.

I counted the bills of twenty in my hand before handing them over to the women. I grabbed a hold of the three large paper bags where my purchases had been stuffed into. Hoseok set the dainty scarf on the register next.

"You still got your Deluxe, Yoongi?" I asked out of curiosity, recalling just barely the bike he used as a prospect. He simply nodded his head as an answer.

I had been thinking of getting myself one a while back. I loved vintage style bikes, especially when they had modern engines.

"Yeah well, I left the cruiser for a street bike," Hoseok remarked as we waited for him to finish paying.

I thought a bike could say a lot about a person. I personally liked cruiser bikes over any other style. However, everyone in the club had their own preference. Jimin and I had a similar taste in bikes. We mostly found interest in the same Harleys, except that he owned a Low Rider, which was a billiard blue color.

"What is it? An Iron 833?" I guessed. Thinking, in my head, that it was a well-suited bike for him.

"Close," Hoseok laughed, as he took hold of a smaller version of my bags. We all began to walk toward the exit, the woman wishing us a good day. "It's an Iron 1200, solid black."

I had an idea of what that bike looked like, but I had yet to see the new model for the year. "I just picked it up yesterday morning,"

Yoongi held the door open for me to step out first. Hoseok was still speaking in my ear as they followed out the door of the shop. His talking came to a soft silence as we were faced with the two member's Harleys. Their bikes were parked right in front of the boutique. Except, it appeared that Hoseok's new Harley was being used in a photoshoot.

There was a pair of strangers, a man who was posing on the bike with his motor racer jacket. A woman stood in front of him, trying to capture the image on a cell phone.

"Take the damn picture, already." He cursed at her. The man looked annoyed every time he wasn't posing for the picture.

"I'm trying," The blonde woman responded. She sounded very apologetic like she didn't want him to get upset with her. Like she knew what would happen if he did.

Before I could even think to look at the boys, Hoseok was handing me his shopping bag. I took a hold of it and followed behind them as they approached the scene.

Hoseok walked up the woman as Yoongi circled his bike.

"Here, let me do it." Hoseok smiled at her, gently taking the phone from her hands. The woman looked startled.

"Shit," She was wide-eyed. "I-I told him on to,"

"It's all right," Hoseok was sympathetic to her. I came around to her side, gently taking a hold of her arm and guiding her away from the position.

Hoseok’s eyes rearranged to look at the man. "He looks like a guy that knows how to get what he wants,"

She followed my advice and stepped aside with me. Now seeing her face more clearly, I took notice of the healing injury on her mouth. "Did you do that to her lip?"

Hoseok questioned casually. The guy didn’t seem alarmed by any means, not even when he stepped toward him.

"Bitch has a mouth on her," The man said chuckling. He spoke to Hoseok as if he would understand where he was coming from. "You know how it is, right?"

"Yeah, I do." Hoseok laughed, returning the man's smile. I was painfully aware of how close Hoseok was getting to him. He, who still hadn't moved from his seat on the bike. "So you like Harley's, huh?"

"Well, they look good," He replied, patting a handprint on the metal of the gasoline tank. That made even me. even a little angry. "But I'm more into the slant bikes, for their speed."

I eyed the Kawasaki Ninja 300 that was parked a few spots over. There was no way this couple was from Blackburn- people around here knew better. He was in for a rude awakening.

"Right, right." The courtesy in Hoseok's voice brought an uneasy feeling in my stomach. He looked back down at the phone in his hands and tapped the almost sleeping screen. "Here,"

He said, holding the phone up to take the picture of the man. Yoongi stepped around his bike, standing right beside Hoseok. "Say cheese,"

I almost felt bad for the guy who dared to smile for the picture. After the phone clicked, Hoseok handed the phone to Yoongi.

"That's before," Yoongi muttered loudly.

It wasn't until then that the man noticed something wasn't right.

"Before?" He asked.

Hoseok grabbed his helmet off the handlebar. He gripped it tight in his hand as he used the back of it to swing a blow to the guy's face. The single impact was strong enough to make him drop off the Harley. He landed on the cold, hard ground. Blood was draining from his nose and into his mouth.

"Don't ever sit on another man's bike," Hoseok spat.

"Oh my god," The blondie gasped beside me. You couldn't fail to recognize the giggle in her voice.

"Shut up, bitch!" The man barked as he was still struggling on the floor with pain.

Yoongi stepped in as Hoseok went to take care of his bike. He swung his boot into the man's rib cage, making him groan and spit out his own blood.

"A little respect for the ladies," He warned, squatting down to get a good angle on the man's phone. The shutter of the phone went off again, capturing the man's new state of humble. "That's after."

Yoongi stood back on his legs and allowed the phone to slip from his hands, hitting the floor.

By the time I thought to check on the blondie next to me, I caught her gawking eyes at Hoseok. I was half surprised to see Hoseok returning the look. He leaned forward on his bike,

"So, where are you heading?" He flashed her a killer smile.

"Oh," She blushed under his stare. Her fingers fiddling the ends of her clothing as she tried to remain casual. "Nowhere special,"

"Me too," He smirked. Looking the girl up and down before gesturing his head behind him, "Hop on, angel."

This girl wasted no time hesitating. There was even a little kick in her step as Hoseok handed her the helmet he had just used to break her boyfriend's face. I stepped forward to return Hoseok's gift as she straddled on behind him, slipping the helmet over her face. I lost interest sometime before they exchanged names.

I glanced at the man still laying on the ground. His eyes were wandering over the blood that stained his hands in disbelief. I imagined the blow to the face had left him a little hazy in the head.

"Why don't you let Yoongi give you a ride, (Y/n)?" Hoseok then suggested. The engine of his new bike began to roar.

The thought wasn't well-received in my head. I had a personal ordeal with men seeking to have me on the back of their bikes. Though I was well aware this wasn't the situation, I couldn't help but be hesitant.

"Unless you want to stay with the likes of him," Yoongi pointed out, motioning his head to the unfortunate figure on the pavement.

He gave me the time it took to light his cigarette to think about it. I wasn't afraid of that guy, not after what Hoseok did to him, not after what I had tucked into my jeans. But I figured avoiding the confrontation would be beneficial for everyone.

"Alright," I said stepping off the sidewalk into the street.

Yoongi left his helmet on the handle of his bike for me to grab. Unlike mine, he had a half helmet that would only serve my brain on a platter if we crashed. I adjusted the loose straps around my chin and switched all my bags to one hand.

"Better hold on, princess." Yoongi teased as I mounted the seat behind him.

"Don't call me that," I groaned, starting to get irritating flashbacks that made me doubt my current judgment.

The engine of his Harley trembled under me as I hooked my free hand around his waist.

His Delux wasn't necessarily meant to hold a passenger but we weren't going very far. I had to scoot in closer to his body, to make sure the weight distribution wasn't too off-center. Many inexperienced riders don't know the difference between riding solo and with someone else. In addition to the extra weight, a passenger changes the center of gravity and how the bike rides. Though, I was certain it wasn't the first time Yoongi had company during a ride.

"Gem?" I heard the man call over the rumble of the motor. "Gem!"

We were already backed into the street, Hoseok obnoxiously hit the gas on his bike. Yoongi and I followed closely behind him, leaving the man to stumble onto his feet.

The motel was roughly five minutes away from the shop. Hoseok and his new friend accompanied Yoongi to drop me off. Riding in the back reminded me a lot of being young, I would beg my father to take me for a spin. I would wrap my arms tightly around him, as my head rested on his back. Down these same roads, he would drop me off at school or take me for ice cream. It didn't help that I stared at Yoongi's cut the entire way. Those were some memories I didn't visit very often because they saddened me. Now, more so, than ever.

The Harleys pulled up in front of the motel. Hoseok parked just beside my bike. Yoongi pressed on the break gently, allowing the bike to come to a complete stop, before planting his feet on the ground. I freed his torso from my arm, adjusting my other grip around my shopping bags, before patting his shoulder.

"Thanks for the ride," I said a bit stiffly. I had to depend on Yoongi's shoulder for stability as I attempted to unmount the bike.

"No problem," He spoke, still maintaining a cigarette in his mouth.

He took his hands off the handlebars and rested back in his seat. "I'm sure you could have handled yourself,"

His comment fell ghastly on my ears. I transferred my bags to my other hand, my left-hand aching from having been gripping them as I watched him.

"I mean, I've seen what you could do with that foot." He said, taking his cigarette out of his mouth and between his fingers. He was clearly referring to the night I arrived when I lost my temper with that PB member.

"Yes, well, I have my old man's passion," I replied calmly. Though, something in Yoongi's stare made me feel a bit uneasy. His words were hinting at something else.

"And you're pretty passionate with a gun." The way he looked at me when he said that it was full of doubt. Our eyes correlated, and I felt like his black orbs could see right through me.

"It reminded me of a cop,"

A shiver crept down my spine, and my shoulders fell heavy. My manner of confronting that PB member screamed police to any outlaw. My impulsiveness had kept me from thinking that through.

It was the first time I was being questioned about it. I thought it had slipped by everyone's mind, but not his.

"Did I scare you that bad, Yoongi?" I teased, trying to react the way I normally would. "I'm just cautious like the rest of you,"

Yoongi didn't appear to be swayed by my words. He brought his cigarette back to his mouth, his cheekbones hollowing in as he took a drag. I was debating on waiting for him to say something else, or on trying to keep justifying myself before Hoseok cut into our conversation.

I had never been so grateful for Hoseok's existence.

"Yoongi," Hoseok called out in front of us. We both turned to look at his place still sitting on his Harley.

We then realized that Hoseok was gesturing to the other side of the lot. We followed his gaze over to a set of people by the sidewalk.

They were too far away to distinguish any particular details of their identity. However, it looked like two males that were having an eager conversation. I noticed their head kept turning from side to side, and they couldn't keep still. Just when I began to think that it was nothing, one of them reached out for a handshake.

No one was supposed to deal in Blackburn.

"Jesus Christ," I caught sight of Yoongi flinging his cigarette in a fit. He beat down his kickstand with the bottom of his boot, before making his way off the Harley.

"Looks like PB," Hoseok stated, accompanying Yoongi's action.

When he unmounted his bike, blondie gave him a confused stare as she reached out to touch his hand. Her eyes like a lamb gazed at Hoseok sweetly.

"Stay put, angel." He said, using the touch to bring her in closer. He gently touched her chin and planted a kiss on her busted lip. She smiled, uncertain by his words but agreed, regardless.

"Let's go," Yoongi called, his hand reaching behind him. Without drawing his weaponry, he maintained his hand resting on the handle of the gun under his leather cut. I followed in his footsteps, unsure of what I should do in this situation.

Should I attempt to interfere? Or will there be a shoot out right here?

I set my bags on the floor before catching up to Yoongi who was already by Hoseok's side.

The hooded man remained standing at the end of the parking lot, near the street corner. His customer had vanished but he was still occupied with his cell phone.

Hoseok noticed me trailing behind Yoongi,

"Keep an eye on her," He told me, gesturing his eyes to the scared woman on his motorcycle.

I had to babysit his groupie?

I stopped where I stood, just beside Hoseok's Iron. I could see blondie looking in my direction, but I was watching Hoseok and Yoongi approach the standing figure. I forced strands of hair away from my line of sight. I could feel my heart begin to beat against my chest. My limbs become stiff as stone.

I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do in a situation like this. This was my first event as a field agent, and I was about to let a shootout take place. With a liability sitting right next to me.

"What's going on?" She urged me, but I neglected her completely.

The hooded figure was so distracted he didn't take any notice of the impending threat. The two members quickened their steps, Hoseok dawdling just a little more ahead of Yoongi.

Without warning, Hoseok skulked behind the body, his arms both wrapped tightly around the torso. It was like a kidnapping scene. He used his large hand to shield the man's mouth. The force of Hoseok's legs pulled them back as he was able to dominate him easily. Yoongi kept his eyes peeled for any potential bystanders as they stumbled their way against the wall of the motel. The wall cast a shadow and provided them with coverage from the view of the street.

"Oh my god!" Blondie gasped in disbelief.

She took a hold of my arm in panic. She pulled on my arms as if she wanted us to run. Her frenzy state pestered me greatly.

I yanked her hand from my arm, my fingers clutched around her wrist tightly. She heaved at the pain, I could feel her pulse quickening against my fingertips.

"You make a fucking noise," I hissed at her between my teeth. Her eyes remained full of fear as I pushed her from my hold. "It'll be your last,"

Her eyes followed my actions as I withdrew my Glock from its cover on my hip. She froze with fright, only continuing to remain silent in her place.

I guess I wasn't very good at being a good guy.

The next I looked back, Yoongi was holding the barrel of his gun against the guy's head. He was still fighting against Hoseok's restraint but he was becoming more frantic and less functional. Yoongi's lips were moving, saying words that were too far away for my ears.

Just then, as if things couldn't have been complicated enough; I noticed an oncoming party. Approaching from down the sidewalk was a large white man with a bald head. His arms revealed a clash of tattoos, the only one that I needed to make out was a black swastika peering out his shoulder. He also wasn't shy about the gun tucked in the front of his jeans. He appeared to be searching for his lost friend.

"Shit," I cursed to myself. I had to do something.

I took a moment to look back at blondie, making sure to be as intimidating as possible when I warned her. "Don't move from here,"

I took off immediately, my feet moving at a jogging pace. I attempted to not appear alarmed. I discreetly lead my gun to my side, trying to go unnoticed for the time being. I made it to the end of the parking lot, sitting between me and the sidewalk was a few bushes at waist level.

Yoongi and Hoseok were preoccupied with the man in front of them to worry about their surroundings.

The bald man was only a few steps away from reaching the corner, where he would surely find his buddy taken captive.

I moved closer toward the building, both parties coming more clear in my line of sight. If he makes it around that corner, he could catch them by surprise and gain an upper hand quickly. One of the boys could get injured for sure.

I had to follow my instincts.

I leaned into the bushes for more security. They couldn't have been more than fifteen feet from me. I clutched the metal weight in my hand, raising my arms and seeking to find aim.

Aim small, miss small.

I concentrated on the man's shoulder. I took in a deep breath to steady my hands. He was getting bigger with each step. When I exhaled the breath from my nostrils, I pulled the trigger.

The gunshot rang through the open air and into my ear. Blondie's scream echoed somewhere behind me. The man stumbled on his legs, he clutched his right bicep and his face tore with shock.

Yoongi found me by the bushes. He quickly recognized that my target wasn't far from them.

My victim quickly discovered me at the end of the sidewalk. He reached for his firearm, but at that moment, Yoongi stepped out of the shadow. He pulled two quick shots before the man could ever hold up his gun.

He tumbled onto the floor, his legs giving out at the bullet that pierced his foot. The second one ripped through the flesh of his arm and caused his gun to fall from his grip.

I ran up behind Yoongi, I kept my gun drawn and pointed at the fallen form. With my foot, I stretched for the dropped pistol, dragging it across the cement into my area of reach. I was able to pick it up with ease after that.

The bald man stared at me with hate emitting from his eyes. He spit at my feet.

I noticed Yoongi's eyes on me, as well. It was almost as if he was conflicted by my actions. With a nod of my head, I assured him that I had their back. Whether he believed me or not, he returned to the current situation.

Hoseok remained holding down the other guy who, was still yelling through his muzzled mouth. His face was red and his eyes were watering with anger and fear. Hoseok released his mouth after the bastard threw a bite at his hand.

Yoongi had enough.

He pushed his hair out of his forehead and, in that same step, hurled his fist to the guy's jaw. Yoongi growled at the impact. He left the man silent in Hoseok's arms. His nose was dripping blood, a gash on his cheek also overflowed with the red liquid.

"Tell me where the PB is cooking the meth!" Yoongi demanded.

He cocked his gun and pressed the pistol against the fabric that covered the man's genitals. The man cried, he begged Yoongi to not pull the trigger.

"Now, you son of a bitch!"

Hearing it was hard enough, I couldn't watch it.

"I-In Blackburn! In Blackburn!" He ratted instantly.

My stomach churned at his answer. I looked at the scene unfolding beside me. I could see Hoseok and Yoongi were as startled as I was.

"They've got a lab down Riverside road! I-It's an ugly little red house- you can't miss it!"

Yoongi freed the man's crotch from gunpoint as Hoseok shoved him onto the floor. Hoseok stepped around the man's body and came directly to my side. I maintained my aim on the other guy, who was still sitting on the floor, blood oozing out of three different wounds.

Hoseok rested his hand on my shoulder, gently guiding my arm to lower my gun.

"Let's get out of here, angel." He whispered sweetly.

His words somehow managed to ease the knots of tension in my chest. I took a breath of relief and handed him the extra gun I had confiscated. Hoseok smiled at me and tucked the gun away from my sight. He then put his hand on my back, escorting me back the way we came from.

We had no problem turning our backs to them. They were both disarmed, one was bleeding out, and the other was frightened beyond recognition. There was no need to stick around for the police to show up. If those two guys were smart, they would find a way out of here before they came. The Blackburn policemen would know what happened to them and why.

Yoongi followed right behind us. I could hear his footsteps on the pavement as we strolled toward our bikes. From where we were, I could see blondie was still sitting on Hoseok's Harley.

Except, she appeared to be making a phone call.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." I groaned. Hoseok noticed my gaze and soon saw the same thing I did. She saw us walking in her direction and quickly hung up the phone.

She looked frightened when we finally approached her. She swung her leg over the bike, getting off on the opposite side of us. As if the Harley would keep us from getting to her. I allowed Hoseok to handle her.

"Sorry about that, angel," Hoseok's voice was something dangerous. He leaned his hand on the handle of the bike and smiled. "Who was that?"

"M-My boyfriend," She stuttered, trying to not buy into his enchanting smile, not after what she just witnessed. "He's coming to pick me up."

"Good," I muttered. I locked eyes with her for just a moment while I passed by to pick up my shopping backs. I imagined I had traumatized her enough for one day.

"That's too bad you've got to go," I could hear the suggestiveness in Hoseok's voice.

I walked past Yoongi's bike to my own. I had never been so happy to mount my Harley. The way the engine roared when I turned the gas made me shiver with delight. I walked the bike backward, turning slowly to line up beside Yoongi's. Who was taking advantage of Hoseok's flirting to light up another cigarette.

I followed in his thought and tried to locate the same pack from earlier.

"I didn't expect you to step in like that," Yoongi suddenly muttered as he stood next to his bike.

I took the smoke between my two fingers, putting the pack back on my jacket pocket. I held it between my lips and fiddled with my lighter.

"You didn't think I was trying to arrest you?" I mocked.

I flicked the lighter a few times, a flame igniting out of the chamber. I held the frame between my palms and used my fingers as a shield from the wind.

"I'm trying to thank you, here, princess." He sighed.

I smiled and brought the fire to the end of my cigarette. I sucked in the burning tobacco, quickly flicking the lighter shut.

"Go ahead," I smirked as I held the smoke in my lungs.

I could tell Yoongi didn't do this very often. His brown eyes glared at me from underneath his black lashes.

"Oh, forget it." He hissed, inhaling another drag.

Yoongi held his cigarette between his lips and turned his back to me. He mounted his own bike and called out to Hoseok. "Let's go already!"

Hoseok seemed to be working his magic on blondie all over again. He was still leaning on his bike, and she had taken a few paces closer to him. She wasn't scared anymore.

If it wasn't for the obnoxious speed bike coming down the road, Hoseok would have probably been able to convince her back to his place. The black and green bike came to a screeching stop. His face was covered by a full style helmet, so we weren't able to see the aftermath of his humbling experience.

Hoseok stood up straight, a smirk jeering onto his lips as he viewed the new arrival. Blondie looked over her shoulder and gave Hoseok a sympathetic look. She didn't want to leave now.

Hoseok grabbed her hand, bringing her knuckles up to his lips. He sent her away, drifting on a cloud.

Blondie slipped on her matching helmet, before mounting his motorcycle.

"Ready?" Yoongi asked sarcastically.

Hoseok's smirk remained on his face as he climbed on his bike. He was just on time as we began to hear police sirens off in the distance.

"Ready," He replied.

We had made it to the lot of the House of Cards without any trouble. The other handful of Harley's left in the front indicated a full house inside. Standing along the wall of the entrance, Taehyung held a conversation with Yeonjun as he smoked.

I followed the boys in parking alongside the other bikes. Removing my open-face helmet from my head, I relieved myself of the pressure of its protection.

"Prospect!" Yoongi called from his place, on his Harley, beside me.

I set my kickstand down, resting on my bike as I watched Yeonjun leave Taehyung's side. He was wearing his prospect cut over a dark blue flannel, his feet moved quickly, down the open lot. Taehyung remained against the wall, finishing his cigarette alone.

Once Yeonjun presented himself in front of us, he took a moment to acknowledge me with a smile. Before Yoongi demanded his attention,

"Listen closely," He said, also removing his helmet and slumping in his seat. "You're going to take (Y/n)'s bags, go to the motel on 15th street and check her out."

It made sense that I couldn't stay there after the disturbance. If what the man said was true, it meant that the PB was already taking action against the club. Blackburn wasn't safe anymore.

"Grab all her things and bring them back here."

Yeonjun nodded his head in understanding. Both his hands reached down to feel around in his front pocket. From his right one, he pulled out keys to his Harley.

"Woah!" Taehyung came up behind the young prospect. He reached around him and snatched the keys from his hands. "Who said you can take your Harley?"

Taehyung stuffed the keys into his pocket and wore a grin while his lips still held his cigarette.

"Oh come on, Tae," Yeonjun attempted to not sound too annoyed. He sighed, " It'll be easier if I-"

"I bought you a brand new bike, Yeonjun." Taehyung's voice was teasing. "Don't be ungrateful."

Taehyung took the smoke from his mouth and watched the poor boy give up. I could hear Hoseok chuckle from the other side of Yoongi. I was questioning what they had him doing this time.

Yeonjun left without another word. He walked toward the back of the bar, I lost sight of him as he disappeared around the corner. Taehyung was left with a permanent grin on his mug. He then turned his attention to the three of us that remained on our bikes.

"Where are you all coming from?" He asked. We were an odd combination to anyone who saw us.

"We ran into some trouble while shopping," Hoseok replied. He set his helmet on the seat of his bike as he rose from it. "And we picked her up on the way."

"Lucky me," I quietly joked.

"What kind of trouble?" Taehyung seemed to be more interested in that.

Hoseok sighed as he removed his leather gloves. He stuffed them into his front pocket and slowly advanced toward his friend.

"The kind that we should bring up at church," Yoongi replied.

Hoseok slipped his arms around Taehyung's shoulder and reassured the gravity of Yoongi's words with his slow head bob. His brows furrowed as he adjusted the bandana that was holding his hair back.

"Everyone's here now," Taehyung informed him. "I'll let Joon know to call a meeting."

Yoongi joined the rest of the boys in standing. I was the only one who remained mounting my Harley.

There was no doubt in my mind that they were going to discuss forms of retaliation. With the new information, it would have to be something powerful. It was going to be a declaration of strength. It was already long overdue.

"Check it out," Hoseok suddenly called. He was laughing as his eyes were staring down the back of the bar.

My mouth dropped as I finally got a glimpse of what he was referring too. Literally, on a brand new bicycle, Yeonjun came pedaling down the sidewalk. It was painted black, with rainbow streamers and a gold horn. Yeonjun looked miserable wearing a matching rainbow helmet.

My soft giggle was masked by the loud laughter of Hoseok and Taehyung. They were barely breathing in between the enormous amounts of joy. Even Yoongi failed to conceal the smile on his face as he shook his head in disapproval.

Yeonjun had no other choice but to accept his cruel fate.

He came into the parking lot. He stood on his bicycle right beside me, staring at his laughing elders. I put my hand on his shoulder and gave him my most honest look of compassion.

"I'll take your bags now, (Y/n)." The bitterness in his voice was adorable.

"Thanks, hun." I handed him the shopping bags. "All of my things should be in a backpack on the floor."

He pushed the bags up his arm so that they rested in the crook of his elbow. I also pulled out and handed him my room keys, making sure to give him the money to pay for my short time there.

"Be careful prospect," Hoseok said. He sounded sincere at the beginning of his statement. But he ultimately couldn't hold back his urge to make jokes. "Don't get a speeding ticket."

Taehyung broke out laughing all over again. His arms came hurling at his crime partner. The actual image of Hoseok's words killed him. I had never seen them laugh so hard. They looked like a pair of schoolboys.

"Yeah, yeah," Yoenjun muttered.

He took off, down the parking lot exit without saying goodbye. Hoseok and Taehyung continued to tease him even as he rode off. They yelled out a combination of mockeries and whistles.

"Come on!" Taehyung cheered. "Honk your horn for us!"

A distant sound of honking down the street melted my heart. It sent the two boys into another giggling frenzy. One that continued as they turned to walk toward the entrance. Only through the doors is that it finally dissipated from my ears.

Yoongi and I were the only ones who remained. Like me, he watched the pair wander off into their own world.

"Idiots," Yoongi muttered to himself.

I was amused by his criticism since he participated in their laughter just moments ago. Yoongi slowly turned my way. His eyes noticed that I had failed to make any sudden movements.

"You coming in, princess?" He questioned. I tried to accept the new nickname but continued to not endorse it.

"I will," I said, reaching for the whereabouts of my phone. I held it up for him to acknowledge. "I'm just going to look for a new place to stay,"

He didn't need any other form convincing than that. He gave me a single nod and retreated to follow the boys inside. I watched his slim figure walk down to the entrance. He must have sensed my eyes because he looked back before opening the doors. All I could do was send him a wave and a barely visible smile.

I needed to be alone to make this phone call.

I pressed the phone to my ear and hunched over the fuel tank of my Harley. The ringing made me anxious as I coped to remain calm after everything.

"Yes, Ms. (Y/n), I've just received your final paperwork. You'll be happy to know, the agency has agreed to all your terms just as long-" I had to cut him off.

"That's going to have to be activated as of right now because I have something," I still kept aware of my surroundings, making sure my voice wasn’t too loud.

I looked out for anyone, even just bystanders on the street.

"What did you find out?" His voice asked instantly.

"They have a possible chance for retaliation, with location and everything," I muttered into the phone, still trying to remain vague for several reasons.

"Listen, (Y/n), we need to be there when they make their choice. Stay on the club- when they move, so do we." He spoke to me sternly. His voice wasn't comforting at all. "Do you understand?"

Bangtan's next moves would decide the future of this club. Their alliance with the PB was beneficial. Did they have the necessary tools to cut that deal on their own? Or were they going to turn to Camilo for help?

I sighed.

"Yes,"

Masterlist ≽

#Bangtan MC #bts x reader #ot7 #bts #bts fanfic #bangtan scenarios #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #kim seokjin #park jimin #Jung HoSeok #min yoongi #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff

28 notes · View notes

lonestarbabe · 5 years ago

Text

Holding Out For A Hero

Chapter 3: Worth It

Carlos and Judd discuss T.K. and both want to keep him safe. (As always, use the AO3 link if you want better formatting).

Carlos

Carlos was exhausted, his eyes heavy and his body sore from the lack of proper attention. After spending the night making sure T.K. didn’t get himself into any more trouble or choke on his own vomit, a nine-a.m. meeting with Judd Ryder felt like the sun shining in his eyes after being in a pitch-black room. Still, it couldn’t be avoided. Carlos had barely had the energy to throw on a pair of dark wash blue jeans and an old police academy t-shirt that sent a wave of longing and regret through Carlos. I’m part of a new world now, where sometimes you protect the bad guys.

As he walked into the beige office, a dull anger throbbed through Carlos’ veins as he thought about the night before. He’d been thrown right into the job, and because he was guarding a celebrity, he’d been prepared for the partying, but he hadn’t been ready for T.K. Strand, but Carlos was starting to see that T.K. wasn’t the type of person anyone could fully be prepared for. He was a mystery, even to his fans. A very wayward but charming mystery.

Judd had underplayed the job specifications when he’d been trying to get Carlos to take the job in the first place. He tricked me into a task that no sane man could manage. “You lied to me, Ryder,” Carlos seethed as he sat in a chair across from Judd, who looked too perky as he sipped a cup of coffee from a mug with Texas’ flag printed on it. The chair shook under Carlos’ weight. Judd’s lucky there’s a desk between us or I might do something I’d regret. Carlos usually had a better control on his temper. For all his faults, he was a patient man, but he’d slept a maximum of two hours, and Judd’s misrepresentation of T.K.’s needs only made it more difficult to keep the superstar safe. And like it or not, I need to keep him safe because I like T.K. He scares me and he frustrates me, but there’s something endearing about him. No wonder the world loves him. One look with those puppy eyes and it’s hard to resist him.

“I didn’t lie to you.” Bullshit. By the way Judd bit his lip, Carlos knew Judd was completely aware of what he had done. He’s not a dumb cowboy.

“You told me T.K. liked to party too much, not that he was on a self-destructive rampage,” Carlos bit out, arms crossed over his chest, biceps bulging as they pressed against his chest.

Judd laughed. “You ain’t seen nothing yet. Wait until you have to follow him around after a show. That’ll show the very worst of T.K. Strand, and it won’t be easy, but I’m sure you can handle it.”

Carlos shook his head. I’m not the man for this job. I’m going to fail him. “I can’t control him.” No one can. “He doesn’t listen, and I can’t work with someone who won’t listen. I can’t be responsible for someone’s life if they don’t give two shits about what happens to them.”

Judd waved him off, seeming so laidback about the whole situation. “T.K. hates authority, but he wants someone who’ll take care of him. That’s what Mrs. Ryder seems to think, anyways, and she’s never wrong. Just try to push him in the right direction so he makes the wrong decision nine out of ten times instead of ten out of ten. I’m not looking for you to turn T.K. into a saint. Bottom line: keep him alive.”

“What he needs isn’t a bodyguard. He needs to go to rehab and talk about his issues. I’ve never had a client so drawn to danger. He nearly picked up some dude he barely knew who could’ve snapped him in half. He was on some drug— he couldn’t even tell me what— and that guy didn’t give a shit that T.K. was in no state of mind to have sex. If something doesn’t change soon, T.K.’s going to overdose or get himself hurt, and he’s going to do it without giving me much say in the matter.” I’d never get over the guilt if something happened to him, and the risk of him getting hurt is too high. He is testing fate too much. At the very least, he’s borderline suicidal, and that’s what I know after just one night with him. He could be even worse than I realize.

“It wouldn’t be the first time. Listen, I don’t like the things he gets up to.” Judd grinned a little. “T.K. is like the kid brother I never wanted, and that’s why I keep him as a client. I’m not in it for the money. He makes me good money, sure, but I’d be the first one to suggest he pack up his things and spend a while away from L.A. Unfortunately, T.K. won’t stop chasing the highs until he realizes he’s not chasing anything at all. He’s running away.” Running away from what?

“How am I supposed to keep him safe?” Carlos didn’t think it was possible to tame the wildness in someone like T.K. Short of tying T.K. down, there wasn’t much Carlos could do to prevent him from getting himself into trouble. T.K. was an adult, and Carlos couldn’t stop him from doing what he wanted to do. Carlos was used to working with difficult people, but he’d never had to protect someone who didn’t seem to care about their own life. Most of my clients cared too much about their own lives. Plenty of celebrities do drugs but I’ve never worked for one before who practically dared the drugs to kill them.

Judd shrugged. “Try being his friend. He could use a friend. One who ain’t looking to get ahead.”

Carlos shook his head. I can’t let myself get any more invested than I already am. I shouldn’t even continue with this job, but I could use the money, and Judd’s made it clear there aren’t many more options for T.K.’s bodyguard. “It wouldn’t be professional of me to cross those lines, sir. It’s better I keep some distance.” If I don’t maintain some distance, I’ll be in trouble. I’ll get too attached.

Judd gave him a hard look. “Forget whatever you think is professional. T.K. won’t be safe if you treat him like any other client. I know I’m asking a lot of you, but I don’t got a lot of choices after you, kid. Some of the most experienced bodyguards in the world have failed T.K. They up and left when he needed someone who would stick around. He’s not used to counting on people, but I need him to count on you.” I need him to count on you. The words echoed through Carlos’ head, hitting him right in the chest.

“And you expect a disgraced ex-cop to somehow do better than all those other guys?” I’ve barely been a bodyguard for a year and here I am dealing with the case from hell. I’m not ready for this. I’m going to mess this all up. There’s no winning here.

“Helping a friend get answers about her missing sister isn’t a disgrace. Your heart was in a good place, and I respect that. It’s what I like about you, really. I’ve been known myself to bend the rules to pursue what’s good.”

“Yeah, well I disobeyed my old boss, and I don’t really want to go against my new one just as my career is starting to pick up. I’ll do my job, but I don’t want to do more than that.” I can’t do more because I care too much. It’s just who I am. I care too much and get myself in trouble.

“I’m sure O’Connor wouldn’t have a problem with you doing what it takes to keep T.K. safe. I’ll talk to him about it if it makes you feel better.”

Carlos sighed. Figure out how to handle T.K., and I’ll know I’m fit to bodyguard for any client on the planet. If I can do this, I’ll know I made the right career choice. “I don’t know that I have the patience for a Lost Boy who doesn’t want to grow up.” But I do like helping people. That’s why I joined the force and that’s why I’m a bodyguard now. I serve and protect. I help those who need the most help, and T.K. needs help. He needs a lot of help that I can’t give him, but I can help him a little, perhaps. I can show him that it’s okay to lean on someone.

Judd didn’t look like he believed Carlos. “Sometimes Lost Boys only need to be shown which way is home. Being a hero isn’t about how many thanks you get from those you save. You may never get a single thank you from T.K. He might get angry at you too. He’s been angry at me plenty, but I’ve learned that showing him a little goodness can do a lotta good. That tough exterior melts a little when he sees that you care.” Caring is his love language. Maybe I can get through to him after all or at least protect him from some of the danger that surrounds him. I just have to learn how to best communicate with him and make him feel safe. I can’t save him, but I can give him a safe space.

I can’t turn my back on T.K. Something about this case feels right. A lot feels wrong, but something feels right. “Fine,” Carlos conceded. “We’ll try it your way. I’ll be there for him as much as I can, but I’m not going to force a friendship if it isn’t there. It’s going to be up to T.K. whether he wants me as a friend, but I don’t think there’s much I can do that will keep him out of trouble.”

“I know that. I only expect you to be a good human, not a superhero.”

“Yeah, well, superheroes have it pretty easy as far as I’m concerned.” I have to fight for T.K. while also fighting against his self-destruction. For bodyguards, the villains aren’t always easy to spot. Sometimes, the worst villains are embedded in the innocents, but T.K. is worth the fight.

#my fics #911 lone star #tarlos #911 lone star fic #911 lone star au #Elise Writes #my writing #tk strand #carlos reyes #holding out for a hero #Season 1

38 notes · View notes

chickensarentcheap · 5 years ago

Text

Sanctuary -Chapter 45

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION, PTSD, CONTEMPLATED SUICIDE (NOT GRAPHIC, JUST A BRIEF MENTION)

Tagging: @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @thunderintheshadows, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @valkyrie-of-the-light

He gets back to the hotel an hour later; anxious to see her, hold her, kiss her. The weight of what Michael McMann had so brazenly told him hadn't fully hit until he was on his way back. He'd dropped the van off at Billy Flynn's bar and had only been behind the wheel of the rented SUV for mere minutes before it hit out of nowhere. The brutal truth hitting him square in the gut, the play by play of McMann's words tightening his chest and filling him with crippling terror and anxiety. The realization of how close he'd actually come to losing the one thing...the one person...that had given him a second chance at life rocking him to his very core. Had they'd been only minutes slower coming out of that bunker, there would have been no way of getting her out of there in time. They would have used her as leverage; to convince him to give himself up in order to save her. And there would have been no hesitation; he would have done it in a heartbeat. But that wouldn't have been enough. Not by a long shot.

They would have made her suffer. Tremendously. They would have inflicted horrific pain and torture on her, even worse than what they'd done to Erin Ferguson, and he would have been forced to watch and listen as they did it. And it was that reality that had seen him having to pull over onto the side of the road; forearms resting against the steering wheel, chin tucked into his chest and his eyes closed. Attempting to breathe through the enormous sobs that shook his entire body; unabashed and vicious tears streaming down his face. Consumed by guilt. The painful realization that it was his choices that had almost led to disaster. That if they had gotten a hold of her, if they had brutalized and violated her, it would have all been his fault. His children would have lost their mother and he would have the only one to blame. His life didn't matter. If was to die on the job and she was left behind, she'd be more than capable of raising them on her own. It wouldn't be easy, but she'd be able to do it. They need their mother a lot more than their father. They were used to his frequent absences, after all. But they'd never been away from Esme. Until he'd fucked it all up and called her needing her help.

For several minutes he'd stayed there on the side of the road. Until the tears had finally subsided and the anxiety had begun to dissipate; until his heart no longer threatened to burst out of his chest and his lungs became willing to draw normal breath.

Tanis is sitting in the hallway, leaning back against the door to the room when he steps off the elevator. Knees bent, an iPad resting on her thighs. And he thinks about what McMann had said. About there being more 'rats in the ship' and that someone was getting too close for comfort and they wouldn't be trusted. Although Tanis had been the first suspect that had crossed Yaz' mind, nothing stood out to Tyler that suggested the woman was a threat. She was friendly, mild mannered, even tempered. Had an impeccable service record with the Corps. Normally his instincts are able to pick on even the slightest hint of suspicion, but when he looked at her...noticing the way she carries herself, how well read and passive she is...he felt nothing. Not even the slightest inkling of trouble.

“You don't have to sit out here all the time, you know,” Tyler says as he approaches, fishing his key card out of the back pocket of his jeans. “You can actually go in the room.”

“I know,” she looks up at him with a wide, bright smile. “But she'd fallen asleep and I felt weird just sitting there watching her, so...” she shrugs. “...here I am. How'd it go?”

“It went,” his reply is simple, straight to the point.

“Have you started beating him into submission yet or...”

“Keep your fucking voice down,” he snarls, and she blinks at the vicious tone in his voice.

“I'm sorry. I was just...”

“She doesn't know. About what's going on. She thinks the Marines are in control now. That you're holding him somewhere until the IRA makes up their mind. She doesn't need to know anything else.”

“You don't think she'll figure it out? That she won't wonder where you're disappearing too all the time? I mean, you are planning on following through with it, right? You're not thinking of backing out are you?”

“He needs to pay. And he's going to. But you need to keep your goddamn voice down and not breathe a word of this to her. She doesn't need to know. She's got enough on her plate already. She doesn't need to know about this. I've got things under control. I know what I'm doing.”

Tanis cocks her head to the side as she regards him, “Do you? Because this is a hell of thing you're about to do. I don't know how anyone can be in total control in this kind of situation. Haven't you already lost control if you're willing to do something like this in the first place?”

“Listen, you don't even know me. All you know about me is the a bunch of fucking stories that you've heard.”

“I know that you saved the kid even though you could have given him up for five million dollars. I know you put your ass on the line to get him out of Dhaka even when you knew nothing was going to come of it. That doesn't sound like a guy that gets him off on torturing someone. That sounds like someone with a conscience. A heart.”

“He was a kid. A fucking kid. He was innocent. I wasn't going to leave him in the street or hand him over. For any amount of money. This shit with McMann? This is different. He's a sick fuck. He's sick and twisted and he took advantage of his own kids and he's letting people do fucked up things to them. And he threatened my family. That's a line you don't cross.”

She frowns. “I notice you didn't mention that he did all of this because he wants to kill you.”

“I don't give a shit about me. I care about those kids. I care about my own. I care about my wife. Those are the only people who matter to me. So you need to keep your goddamn mouth shut. She doesn't need to know about this. Especially now. Not with the baby. I just need her to stay relaxed and calm and have everything go nice and smooth for the next seven to eight months or however long we still have go.”

“She's not stupid you know,” Tanis informs him, as she gets to her feet. “She's going to know that something is up. When you're wandering off in the early hours of the morning or during the day. Making up lame, bullshit excuses that she's going to see right through. You really don't think you can hide this from her, do you?”

“I think you need to mind your business and stay out of things that go on between me and my wife. You're just here to protect her. That's it. You're not here to be her friend. You're just here to make sure she's safe. So just keep your mouth shut and do your goddamn job.”

“This is protecting her,” Tanis argues. “Worrying about her. It's not just physical protection that's important, you know. What's going to happen when the truth does get out? When she realizes what you've been keeping from her? When she realizes you've been lying to her? When she realizes just what you're capable of? That won't be a good ending. Not for her, and certainly not for you.”

“That's something I'll worry about when it happens. I'm doing this for her. For my kids. And she'll understand that.”

Will she though? Will she really see it that way? Or is that wishful thinking on his part? It was more likely that it would terrify her; the person that he's become. The one he'd warned her about five and a half years ago when he'd told her in that dirty hotel room in Dhaka that maybe it was best they left things the way they were. If they just walked away when the five days were over and never thought of each other again.

“I think it's a reach to expect her to understand why you felt the need to drug, abduct, and torture a man. Do you realize how insane that sounds? How insane you sound? That you're okay with this? Doesn't this make you just as bad as some of the monsters you've had to go up against? How does this make you any different than them?”

“I'm nothing like them. I'll never be like them. I'm doing this for a reason.”

“They had reasons too,” she points out. “Reasons that made sense to them at the time. In the same way this is making sense to you right now. But I am telling you, she's going to know something is going on. She's been with you for almost six years. She knows you better than you know yourself, I bet. So you're a goddamn fool if you think you're going to get away with this.”

“I think you need to leave,” he nods towards the elevator. “I think you need to shut your mouth and get the hell out of here.”

“There's a very line between fighting the monsters and becoming one ourselves,” she says. “Maybe that's something you need to think long and hard about.”

“Maybe you need to just mind your own business and fuck off,” he suggests.

“You're going to regret this.” she warns him, as she heads down the hall. “This is going to come back and bite you in the ass. And you're not going to like how it ends.”

****

She is just emerging from the bathroom when he steps inside, clad in one of the hotel's terrycloth bathrobe, vigorously drying her hair with a towel. And the bright, ear to ear smile that she flashes him is almost enough to erase all the mental anguish and torment that's been plaguing his already troubled, weary mind. But he pulls it together. For her. Because she needs him to be the strong, stoic, seemingly unbreakable one. The one person that -by her own admission- has always made her feel safe and secure. Protected. And he can't let her down. He doesn't want to disappoint her.

He doesn't want to fail her.

“Hey,” she cheerfully greets, and perches herself on her tip toes to wrap her arms around his neck. Even then it's a stretch, and he still has to either bend or lean into her. “I was wondering what took you so long.”

“There was a couple of loose ends to tie up. Nothing important,” he places his hands on her hips and kisses her; the soft, long, unhurried press of closed mouth upon closed mouth. Loving the way she presses herself against him, how she steps up onto the top of his feet so he doesn't have to lean down as far. And one hand moves to the small of her back and the other to the space between her shoulders, pulling her tight against him.

He closes eyes as he feels the scrape of her nails against his scalp; where his hair is clipped tight to his head. It's a comforting act. One she'd stumbled upon -and he found soothing and effective- when he'd been in the hospital. On the nights when the nightmares, the pain, and the withdrawal from Oxy were especially bad, she'd climb into the bed alongside of him and just hold him with all the strength she possessed inside that tiny body. And she gives him this moment now; sensing that he needs it. That he needs that chance to be the one that needs to be soothed and comforted instead of the one that always provides those things. Maybe she even feels it. The way he holds her with a sense of urgency. A sense of desperation.

She pulls away; just enough so she tilt her head back and look up at him. “Are you okay?” she asks, a frown tugging at her lips and creasing her brow. “You seem a little...off.”

He attempts a reassuring smile. “I'm fine.”

She cocks her head to the side and her eyes narrow skeptically.

“It was just a little harder than I thought it would,” he admits, and presses a kiss to the bridge of her nose. “He said some things. That I wasn't ready to here. It fucked with my head a bit.”

“What kind of things? About you?”

He shakes his head.

“About his kids? Did he tell you where they are?”

“I couldn't get it out of him. It wasn't about his kids.”

“About our kids? Please tell me he didn't threaten them. Please tell me that he's not going to send people after them. That they're going to be okay with Ovi. That...”

He presses his lips to her, effectively silencing her. “It wasn't about our kids.”

“About me?”

He nods. And once again he can feel that anxiety setting in; the emotion that chokes him, the tears that threaten, the blinding rage that serves as proof that he has to follow through with his plan. That no matter the short term or long term consequences, McMann has to pay for what he's done. For what he could have done.

“Tyler...” she reaches up to lay her hands on the side of his face; liking the way his beard feels against her palms. Thumbs drifting along his bottom lip, then down onto his chin and across jaw. “...what did he say?”

“I can't tell you,” his voice is a near a whisper. How could he ever possibly tell her what he'd heard? It was bad enough that he'd have those words stuck in his head for the rest of his life, never mind the graphic and vile images they'd painted. He couldn't possibly burden her with that.

“That bad?”

“That bad,” he confirms.

“It had to do with that Erin girl, didn't it.”

She's not stupid. Far from it. She knows the things that trigger him the easiest; senseless violence and abuse of any kind towards women and children. But it's a fine line between triggering sorrow and fear and intense rage. He always walks in between the two; never fully falling on one side or the other, but dangerously close to succumbing to the latter. The anger is always there. A byproduct of his PTSD. Lingering just under the surface, always on a slow boil. And it won't take much to set it off.

He nods.

“What did you see? When you found her? What...?”

“I can't tell you. You don't need to hear that. It's bad enough that it's stuck in my head. You don't need it stuck in yours.”

“It was horrible, wasn't it.”

Another nod.

“And he told he that he'd do the same thing to me. If not worse. And you'd have to watch it.”

“I don't want to talk about this. You don't need to know these things. I don't want you knowing these things.”

“You know he only said that to fuck with your head right? To get you to lash out at him. Did you? Lash out?”

“In a way, yeah.” He wants to tell her. The burden of his decision weighs heavily, and he knows if he gets it out sooner, rather than later, the damage won't be as catastrophic. The longer he holds it in, the worse things will be. For himself. For them.

“Don't let him get to you, Tyler. It's what he wants. He wants you to react. And react badly. Don't do that. Don't let him get you to that point. Because I've seen you at that point and it's not good. For anyone. But especially for you.”

“I can't get it out of my head. The shit that he said. It's fucking stuck in there. And it just keeps playing over and over again and it won't fucking stop. I need it to stop. Because when I think about what could have happened, how bad things could have gotten the other day...”

“Stop,” she gently orders, thumbs brushing along his jaw once more before her hands slide down to his shoulders and onto his chest. “Don't do this to yourself. You're your own worst enemy. You have to just take it from the source. You know he's messed up. You know he's liable to say anything to get you riled up. Don't let him start living up in your head for free. You have enough going on up there.”

“He wasn't just saying these things. He would have done them. In a heartbeat. And he would have made me watch and...”

“Stop,” her tone is firmer now, harsher, but her hands are soft as they travel over his chest and over to his ribs. “You're doing it. You're letting him in. Don't do that to yourself. It doesn't matter what would have happened. It didn't happen. That's what's important. You're here and I'm here and fuck what he says. Why torture yourself like this? Why think about what could have happened to me when I'm right here in front of you?”

“Because.”

“Because? That is what Millie says when we ask her why she does stupid shit. And she's five. You have to give me more than 'because'.”

“Because I don't want to lose you. Especially like that.”

“Tyler...stop...” she admonishes. “I'm right here. Nothing is going to happen me. I'm safer here...with you...than anywhere else. You need to stop this. You need to get out of your head. Nothing good comes from you spending too much time up there. I love you, but you have to stop this. This obsessing over things. Because it's eating up inside and I hate seeing what it's doing to you. Have you been taking your meds?”

“Don't start with that.”

“Because you get like this when you don't take them for a few days. You get agitated and moody and you're constantly on edge. You know you're supposed to take them every day. Not just when you feel like it. Just because you have one or two good days doesn't mean you stop taking them.”

He scowls. “I'm not a fucking child, Esme.”

“I never said you were. I worry about you. Maybe I want you to be okay. Mentally. Have you ever thought of that? That maybe I don't want you to be like this? Not for me, but for yourself? I don't want your brain constantly torturing you and putting you through needless bullshit. The meds help and you know they do. So quit fucking around and just take them. Because you know you're in a better place mentally when you do. And when you're in a better place mentally, everything is better. We're better. And that's what we're trying to work on, right? Being better for each other?”

“Yeah, but...”

“There's no 'but' in this. I want you to take care of yourself. Up here,” she taps the end of her index finger against his forehead. “Because that's just as important as everything else. And you don't just need to it for me or the kids. You need to do it for yourself. Can't you see I'm trying to help you, Tyler? You're not in this alone. This fight you have with your own mind? You don't have to do this by yourself. It's been five and a half years. You'd think by now you'd realize that I'm fully capable of putting up with your bullshit.”

He grins. “In all fairness, it's not that much bullshit.”

“Oh please. You have enough bullshit for half the planet,” she teases, and then runs her hands up and down his rib cage. “Stop being so stubborn and let me take care of you.”

“You took care of me enough. When I was the hospital. When I first got home. When...”

“It doesn't stop. Honestly, stop being so goddamn pig headed and just let me love you and take care of you. Why do you have such a hard time doing that? Letting me all the way in? I'm your wife, Tyler. I'm the mother of your children. Of all the people you should be comfortable with...”

“I am comfortable with you,” he assures her. “That's not what this is about. This isn't about you. This is about me. And my fucked up head.”

“And I'm here...right in front of you...telling you that you don't have to deal with that alone. I took all this on when I married you. Willingly. It's not like you held a gun to my head.”

“According to your mother, that's exactly what I did.”

“This is a woman with more issues than the both of us put together, so take what she says with a grain of salt.”

“You know she thinks I have women all over the place? Stashed all over the globe in the different places I go to? She told she knew I was cheating on you. That day I went over to her place.”

“When would you have the time and the energy to cheat?”

“Exactly what I said. Not that I want to cheat,” he quickly adds. “You know I would never do something like that.”

“Because you know I'd cut your dick off.”

“Well yeah, but because I love you and I don't want anyone else but you. I've got my hands full with you, why the fuck would I want to take on more?”

She frowns. “You started it out so good and then it went so bad.”

“You know I'm joking,” his hands move from her hips to her back; travelling up to her shoulders, then cradling her face in his hands.

She can feel the callouses on his palms against her skin. It's so familiar. Comforting, even. And she no longer can remember what any other man's hands had felt like. Whether it be during a tender moment such as this, when they're languidly exploring her body, or when he's rougher and more aggressive.

“I don't want anyone else,” he says. “I haven't wanted anyone else in a long time. Since Dhaka.”

“I thought I was just a booty call,” she chides. “A five day booty call, but still...”

“I didn't know what you were,” he admits. “But I knew you were more than that.”

She smiles.

“And I'll never want anyone else. This is it for me. You're it for me. Even though I told your mother that I had another wife and six kids back in Australia.”

“What?” she laughs. “Why would....?”

“She's hell bent on thinking I've got women all over the place.”

“She's also mad we had premarital sex and I got pregnant before we were married.”

He smirks. “I guess maybe we shouldn't let her know just how wild and crazy the premarital sex was.”

“That's probably not a good idea. Although it could push her even closer towards her much needed mental breakdown. Maybe then she'd chill the fuck out.”

“She's just worried about you,” he reasons. “Do you blame her? If she wasn't worried about you before, she sure as fuck is that she knows exactly what I do for a living.”

“I'm safer with you than anyone else. I've never doubted that. I know how capable you are of kicking ass. I don't worry about someone trying bullshit with me. I'd know you'd wreck them.”

“It would go beyond just wrecking someone,” he says, and thinks about McMann back at the storage facility, drugged up and chained to a metal chair, restrained with zip ties. It should sicken Tyler; that he'd not resorted to the means he had, but that what his future plans entail. It should trouble him that it's come down to this...that he's come to this.

But he feels nothing. Not even the slightest bit of disgust or remorse.

“Are you sure you're okay?” she asks, concern darkening her once again. “Because you don't seem like you're okay.”

“I'm not,” he admits. “But I will be.”

****

He can't sleep. The pain in his shoulder and behind the right knee intense. A throbbing, incessant ache that seems as it is burrowing straight through the bone. It had been a relaxing night; dinner out followed by a walk along the river, slow and intense love making that had been more powerful than anything they'd experienced lately. As if that bond they share was finally on the road to repairing itself; the weathered and tattered edges being stripped away, in hopes of things beyond made stronger than even before. That bond was something that they'd always shared; strong, unbreakable, reliable even. The result of two broken people coming together to not only heal one another, but save each other. But over the last two years it had begun to unravel, no matter how hard they tried to keep it from happening. There was always something they couldn't quite get past; an invisible, yet powerful force that just wouldn't let them rebuild things.

But he'd felt it. When he'd been buried deep inside of her; feeling the way she clawed at his back and his shoulders, hearing it each time his name escaped her lips, see it whenever he would pull back to look at her and their eyes would lock, gazes never wavering. It was different this time. It was needy and it was desperate but it was different. In a way he couldn't quite explain yet he knew was a good sign.

He sits out on the balcony; the cool breeze that lingers on the night air is refreshing and effectively clears away the perspiration that had gathered on his forehead and the nape of his neck. It's the detoxing; he'd gone cold turkey when it came to the meds for his PTSD and his pain. He hated how they made him feel; reflexes slow, brain foggy, impaired judgment in situations he needed to have a clear head in. But he'd never expected this kind of reaction; the chills, the tremors, the all over body sweats and the nausea. He'd dealt with it before; when being weaned off the Oxy after years of relying on it. And he'd hoped he'd never have to deal with again.

He texts Yaz; the other man taking the night shift at the storage facility. McMann had woken briefly, began panicking with the hood over his head and immediately began thrashing about in the chair in a desperate attempt to free himself. Yaz had given him he remainder of the drugs, which had effectively knocked him out cold. Afterwards, he deletes all the messages in the thread. He's never felt the need to have a lock on his phone, and Esme is free to go in and out of it as she pleases, in the same way he's able to do it with hers. Trust has never been their issues. They struggled with many things, but that has never been one of them. But he withholds downloading the software that would enable him to watch the feed of the storage site. That's the next last he needs her stumbling upon.

He messages Ovi next. They're hasn't been any cause for concern or worry, but they have moved into Oklahoma, where Chloe has family; given refuge in an empty house while the family is away in Florida. The kids are struggling; they miss their own house, their own beds, their backyard, even the chickens and the goats. Most of all they miss their mom and dad, and are starting to worry that they're never going to come home. And Ovi shares a video of the kids; singing some camp fire song that Chloe had taught them, and tearfully telling their mommy and daddy how much they love them and can't wait until they're all together again. He has a good cry over that; missing his kids with a level of intensity he's never experienced before. And then it turns into rage once again. Adding even more fuel to the fire that burns inside of him. The one that is dangerously close to being completely out of control. And he remembers how Gaspar had said that tears were for the weak. That only fragile, soft men show that kind of emotion.

He closes his eyes and leans his head against the brick wall behind him, a grimace on his face as he reaches across his body with his left harm and massages at his aching shoulder. It's gone way beyond the lingering discomfort of a recently relocated separated shoulder. There will be specialist appointments, CAT scans, probably another surgery.

I'm going to old for this shit, he internally laments, wincing as he attempts to roll his shoulder, hearing the pops and the cracks that accompany the movement. Cracking an eye open when he hears the scrapping of the patio door on the track; watching his wife steps out onto the balcony, clad in one of his hoodies, a bottle of water in her hands.

“You should be asleep,” he scolds.

“So should you,” she counters, as she journeys over in her bare feet, holding out the bottle of water, then reaching into the pocket on the hoodie and pulling out a bottle of prescription meds.

He frowns. “I don't need those.”

“Bullshit. You do need them. You can take these ones, Tyler. These aren't Oxy and you know it.”

“So I go and get addicted to something else?”

“They're Tylenol three. With codeine. These are nowhere near as addictive as Oxy. You can't go on like this. In constant pain. You deserve some relief.”

“Then fuck me again. That always makes me feel better.”

She sighs. “That's temporary.”

“So are those. At least fucking is fun.”

“It's three in the morning. I'm not in the mood for your bitchiness. Here...” she drops the bottle of water in his lap, then uncaps the bottle of meds and dumps two into her palm. “...I'm trying to help you here.”

“What the hell do you you think two is going to do? That won't even take the edge of.”

“It'll help. Don't try my patience, please. Just humour me. Take them. Or I'll force them down your throat.”

He snorts. “I'd like to see you try.”

She glares at him.

“Okay, maybe I wouldn't. I know you're not above kicking me in the balls and then shoving them down me throat while I scream.”

“You're worse than the kids. Just take the damn meds. Please.”

He finally relents, angrily scooping the pills out of her palm and dropping them into his mouth, swallowing them with a half of the bottle of the water. “Do you want me to open my mouth and stick my tongue out to prove I actually took them?”

“Don't be a fuck head,” she says, and then tousles his hair. “You're going back on those others one tomorrow. For your PTSD.”

“Esme, you're not my mother.”

“No. I'm not. But I am a concerned wife and I worry about you. You're going back on them. You're not the same person when you're not on them.”

“And I'm the same person when I am on them?”

“You're calmer for one. You're not so combative.”

“I'm a fucking zombie. Is that what you want? That I'm so doped up I can't function properly?”

“I'd rather you doped up than suicidal,” she says. “I've been there, remember? When you've been in that really dark place. And I don't want you going back there. Ever. Because I worry the next time you get there, I won't get you back out. So you're going back on those meds. Because I kind of like having you around. And so do our kids.”

He sighs.

“You're going to take them because you need them. And I know that when you're thinking straight, you don't want to go back to that dark place either. And I know you don't want to leave your kids without their father.”

He nods, eyes downcast. “You're right.”

She stands between his thighs, holding his face in her hands as she drops a kiss on the top of his head. “You're going to be okay, Tyler. I promise.”

Normally it's him saying those things. Assuring her that things are going to be alright. That no matter how dark and desolate things seem, they'll get through it. Together. Like they always have. And he places his hands on her hips and pulls her towards him, resting his forehead against her warm, comforting body.

“It's going to be okay,” her voice is soft, reassuring, as she scrapes her nails against his scalp. “You're going to be okay. You know how you always say 'I got you' to me when I'm feeling like shit?”

He nods.

“Well I got you, Tyler. I got you.”

The tears come now. Hot and bitter. And he knows he should be ashamed of them; for being so weak and vulnerable. But for once in his life he has that one person he can let his guard down with. Who won't call him 'soft' or 'fragile'; who won't judge him for being human.

“When is it going to be enough?” she asks, combing her fingers through his hair. “When are you going to stop giving everything you have to other people? You can't do this forever. You're tiring yourself out. Mentally and physically. You're so busy fighting other peoples' battles that you're not fighting your own. When do you finally walk away? When you can't walk away anymore? When you're dead? When I'm dead?”

“Don't say that.” his voice is muffled against his body. “Don't ever say that.”

“You can't keep doing this. Breaking yourself down for other people. You just can't. It's going to kill you, Tyler. Maybe not physically. But it will kill you mentally. It's already starting. It's already starting and all I can do is sit and watch it happen. Watch it consume you. When am I enough?”

“You are. You are enough. You've always been enough.”

“You need to walk away. Right now. We need to get the hell out of here and just go home. There's no shame in that, you know. In saying enough is enough and worrying about yourself for once.”

“Those kids, though. I haven't found those kids.”

“And what if you never do? How long do we stay here? Another week? Another two weeks? Another month? Six months? We need to go home. To our own kids. To our own life. You can't save them all.”

“Just a few more days. That's all I need. Just a few more days.”

“And then this ends. Whether you find those kids or not. We get out of here and we go home and we go on with our lives. Killing yourself isn't going to save them. And you know that.”

He nods in agreement.

She pushes her hands through his hair, gently tugging on the longer strands and pulling his head back, so he's looking up at her. “Seven days. That's all I'm giving you. And then I go home. With or without you. Understand me? I'm done, Tyler. With this life. I'm done. I can't do this anymore. And now you have to decide what you want. It's this life or it's me and the kids. We can't coexist with the job anymore. And we shouldn't have to.”

“You,” he immediately responds. “I want you. And my kids.”

She manages a small smile, then kisses him softly. “A week” she stresses. “That's it. I can't give you more than that. I've already given more than I give. And I'm sorry. If that hurts you. But I don't have anything left to give you. This version of you, at least.”

“Okay,” he says, and then buries his face in her stomach once more.

Seven days. A week. Or life as he knows it is over. With no chance of getting it back.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #sanctuary #chris hemsworth character

8 notes · View notes

thelordstears · 4 years ago

Text

If writing were breath, I imagine my lungs would implode

“ If you surround yourself in love you're bound to go great places, and though my life has been one of rich soils and silver platters I have found that a life of rich hatred is no life at all. Real royalty is found in the heart not the crown nor jewels.” - Katerine Von Roy

“ We're sparkling stars in a vast eternity of pitch black shadow shining even though the world wants our lights to go dim and our candles to be snuffed by dark waters.” - Katerine Von Roy

"The ashes of ones soul is often created in the fire of another's hatred, the fire of another more often than not will burn another to ash if not contained. I have found you have to control the fire raging inside of you, or everyone around you will suffer the consequences of you striking a match to feel the flame.” - Asbury Hobkins

“ I don't understand why we have to pick up our guns and fight, but our lives are on the line, and when peace isn't an option, bask in chaos to make peace the only damn option available.” - Asbury Hobkins

"If dreams are the very foundation on which we stand then tell me why it is nightmares rule over this land. Light can not prevail without darkness, shadows can't exist without the sun, dreams can't soar without nightmare so tell me why you ignore the foundation of dreams?” - Algonul

“ I will destroy faith and hope with my existence alone.” - Algonul

“ I have dipped my fingers in a river of blood, and just because the man I drowned hurt me so, it gave me no reason to bury him with my pain. But I didn't bury my pain, it only rose from it's coffin and burst from my chest.” - Valarie Forbes

“ If you fear for your life, it's often you'll take another to regain your sense of safety.” - Valarie Forbes

“ I am a beast shackled by nuthin' more than my fucking rage. It beats inside my chest day after day, month after month, year after year, it is an ugly beast, but when did I ever say I was anything but a god damn monstrosity?” - Bernard

“ You wanna be a hero? Kill yourself and spare yourself of the pain I'll inflict ya. The only thing you can change, is how you fucking die." - Bernard

“ I'm in no ways a good man nor am I rich in heart all the money in the world couldn't save me from the sins at my back.” - Sam Dellwotfire

“ "Of all the bullet wounds I've inflicted the ones I shot into my heart are the most painful. I have learned peace is simply an intermission, it's between chaos and sorrow, and I imagine this pocket of peace will never last.” - Novella Delemonte

“ "Bravery ain't not bein' scared, bravery is bein' frightened down ta your very core, feelin' that fear in your bones, and doin' the right damn thing despite the cold shiver of fear runnin' up your spine. I have found that despite the fear in my old heart, I'm runnin' inta the battlefield regardless.” - Walter Hemmington

“ Life is a battlefield, it's a good thing I'm a damn soldier.” - Walter Hemmington

"The weight of a thousand moons weight down on my heart, but I've found a single sun, can make that weight as light as a feather. Emma is my only guiding light, the singular star in the night sky, the sun on a cloudy day, and somehow I've found warmth when all I ever was, was cold.” - Jen Dallinvritz

“ The world tries to keep me down, but I just fly higher, the sun may be in view, but a flame can't burn fire.” - Jen Dallinvritz

“ The pain I feel is nothing compared to the peace I've found.” - Jen Dallinvritz

“ I've been basked in horrors, covered in shadows and told ta be a monster because it's what orcs do. But just because it's what we were made ta be, don't mean we can't re-write our definition.” - Ashgarn

“ You can call me a monster for my heritage, but if you look a lil deeper you'll find that I'm not like other orcs. I'm just an orc in a human's world.” - Ashgarn

“ I have claws meant only for beasts, but you need not be covered in fur and own claws to be a beast. Most of the beasts I've slain are mortals draped in the fur of a wolf. I will gladly graze on the grass of their hunting grounds to be the wolf in sheep's clothing that puts them down once and for all.” - Vivian Swain

“ I shalt redeem us in our final hour, bathe in the darkness only to drown the monsters around me. I'm the last thing you'll see, in the blink of an eye your life will flash before your eyes, and it's final moments will flash before mine as you've seen so many times with the innocent blood you've spilt.” - Vivian Swain

“ To get acceptance I've found you have to go through the struggle of accepting who you are. There'll be nights you can't find any shred of light, nights you scream into your pillow and bat your fists against the wall in frustration. But it's worth it in the end, it is. If you can call yourself beautifully you, than you've succeeded in life.” - Martha Vendowister

“ If you're different, welcome to the club, here we accept everyone no matter what gender they are, no matter who they love or the battle they fight. You can fight depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, and if you've won that battle, you're strong as fuck, don't let anyone tell you ya aren't. Because you wake up tired just to fight the same demons that left you tired the night before, and that, is true bravery.” - Martha Vendowister

“ I find that life is worth it despite the scars in my heart, just because my heart aches doesn't mean it's not whole. Just because my mind is scarred, doesn't mean it can't bring me tranquility.” - Octavia Blackroad

"I'm curling back from the recoil of damage done and shots fired into the anomaly of my own heart. It's as vast as the oceans, and I drown in it's depths more often that not. I'm a mystery to even myself, I can't figure out the emotions in my own heart, and I fear I'll be gone and forgotten before the sun rises on the horizon.” - Stefania Saines

“ "You could live your whole life in a cage without once realizing it, or you could find the door was open all along if you just believed in yourself. The only cage you're in is one of doubt, if you doubt everything you can be, there's no key to the cell you've locked yourself in except for belief.” - Avirine Winning

“ You can't make a perception of me reality when it's just a deluded fantasy of your mind.” - Avirine Winning

“ How is it that I've dipped my fingers in the ashes of my family tree and all I find is old rotted bark and a hollow trunk? I find the flame of corruption and sin tore the dying tree asunder, rotted the families history in the most sinful of deeds.” - Merida Calico

“ I've been in the trenches my whole life, but never was I the one hiding, always was I the one pulling the damn trigger.” - Merida Calico

“ I've slaughtered innocent men and women, my lips taste of death and a desire to be loved.” - Merida Calico

“ I've been fightin' all my life, ain't no peace ever found in world war me, but I've found as long as I hold my head high, and soldier on, I'll breakout of the heart of darkness and find the light I seek.” - Alec Crabill

“ I've been through every fight imaginable, fought drug lord's in Bangladesh, rescued women and children from odds you don't wanna face unless you got a damn death wish. But here I am, beckoned by death yet bathed in life.” - Alec Crabill

“ I've been faced with many battles, the loss of my mother, ones fought with words and gunshot lullabies and serenades of violence and bloodshed. But here I am, singing a melody of love despite the hatred drowning out everything else.” - Jade Falls

“ I look into his eyes, I see pain, I see love and I see the world. He's everything I've ever wished to have, and here he is, loving me deeper than the ocean.” - Jade Falls

“ I once believed my parents house was a cell with no key, and yet my sister Emily, and her wonderful wife Lacey didn't need no key. They blasted a hole through the walls and broke me the fuck out.” - Alice Everest

“ The world ain't gone cold, we've just forgotten how to start a damn flame and ignite a spark. So live damn it, live." - Alice Everest

“ "I have been so consumed by shadow I imagine I've grown an appetite for it. I have found in the coldest of nights, I dance upon star dust and twirl through the ashes of planets I once called home.” - Night Sparrows

“ All I have are bad thoughts soaked in bad intentions. I often wonder how it is I ever survived when my mind wishes me to die. I fight, I scratch, I tear. And yet still I find only shadows.” - Night Sparrows

“ I dance in the blood of myself and bleed dry the girl I was.” - Violincia Bloodwort

"Here I am, choking on the numbness I feel, singing gunshot lullabies and serenades of nothingness. I in of myself, am a vacancy of everything my mother thought I'd be.” - Varkos Shevelwix

“ I'm not quite righteous, not quite cruel I'm the grey area in-between. Somedays I'm colder than ice, others I wish naught to harm even a fly. I'm a duality of good and evil and I ponder on which shall win the war I wage with myself." - Varkos Shevelwix

“ Here I stand, in the ruins of Atlantis, swimming through the tide of lost life and spilt blood.” - Lawrence Gallagher

“ That man ain't human, far as I'm concerned if you don't got no humanity you're a beast, and here, we put down beasts who god damn bite.” - Lawrence Gallagher

"Ya know, I've learned the world don't much got sympathy for the living, and the living don't much got sympathy for the dead. We disrespect those that have passed, and destroy their legacy with rifles loaded with cruel remarks.” - Benedict Collins

“ It takes a lot 'a bravery ta accept yourself, let alone trust another ta accept you.” - Benedict Collins

"I ain't no saint, I've fought everything I ain't and I imagine somewhere along this broken path I found who I am. I've tasted one too many lips against mine, let too many cigarettes burn my lungs ta ash, but who said ya oughta be a saint to make it in the world huh?” - Becky Winters

“ Life is a constant struggle, but you don't succumb to it's damn riptide.” - Becky Winters

"All my life I imagine I've been told to be who I'm not, I find it impossible to find yourself if all your life all you've ever been was a spectacle of someone else.” - Sarkelus Johnnson

“ Karma is bound to catch up with me eventually, a man such as myself can't outrun her, only delay the inevitable.” - Sarkelus Johnnson

“ Oh how I wish I was strong. I could lift a blade, but I could not bring it down.” - Ashel

“ I don't believe in blood spilt for a good purpose. If it was so holy then it wouldn't be a damning offense.” - Ashel

“ We all lose ourselves at some point, but if you lose who you were, journey to find who you oughta be.” - Dory Villsworth

“ Life ain't darkness and darkness ain't life. It's just part of it. So get your shit together and move the fuck on with life. Don't let your past be an anchor, and don't be a ship at the bottom of the ocean.” - Dory Villsworth

"Most would rather drown in a blood soaked lie than choke on the truth.” - Simon Rossburg

“ I'm the monster this world needs, Mike Wazowski in a world full 'a Randalls.” - Simon Rossburg

“ Ya oughta sin ta win sometimes, that's just the cold bitter truth, and if ya can't swallow it, you're gonna damn well choke on it and die in the process 'a accepting it.” - Simon Rossburg

“ I ain't a part of my scars, they're a part of me. Sure, they hurt like Hell, but let 'em hurt, what's important is I let 'em fuckin' heal." - Carl Schillerstrom

“ This world would like to kick us down on the constant, but screw that, I'm not going down without a damn fight. I've been fighting all my life, what's another punch thrown huh? What's another damn bruise? I got plenty, yours won't hurt as bad as other's.” - Malilah Vivenwoker

"I'll weave this pain of mine into gold and these scars into strength.” - Kerrissa Vivenwoker

“ I've learned the world don't care about you, unless you care about yourself. Because you'll get nowhere if you feel sorry for yourself, you have to rise up and be your own armor sometimes. Sure, it may be rusted, but who said rusted armor can't stop a sword?” - Kerrissa Vivenwoker

"Life has made me a gentle soul, though it was rough with me, I remain the softest spoken love in the air.” - Madison Rose

“ Love is a wonderful thing, it can make someone who's fallen to pieces whole. Someone who's fallen climb, and someone who feels nothings worth worth a million gold coins.” - Madison Rose

"I carry on despite the daggers in my back, you may bleed, but don't let your scars steal every drop of blood you have.” - Sabrina

“ Life will prosper as long as you let yourself grow. You're a flower, not a weed. Remember that. You aren't poisoning your own petals, you're watching them fall, and not picking them back up. So bloom, and remember, even the smallest seed, can become the most beautiful flower." - Sabrina

“ Oh mother dear I know you yearn to see me use this power of mine for good, oh sister dear how you wish I'd protect you from the heat of this world's hate, but all three of us burned. And dying changes a woman.” - Autumn Wolfmoon

“ I see their father in everything they do, their smile, their spunk attitude, sometimes I feel I'm haunted by Dominic's memory, but then I remember even ghosts can be friendly.” - Martha Honeycomb

“ Oh how Delilah makes my heart soar. My beautiful Amish girl. She lives life so simply, she cherishes every little moment, and I cherish every little moment I have with her. She's showed me just how amazing life can be.” - Laura Hollinger

“ My life's been dark, it's been crummy, but ya know what? I rose in spite of that. I won't let my scars define me, I'll define my damn scars.” - Laura Hollinger

“ Life has been a rather interestin' ride, once I believed I had ta choose between my old lifestyle, and dis new one dat had found me. But I found dat I have ta combine da both of them, because they're both a part of me, and I imagine neither side will leave my heart. If you are faced with choosin' who you were, and who ya are, I advise you combine the two, and become the beauty you are ta be." - Delilah Miller

"Black rain pitter patters against my heart and soul, I imagine it drowned the noble man I was, and out rose the wicked and corrupt creature of the storm inside my bones.” - Theodora Crimsonburn

“ I imagine my daughters can't look up to me. Despite how I protect them so, I forgot to protect my heart, and I imagine that's why I lost it.” - Theodora Crimsonburn

“ "If it is only human to sin, tell me why it is I am labeled monster. In all of my monstrosity I find I am only human, and oh, isn't that the most terrifying thing of all? My lack of humanity, yet despite all that, being human?” - Quentin Satchel

“ Redemption was never an option, because I was born on the edge of Hell, but stepped on other's backs to reach Heaven.” - Quentin Satchel

“ Every life taken to me is just.. another Tuesday. It's a chore, one I fulfill only to get back to my task at hand.” - Quentin Satchel

"My memory is a peculiar place, forgotten are the scars of my past, but wonderous are the joys in this life of mine.” - Joe Paquil

“ I have found this world will kick you around some before it gives you peace of mind, but don't let the kicking kill ya. As a bull rider wouldn't let the tussle kill him, you won't let the fight for the reward kill you.” - Joe Paquil

“ Cold waters can only freeze you if you jump in. And if you're pushed, you fight to get out.” - Joe Paquil

“ Life can be a struggle, God... how I know how difficult it can be. But in the end, you'll realize struggle is a part of life, and it's only a small part of it. You may get kicked down on the constant, but one day you'll rise, and you're gonna do it with a frikkin' smile! Okay?” - Sandra Crumbs

“ "Oh I imagine the echoes of gunfire and sin ring in my ears, and all I ever was is consumed by a sinful melody, it's chorus one of broken bones, and it's bridge one of spilt blood.” - Nestor Bevelricks

“ Ya know, I asked God where the hell he went, and the only answer I got was a cool breeze in the midnight air.” - Nestor Bevelricks

"I've found the difference between a loving God and a cruel one is your perception of cruelty." - Nestor Bevelricks

“ She is da beauty ta my beast. Da rose ta my thorn. And da plant in me garden 'a weeds. All it takes is one flower ta make a garden bootiful.” - Stephen Vail

“ I 'ave learned doe my anger is strong, I am stronger.” - Stephen Vail

“ Amber is da moother I never 'ad, though I've heard of the woman who gave me life, and from what I can see, Amber is everythin' she'd eva' wish ta raise. Thorne, despite 'er damn struggles wif' 'er mental illness, takes care of those around 'er. And Jesse? Despite 'er fear, she stays fokin' brave as a captain sailin' straight inta da eye of da hurricane.” - Stephen Vail

“ I wasn't born with this killer body. I had to fight for it. I had to pay for it. It was fucking expensive. But you know what? I'd give away all the money in the world to be myself.” - Emanuel Trueblood

“ Only the dead 'ave seen the end of war I imagine, they got peace, we have ta carry war on our shoulders every damn day. The weight of it is impossible ta lift, and yet ya do it anyways.” - Deandra Phoenix

“ Ain't who I were. Not no more. Just a coffin, I imagine. Lower me down, bury me underneath America's soil and remember I once stained it crimson, but blood seeps through the dirt and is often forgotten.” - Deandra Phoenix

“ The hauntings of war echo on the cool night air. The fire reminds me of the sparks of my revolver, the night sky reminds me of the starless nights spent on the battlefield, and the dirt reminds me of the bodies buried. Everything is a reminder of war. Once you've fought it, you can't ever stop fighting it.” - Deandra Phoenix

"Life don't gotta be perfect, just lived to it's fullest extent. And besides, if you live your life to it's fullest, isn't that perfect despite the struggles?” - Brandon Killovitch

“ She saved my life.. and I imagine I saved hers. She used to be a train-wreck, but, so did I. But together, we fought each other's battles, she still has that wild side, but it makes her her, and I accept everything she is, because she's beautiful and I'm in love with everything she was, everything she is, and everything she'll become.” - Brandon Killovitch

"I'm nothing short of sinful, just a bonfire with kerosene swallowing everything around her whole, burning down the fields of her innocence in one fell swoop.” - Kareath Calico

#writing #Ifuckinknowit'salot #author #characterwriting

1 note · View note

mayleitz · 6 years ago

Text

The Stalking

Okay so here’s this.

Elliot stalked me for over a year before we dated. The first time I met him, he spoke to me in my discord server right when it was new. He said he did not pledge money to support my videos, he didn’t really watch them or care about them. He supported me so he could have a direct line to talk to me.

Naturally he started flirting with me and because at the time I was miserable and repressed, I went along with it at first but then told him to stop and to just be my friend. He doesn’t take rejection well so he kept trying and when I felt pushed away by his advances he would get mad at me for being a bad friend.

This went on for a pretty long time, until he came out as trans. I was super excited for him and because we sorta knew each other and had been around, I forgave him for all the advances that were unwanted because I know trans folk pretransition have a tendency to be a bit like-that.

And after that I grew to trust him a little bit more even though he really never knew me. But I always needed people to talk to and my resources were limited (the person I was dating at the time didn’t really let me have friends) so I talked to Elliot occasionally. He slowly gained my trust so I slowly opened up to him more and more. He was in some bad relationships, and so was I so we had that in common and could talk about it.

On the night that I broke up with my then partner, I was suicidal. It was rough. I was trying to please them for so long that I just...didn’t honestly remember what doing anything for myself was like. I felt so backed into a corner. So I called Elliot.

We started to have a closer friendship where we would talk on the phone for hours at a time. I exclusively wanted to be his friend and he was constantly pining after me from this point on. He told me that he viewed YouTube like a dating site and that each channel was like a dating profile. He said he had dated multiple YouTubers and had dirt on all of them and planned to one day post some call-out thingy about all of them. I didn’t know the people in question so I didn’t question it much. But this was absolutely a through-line to our relationship. He viewed youtubers as possessions that he wanted to have. And god did he want to have me.

It started really simply with telling me he was in love with me. He kept telling me and one day I said it back. Like...I love you, as a friend, who is into women. I had to constantly remind him that I was a lesbian and I was only interested in women. I had never really gotten a chance to experience that as myself and that was exclusively what I wanted.

Anyways so he started sending me unsolicited nudes. Usually when drunk but he did it a whole bunch of times. He would call me at parties and orgies he was at, sometimes while high on hardcore drugs or exceptionally drunk and he would say things like: “I’m gonna come visit you and we’re gonna have sex.” “May, are we gonna have sex when we’re together?” “God I want to fuck you.” and so on.

And so I told him to stop because I was uncomfortable and I did not want any of it. It was all explicitly against my consent. And because I didn’t know what to do, I wouldn’t hang up so he just started passing the phone around to all his friends. One of them told me he wanted to blow me and I got so skeeved out that I tried to end the call.

But then when I told Elliot I wouldn’t be having sex with him and I would like him to stop, he turned his attention a bit towards: “Just kiss me then.” “We have to kiss.” “There’s no way I’m not gonna kiss you.”

Which wasn’t a lot better.

The next day I was super angry. I told him I was tired of him sexualizing me without my consent. He got really upset and distant and I was worried that I would lose, in essence, my only friend, so I let him off the hook and said it wasn’t a big deal and I still cared about him. So he just started right up again. This happened multiple times a week.

He demanded to come to visit me but I was uncomfortable with that. My apartment was sorta my private space where I could transition in peace and be left alone. I didn’t want to bring a man into that space. Like ever. It was sacred to me.

But he persisted so much that I finally said okay. He immediately got a plane ticket and oops now it had to happen. I was terrified.

I felt a lot better when he got here because he wasn’t like most guys I’d known, at first. He was sweet and fun and funny and sure, he said a lot of off-color things but I mostly ignored whatever red flags were around. He asked if he could kiss me one night and I gave in and was like...well alright. He kissed me violently hard. With no kindness or gentleness. It felt like an attack. It was in my car and I had no real place to go so I just awkward looked around and waited for it to be over.

But after that, I could sense that he wanted it to be more romantic that just friend stuff and so I held his hand and at one point I told him we were on a date and stuff to make him feel good and loved. It was clear that he was really happy and I wanted that more than anything.

But then things started to get more serious and scary and my inability to say no to him made everything so much harder. It kept getting harder and harder to say no even though I knew this was not what I wanted. This person basically stalked me, sexually harassed me and treated me like an object of desire for over a year and somehow I was afraid to hurt his feelings.

We got a tattoo together. It was my first tattoo and I was really nervous and scared and he held my hand and was very warm to me and I thought about how alone I would soon be again when he left but I was hesitating because I didn’t want to be in a relationship with him.

By this point, he got his way and we had had sex. I didn’t want to but I knew it was what he wanted so I did my best to power through my feelings. I even tried to be really into it so I could convince myself that what was happening was okay.

I told him I didn’t really want him to go and that I would miss him and I loved him and stuff but inside I was relieved when he was leaving. I wanted my privacy and my space and I wanted some distance. Things were fucking hard with him around and I needed to get back to work on myself. The whole week that he was here he joked about just never leaving. Like, just randomly staying here with me and dating me and stuff. Of course, again I was a lesbian and he knew this. But like...me not rejecting his advances made him believe that I was actually into guys and more specifically him and I wanted it too.

So on the day when he was set to leave, he didn’t really pack or get anything ready because he had his mind made up. Part of me wonders if this was the plan from the start, I don’t know. But he basically announced that he was staying. The whole situation was so stressful and surreal that I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to unravel the threads and say ‘no, I’m still a lesbian, we’re still not dating and I still want to be here alone.’ so instead I was like ‘okay whatever,’ and went to take a shower. While I was in the shower he posted about it on facebook instead of telling anyone directly and then he abandoned his partner, all his friends, his family and everyone from his home.

The first week it was exhausting but so surreal that he was living here that things seemed alright. The limited solace I had was my job at the mall where I could be aware and get some clarity. I tried to tell him that staying with me was only temporary and he could just move back when he was ready. I tried to help him get a job so he could pull his own weight (he didn’t I paid for everything. Even when he had a job, he mostly blew his money on meaningless stuff instead of helping me.)

It was a disaster and I was trapped. He constantly joked about cancelling me if we ever broke up, he constantly joked about tweeting out the ‘n-word’ on my account and ending my career. He constantly joked about publicly shaming me. When we were with friends, he would publicly shame me and when I started doing it back, he got really hurt so I stopped and just let him do it to me.

There’s so much more but my hands are tired. Not like it will make a difference. He’s a liar. He’s a fucking liar and manipulator. He is a sex pest. He repeatedly fucked me until I was bleeding and then we turn around and do it all again moments after I told him he needed to stop. He would tie me up and ridicule me. He demanded that I do that to him as well and I did only twice. The first time triggered my DID and my alter just wanted to kill herself. It scared me to fucking death. It scared me so bad that it happened that I could barely sleep and of course he used that as part of his call out.

He openly tweeted about my ptsd and DID and used that to say I was a bad person when what I was every moment we were together was scared. Lina too. These people overran my life. They took over leaving me nearly no control. I was scared to death that they were going to hurt me and when I finally distanced myself from them and went off to have the life I actually wanted from the start, they took my career from me.

Since they tweeted about me being ‘an abuser’ I have lost over 1000 followers on twitter, 3000 subscribers and $600 on Patreon. I can barely pay for my life and they put that in jeopardy. I had a small savings for surgery that is now gone. I am still losing things every single fucking day. I’ve lost countless friends. No one checked on me or listened to what happened to me. I had to beckon the limited friends that would hear me, to tell them what happened. And naturally every time I post or say or do anything about this, I get an influx of people telling me I’m a liar and I’m actually the problem. Elliot’s friends from Washington have all tweeted threads about how I’m actually bad, but the truth is, I liked all of them. They were all super kind to me and I tried my best to be a good partner to Elliot in their eyes.

The point is, I’m afraid to say any of this because I know for a fact they will retaliate. I don’t want that. I don’t want to deal with any back and forth or anything. I just want to return to my life and I’d like to stop losing everything and I’d like to be left the fuck alone. Every day since that post came out, I have had to explain myself to hundreds of people. It’s exhausting and enough is enough. I wasn’t going to say anything because I didn’t want to hurt Elliot or Lina. I still don’t. Give them their privacy and please respect mine.

May

315 notes · View notes

human-trash-fire · 5 years ago

Text

Beautiful Disaster: Chapter 5 (Pynch Soulmate AU)

Alrighty my loves, this chapter has been a labor of love from the beginning. As you continue reading you will see art pieces and each is correlated with a song (those will be at the end), and references yet again will be made to the EMFS playlist (Ronan’s rehab playlist- I’ve actually made it on spotify! you can find it here)

As usual you can find this story on Ao3 @ glam_reaper 2 if you’re interested <3

TW: Mention of suicide attempt, a panic attack though not super descriptive, cannon typical language.

Iv.

You,

I made a friend last week.

I know for most people that wouldn’t be a big deal, but I assume by now You understand what that means for someone like me. I guess “friend” may be a generous term? I don’t know if we are there yet, Blue definitely disagrees with him “on principle.”

You see, President Cellphone as she calls him, or Richard Campbell Gansey III (I know, what a douchey fucking name) is all boat shoes and privledge and perfect teeth. Gansey isn’t someone I’d normally associate with mind you, Henry kind of met my quota for rich extroverts in the inner circle, and yet…

So, here’s the story. I’m writing my last letter right? And I was so fucking lost. I decided to walk home from Nino’s- I thought maybe it would help me settle. And there, right around the corner is this fucking ‘73 camero. It should have been beautiful, really.. A classic like that? It’s a dream to look at. Only this fucking thing is the UGLIEST color of candy orange you could ever imagine… And it’s blowing smoke all over the damn place. I was honestly going to leave boat-shoes to call his daddy or mechanic or what have you, but he looked so confused. I offered to help him out and was able to get it running long enough to get to Boyd’s.

I expected him to just drop off “The Pig” (the car) like any normal person and come back for it, only I apparently made “quite the impression.”

Gansey ended up staying with me, prattling on about his Masters History program and some welsh king the ENTIRE time I worked on the damn car. At first I was tuning him out, but without realizing it I became completely entranced by the whole story. I’ve never seen such passion for anything, and I have VERY spirited friends.

He has one of those voices you know? The kind that can stop a room, raise an army, lead a nation. The kind that demands to be heard without ever having to raise itself.

That’s Gansey though.

I think he’ll be good for me, I don’t think he’d give me much of a choice in the matter though to be honest. He kind of adopted me this week? That should bother me and yet, being around him is just… It’s being included. It’s a sense of purpose.

I think he needs it too, he doesn’t seem to talk about negative things but you can tell, he’s haunted by something. That’s what solidified it for me really. He may be a senator’s son but he’s seen some shit.

I wish you could have met him, I wonder if you would have been as intrigued by him as I find myself.

Blue is being a total idiot about him, but I’m about 82% sure it’s because she is into him. I know for sure the feeling is mutual. It took Gans approximately 15 minutes after meeting Blue to ask me for her life story, offend her beyond measure, and then haul ass out of Nino’s. It was the first time I’d seriously laughed in so long. Have you ever been second-hand embarrassed for someone? It was that.

I’m going to wrap this up now though, I need to head to Nino’s for my shift, Blue’s working so of course Gans is stopping by. He said he’s bringing one of his best friends with him, some dude named Noah. Apparently he’s pretty cool, so I’m moderately less apprehensive. He said he wished he could bring his other best friend/ his and Noah’s third roommate but the guy is staying with family for a few months or something. Idk? He doesn’t talk about the other roommate much. I honestly don’t even think he’s ever said his name. Who gives a shit though, I can barely handle one new friend, let alone a 3-pack of Ganseys. Good God… I hope Noah isn’t another Gansey…. Fuck.

Welp.

Here goes nothing.

*****

It started with a not-so-subtle idea from the esteemed Dr. Allen. “Show me what happened.” Ronan was never great with words before all this, and since… When he spoke it was usually a litany of curse words. So Dr. Allen had suggested art. In the weeks since his entombment in this fine rehabilitation center, Ronan had kind of already been doing what he was being asked to do now. Though, he didn’t mention it to Allen. He’d spent countless hours sketching his life, the whole thing, in snapshots inside that beautiful leather sketchbook Gansey had given him.

He started at the beginning, pictures of Aurora and his brothers, the Barns, his father playing guitar by the fire. He drew their family vacations, the cows he used to sneak out and sleep beside when he was a child, the feeling of winning the Tennis State Championship when he was 15. He drew the bad things too, his nightmares, his drug-trips, that old stained couch in the basement of Kavinsky’s house. He put every piece of himself, all 22 years of memories down in that book, woven together with song lyrics in the margins.

So when Dr. Allen asked him to look specifically to his addiction and create, he didn’t see a problem. He needed to return to school with a series anyways, Declan had called to inform him that strings had been pulled to allow him to finish his final semester at Georgetown, but he needed to walk in with something to show at the January exhibition. Two birds, and all that.

He settled on 7 pieces, each done in oils on canvas, each accompanied by a song. 7 moments in the life of his battle with addiction, from the beginning to now. With each stroke of his brush he felt infinesmally lighter, pouring his grief into the images before him.

It started with “The Fall.” His father’s murder in reds and greys; fracturing lines and deep shadows. He mixed his paints with tears and used his heart to drag color across the canvas. For the first time in years, Ronan allowed the memory to consume him. He’d re-lived it plenty of times in his nightmares, but this was different. His hands shook, jagged strokes of anger and confusion bleeding through. He painted the brief moment, the final moment, when his world was whole before his teenage mind finally realized what it was he was looking at. His last free breath. And he painted his screams, the cacophony of pain, endlessly mixing with sirens until his vocal chords gave out.

He drowned the canvas in un-kept promises and hung it out to dry with childhood dreams.

Then came “Chasing the Void.” It was a story told in stark lighting. High beams on a backroad, swirling smoke and broken bottles. It was white glasses and white-powder lines on shark-nosed hood. It was going 115mph, bones rattling with the beat of the bass in his sound system. Ronan painted a black tattoo, used the blood on his knuckles to tint bloodshot eyes. His brush moved with his mother’s disappointment and his brother’s anger. Whimsical lines and Gansey’s head shaking when he found Ronan passed out yet again. He painted the highs and lows when sobriety reminded him that he hated the face that stared back at him in the mirror.

Each new piece he added to the collection was brought to Dr. Allen’s office. Together they worked through each memory associated with the piece and slowly Ronan felt the weight on his chest lighten.

Gansey visited every Monday and Friday like clockwork. He kept Ronan apprised to all the goings on of Monmouth and updates on Matthew and Declan. Ronan never asked for them, but he appreciated it regardless. His current obsession though seemed to be a new friend, Adam something. He had been going on for 30 minutes now about how this man single-handedly raised the Pig from the dead. Ronan tuned out most of the conversation, but nodded at what he assumed were appropriate moments while sketching.

“Ronan, are you even paying attention?” Gansey asked, irritation only slightly evident.

“Mmm?” Ronan hummed. “For sure. Pig. Smoke. Some new guy.”

“Essentially. I was saying that Noah and I are heading to his second job, the man works 2 jobs and is getting a masters can you believe it? Anyways Nino’s, so Noah can finally meet him and Blue. Have I mentioned her yet?”

Blue? He thought. Who the fuck names their kid Blue. “Once or twice.”

“Well they both work this afternoon, so I assume we’ll just hang there until they get off. Then maybe grab a bite. I wish you could come, I’m sure you’d get along nicely with Adam.” Gansey said, choosing to ignore the previous sarcasm and barrell on. Excelsior.

“Doubt it.” Guy sounds like a douche.

“On that note, thank you for another lovely visit. I’ll see you Monday, Ronan.” Gansey gathered his coat and made his way to the door with a final wave.

Ronan waved back with a single finger and a saccharine “Bye, Dick.” Then shoved his Airpods back into his ears and lost himself in the EMFS playlist.

*****

As Adam gathered the tub of dirty dishes from above the trash and made his way back to wash them, he was lost in thought. These last two weeks, recent events, had been so much and yet he strangely was beginning to feel some semblance of peace. He knew that Blue had wanted him to write letters to help him cope. If he was admitting to it helping, he also needed to be honest with himself in noting that it may have been hurting just as much. He was falling in love with a ghost. A figment of his imagination that he could tell his every secret too, someone who listened without judgment; Someone who never asked more of him than he could handle. It wasn’t healthy, wasn’t what Blue had intended, of that he was sure. But, if it brought him peace and allowed him to sleep without seeing cold, dead eyes, then what was the harm?

He rinsed the mugs and plates loading them efficiently into the dishwasher, and dried his hands. As he moved to toss the towel into the bin, he heard the bell chime above the cafe door. He made his way slowly to the front, knowing that Blue was currently handling the register meant that he didn’t need to rush. On his way down the hallway he stopped to straighten a missing cat flier on the community bulletin board, taking a moment to snap a picture of the cat in question so he could be on the lookout, then continued toward the front; eyes glued to his phone.

He rounded the corner towards the coffee bar to the tune of laughter, it seemed Gansey had arrived. His eyes found Blue first. For all her insistance that she loathed the man in question, she was positively glowing, head tossed back in a hearty laugh. Lost in the bubble of charm Gansey operated in.

“-And so I asked him, mind you I’ve had a lot to drink at this point, ‘Hey senator, why do you fucking hate poor peo-‘ Oh! Adam” Ganseys story of embarrassing his mother at one of her Republican fundraisers interrupted, as he caught sight of Adam sliding behind the bar.

“Hey Gans,” He smiled.

“My apologies, this is Noah.” Gansey stepped to the side to reveal the man in question, and Adam’s breath stopped.

There, eyes blue and wide with shock, mouth agape stood the man from the alley. The one whose scream still haunted Adam in the dark, solitary hours of sleep. The one that began his every nightmare of that night.

He was different now, tears weren’t pouring from his eyes to dance across the plains of his smudgey face. His blonde hair free of blood was slightly tousled, and his clothes were clean, albeit a little disheveled.

“No,” the word was a broken noise, barely a word at all, closer to a sob. Gansey and Blue looked frantically between the two for what seemed like an eternity before Noah spoke.

“It’s you…”

“Who? Noah, you know Adam?” Gansey’s voice was quietly confused.

Adam began to shake his head slowly, increasing with speed as his breath finally returned to him; Erratic and wild. Crocodile tears blurred his vision, and he finally croaked a simple question, “What… What was his name?”

“Ronan.”

“Oh, god” Blue breathed.

Adam ran, desperately fleeing the scene and chorus of his name called from the front. Ronan, his name was Ronan. Adam couldn’t breathe. His pain fresh, an un-mendable wound reopened now that he had a name to grieve. He paused, only long enough to grab his messenger bag from the back, and took the alley door.

Then he ran, faster than he’d ever remembered running. Tears turning the colors of the world around him to a haunting watercolor. His breath came in painful stabs, each beat of his bleeding heart an excruciating truth.

He somehow made it back to his apartment. The moment the door closed behind him he fell against it and slid to the floor. Ronan Ronan Ronan-

“R-Ronan.” He spoke the name the first time aloud, the feeling of its weight on his tongue was an answer to a question he’d been asking for a month. For a lifetime.

Adam didn’t know how long he sat on the floor, grief taking time and twisting it in on itself. An amalgam of pain, hopelessness, and questions. Gansey, Gansey knew Ronan, knew Noah. Noah the boy he’d last seen carted away in the back of an ambulance covered in red red red. Noah, who’d screamed for help like the world was shattering. Noah, who’d clung tightly to the shredded arms of a bleeding man in a dark alley.

Help me, his mind screamed, his internal voice morphing into Noah’s from that night.

Help me, I’m not okay…

A key twisting in the lock above his head brought his attention to the present. Adam pushed away from the door, and waited as Blue made her way into his dark apartment. Night had fallen sometime since he’d been here, on the floor, lost in the alley. Lost in a name.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Th-that was-”

“I know. Noah told us after you left. Adam, there’s… Adam. I need to tell you something.”

It was a concentrated effort to drag his gaze from the space between their bodies on the floor to meet her eyes. Lights from the street poured through the window in the living room, painting Blue’s honey warm skin in a haunting glow. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, so he waited. He watched. She brought a trembling hand to his, her brown eyes lined with silver, she squeezed.

“Adam, he’s alive.”

A sob born of heartbreak and pain tore from his chest, he couldn’t form words. He broke then, completely and wholly. Blue came to cradle his head against her chest as he cried. Every hope he’d killed since the alley came barreling to the surface; All the pain and confusion, love and questions, beating like waves against the shores of his mind. Some minutes later he finally raised his head and met Blue’s eyes, her smile was wet and broken. He dragged his hand under his nose, across his eyes, and finally found the word to the question he needed to ask. “How?”

So Blue told him. Apparently, him finding Noah and Ronan in that alley, the tourniquet he’d made of his scarf, that extra minute he’d bought him had been enough. The doctors were able to stitch his wounds, and though it had been a close call, he’d pulled through. She explained that he’d had a hard life, though Gansey wouldn’t give details because he insisted those were Ronan’s to share when he was ready. He did however give her basic facts. Ronan Niall Lynch is an artist, a senior at Georgetown. He’s an orphan, and a brother. He’s an addict in recovery at a facility in Arlington, and Gansey’s third roommate.

Blue explained that, when Adam was ready Gansey and Noah wanted to meet with him, to talk more. She offered to accompany him when that time came, but they all agreed they wouldn’t push him until he was ready. “Thank you,” he’d said to Blue. For getting the information. For telling him. For allowing him space. She understood that his history made this difficult, an addict for a soulmate was something he would need time to process. She eventually asked if he wanted to be alone and when he’d told her “yes” she kissed his forehead, and made her way to the door.

“Adam,” she paused, and he looked up. “We’ll wait on your text okay? Whenever you’re ready. But please check in so I know you’re safe.”

“I will.”

With a perfunctory nod she slid back out the door.

Adam spent another minute in silence before dragging himself from the floor. He made his way in a daze to his desk and he collapsed into his chair. Slowly, he pulled out a blank sheet of paper.

His hand shook.

He took a deep breath.

He wrote.

Ronan,

You’re alive…

**********************

Art Pieces and their correlating songs (linked):

“The Fall” The War- SYML

“Chase The Void” For What It’s Worth- Malia J

#bd au #pynch #pynch fic #Adam Parrish #ronan lynch #ronan x adam #blue sargent #gansey #richard campbell gansey iii #gangsey #soulmate au

11 notes · View notes