#so many languages out there yet here i am coming back like some deadbeat ex to This One i dont even love you i dont even like you

[slonechnik]

literally cant any other language be so in demand in this country i thought itll be over like back in fucking 2017 whywhywhy

[daughterof-chaos]

Commit to Memory

Author’s Note: This is a Juice Ortiz imagine based off of Your Call by Secondhand Serenade and imagine number 3 for Music Monday #2, as requested by a wonderful Nonny. This one is a tad on the darker side, but I hope it doesn’t disappoint. Let me know! Rated M for adult language and adult themes. ***Trigger Warning for abuse and violence***

**UPDATE** This is my work–originally posted to my old blog @callmemrskozik which is no longer in use. Just wanted to put it out there so people don’t fill up my inbox accusing me of plagiarism.

Commit to Memory

-XX-

Waiting for your call, I’m sick, call I’m angry Call I’m desperate for your voice Listening to the song we used to sing In the car, do you remember Butterfly, Early Summer It’s playing on repeat, just like when we would meet Like when we would meet I was born to tell you I love you And I am torn to do what I have to, to make you mine Stay with me tonight

-XX-

“I told you I’d find you,” the calm, calculating voice pulls her from her thoughts and turning she sees Jesse standing in the doorway of the TM office, vibrating with anger.

“Jesse, you can’t be here,” her voice shakes despite how she tries to hide her fear. It’s been eighteen months since she left in the middle of the night, and even though she’s lived in fear that entire time she’s been trying to pull herself together, “the restraining order…”

“You stupid bitch, do you really think I give a fuck about what a piece of paper says?” he spits taking a step towards her. Her hand instinctively goes for the gun she knows Gemma keeps strapped to the underside of the desk and finding it gone, she closes her eyes on a broken oath.

His hand is strong as it circles her arm, pulling her up from the desk.

“We’re going for a little drive now Mari,” he says and she cringes having always hated the way he shortened her name and as much as she wants to correct him he presses the barrel of a gun through his coat pocket into her side and any and all arguments slide away. The people she has come to love and care for are just inside the clubhouse and she’ll be damned if anything happens to them because of her.

“Okay. Just let me get my purse,” she keeps her voice even and with some form of luck swinging her way he loosens his hold so she can bend down for her purse, and as she lifts it from the spot she keeps it under the desk she leaves in its place the simple silver ring Juice gave her, praying it’s enough.

::

“Hey babe,” Juice calls out as he closes the apartment door behind him. Every single part of him aches from the two day run, but it’s worth it now that he’s home with her. “Mariana?” He listens to the silence, confused by it, and glancing up at the clock he sees that she should be home. He notices the bowl that sits on the entry way table is empty, her keys and sunglasses nowhere in sight, and he wonders if she got caught up at work. Pulling the cell phone from his pocket he calls her, fear starting to nibble at his mind when it goes straight to voicemail.

It never goes straight to voicemail.

He paces madly as he dials Gemma’s number.

“Hey Juice,” Gemma’s voice fills his head.

“Have you seen Mariana?” he asks rubbing a hand over his head.

“No baby, I thought she was at home. I came to check on her at closing time and she was already gone,” Gemma replies and the silence that settles on the line is heavy.

“Something’s wrong,” Juice says, and without waiting for a response he hangs up the phone and runs for the door.

::

The truck bumps along a dirt road, and looking out of the window she tries to make out her surroundings, but nothing really sticks through the haze. Her body aches, thanks to his hands and anger, and all progress made in the last eighteen months has simply slipped away, the strong woman who had been blossoming effectively stamped back into the cowering shadow of who she used to be.

She wonders how many times Juan has tried calling her, knowing that by now he’s working himself up to a fever pitch of worry. Wanting nothing more than to be able to answer his calls, she presses her head to the cool glass of the car window and fights back the tears.

She told herself a year and a half ago that she would never cry in front of Jesse Wilkens ever again, and that’s a promise she intends to keep.

-XX-

Stripped and polished, I am new, I am fresh I am feeling so ambitious, you and me, flesh to flesh Cause every breath that you will take When you are sitting next to me Will bring life into my deepest hopes, What’s your fantasy? (What’s your, what’s your…) I was born to tell you I love you And I am torn to do what I have to, to make you mine Stay with me tonight

-XX-

He sits, arms braced on his knees as he stares at the small circle of silver in the palm of his hand. It’s such a simple thing really, a ring that caught his eye while on a run and on a whim he bought it for Mariana, giving it to her for their one-year anniversary.

She had cried.

Not because she assumed it meant they were engaged, because they weren’t, but because as she would tell it, no one had given her anything before. Not her deadbeat parents. Not her abusive douche bag ex-boyfriend.

He made love to her that night, for what felt like the first time, taking his time to savor the way her body moved with his, the taste of her sweat slicked skin, and closing his eyes on the memory his palm closes around her ring. He worries, though he won’t say it out loud, that he didn’t take nearly as many opportunities to commit everything about her to memory, and the thought of not having the chance to do just that sets off an ache inside of him that he never imagined possible.

“Any word yet brother?” Chibs asks as he comes to settle next to him and with a shake of his head Juice opens his eyes to look at his friend.

“I want to marry her,” Juice confesses, slipping the ring into the pocket of his cut, “where is she Chibs? Where the hell is she?”

“I don’t know Juicy, but we’ll find her, I promise you that,” Chibs says clapping him on the back, “though it would be a hell of a lot easier if this was something she’d done before.”

Chibs’ words hit him like a freight train.

“Oh my God,” Juice says as he jumps up and runs for his laptop. “How did I not think of that.” He pulls his laptop from his bag and opening it he waits the agonizing few minutes it takes for it to boot up. “You’re a fucking genius Chibs.”

“I am? I mean of course I am, but why exactly am I genius today?” Chibs asks trying to bring an element of humor to the situation.

“Mariana has disappeared before, that’s how she ended up here,” Juice says as he starts typing in all information he has on Jesse Wilkens, and when the results come back that he had been released early on good behavior he swears. “Son of a bitch. I know who has Mariana, and I think I know where.”

-XX-

And I’m tired of being all alone, and this solitary moment makes me want to come back home (I know everything you wanted isn’t anything you have) I was born to tell you I love you And I am torn to do what I have to

-XX-

She’s curled into herself, fingers tracing mindless patterns on the wall. Jesse snores next to her, and while a part of her has studied the space between her and the door she knows it would be pointless trying to make a run for it, as she’s handcuffed to her captor.

She had loved him once. A terrifying, all consuming kind of love that lent itself more to obsession and infatuation than to sincerity and genuine emotion. There connection had burned bright, like a supernova, scorching everything in its path, and when that light died out, she was left with the aftermath of a love gone terribly wrong.

When all was said and done and she managed to run away, she hated him; but more than anything, she hated what she had become while with him.

As a means of escape from the dark path her thoughts threaten to take her down she lets her mind wander to Juan, and a ghost of smile crosses her lips. Closing her eyes, she pictures his smile, remembering the countless nights they found themselves sitting naked in the middle of the bed they now share talking and eating, mostly junk, because though his body would indicate otherwise, Juan has one hell of a sweet tooth.

She wonders if they’ll ever do that again.

No, she tells herself. It will never happen again. Jesse will never let her go. She has two choices, pick up where she left off with Jesse, as if the last year and a half of blessed freedom from his control was nothing more than a bittersweet vacation, or die.

Like it says in Peter Pan, ‘to die will be an awfully big adventure.’ She lets out a shuddering breath as tears flow down her cheeks, but then she sees a flash of light shine through the window. Her heart catches in her chest, and when the silence grows agonizingly loud and long, she wonders if she simply dreamt it up until she hears the crash and the sound of splintering wood.

Jesse moves fast, rolling over her, and with her back pressed firmly to his chest, shielding him, he holds the hunting knife to her throat as light pours into the room.

Juan takes point with Chibs and Happy flanking him, and in spite of the way the blade bites into her throat she smiles.

She wanted nothing more than to see Juan’s face one last time.

-XX-

And I was born to tell you I love you And I am torn to do what I have to, to make you mine Stay with me tonight (I know everything you wanted isn’t anything you have)

-XX-

“Drop the knife asshole, and let Mariana go,” his voice is low as he stares at the man he’s come to hate.

“Fuck you, she’s mine,” Jesse spits adding just enough pressure to the blade at Mariana’s throat that a drop of blood rolls down her skin, soaking into her shirt.

“I can’t get a clear shot brother,” Happy mutters angrily.

“Neither can I,” Chibs offers and he knows what it means.

It’s for him to do.

It’s the only way that Mariana will ever really be free of him, free to live a life without fear, free to live her life God willing that she chooses to, with him.

“Juan,” Mariana’s voice whispers through the fog clouding his head. His eyes meet hers and they shine, as a tear rolls down her cheek. “I love you.”

The room erupts as he pulls the trigger and when both Jesse and Mariana slump back he’s terrified that he missed his mark, but then he hears her crying, and pressing the gun he holds into Happy’s waiting hands he goes to her.

“I’ve got you,” he says pushing the hair from her face, looking past the spray of blood that paints her skin, “I’m going to get you out here Mariana, I promise, you just have to stay with me baby, stay with me.”

::

He helped her shower, gritting his teeth at the bruises and scrapes, and when she turned in his arms to press her face into his throat he held on as she rode out the storm of her emotions, and once she emptied herself he dressed her in one of his shirts and tucked her into bed, climbing in beside her.

His hand rests overs hers as he studies her face, and with a smile he brushes a kiss to her cheek, promising to ask her in the morning if she’ll give him the rest of their lives together so he can commit everything about her to memory.