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that-good-trash · 4 years ago

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I’m Not Okay- Chapter Two Midoriya x Reader/Bakugou x Reader

Izuku Midoriya x reader/ Katsuki Bakugou x reader

Summary: You have struggled with mental health your whole life so why can’t you seem to get it under control. Will you be able to keep the same mask even though two of your classmates have seen under it?

Warnings: Depression, Angst, Anxiety.

Word Count: 4,247

Comment: Thank you all for reading the first chapter! I tried to get the second chapter written as fast as possible. I’m so happy that the first chapter was well liked. Enjoy part two, I’ll try to get part three done as soon as possible.

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Morning wasn’t the worst part of the day it just was never better than okay. You didn’t experience the same euphoria as some of your morning classmates like Tenya Iida, Yuga Aoyama, and Koji Koda. Iida gets up early to set an example, to make sure everyone gets to class, and to better sell himself as the proper class representative he is. Aoyama needs time to get ready for the day since he had a routine to look as gorgeous as he does. You remember one time that you had gotten up early to turn in an assignment that was late before class and Aoyama was doing his lashes in the large mirror in the living area. There was a silent understanding before you had left the flamboyant male alone. Koda got up with the birds speaking gently with them, saying little good mornings to them as the sun rose. You almost wish that you had the same kind of drive they had. Maybe if you got up early you could face your problems then and feel better later. It seemed like it would work but you knew all to well that you couldn’t sleep your problems away and you couldn’t wake up before them.

“Maybe if I just didn’t wake up.” You spoke to the girl in the mirror. She stared back with dark circles that would need to be hidden before going to class. She was losing color to her cheeks and her hair was unruly. The worst part about this girl wasn’t her physical appearance. It was the raw emotion in her eyes, the exhaustion that urged some other worldly being to come end all this suffering. The girl in the mirror was crying causing your hand to reach up and catch the tears off your cheeks before they could fall. You and the girl in the mirror had everything in common except when she wasn’t visible, when you weren’t in your room or near a reflective surface she didn’t exist, she didn’t feel pain or sadness, yet you did. You felt every painful breath, every break in your facade.

You had wondered before had it always been this hard to breathe, to exist, to wake up. You were finding that the answer was inconclusive. It was hard before; it’s just getting worse.

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“Y/N!” Mina’s voice loudly cut through any thoughts swarming you as you pushed your breakfast around on your plate. You weren’t going to make yourself food but when you came downstairs there was a plate already waiting for you and you knew exactly who made it, Midoriya.

“What’s up?” You could never fake a smile at the alien featured girl. She was all the pep and excitement that you wish you could show, that you wish you had in you. Instead you relish in her cheerful disposition happy that you are able to at least do that. Your smile makes her own stretch wider and shine brighter. A squeal leaves her before you are enveloped into a hug. Shock isn’t exactly how you feel. More like slightly puzzled at the abruptness of her physical contact. You lean into the hug cherishing the skin to skin contact and you are almost disappointed when she pulls away. You hear Kaminari wolf whistle at the two of you causing you both to roll your eyes.

“I missed you girl! I barely survived yesterday with you gone. I tried asking what happened but just got told that you weren’t feeling good and then you didn’t even come down for dinner last night. You didn’t answer my texts either. I was so worried but you just smiled at me and.” A squeal leaves her lips again before she’s squishing your face between her hands.

“And your just so cute and it made everything better. You are okay right.” She’s still got your face between her hands when she asks the taboo question. The one that seems to always get the same response from you. How easy would it be to just say you weren’t okay? She would understand, right? But what if she didn’t. what if she found you gross or hated you for being broken? Children don’t like broken toys so you weren’t very liked as a kid but does that same feeling extend into teenagers. Would she still hug you and love you as a sobbing mess? The answer was simple and obvious but you couldn’t risk the minuscule chance of losing your best friend so you lied.

“I’m good.” I’m okay, I’m fine, I’m alright. It was all the same thing just a different word each time. A smile helped serve the words with false honesty.

“Well if you say so. If you need me, I am here for you.” Your teeth bite down on the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from crying. You searched her expression but found nothing but love and admiration for you. She kissed your cheek before running off to bother Kaminari and Sero as they left on their journey to class. Your fingers brushed across the warm spot she kissed and a genuine smile appeared. Your heart felt like it was pumping normal and you could breathe. It was a temporary state but you’d take anything at this point.

“Time to get to class everyone.” The class rep’s voice cut through the remaining chatter and like a sheep dog started herding them all out. You stood up sliding the cold food into the trash. You felt bad for wasting it but you had never asked for it to begin with. As you moved to join the stragglers a hand grabbed your wrist pulling you back into the seat you had previously been occupying. You could feel the heat from his skin before you saw his face. Bakugou was squatting in front of you with your leg in his hands.

“Um, Bakugou. What are you do-?”

“Shut up. You never came by my room so I assumed you got raccoon eyes to bandage your leg. You tried to do it yourself and it looks like shit.” You would have been sarcastic but you once again lacked your usual spirit. Bakugou looked up waiting for the old you to resurface. He sighed while unwrapping the bandaging. You went to say something, anything at this point to break the weird tension and silence but instead a hiss escaped at his rough pull of the bandage as he finished wrapping your knee. You couldn’t help smacking him.

“The hell Bakugou, that hurt!” Bakugou rubbed the spot you had just hit him snarling before looking at you with intense yet playful eyes.

“You gonna whine like a bitch or you gonna go to class.” He was fast to dodge your second attack and you huffed before grabbing your bag and storming off ahead of him. He followed you with a smirk on his face. It wasn’t much but he got you to react. To show some kind of emotion that wasn’t sorrow or emptiness.

“What the hell were you eating this morning. I was going to tell you to stop playing with it but I got closer and thought something died on your plate.” You had to cover you face when you snorted at the sheer abruptness of his comedic insult to Midoriya’s cooking. You knew that he had to know that Midoriya had made it since Bakugou was the king of waking up early. You had reached over to shove him but never made contact, he moved away from you. “Tomorrow you will eat breakfast. I always have extra so you can have it.”

“Bakugou. I can’t just take your food.” Your voice is small. One minute you had been stifling laughter and now you felt ashamed that he even felt obligated to feed you. You were starting to feel like a charity case. A gasp erupted when Bakugou blasted part of a metal beam you passed. He didn’t face you but you could tell he was irritated.

“Listen up extra, I don’t do hand outs or fucking charity. I offered you the damn food and your gonna take it. You insult me taking that shitty nerd’s food but turning your nose before you even get to try mine. I’ll force the damn crap down your throat.” You couldn’t figure him out, he was mean one second then trying to be considerate? Nice? He was trying to be something other than his over the top aggressive self even if his kindness still was yelled with profanities.

“So. You admit your food is crap.” Of all the things you could have responded with. You could have cried because he was trying to care or cried because he was overbearing. You could have not responded. Yet you felt the flicker, the embers of your former attitude were still burning just low. They needed fuel and fanning and Bakugou was giving you kerosene. His red eyes were wide at the smirk across your still dry lips. The way that he could slightly see your teeth as if you were ready to cackle like an idiot at your own retort. He raised his hand to spark another blast but both of you were stopped by a too familiar voice.

“Both of you are late to class.” The words were laced with exhaustion and you could see the dark bags under his eyes before you even looked at him, Mr. Aizawa. You nodded and Bakugou scoffed before the two of you followed the hero into the classroom.

You hated being the center of attention, which is why you typically walk into places under the cover of your friends. Right now, everyone was staring at you, there eyes shifting between you and the class asshole. Bakugou paid them no attention and sat down. You felt like you couldn’t move. There were questions and speculations about why you were late, why you came in late with Bakugou. Midoriya made concerned eye contact with you before you shifted your gaze back to the floor and sat at your desk. Your hands fumbled with taking out the necessary supplies and a slight yelp accidently escaped when a hand placed itself on your shoulder.

“Um, you dropped this.” Todoroki handed you back your eraser that had escaped your bag without your knowledge. Your cheeks flushed at the state you were in. The frantic and anxious behavior you showed him made you feel like a maniac.

“Thank you.” His fingers were cold against yours as he pushed the eraser into your hand. You pulled your hand back and hoped he didn’t think rude of you for doing so. He just blinked before turning his attention back to the board. To anyone watching they’d have thought you had a crush on him with how your cheeks were pink and how fast you were to avoid contact. You didn’t though. Your avoidance was a precaution. You already had two students that were getting close to your issues. You didn’t need Todoroki involved as well. Your pencil moves across the paper in front of you while two pair of eyes watch you with different emotions. Red eyes with a glint of anger at Todoroki touching your hand. He was already irritated that Midoriya was getting close to you, there was no way in hell he wanted ‘icy hot’ involved with you. Green eyes watched you waiting for another sign of pain. He was waiting for even the slightest glossiness and he would be there at your side offering you a handkerchief and his shoulder. After you ran away, he wanted so badly to show you that he was sorry and that he cared.

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If there was a class you could skip today it would be lunch. While every other student seemed to be enjoying this breaktime between learning and training, you felt that pressure again. Your legs had stopped moving and this time you had to grab the wall for support. There were so many people going in and out of the cafeteria. A few of them gave you strange looks but you didn’t care. You closed your eyes trying to figure out how to stop the rush of dizziness that came over you. You wanted to be able to breathe but found yourself holding back doing so. You were literally causing yourself pain and were beginning to feel faint. Mina was already inside the cafeteria sitting with a group of classmates. You didn’t know who it was today but probably Kaminari and Sero, or maybe it was Jirou and Yaoyorozu. Regardless of who she was sitting with today you couldn’t be one of them. You couldn’t sit there and listen absentmindedly to conversations you had no interest in. It wasn’t that you were a bitch who didn’t care, even though it sometimes came off like that. You just couldn’t fake it today. You wanted to go to Mr. Aizawa and be dismissed for the day but he would just send you to Recovery Girl and you didn’t want to do that all over again.

“You don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to.” You hadn’t even noticed Midoriya walk up to you until his voice drown out the ones inside you head.

“I was gonna go in. I was just waiting and.” You couldn’t figure out a good enough lie but realized you didn’t need to lie. Midoriya was staring at you with his big kind eyes that spoke. His eyes told you that it was okay to be upset. “I actually don’t want to eat in the cafeteria. I really don’t feel like eating at all.”

You rubbed your arm the same way you had when he had first caught you the day prior. No eye contact because you knew that the second sentence you had said was concerning, especially since he was assigned to be your personal nutritionist. You waited for him to speak or attempt to comfort you but no words were spoken. Instead your wrist was gripped and your legs were once again moving along with his. Panic began to settle into your chest and head. Was he going to take you to Recovery Girl? Was he going to take you to Mr. Aizawa? Neither of those options came true. Instead you found yourself outside a staff room that, once the door was open, you found was empty.

“Um Midoriya. I don’t think we are allowed in here.” You cautiously followed him into the room waiting for a teacher to catch you both. Though you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t cool to be in a room that students couldn’t just barge into.

“I have permission from All Might to eat lunch in here. Usually I eat with him but he has a meeting and I’d rather eat with you.” To anyone the words I’d rather eat with you would be some lame pick up line, however with Midoriya they meant something different. The romantic/deep part of his sentence was that he chose you over his idol. Your chest tightened in a way that you were unfamiliar with. There was no pain or feeling of panic. Just a sense of mattering. You had felt something almost similar when you were bickering playfully with Bakugou that morning.

“Also, um you can call me Izuku or deku.” You look up and realize you are standing awkwardly in the doorway still. You move allowing the door to close before sitting on the couch across from Midoriya.

“Okay, Izuku.” Even though he had told you to call him by his first name it didn’t prepare him for how it would sound coming from your mouth. He covered his face trying to hide the flushing of his cheeks. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just wasn’t expecting you to use it so soon.” A smile spread across your face at his shy behavior. “Are you really not gonna eat?”

“I don’t feel like eating.” You sounded like you had some kind of eating disorder but you didn’t. You just felt like you wasted energy that you already lacked on something minor. Your stomach did groan against your hand that you had placed against it in order to muffle the sound. After your failed attempt at silencing your hunger the sound of something being pushed across the table toward you caught your attention. It was a prepackaged sandwich, simple and plain yet so enticing.

“I’m not going to pry but I think you should eat. We have training later and I don’t want you getting hurt. You don’t have to worry about the taste either. I didn’t make it.” Midoriya laughed after mentioning his inability to cook. You almost felt bad since you had thrown away the breakfast he made.

“I’ll eat it, but because you asked me too and I can’t say no to my personal nurse.” The first part of your sentence got him blushing again but by the end he was flushed from embarrassment. Midoriya eats his lunch while you unwrap the sandwich and take a bite. It is dry and doesn’t have much flavor and yet you have to hold back not devouring it. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were till now. A few crumbs fall onto your lap so you brush them off as you push the last bite into your mouth. You look up while chewing and see Midoriya staring at you. He doesn’t look away and you both make silent eye contact.

“Why do you look so sad?” His voice is barely above a whisper and you almost didn’t hear him, almost.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. Yesterday you were crying, you looked so tired, you still look tired and like you’re ready to cry. You seemed scared when Recovery Girl questioned you. I don’t know what you are going through but you don’t have to do it al-”

“Don’t. Please don’t say it. I’ve heard it so many times that I just might lose it if I have to hear it from you.” You don’t mean to sound rude and you probably don’t. You just didn’t need this right now. Lunch was finally going well, you had eaten and got to enjoy the silence. Midoriya meant well but you couldn’t let him in now. He was already in deeper than he should be. However, despite wanting him to stop you were once again contemplating what could happen if you told him. Just like you had wondered about Mina you wondered what he would do. He wasn’t judging you and yet you couldn’t help feeling like he was. The demons whispered their tormenting words invoking your insecurities. This was no longer a lunch between friends. You felt trapped, a cornered animal afraid of capture even if it meant a better life.

“Y/n. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you again. That isn’t my intention. I want you to trust and rely on me. I want you to be able to tell me what’s wrong. It might help.” The way your head swung upward made him regret pushing you. You stood up on shaking legs and slammed your hands down on the table.

“I DIDN’T ASK FOR YOUR HELP! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M GOING THROUGH SO STOP TRYING TO ‘FIX ME’!” The words aren’t necessarily yelled but are spoken in a harsh booming voice that has cracks in it. The words lash against Midoriya as if you had physically hit him. He doesn’t flinch but does back into the couch to avoid some saliva that flies out with your words. He knows that once again he has messed up but he also knows that you didn’t want to push him away. In spite of all that was yelled he could see in your eyes, the regret and agony you felt. He didn’t pursue you as you fled the room knowing that you needed time. He would see you in class later hopefully.

Running away has become a regular occurrence. If only you got graded on running away, then you wouldn’t have to worry about grades ever again. The weird thing about this new hobby of yours was that you didn’t do it before. It was new and strange. You never liked facing issues before but you never really had to. Before you just lived in harmony with your anxiety and depression. You could cry and then go and hang out with classmates like it was a casual routine. Now you were afraid to be around people with how unstable you had become. You knew you could only run for so long before you had to return and play hero with the rest of the class.

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“Where were you during lunch?” Mina had asked seeing as no one else seemed comfortable with asking. You were MIA during lunch and completely checked out during the last few classes. Now you were changing into your gym uniform with the rest of the girls.

“I was with Midoriya.” It was a mistake to mention Midoriya because the girls weren’t actually listening to you and Mina before and yet now all eyes and ears were on you. Jirou lifted an ear jack in your direction while Yaoyorozu stared at you with a curious smirk. You could have sworn Uraraka looked at you with slight pain, or maybe jealousy?

“OoOoooOh, what were you doing with Midoriya?” Mina meant well with her waggling eyebrows and kissy faces. You push her face away. Even though you had a mental breakdown earlier Mina still found a way to make you smile.

“I was eating lunch. He thought I could use some alone time since I’ve been kind of tired and being around you guys is draining.” Mina gasps at your comment about her being draining and feigns offence. “I am not draining.”

“So, you were alone with Midoriya during lunch?” You don’t catch who asks the question jut that it was asked. You sigh wishing that humans weren’t naturally curious and that teens weren’t always looking for gossip. You don’t reply, which looks even more suspicious, as you leave the locker room.

Everyone is paired up with someone to spar with. You see Mina wave from her spot across from Tokoyami beyond her you can see Midoriya with Kirishima across from him. He doesn’t look this way and you wonder if what you said hurt him. You wonder if he will begin to hate you. You look around to see of you can spot Bakugou, your hand reaching down and rubbing your bandage through your pants. You turn when your name leaves your sparing partners lips.

“Sorry Todoroki. I’m ready whenever you are.” You get into a fighting stance and wave him forward beckoning him to attack. His expression never changes as ice dances across his skin and slowly spreads around him. You shouldn’t have underestimated his abilities nor should you have let yourself fight while dehydrated.

You wouldn’t say that you were hurt enough to go to Recovery Girls office however you did find yourself stumbling into the locker room shower. Once you shed your uniform the bruises on your body become visible to you. You whimper as your fingers press into the tender wounds. You let the shame and sweat rinse off you before you slowly sink. Sob escapes as you curl up on the floor. The locker room is empty and has been for a while. You had laid on the floor of the gym defeated for longer than you had meant to. Todoroki had originally tried to help you up but you wouldn’t move. Just lying there pathetically wallowing in your own failures. It was a simple match and yet you never landed a single hit and your dodging was useless. Your failure to match Todoroki’s strength lead to you sobbing on the dirty shower floor naked and bruised not just physically but your ego as well. You had assumed everyone had left back to the dorms or to go about their day like normal but you were wrong. Someone had noticed your absence, actually that person had witnessed your distracted fight and wanted to beat the living hell out of Todoroki for going so hard on you and not noticing you weren’t in a good state to fight. This person also watched you drag yourself to the locker room. He waited to make sure no one else was around before following the sounds of your sobbing. The steam covered every mirror blurring his image as he passed them to get to the stall you were breaking down in. He leaned against the wet tile wall. He let himself slide down until he was squatting, his knees jutted outward and his arms laying inward against his thighs between his legs. He moves his left hand toward the curtain making himself known.

“You’re not alone dumbass… It’s okay to not win every battle. It’s okay to not be okay.” These words coming from the most prideful guy you’ve met made your chest tighten. He was the last person you’d expect to be outside your shower while you broke down. He was the last person you’d expect to tell you that you didn’t need to win. Yet here he was saying this and being here for you. You try to hold back another sob but fail. Your hand reaches under the curtain and your fingers entangle themselves with his as you continue to weep against the cold tile.

#bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #boku no hero x reader #midorya x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #izuku x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha midoriya #mha imagines

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ficsnroses · 5 years ago

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Friends With Benefits Ch 7 - Keanu Reeves x Reader

Chapter VII ~ Old Habits Die Hard.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Word Count : 4K

Warnings : Angst. Oh, and nsfw. smut. 18+.

Series Summary : What happens when two, lonely friends start seeing each other for sex? A tricky friends with benefits love story, when feelings get in the way.

A/N : Welcome to chapter 7! This ones kinda heavy, but so important because we finally kinda get a look into both their minds. I hope you enjoy! 🖤 Also, you might want to punch them both in the face after reading this and that is totally valid.

Ch.6 Recap : Keanu and Y/N enjoy a wonderful night, waking up together nice and close, sharing snuggles. However, an argument ensues about their relationship, when Keanu proposes the idea of making a public appearance together. He leaves, leaving them both disappointed.

It’s true what they say about suffering.

Merely the minds refusal to accept reality.

As he sits alone at the bar, Keanu wonders to himself, if that’s what it really was. This illusion, of emission, affection, companionship, if it was all just a well fledged, textbook recipe for

Suffering.

He sips his drink, an ambers dewy glow, the aged whiskey lets him dial down the volume of his thoughts. He swirls it in his glass, the clink of the cubes, dwelling on the flavour as it hits his tongue. He holds it still for a moment, letting the burn perverse. The deep, rummaging burn, a relief in its own right.

Maybe that’s all he deserved.

Burn.

The bar is filled with people, some young, some old. The diversity is nice, allows him to sink into the sea of faces, in a world where all he wanted, in this moment, was to erase away to his own anguish.

Just when he’d feel that maybe, just maybe with Y/N, things could be different, he’d be reminded the next second,

that they couldn’t.

Anytime he felt, for the slightest moment, that maybe, she could be something more, they could be something more, she’d reject. The leaving all so sudden a week before, the disappearing for days on end right when they’d start to get close, this morning; the way she’d finally mustered it out, her feelings towards their label. It was clear, transparent as could be, Y/N didn’t feel what he did. Whatever it is; these feelings that he felt.

He’d dreamed of a lot. He’d dreamed endless, of what his life would be. A sufficient car by 20, a worthwhile career by 25, a loving wife by 30, lovely children of his own by 35. A home. He’d dreamed of building a home.

He was grateful, there’s no denying it. He’d been fortunate enough to be gifted all the things he needed, a career he would thank the sky for each day, where he’d been able to showcase his passion for his craft. He’d earned all the material things. He had more than enough, more than he’d ever need to be happy.

But he didn’t have what he perhaps wanted more, than all the superficial. That void, the companionship he wanted, never filled. Vacant, hallow, a part of him he might never fill.

Perhaps that’s why he felt the way he did, with Y/N. She’d been filling the void. The need for companionship, trust, intimacy, the need for connection. She’d made him feel not alone, in the endless crowds of people, everyone who seemed so happy, so content, as if mocking him each step.

She understood him, in a way no other had before. She got how it feels, to be alone. Perhaps, because she was too. She’d been a dire reflection of him, mirroring his tepid, half sheltered heart. The heart that longs, for so much more.

Was he…taking advantage of her? Is this, what they’d call toxicity? Two individuals, trapped in the same web of their pitiful selves, embodying the consecrate of unfulfilledness?

How good would it be, if she’d felt the same? If she’d wanted him in more, in the way he wanted her? As the time passed, the days turned to nights, the tick bestowing further, the time spending away, not making either of them younger, Keanu felt. He felt, that maybe, she was what he needed.

But not in the way he had her now, not in this way at all. He wanted more of her; separate from her physical form, the connection, the trust, the intimacy, but wrapped in the blameless bow of something more,

love.

In sickness and health, till death do apart. That mundane, esteemed, distinguished form of what they’d been craving; intimacy.

But she didn’t want it. She wanted what they had already established. A dependent relationship of physical euphoria. A temporary relief from their busy lives. A sex based affiliation. He couldn’t blame her, it’s what he’d agreed to as well. And now, they were too far gone to perhaps ever make more of it.

This is what she wants. This is what makes her happy. So he’d keep it that way, because her contentment, is invaluable.

Even if it means, for him,

to suffer.

He’d been swept away in the cognitions of his mind, trapped wallowing in his own desolation, an endless stream of what could be, when the seat beside him occupies. A woman, younger than him by far, erogenous, the scent of malted liqueur stippling her skin. Her luscious locks rest on her exposed shoulders, her dress suggestively low cut, leaving little to the mind’s curiosity.

She leans in further, resting her arms on the bar counter, closer to Keanu than he would have liked. In a moment too soon, her sultry voice proceeds.

“What’s a hunk like you doing here alone?”

He cautiously pulls away slight, enough to keep a feasible distance. Her gaze shrieked thirst, and she wanted it quenched, by him.

“Just having a drink before heading home, thank you.” Keanu nods, turning his head to face forward. This, was not what he wanted. Not right now.

She lowers her gaze to his dark swept jeans, biting her lip, stifling. With her touch piercing, she grazes her index finger to his thigh, suggestive.

“And how is a mere drink, supposed to satisfy a man like you?” She peeves. “How about we get another order of drinks, huh?” She purses, her eyes practically stripping him whole. “Can I get two Manhattans on bar, please?” She gestures.

“I’m alright, thank you, miss.” Keanu replies, short, voice thick with disinterest. He turns away again, attempting to mind his own business, when she touches his forearm.

“Please, don’t call me ‘miss’.” Leaning in close, her breath traces his ear as she speaks. “Unless you want me to call you sir…”

He pulls back, ready to leave the barstool, when his phone vibrates in his pocket. Sighing, he pulls it out to see her name flash the screen. Y/N.

“Excuse me.” Keanu tells the lady, taking the call, as the lady glances the name cross his screen. “Hello?” He answers.

“Hey,” Y/N’s silken voice chimes on the other end. There’s a drop of nervousness laced in her tone, although he can’t quite seem to pinpoint it.

“Hey.” He replies, trying his best not to come off too dejected.

“What’s up?” She asks, the line flat quiet on the other side. She must be alone.

“Nothing, just having a drink.”

“Oh…” Y/N glums. He swore there was disappointment on her lips. “That’s cool. Whiskey neat?” She smiles on the other end.

“On the rocks today.” He chuckles quiet. She remembered little things like that about him, his likes and dislikes, preferences. She’d come to know him quiet well over the years.

“Ahh, I see. It’s that kinda day.” The line falls silent on the other end. Normally, Keanu would be delighted to speak with her, their conversations never dying down, never awkward. But after this mornings outburst, he didn’t understand why she’d dialed him so soon. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

He hears an audible sigh on the other end, before she starts. “Listen, Ke. I just wanted to check in and make sure we’re okay. I know I came off a bit harsh this morning, and I was a bit out of line, I admit. You know that I appreciate you, right?”

“Yeah.” His deep voice barely speaks.

“You know you’re important to me. Really important. I’m sorry, I had no right to speak to you how I did. I understand you were just making a friendly gesture and I know our relationship is really unique, but I love that it works for us. And I just please, need to hear that you’re not upset or offended.” She sighs. “I wanted to thank you for coming over last night, and staying with me. I really needed a friend yesterday. And I’m sorry that we left on a sour note this morning.” She quietly chuckles, probably rolling her eyes at herself on the other end. She did that a lot, it was one of her most lovable quirks. “I don’t know where the sudden mood change came from, I must be PMSing or something.”

Keanu’s eyes glance down for a moment, happy to hear her voice, yet the feeling of melancholy never quite leaves his being. Y/N had apologized, but she hadn’t retracted any of her statement. It went to prove, that everything she said, is how she must have truly felt.

She didn’t want to be more. She didn’t want him the way he had begun to want her. And she perhaps, never will.

“It’s alright, Y/N. You didn’t even have to call.” Keanu replies, swirling the amber liquor in his glass.

“No, Keanu, I did. I was out of line. I didn’t want you to be upset with me.”

He lets a small grin creep his lips. “You know I can’t be upset with you, Y/N.” Despite their reconciliation, his dusty, chocolate orbs never quite mirror the small smile his lips pursue.

She giggles, her voice honeyed, a breath of fresh air from the suffocation around him. “Well, I would have loved to spend all day with you today. I know it’s evening now, but if you’re free…” She paused brief. “We could, get together? Have a meal? I could also use some us time later if you want…”

His eyes glance down, an small exhale emitting his lips. Things were back to normal.

But was that what he even wanted?

“That sounds great. I’m just heading home, meet me there?” He asks.

“Sure. I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“Alright.” He speaks.

He decides. He’d rather have her, than not have her at all. Even if it was on her terms, the way she wanted, their relationship however she preferred. He needed her in his life in some form.

Even if it was just dinner,

and a fuck.

Sighing, he palms his wallet in his jeans, ready to head out, as the woman grabs his arm again, before he can set the phone back into his pocket.

“Listen,”she drips. “You’re hot, I’m hot. The night is still young…” Fiddling his sleeve, she draws in closer. “Just a one-night thing, yeah?”

Keanu asserts his features, annoyance now apparent. Pushing her hand away, he speaks, firm. “Miss, please.” He straightens his shirt out, standing. “I have a girlfriend.” The lady frowns, rolling her eyes. “That Y/N you just spoke to?”

Standing, he throws his leather jacket on, reaching for his keys. “Yes. Not that it’s any of your business.” Throwing his due on the bar counter, as well as a generous tip, Keanu leaves, trying his best to focus on nothing more, than seeing his Y/N soon.

If, he could even call her that.

He didn’t even think he could dream of being with another woman, besides Y/N, now. He’d tasted the best, the purest form of nirvana.There was no going back now.

Little to his knowledge, a shocked Y/N listens on the other end of the call still, the phone held in tight grip to her ear, shaken at the words he’d just spoke. She wasn’t sure if she should be glad, that he’d forgot to hang up, or disappointed.

Had he just called her his girlfriend?

They’d arranged a date. She’d initiated it. She’d have to go through with it now, especially after what she’d done this morning. Even if her feelings had got the best of her, from what she’d heard.

Why had he called her his girlfriend? Was she just an excuse now? A weapon for him to flaunt?

She’d be lying if she hadn’t dreamt of it being that way. How they could be, how their relationship would be she were his girlfriend. She’d take him any day, but not this way. Not when he didn’t feel the same.

The rain falls, peppering his front yard. Each leaf glosses, she watches it globe while she waits for him at the door. The pools flood, leaving small puddles speckled along the yard. This darn rain.

Was it ever going to stop?

In a moment, Keanu glides the bulky doorframe open, closing the gate behind her with the switch of a button. “Hey,” He smiles, pulling her in for hug. He seemed happy to see her.

“Hi.” She quietly replies, wrapping her arms around his neck for a brief hug.

“Everything alright?” He asks, letting her go as they walk into the kitchen. He’s got the window cracked slightly ajar, the sound of the drumming rain apparent on their ears. In the center of the granite countertop, the slow glow of a candle waves. She focuses on it, collecting her thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m alright.”

Moving towards her, his deep voice empathizes. “Doesn’t seem like it.” As he sets himself down on the kitchen counter stool, he pats the vacant seat beside him. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” He soothes a rub to her arm.

“Yeah.” Taking place beside him, she rubs her temples, not sure how to start on the subject. Keanu looked happier than she’d seen him last. It had hurt her so, so bad to make him feel the way he did earlier that morning, the expression of hurt on his face, the sorrow, it killed her. She didn’t want it to return, as she sat beside him now.

But it had to be spoken about. She’d heard what she had on the phone, and she needed an explanation. For her own sanity.

And maybe, just maybe, this, could be the spark of a conversation. The spark of this relationship, becoming something new.

Cautiously, she lets out a heavy exhale, finally connecting their eyes. Encouragingly, Keanu’s hand finds hers as he holds it, assuring her that her thoughts and feelings, would always be safe with him.

“Keanu…I…”

His fingers lace with hers, assuring her with a soft hold. “Go on, sweetheart.”

Tucking a stray hair behind her ear, she speaks. “You left your phone on after our call. I overheard you talking to some, woman?”

His expression falls, stoic, eyes glancing down as his hand lets go of hers.

The assurance. Gone.

“And…you said I was your girlfriend. Me, Y/N. I just-”

Before she can finish, he cuts her off. “Y/N, that woman was trying to get me to take her home. I needed an escape, and you were the last girl on my mind, so I ended up using your name. It meant nothing more. I’m sorry you had to hear it.”

Y/N’s expressions go flat as well, and she can’t help the dissatisfaction coating her look. She thinks to herself, of course, he didn’t actually feel the same as her. He was merely using her name, because it was the first to pop into his mind at the time.

She wasn’t special. She cursed herself for evening letting the thought sneak her mind.

“Oh…alright.” Y/N fixes her smile, trying her best to shine it his way. Only this time, it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, either. “Just making sure.” She quietly laughs, trying her best to keep her blues hidden.

Keanu pulls back cautiously, moving in his seat to give her space. “Right. I mean we could never...you know. We’re not in that place.” He guardedly speaks, running a hand through his hair. Keanu had said those words, only to keep things the way she wanted.

This is what she wants to hear. She doesn’t want more, Keanu. He thinks to himself. Don’t fuck it up again.

“Right. Not in that place.” Y/N nods, compliant. It’s a different story, that those words pierced through her skin, through the reveries of her heart. He’d never be in that place with her.

It’s time she accepted it.

“Dinner then?” Keanu asks. “I’m starving.”

“Sure.” She giggles, allowing the feelings flooding her mind to keep at bay, for now.

Dinner went by, although the tones different than they normally were. Conversation had been a little more awkward, a little more forced. It seemed as if, the events of today had trapped them in their own cageful minds, their true selves never being awarded the freedom they’d once relished in.

They both felt it; there was no denying it. Things were different now, after today. Both their feelings, hidden, confined away, imprisoned in the depths of their cognizance. They clawed to be free. Yet neither of them would dream of allowing it that way.

Not at the risk, of losing one another.

They say old habits die hard.

They say, you should respect yourself to walk away.

To end the suffer, if it’s not pushing you to what you need.

But old habits, they do die hard.

Especially, when they’re laced with fear. Fear of losing what you want most.

Late into the night, after dinner and half executed attempts to carry conversation, here you were, again. In the quiet of his bedroom, you’d found yourself, legs wrapped around Keanu’s waist, grasping his shoulders as he slips a condom for protection on himself. In anticipation, you watch his hands move, eager to feel him close.

Something you hadn’t felt, all day. In more ways than just one.

Studying his features, you see him tense, he’s not his normal, lively self. Perhaps you’d been the same, the natural frown that you so badly wanted removed would not budge off your lips. He positions himself, nestled between your legs spread open for him in the darkness of his bedroom. The moonlight filtering in allows him to catch glimpse of your face. Your beautiful face, which he wished he could kiss so tenderly, so affectionately.

All of you, which he so desperately craved to be his. In a way greater than this. But that wasn’t possible, so for now, this would suffice.

This physical bond would suffice.

“Ready?” His deep voice rummages, hands planting firm to your hips. You nod your head, biting your lip. With one steady thrust, he sinks into you deep, pausing briefly to allow you to adjust. Within seconds, he begins rocking, rotating his hips skillfully, setting a rather brutal pace. A moan slips your lips into the dark of the bedroom, his grip on your waist tightening as he pounds into you.

To the sound of the bedframe creaking, the headboard hitting the wall behind, your thoughts race a mile a minute. Today is different. The sex, isn’t the same.

Normally, Keanu appreciates each inch of you, you communicate with each other, compliment each other, yet today, proves a dire contrast. You lay beneath him, taking him as he drives into you. His pace is faster today, as if he’s trying to get it over with. His hands hold tight to your body, as one spare moves to cup your breast, his girthy cock reaching the deepest part of you, hitting your edge each time. His eyes focus on your bountiful breasts, bouncing perfectly to his rhythm, your nipples hardening as he fondles them, cupping as he pleases.

You let out an ear-splitting moan, after trying your best to keep them in tonight. The mood was different; you weren’t even sure if you should be moaning. But regardless, Keanu is fucking you so well, so good, you find it practically impossible to hold off, your face turning red as a result. Your fingernails dig into his back, watching his thrusts become frantic, you feel yourself weakening.

You watch his eyes clasp tight shut, small, ragged gasps leaving his lips in breathy exhales. He grunts, pushing into you. Feeling him twitch inside you, you know he’s close. You feel your skin becoming flushed, trickles of sweat peppering your forehead at the way he’s undoing you so well, his throbbing cock jammed deep inside your clenched cunt, whole, you can feel yourself dripping each time he pulls out, only to slam back in.

The sounds your making only turn you on more, your drenched wetness slick on his cock, the sounds your cunt makes send shivers down his spine, and he shudders knowing he wont last long. Wrapping your legs around his waist tighter, you try your best to pull him as close as possible, urging to feel the most friction to your sore, aching center.

With a particularly deep, harsh thrust, you come all over his cock, your orgasm taking you whole, sending piercing shocks through your mind. Your thoughts haze, the only feeling you feel is the oblivion he’s spilled you into. Within a few rockier thrusts, you feel Keanu spill his creamy load deep inside you, his cock still throbbing, his lips let out a loud moan, his palms digging into your hips. Your bodies jolt from the aftershocks, coming down from your highs.

He sighs, letting heavy breaths fall from his lips as he pulls out, leaving your cunt pulsating, he falls beside you on the bed, keeping a slight distance. You try not to let the tears fill your eyes, but they do.

They inevitably do.

Just this morning, you’d woken up in his arms, holding him close, as he held you. Now, into the late of the night, you’d just had sex with him, except it had been completely different.

This, wasn’t the type of sex you normally had. This was toxic sex. The type of sex you have, when you want to feel something so, so bad, when nothing else fills that void.

Pulling the duvet up higher to your chest, you attempt to cover yourself as you turn to your side. He lays still, staring up at the ceiling, chest rising and falling. It felt good in the moment, for him, it always felt good when it was you. But now, as the euphoria of release has left, he feels guilt. Immense guilt, for ever allowing it to become this way.

How did they ever let it end up this way?

They wonder to themselves, in the quietude of their own minds. Not a word spoken the entire session, not during, not after.

Dead beat, dreadful, excruciating silence.

Into the dark of the night, he hears Y/N speak. “I should go.” Keanu sits up, looking her way as she pulls herself up, eyes scanning for her shirt.

“It’s late, Y/N.” He debates, reaching out to touch her. She doesn’t mean to, but she flinches slightly at his touch.

“Yeah, it’s alright. I’ll make it.” She says. He reaches over, down the bedside to grab her shirt, giving it to her as she wearily covers her chest from him.

They’d never been this distant before.

“Y/N, please, I don’t like the idea of you leaving this late. At least let me drive you?”

As she slips on her bra and panties, back facing him still, she tries her best to keep her tears at bay. She couldn’t let him see the pain in her eyes. This was her fault, she thought. Her feelings. This is what she had signed up for. She had no right to feel the way she did.

“No, it’s alright.” She speaks, as he follows her out the bedroom to the front door. Keanu had managed to only slip on a pair of boxers and a worn out t-shirt in the process, practically chasing after her. His chest falls heavy, knowing that there’s tension. Whatever caused the tension, he doesn’t know. All he knows, is the women he feels for, is leaving.

And she’s not feeling good. He can tell.

“Y/N, please. Did I do something?” He asks frowning, touching her shoulder. She finally turns, and he sees her eyes red.

“No, no. I just have an earlier morning tomorrow and need to get home.” Giving a small smile his way, she assures him, trying her best to pretend that all was alright. “I’ll talk to you later.”

As she attempts to walk out, closing the door behind her, Keanu follows her out the door, walking her to her car. It unsettles him deep to allow her to drive home, alone, in the night at 11:00pm. LA can be distressingly unsafe. He often found himself worrying when she’d drive around late at night, in her barely efficient car.

To the snarl of the car engine, she pulls her window down, assuring him one last time. “I’ll be alright. You get some rest.”

Keanu nods, the frown never leaving his lips. “Please, please call me when you’re home, or at least send a text. Please don’t forget.” He says quietly. With a nod, she pulls up her window, giving him a small wave as she pulls out of the driveway.

As he watches her reverse, pulling onto the empty LA street in front of his home, he kicks himself for not stopping her stronger. He should have forced her to stay. Kept her safe. Her eyes were red, she was upset, there was no denying it.

But why? What could he have possibly done, now? When all he’d been trying to do all night, was keep things the way she wanted? Strictly physical, no “extra” stuff in-between, as she’d referred to it?

With his gaze set on the scene around, he ponders to himself, stuck dead in his tracks, unable to move. In the lifeless of the night, he feels the rain peer in again, tiny drops of fresh water spattering, doting, speckling his exposed skin. It only gets harder, as the gloomy, shadowed gray clouds drift in further, the rummage of thunder in the sky louder by the second. Around him, he smells the scent of fresh rainfall, the dewy, water frosted grass glossing in the moonlight.

This darn rain.

Was it ever going to stop?

>>Chapter 8>>

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sasspiria · 5 years ago

Text

Guiltless - Chapter One

Fandom: Borderlands / Tales From The Borderlands

Ship: Rhys/Handsome Jack (Rhack)

Summary: In which, Jack is a transient serial killer who believes himself to be a hero. While he's on the road he runs into his emotionally damaged and fragile soul mate, Rhys. Jack is surprised that someone like him would have a soul mate, even someone trapped in such a shady situation as Rhys is. Rhys is surprised that someone like Jack could be so kind to someone like him.

Tags/Warnings: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con, Human Trafficking, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Murder

Read it below the cut or on Ao3 Here!

For nearly all of his life, Rhys had been made to suffer. He couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t spending his nights, crying himself to sleep and chewing on Xanax just to get through the day. He was nearly twenty now and at this point he was convinced that there had never been a time where this wasn’t “normal” for him. It had been so long since he had had a life that could even be considered somewhat ordinary.

When he was six years old, his mother had taken him to a dilapidated house in a neighborhood that he had never been before and told him that he would be living here from then out. He didn’t understand why, and she never explained why. She just screamed in his face like she always did – told him that he was terrible and stupid and too much trouble.

He hadn’t known how to not be too much trouble, she had never told him how. Then there was a group of men, big and intimidating looking men that gave him, even at an age where he was so young and naive, a terrible feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. His mother had urged him towards them, promising Rhys that they would take care of him from now on.

He couldn’t bring himself to believe her. Before they could pull him all the way into the house, he had broken away from the men and tried to run back towards his mother. Rhys had screamed and screamed for her, begged her to come back, offered to do anything – he would be the best son ever, he would never cry or complain or ask for anything, if she would only turn around and take him back home. She never did. She didn’t look at him as the men pulled him back, throwing him on the ground, hard enough that he was left disoriented, with spotty vision and bruising all over his face.

Once he was in their care, Rhys had been put to work nearly immediately. Some of it wasn’t so bad; cooking and cleaning, simple stuff. Then there was the other work, work that involved him going into a dark room and having his clothing torn from him, having pictures taken of him, being hurt in ways that he had been too young to understand just how wrong it was.

As he grew older, he had been moved from place to place, being forced to kneel on dirty floors and lay on his back or stomach as countless men did whatever they wanted with him every single day. He never got used to how degraded he felt by all of the things that he was made to do.

Every morning, when he woke up – when the bleariness of sleep and the euphoria of his dreams had him confused, he would be convinced that the life he had in his dreams was the real one. It only made it all that much more miserable when he realized which world was the dream and which was reality.

He sat up in the motel bed and let himself come to terms with the reality of his situation. Who he was and what he was. He tried not to lurch and curl up in despair and he had to put forth an incredible amount of effort to pull himself to his feet, mentally preparing himself to get ready for another day.

Once he was in the shower, with the water running loud enough to blot out any sounds he made, Rhys let out a muffled sound of frustration and rested his forehead against the aluminum tiled wall and let himself cry – ugly, reeling sobs tore from his throat in a primal sort of way. He had learned a long time ago, that he would need to let his emotions out at the right time or he would be punished.

No one liked a cry baby. He had been told that time and time again, had it beat into him until he finally understood.

He washed himself in between each sudden out pour of emotion as he prepared himself for the day. Once he decided that he looked the part and he was dressed and pretty enough, he walked out into the hall. Usually someone would be there at the front, with a card for him filled out with his daily clients and information. It was all very professional, he thought with some humor.

As soon as he walked down into the hall, he was stopped by – of all the people – Hugo Vasquez. Ever since he had known Vasquez, the man had had it out for him. Rhys had no idea why. Maybe it was because he had denied his advances, but he could never really be sure.

The first words out of Rhys’ mouth were, “Where’s Henderson?” And he had regretted them almost immediately. Vasquez curled his lips in distaste, looking down at Rhys like he was something disgusting and diseased. Strangely, it mirrored how Rhys felt about himself.

“Hello to you too, Rhys.” Vasquez replied smugly, “Henderson’s gone.” And Rhys opened his mouth, nearly asked what Vasquez did to him – he did something terrible, Rhys just knew it – but he managed to stop himself, just barely. Vasquez smiled at him, “You’re gonna be answering to me now.” He explained, voice easy and smooth.

“Okay…”

“No card tonight.” Vasquez explained, putting a hand up to Rhys from speaking. “I’ve booked you with a group of businessmen. Maliwan guys. They want to spend the weekend with you. And they’ve paid extra to film you. So you’re free until they come for you.”

Rhys shook his head just a little, “I don’t think I should be doing something like that.” He had no idea why he kept on speaking out, but he didn’t stop himself. He wasn’t really sure if he even could. “That sounds-” He was about to say, “Dangerous” but he didn’t get to finish his sentence because Vasquez grabbed him by the throat and threw him into the wall. Rhys cried out in pain as his head hit the wall, his vision spotted a bit and he became disoriented.

“Just do what I say Rhys.” Vasquez sneered down at him as he cowered against the banister. His demeanor softened a bit, like he didn’t want to come off as the bad guy here. “I’ll come back for you in a few hours. Think of it as a half-day.” Rhys felt sick at the implication. Having to whore himself out to multiple men in one night was one thing, but having to be filmed while he did them all felt even worse.

He didn’t say anything more to Vasquez, though, he kept his mouth tight shut because he didn’t want to be hit again. Vasquez walked off, leaving him be finally. Rhys sighed, knowing he was sure to be bruised. He walked back in to his room and looked around for some makeup to cover them up suitably.

No one would want to spend any time with him if he looked like he had already been roughed up. It took ten minutes of smearing and smearing foundation and cover up all over his face and down his neck until he was satisfied that he didn’t look like garbage.

Rhys walked out and decided to go into the motels restaurant and bar. He needed a stiff drink, or seven, and something hearty to eat. He figured that he probably wouldn’t be able to eat the entire time that he was with those businessmen that were gonna gang bang him, so he might as well eat while he could.

There wasn’t anyone in the restaurant, not even the usual bartender. The only one there was a man that he had never seen before. The man looked out of place. That was the first thing that Rhys had noticed about him, that he looked like he should be literally anywhere else but in the restaurant of this shoddy little motel. But here he was, in the flesh. He was tall and athletic looking, well dressed, with well coiffed brown hair and lightly tanned skin. As soon as the two of them locked eyes, Rhys felt like it was all over for him. His heart dropped into the pit of his stomach, a fluttery feeling came over him that had him feeling weak and dizzy.

He ushered Rhys over with a wave of his hand and Rhys barely noticed that he was walking over to him without a word of complaint until he was right near the bar. “Hi.” Rhys said awkwardly, waving his hand lazily in greeting. “I guess the bar’s closed.” He grumbled. That was a shame. He was hungry.

The other man just grinned at him with a starry expression on his face, like he thought that Rhys was being cute. Like he thought that Rhys was cute in general. He didn’t know how he should feel about that. “Sit down.” He ordered and Rhys quickly obeyed, “What’s your name, kitten?” He asked and, before he could speak, decided to give Rhys his own. “I’m Jack.” He said, offering Rhys his hand.

“Rhys.” He replied, never looking him in the eye. He shook Jack’s hand, hoping that it came off as polite instead of awkward as he felt. He felt something like a spark when they touched. It was pleasant and a little thrilling. He never got attention like this. He got a lot of sexual attention. He got more than enough of that, but he was never flirted with, never looked at like he was beautiful and special.

He kept his hand on the other man’s, not wanting to stop the innocent contact they were having with each other. But he didn’t notice his skin being marked. Jack was the first to notice it.

He let out a soft, nearly breathless laugh as he saw it. The mark began to warp and wrap around Rhys’ wrist, and his own – tying them together with a red string etched across both of their skins. Jack never believed that he would have a soulmate. He had a lot of reasons to believe that he wasn’t the type and honestly, he hadn’t ever seen the appeal before. In his mind, he had a higher purpose.

But looking at Rhys now, with his pleading and expressive eyes, with his pretty face, with his slim frame and those long legs – Well, he could definitely see the appeal now. Jack let out a low whistle, “Well, would you look at that…” He purred in a low, dulcet tone.

Rhys looked at Jack with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. He wasn’t sure what to make of him. The whole time that he’d been in here, he had been pea-cocking his way around the space they were in, the energy about him big and bombastic. Usually that sort of attitude set Rhys on edge, because he’d come to realize in his years trapped on this strip of concrete and pavement that people like that were likely to be erratic and unpredictable, especially in the bedroom. Sometimes, they were nice decent people but other times… it didn’t end well for him.

For some reason, he didn’t mind that sort of attitude with Jack though. It suited him, came across as charming, charismatic and lovely. Rhys supposed that it didn’t hurt that Jack was nice to look at. Handsome. He didn’t realize why he was so at ease though, until he looked down at the mans finger, drumming gently against his bare thigh, that he understood it. Jack was… he was – Rhys opened his mouth to speak, but found himself at a complete and utter loss for words. He would have never thought that someone like him would be permitted that sort of happiness. “You- you’re my…” He stuttered.

Jack’s smile grew into a grin, “It’s okay baby,” He soothed, taking one of Rhys’ hands in his own. The action was more intimate than anything that had ever been done to Rhys in his life. There was more tenderness and affection in that one simple touch than anything that he could ever remember his parents or anyone touching him. He still didn’t understand it. “Take your time.”

“Soulmate? Soulmate…” He blurted out, voice still quiet and broken. He sounded less like someone who had the innocent ripped from him and more like a church mouse. He was surprised, even with their proximity, that Jack had been able to hear him. “You’re my soulmate.” He repeated, firmer this time. “I didn’t think that something like that was possible for me.” But those last words were spoken with a deathly quiet to them. He was surprised to find out that Jack heard him, loud and clear.

“You?” Jack exclaimed, looking bemusedly over Rhys like he was inspecting him for any sort of defects or reasons why he wouldn’t be entitled to a happy life with a soulmate. “Why wouldn’t you have a soulmate?” He asked, genuinely curious about why he would think such a thing about himself.

Rhys went quiet for a moment, trying to find the way to explain himself. It was much easier having a conversation when he pretended to be someone else, when he was himself he just floundered. “I’m too dirty.” He finally explained, after a few moments of looking at his hands, a hopeless expression on his face. He thought that he was filthy and disgusting, rotting from the inside out – like his soul had been corrupted by everything that he’d been made to do. Everything that he had done. He hated himself.

Jack made a chiding noise, putting Rhys’ face in his hands and pulling him towards him. He stroked over Rhys’ cheekbones and let his fingers trail down the line of his long neck, until they were tracing absentmindedly over his collarbones. Rhys felt heat rising to his cheeks, giddy at the attention in a way that he never had been before. “Aw, kitten, you could never be too dirty for me.” He teased.

Rhys was about to say something back to that, but he quickly noticed that the middle aged woman at the front desk. Her name was Emily Goode and she was a long faced, unpleasant person that he had more than a few run ins with – was giving him and Jack a pointed look that said, “Get him to take you to a room and make us some money or send him away already.”

She was nearly as bad as Vasquez with how much she hated him for the crime of existing too loudly. At least she never got physical with him, which couldn’t be said for Vasquez. Rhys just hoped that she hadn’t heard any of his and Jack’s conversation. Things could only end badly for them, if she had. People would be called, and Jack could be hurt. He would be… removed. Taken to a new motel. Or killed. Probably both.

So, Rhys needed to rectify this quickly and he did his best. “Hey,” He said, in a voice that he hoped came across as sultry and secretive. Jack was moved to full attention, interested in whatever his soulmate might have to say. “Why don’t we take this somewhere… private? I have a room.” He urged, with pleading eyes that he hoped conveyed the desperation that he was feeling.

Luckily, Jack was smart enough that he noticed the change in Rhys’ tone and got the message right quick. Rhys grabbed the older mans’ hand and led him up some stairs and down a few hallways, until they were in his room.

Rhys kept his hold on Jack’s hand, a firm grip that belied how much his palms were sweating and his fingers were trembling against Jacks’ own, until they were sitting on the crisply pressed sheets of one of the motels beds. “They’re keeping me here, the uh, people who run this motel I guess?” Rhys said, doing his best to keep his voice low as he spoke, “I’m not- this isn’t- I was supposed to-” He sighed, not wanting to say it out loud. It was stupid, he thought, but the shame kept him tongue tied. “They make me work here. In the bedrooms. On my back, or on my knees.”

He was sure that Jack understood what he meant. The hints were clear enough. Rhys kept on going, he had never been permitted to speak so long without interruption. “I want to leave with you though, wherever you’re going I want to go too, if it’s possible.” Rhys said, looking at him with something like hope in his eyes. “I’m sorry it’s like this, I wish it wasn’t. But I don’t know what I can do about any of it.”

He tried not to cry, tried with all his might – because he barely knew Jack, whether they were soulmates or not and he didn’t know how he might react if Rhys just burst into tears like he wanted to – but it got harder and harder with every second that he sat there next to his soul mate, so close to freedom yet still trapped and rooted like he had always been.

There was something dangerous in Jack’s eyes, “They’re keeping you here, huh?” He muttered, less speaking to Rhys than he was to himself. “Okay…” He said, “I’ll take care of it, don’t you worry you’re pretty little head Pumpkin, I’ll have ya out of here by tonight.” His tone was somewhere in the middle between gentle and deadly. Then he grinned, all perfect teeth and intentions that couldn’t be good. “Matter of fact, I’m sure that I can get you out of here by the end of the hour.”

Rhys wanted that so badly, Jack had no idea how much he wanted that, but soulmate or no, he couldn’t expect Jack to put himself into danger on his behalf. They barely knew each other. “What are you going to do?” He asked, suddenly afraid for Jack. “Jack, these people, they’re dangerous. You don’t know what will happen.” He said. Secretly, Rhys didn’t believe that he was worth the trouble that Jack was going to for him – he was worthless and Jack would be better off forgetting about him entirely. He was just about to open his mouth and say that when his soulmate began to speak.

“Aw, Rhysie, are you worried about me?” Jack replied, grinning like a kid in a candy shop. “That’s cute. Real cute, but- uh, I can take care of myself.” He scoffed, like the idea that he wouldn’t be able to handle any situation was just ridiculous to him, “I mean, come on, look at me.”

“Jack, I’m serious!” Rhys snapped back, aghast. He didn’t know what he could say to make Jack understand – preferably without humiliating himself. “They took me when I was a child, I’ve seen what they can do.” Some of it, he thought, but what little he was enough to scare him into submission.

“So. Am. I.” There was something hard in Jack’s gaze, but it was quickly masked with tenderness. “I’ll take care of it.” Jack promised again, speaking in a low and soothing tone of voice. Rhys almost believed him. He pulled Rhys in for a quick and gentle kiss before he got up, “Stay here.” He ordered in a tone of voice that brook no arguments from the younger man. “I won’t be gone long.” And then he was out the door, leaving Rhys with a lot more questions than answers.

***************************************************************************

Jack walked out of the room and took a breath, preparing himself for the inevitable. It hadn’t been too long since his last kill. A few weeks. But he was always in the mood for a kill – so long as his victims deserved it, because then they weren’t really victims. They would be villains and it was a heroes job to get rid of them. And Jack Lawrence was nothing, if not a hero.

From what little that Rhys had told him before he’d left, these people were definitely villains. They deserved whatever they got coming to them, whatever Jack was willing to dish out as punishment for their crimes. They had hurt so many people, caused so much pain and ruined the lives of so many children. And, if all that wasn’t bad enough on its face, they had the audacity to hurt his soulmate. His. Nobody could just hurt what was his and get away with it. No. These people needed to suffer.

Jack went back into his car and took out some tools; a bowie knife, a nail gun and a pistol, loaded with ammo and modified with a silencer and last but not least, his clean-up supplies. He looked around the parking lot, the place was desolate with only a few cars in sight that night. That was a good thing. It meant that there wouldn’t be any chance at witnesses. He walked back into the motel with a pep in his step.

He looked around the front room and smiled as he realized it was just him and the woman who manned the front desk. She was complicit in whatever they were doing here, he thought, the look that she gave Rhys told him so. Still, she put on a nice display of ignorance and pretended to be friendly.

She smiled at him, grinning with at teeth. He noticed a bit of lipstick on one of them. “Are you having a good time, sir?” She asked, “Is there anything you need?” Jack chuckled to himself, amused by the misplaced display of kindness from her. Then an amusing thought crossed his mind.

She was trying to flirt. It was funny, pathetic, but funny. And it worked for his purposes. Jack took purposeful steps as he walked closer to her, close enough that she was nearly pressed right up against his chest. She didn’t try to push him away and it made him grin. Too easy. “Actually,” He said, wrapping one arm around her. “You know what? There is something you can do for me.”

“O-oh?” She replied, utterly charmed. “What’s that, then?”

He pulled the knife out from his back pocket, still she didn’t notice it. “You can die.” He said, in a nonchalant sort of way – the same tone that someone might use to speak about the weather.

All that she got out was, “What-” before he impaled the back of her neck with the bowie knife, twisting it inside of her. She collapsed against him and he held her tight while she weakly struggled. There was no use to it. She was gonna choke on her own blood in a matter of seconds. He doubted that it was even a conscious decision that she was making.

“Thaaaaaaaat’s it.” He cooed to her as she gurgled and cried out in pain. Blood poured from her mouth. He grimaced at that, he would have to do a lot of cleaning once this was over. Hopefully, he could get his Rhys out of the motel before he saw all of the bloodshed. “Go easy, pumpkin. Don’t make this harder on yourself than it has to be.”

And then she was gone. He dropped her like she was a piece of trash, used a long, thick coat that was hanging on the wall behind her – it was probably hers, he realized with a bit of humor – to cover her up, but not before he took the managers keys out of her pockets. He’d need those for later.

He looked through the books at the table, until he found an “Employee’s Roster” hidden underneath a lot of documents. There weren’t many people employed at the motel. There was this Emily Goode woman – but he had already taken care of her. Then there was Hugo Vasquez and Saul Henderson.

Then he decided to go through to the back rooms – there had to be some enforcer there – and sure enough, there was a man there, a tall and stocky looking man. Hugo Vasquez, he realized quickly. Vasquez spoke with an incredibly deep voice. “Sir, are you lost?” He asked, “This is… it’s an employees only area.”

He was obviously trying to be polite, but it looked like that facade was wearing down by the second. He was scared. Angry too. But the fear was more potent, he could practically smell it on the man. Jack tried not to crack a smile, or say something that would give the game away. “You work here?” He asked, even though he knew the answer. Jack put his hands in his pockets, both so he could dig out the nail gun and to make himself appear meek and unassuming. And as soon as the man gave a slight nod he pulled the nail gun out and shot him in the forehead. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Then he set to work on taking care of the bodies. He dragged the two of them into a bathroom. He kept his clean-up supplies in a satchel. It was all very standard fair.

Jack wiped the sweat from his brow, then he looked up and noticed Rhys… standing there with a frightened expression marring his pretty face. That couldn’t be good. He expected him to scream or start running, maybe even for him to shout at him and call him a monster.

But instead of any of the expected reactions, Rhys just watched him work on the bodies, making them tiny and disposable. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips, but other than that his aura was incredibly muted and he was completely motionless and wordless. Jack found that incredibly interesting, but he didn’t have the time just then to ask him questions about it. He would later, he promised himself, he needed to know just what his soulmate was all about.

Rhys watched with a placid expression as he watched the bloodbath in front of him, he knew in an objective sense that it was horrifying but he couldn’t bring himself to be horrified by the sight of some of the people that had abused and manipulated him for years finally gone. No, it felt… freeing and that was what really had him feeling horrified. What kind of person was he, what kind of monster was he, if he felt so damn relieved at the sight of such gore and destruction?

Jack moved so casually, it was damn near graceful. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that he was enjoying himself. He didn’t acknowledge Rhys’ existence for a few minutes as he worked, but it was obvious to Rhys that Jack knew he was there. It wasn’t until both Vasquez and Emily were hacked up into tiny bits and stuffed into bags that Jack locked eyes with Rhys again.

Jack looked at Rhys with an indescribable expression, “Rhys.” He said, his voice coming out as barely more than a breath. As he got up, moving to walk towards him, but stopped as he noticed his soulmate backing up a few steps. Rhys didn’t run though, he didn’t even leave the room, he just kept his distance from the older man. A few steps between them, to ensure that he had some control here.

“Is it over?” Rhys asked, having a distant thought that he might be in shock. He could barely formulate a coherent thought in his head, let alone putting all his disjointed feelings into words. “Are you- are they all gone?” He asked, looking at Jack with wide, questioning eyes. “They’re all…they’re dead?”

“Almost.” Jack replied, “There’s one more. Henderson. You know him?”

Rhys nodded minutely. “Henderson’s dead.” He blurted out, “Vasquez killed him… I don’t know why.” Probably to get a leg up in this trafficking business. He’d always been disgustingly opportunistic, even for a man in this sort of business. He crossed his arms over his chest and closed in on himself.

“Are you scared?” Jack asked. ‘Of me.’ was left unsaid, but they could both feel it hanging in the air heavy and tense. He would understand, even if he hated it, if Rhys wanted nothing more than to be away from him. He thought that what he was doing was right – he was taking out the bad guys, being a hero without so much as a thank you – but he knew that no one else would see it that way.

That was something that he was willing to accept. That he would never get the recognition and praise that he deserved, for getting rid of all of the criminals and monsters that he could get his hands on. Still, that didn’t mean that he had to like it.

Rhys nodded minutely, “A little.” he admitted, he let out a shaky sigh. “N-no matter how scared I am right now, it’s nothing compared to how much I was afraid being…” his face screwed up into a disgusted, pained expression. “In this fucking place.” He gestured vaguely around the space.

Jack walked towards Rhys purposefully, until they were so close that they were nearly touching hip to hip. Rhys practically stumbled into the older mans’ chest and Jack ran his fingers through his hair, soothing down the auburn locks with love and adoration in his touch. “What did they do to you?”

Rhys didn’t answer, he just pressed tighter against Jack and took comfort in his chest. He didn’t want to talk about that – not right now. No, he couldn’t do this right now. He decided to change the subject to something more comfortable. “Do you do this a lot?” He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to.

“Define a lot.” Jack countered, with a smile as he took a baby step towards Rhys. He didn’t want to scare the younger man any more than he already had. He wanted Rhys to feel safe with him always, even now, as crazy as that might be.

Rhys let out a quiet huff, “Okay…” He replied suspiciously, his morbid curiosity taking over for him in moments. “Why do you do it, then?” He asked.

“There’s so much scum out there.” Jack explained in a wistful sort of way. “Bandits, rapists, people who hurt people. Someone’s gotta take care of ‘em, right? That’s where I come in.” The way that Jack framed it made him come off as some kind of hero. Despite knowing that it was wrong, that what he had just done was wrong, Rhys couldn’t help but be drawn in by his words.

Rhys didn’t say anything for a moment, too floored to speak. “I guess that makes sense.” He admitted. Then a strange thought crossed his mind,“Did you know about what they’re doing here? Before I told you about what they’ve done to me?” He asked, wondering if he had been coming for them the whole time.

Jack laughed at that, “Ah, cupcake, you are overestimatin’ me.” He replied, his tone good humored and pleasant. “Not that I don’t love it! it’s cute. But, uh, no, I was just-” He kept laughing, but it petered down a bit until it was quieter. “I’m on the road a lot. I end up in places like this a lot. Usually, it’s a lot more boring than this.”

“Sorry.” Rhys mumbled so quietly that Jack could barely hear him. He looked down at the ground, in shame. He felt like he had done something terribly wrong – just by existing and inconveniencing everyone with his dirtiness. His wrongness.

Jack couldn’t understand what he meant. “What do you have to be sorry for?” He asked. Rhys didn’t reply, he just trembled in his arms. He felt rage deep in his bones, at what had been done to his soulmate. They would get what was coming to them. But for now, they needed to get out of here and onto the road. “Come on,” He said, finally, with a gentle smile on his face. “Let’s get out of here. You’re too good for this place, Rhysie. You always were.” Rhys shook his head. There was no way that he’d believe that if he knew him better, he thought.

“Wait… I need to do something first.” Rhys explained. “Give me, like, five minutes.” He added quickly, before he was running down the hall. There were others here, but they wouldn’t be able to here everything that went on – the walls were soundproofed, when they were in those rooms they couldn’t hear a thing that was going on outside their doors.

Rhys walked into each and every one of the rooms that he knew were filled with the girls and boys he had worked with for years – he told each and every one of them, personally that they were free to go now, but they had to leave before anyone more important than Vasquez came to check on them. He knew that none of them would miss the chance to ransack the place and run as soon as possible.

Then they were on their way out. The next thing that Rhys knew, he was laying on a bed in an incredibly luxurious caravan as Jack drove him away from everything that he ever knew. He fell asleep faster than he ever had before. For the first time in his life, Rhys slept well without the aid of anything but the feeling of strong arms wrapped around his waist. For the first time in his life, he felt well and truly safe. For the first time in his life, he felt loved and protected.

There had been a lot of firsts that day. There were bound to be a lot more for them, in their future.

#rhack #rhys/handsome jack #borderlands 2 #tales from the borderlands #tftbl #rhys the company man #handsome jack #my fics #serialkillers/soulmateAU

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the-girl-who-sang · 5 years ago

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October 26, 27 & 29th of 2019: The Day that the Show was on Earth and the Spectators were the Stars in the Sky

Start this message may be complicated, cause I feel my heart already hurting in yearning, but the memories that we created were so bigger and brighter than my small sadness, that I couldn't let this pass...

So here I'm writing you this words, that try to contemplate all the immensity of my truly love and appreciation for you, in the purest and uninterested way...

Leaving from beginning, I feel like I have a beautiful story to tell.

When the Love Yourself Tour where announced, I felt an indescribable euphoria. I thought that finally, I would be able to accomplish my biggest dream: go to your show and, make of this show, the first show of my life! But, unfortunately, there were no dates for Brazil.

But life is a surprise-box and, when you least expect it, something wonderful happens, something unexpected and so amazing, that you feel your breath fade and your smile taste like salt. And that was what happened for me.

Few time later, new dates where announced and, what was my surprise, when I saw that my country, that Brazil were in middle of them! The joy and the emotion ran through my veins! Everything was perfect! That was a sign... A sign that I would have my chance.

But things wouldn't be that easy...

Between all that happiness and excitement, a harsh reality hit me hard: don't matter how much I wanted go to that show, I wouldn't be able. I don't had the money to do this!

My dream, that for some moments were the sweetest and were so close of the touch of my fingers, like in a blink of an eye, disappeared, right in front of me, leaving behind, a bitter and suffocating taste.

So I cried... I cried because it hurted. So much. So much, that it doesn't fit into words. Was my dream, the thing I most wanted, the gift I wanted for my birthday right there, so close, but so far away...

I talked with my family and, even with all the problems, even with all the difficulties, frustrations and conflicts, they told me to try. And I tried... Putted on all my faith and wish, but wasn't enough. No, I couldn't. The defeat came mercilessly, got down like acid, and again I found myself alone, without friends, without joy, without hope...

This year, like the last two years, have been very difficult, I suffered pitiful losses, and my heart couldn't stand no more patches. I was broken and my only hope of joy had been torn from me.

Back to the beginning, I was... Destroyed, destroyed, exhausted. I could only accept the fact that, once again, I could not realize my dream. And that was, in fact, my last chance and so I had lost everything.

But... Do you know the expression that says 'miracles are real'? So, let me tell you a secret: this is true. And I can confirm, cause I received a miracle.

Missing only 4 days, for the 1º show of the Love Yourself - Speak Yourself Tour in Brazil, just like a miracle, I finally received the bless of can get my tickets. It were necessary some minutes for I can realize that it were really happening. Then I cried and laughed, jumped, screamed, and thanked... I thanked that because it was undoubtedly the best birthday present I could ever want!

I would really go to the BTS show with my mom! My dream was real! And in that moment of excitement and euphoria, I could only remember the words that a kind and sweet friend said, in a very hard moment...

The impossible is possible. And he was right.

May 25th of 2019 were the best day of my life.

I never imagined my heart could overflow that way. It was so much love, so much emotion, so much affection, care and feeling. I never imagined that my soul could transcend my body, surpass all the limits of the possible and the impossible, only to unite with infinity in the fullness of that moment.

What I felt that night will never leave me. It's carved in my bones, drawn in my memories, painted in my eyes, overflowed through my blood, sweat and tears. I will never forget that day, and that day will never fade from me.

Never, in all my life, to feel so full and complete. As if I be in that place, beside my mother and so many unknown souls, before you, was my destine, my true place in this world.

After that day, a lot changed... Inside me. Chaos went on outside, but every time he tried to destabilize or hurt me, the memories of those moments of pure joy, the voices, the smiles, the kind words came just like spotlights, driving the darkness away, rescuing me from evil. And once again, I felt safe.

You became my home, my safe place, my point of peace. And no word in the world can express the meaning of this.

Time passed...

And here we are. Many things happened, problems, difficult situations, uncertainties and insecurities; it's being one year & two months since the beginning of this journey... And what a journey! So full of teachings and learning.

In all this time, we have being strong... We fight daily with our demons, fears, insecurities. And we won. Every single day. Together, as always.

I think that, you feel the same that me, but I need to express it out loud.

This era, the Map of the Soul - Persona - and equally your forerunner, Love Yourself, have a very deep and important meaning to me. Since you started this campaign of self love, I felt like it was a call to my awareness, a stimulus to make me see things I didn't want. Know, I've always had self-esteem issues, I could never find myself beautiful or interesting, and I got used to people reaffirming my insecurities. It turns out that after so long, the marks surfaced and scars began to appear, many of them. Emotional and psychological.

I tried to avoid them, forget them for too long, until I reached a point where there was no escape. I had nowhere to run and was already tired of feeling so small, inferior, unworthy of all that is good or beautiful.

Thanks to you guys, I decided to change... Or at least give it a try. I decided try to look at myself with other eyes, try to appreciate my qualities and give more value to my skills and talents. And I have been following this journey. It is not always easy. There are days when I look in the mirror and feel so ashamed of the reflection that looks at me, I just want to cry and hide, but I remain strong. I don't hurt the body in which habit anymore - or at least I try - with bad words or thoughts.

I'm getting a little better every day. And all this, thanks to you. Whenever I think of something bad about myself, I try to imagine their faces, their soft voices saying sweet words to me, reminding me that my life matters and that I have value.

And so I have been following, one day at a time. And if one day is too much, one hour, or one minute, or one second at a time... Taking a deep breath and doing my best to make my dreams come true. And I will make it! I know I will... And you will still be very proud of me!

But how we know, nothing last forever...

October 26th arrived, I felt something different. I shivered and was afraid, because I knew what it was, but I tried to send to the ends of reason, the real motive for that little pain in my chest. Sometimes, the truth is painful.

October 27th also arrived and one more time, I felt the sensation of lost embracing me, like a cold hug of goodbye. Then, I felt sad, but tried to keep my mind positive.

But when irrevocably, the October 29th came, something stranger happened. My mind understood it before my heart do. The second, bubbling in an explosive mixture of longing, sadness and gratitude, finally fell silent at the insistent whisper of truth: the end has come... And this is a true I don't wanted to face. But we need...

Thinking now, after cry a lot, seeing fancams, photos, videos and messages, I understand the meaning of all of this. It's all about love. Your love, our love. It's all about give love, live love, share love. In the end, it's not about awards, charts or profits. This is nice, but isn't everything. What really matters, is what we give and gain free, from the bottom of our souls.

All the things we lived together, through all those months, teached me that life is prettier then we think, and all we need is honesty, humility and love. A truly & honest love.

And all this story brings me till here, till the last page of this journey that, in fact, is so far away of the end. Yes, this isn't the end. It's just the beginning! An incredible new beginning, full of new emotions & magical memories!

Today, October 29th of 2019, marks the day we surpassed the limits of what is impossible and what isn't. Today, we made the stars as the the spectators of our show of love, respect and support. In this night, the lights were on earth and the audience, in the universe, appreciating the masterpiece of our love.

Now, we will begin a new journey together. New plans will come, new dreams, new songs, memories, colours and learnings. We will grow up even more. Together, as always.

Cause we're made of love... And love last forever!

I wanted to thank you all for everything. Thank you for all your hard works, passion, dedication and devotion. Thank you for be so strong. Thank you for never give up. Thank you for keep your mind and feelings safe. Thank you for be my peace. Thank you for give me hope.

I'll love you forever... And beyond the forever!

Tomorrow, will be a new day. When you open your eyes, remember what I’ll say: you’ll never be alone, we will always love & support who you are inside, don’t matter what happen. And most important of all: remember that I love you, and I'll always be here, for you and with you!

Can't wait to see you all again, shining brighter then the stars, in the sky, cause you're my galaxy and together, we make the universe, a sigh of eternity!

Forever by your side...

Yasmin de Carvalho - Brazil. 29/10/2019, 23:59hs.

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akrasiaxxx · 4 years ago

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“so.” “soooooooooo?”

in the history of awkward dinners she’s been forced to sit through … this one may be the worst. but it’s done at the request of her brother. still in the dark to months shared between the two individuals now sat across each other. make peace. find common ground. so when the big day comes, he doesn’t have to find himself standing on a line. heart pulled in two directions. making excuses to one and casting aside the other. he doesn’t know what happened. only that something turned them from the occasional acquaintance to enemies. and he’s made it pretty clear -- he doesn’t care what transpired. just that it needs mending. immediately.

but he’s looking at her the way he once did. like there’s a spark both are afraid to touch. if she gets too close, she’ll burn. and hasn’t enough damage been caused by his hand? clearing of her throat. trying to settle on the right words to say only leave her wondering if she’ll say the wrong thing. when was the last time the two of them had been alone? not they’re secluded now. not like so many nights, curled up inside his apartment. laughing over dumb cartoons meant to amuse children. or screaming back and forth over another episode of true crime that’s got them fighting to see who can solve it first. she never realized how far back the memories went. how so many good moments packed into the few months they’d gotten to share.

“are we gonna talk about it?” “about what?”

she feels silly .. playing the fool who has no idea what he could possibly be talking about. as if the matter that brought them to this very meeting into weighing down on her. every breath another pound dropped. part of her is waiting for it to drag her under. deep beneath the earth until she is nothing but molten ash within it’s core. maybe that would be easier.

“how great you look. and i mean it callie, you look… amazing.”

without words, there’s a share look of congratulations. accomplishment of how far she’s gotten. six months clean under her belt. no drug stronger than a cup of coffee. and she’s almost starting to lose the taste of tequila from her lips. the road has been more difficult than expected. the first month filled with rock slides down the path of relapse. she had passed the 30 day mark more than she would ever admit.

and as far as broken promises go… his to be by her side when she was ready cut the deepest.

not that she had given him a chance. their decision to cut ties, only speaking in passing when jules had summoned them together, had happened longer before that. when the time came and she realized how far she had fallen … they’d moved on. they lived lives completely separate of each other. which seemed a weird way to phrase it. they had never been entangled. only caught up in stolen minutes when the moon rose high above their heads. they’d never had a shared life.

“thanks,” she mumbles. her gaze dropping away from his before she loses herself. in his eyes. in his smile. in the gentle calm he makes her feel, despite rippling anxiety that wants to push her from the restaurant. she isn’t supposed to be this hung up on him.

and she’s not. it’s seeing him for the first time. in such a long time that’s got her shaken.

“so is this the part where you tell me i’m not invited?” penny in the air. “do you even wanna come?” and the penny drops.

as if the world around them falls silent. she is keenly aware of how deep his breathing has become. the way he swallows down the lump in his throat. she wasn’t supposed to ask that. it was a simple answer -- either of course he was. or of course he wasn’t. he would deal with the consequences of both after he’d be given his sentence. now he had to face the reality of it. did he want to be in attendance? how important was she to him even after it all?

it deafening. the way he doesn’t answer right away. only leans back in his seat and allows his gaze to shift over her features. to follow along every curve to her face. and linger on spots where scars would normally stand out. if they weren’t hidden beneath layers of make up. covered by the sweater that’s less revealing than clothes she used to wear. she sits before him a completely different person.

but still equally enamored with him.

“hm.” “hm isn’t an answer, becker.” “ooh. becker. i must be in trouble.”

devilish hint behind smug grin will be her downfall. in a singular moment, time locked in the booth that seems cut off from the rest of the world … he finally relaxes. she can see the way his shoulders slump. not heavily. but enough to feel the tension melt off him. while she is treading water, struggling to stay afloat, he has found himself back to a simpler time. when they could joke. and laugh. able to be just the two of them. free of judgment.

“i’m serious. i need to know.”

putting her foot down … with him more than most, is difficult. she can’t walk a straight line without wanting to dip her toe over. to fall into him. to let him whisk her into euphoria and a laugh so deep her belly hurts.

“do you want me there?”

and just like that her patience fades. anger boils beneath the surface. tearing her apart as a storm does anything in it’s path. how easily she is reduced to violence trapped in human skin. he pushes her to the same edge his friends once had. when she snapped. and reminded them of their place among the elite. how the little people suffered at the hands of their decisions. she hadn’t been able to get this angry. not without the mix of alcohol and god knows what else fueling the fire in her stomach.

“is that your answer to everything? push it off and make someone else decide?” “cal, that’s not-” “answer the damn question then.” “it’s not that easy!”

echo of words spoken through a door hit her like a truck. if she hadn’t been sitting already, knees would’ve collapsed beneath her. falling onto the carpet. if she’s lucky, knocking her head on the way down. anything that pulled her from this conversation. that kept her heart locked away from him. and his mind free of her games.

that night is a plague upon her memories. there’s a long list of moments she is able to block out, to fully erase from her conscious memory. and yet that one … never goes away. each word. the kind and caring tone of his voice as he tried to make sure she was alright. as if he hadn’t stepped on her heart.

“this time callie, it’s not about me.”

this time. because when he’s previously run away from the difficult decision, it had been about what he wanted. to keep his friendship with jules intact. knowing that allowing himself to fall in deeper with her would be disaster. the end of an era. he could have her -- a broken, addicted, trashy stripper who had fallen from grace. or he could have jules. the man who had been his rock for longer than she had been a conscious thought in his mind.

the longer it sits with her.. the more it makes sense of him to ask. he isn’t rejecting the question. the shift in it’s direction truly isn’t as simple as backing her into a corner. or avoiding the responsibility of being the one to take a stand. he’s trying, in his own way, to be selfless. to allow the importance of it to fall on her shoulders. and to keep her as comfortable as he can without outright saying as much.

why does he have to be so good even when he’s pushing all her buttons?

“i didn’t,” she doesn’t get to finish her thought. not without seeing his shoulders sag again. this time in defeat. his back resting against his chair. and gaze falling from her own. “at first. but i thought about it. a lot. and… it wouldn’t be right. we have to stop pretending like we mean nothing to each other, beck.”

“we talked about this.” “no. you talked. i listened. now it’s your turn.”

tension is now partner to her beating heart. conversation has been praticed time and time again. spoken to a mirror. or a nearby stuffed animal with all the time in the world to listen. how often did it end in tears? smashed glass once or twice. bear thrown across the room, only to be picked up when comfort was needed. she is no stranger on how to start the words. it’s getting them to stop that’s the challenge.

“you decided i wasn’t worth it. and i get that your friendship to jules is everything to you.. even if you won’t say it. but you didn’t even give me a chance,” she pauses. taken breath the singal to silence his comments. twitch of his lip giving away his need to interrupt. “it’s not like i would’ve asked you to give him up. but you made me fall in love with you. then shoved me out the door.”

is that the first time she’s said it out loud? that word. that one word which carried more weight than any other in their language. in all the times she has gone over this conversation .. she’s never had the courage to admit it. she had fallen in love with him. so far gone from the childish crush that kept her coming back for more. needing to see his smile. desperate for that glimmer of pride in his gaze when he looked at her. she had walked away from the puppy love and straight into something real.

but real didn’t mean forever.

“all i wanted was for you to acknowledge what was happening. to tell me you felt what i was feeling. because you can’t spend that much time together.. have the conversations we had and not feel something! i just needed you to tell me it wasn’t one sided!” there’s a bubbling of tears. emotions getting the better of her. but as she swallows them down, keeping her gaze locked on the curve of his forehead … his head lifts. his gaze syncs back to hers. and all the color drains from her cheeks.

“no, it wasn’t.”

the clarity isn’t nearly as commending as she so often worried. instead it carried peace with it; spread to the corners of her soul that hadn’t known rest in longer than the issue with beck had been a problem. she hadn’t been falling on her own. he had been there, right along side her every step of the way. walking their path side by side, hand in hand. even if it was only for a brief twinkle in the stars of their life… what they had shared hadn’t been in her head.

his big talk of feeling nothing. the speech he had prepared to push her away … had been just that. a practiced effort to deny the truth. does that mean it had hurt him just as much?

“but we can’t--” “no. we can’t undo it. and we can’t ever tell jules. i’m not asking that. but i can’t keep doing this. do you know how hard it’s been to not call you when i thought i was gonna fall off the wagon? or when i got a promotion?” “you had dmitri.” “yeah, but he’s not you.”

words taste wrong. they are misplaced across her tongue. because the last thing she means to do is discredit the importance of dmitri in her life. but that didn’t diminish the gapping hole beck had left in his own absence. she had room for both of them. separately. different in every sense. but they both fit.

puzzle pieces that mended her heart.

“and maybe that’s a good thing.” “beck. stop! i’m not asking you to whisk me off to vegas for a shot gun wedding. but.. i need you in my life. i need to know when things are tough i can call and you’ll answer.”

answer isn’t immediately delivered to her ear. he’s nonverbal for a solid few minutes. the seconds ticking by like grains of sand along the shoreline. getting swept back back into the ocean. each breath a wave more violent than the last. but before she loses it completely … the light goes off behind his gaze. like he’s finally able to see her point of view. he feels the beating of her heart. and the pain is carries from losing him the way she did.

her life had never been made of absolutes. or certainties. everything had hung in the balance, depending upon her work ethic and thick skin to carry her to great heights. the once assumed loved her life had knocked her further into the ground than she thought was physically possible. that moment capsuled in the loss of her belief in love. or soulmates. and then one man had showed her both were possible.

too bad they were only ever destined to be star crossed.

“okay, okay. deal. and before you hop on your high horse … it hasn’t been easy for me either, cal. he talks about you all the time. how proud he is. how happy you are. it’s like you were there and i couldn’t reach you.”

would it be too subtle to remind him he’s had her number? or to mention the billion missed calls, voicemails, and texts? because getting clean had meant facing her demons. each one of them. of course.. nobody had told her that her biggest one would come without closure.

“so that brings us back to the question -- do you want me there?”

smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. the resolve is more peaceful and honest than she ever could have imagined. but it’s also an ending. bittersweet in the nature of it’s design. her next words will forever shut the door to what could have been if they hadn’t been afraid to try. sealed tight with neither of them holding the key. in this moment … with all the cards on the table, she’s not sure if she’s ready to say goodbye.

“i do… we do. which is why i’m here. it was a lot of talking and arguing and explaining why. but i think he gets it now.” “he never did like me.” “can you blame him?” “yeah. could’ve stolen his girl any time i wanted.”

the words are dressed in humor. laugh filtering into the space between them and breathing life back into the restaurant. the world comes back with a hard slap. metal against fine china. the clinking of glasses as fond words are shared. even the buzz of mindless chatter that carries into the high ceilings. how long had they been lost in each other?

nervous energy twists the ring that sits on her finger. she never thought she’d be here. never saw her life coming to this. and somehow being happier and more miserable than she’s ever been. she knows it will fade. she will walk away from this conversation in shambles. but when she slips back into her apartment and curls into the arms of the man she loves .. everything will fall into place. she will remember why she said yes. she will remember how far she’s come. and while love for the man across from her now will never fade, she knows they’re just not meant to be.

“okay. please promise me that won’t be in the speech.” “oh it’s definitely going in.” “uh huh. changed my mind, you’re not invited.”

conversation redirects to a soft tone. the genuine catch up of two friends who hadn’t seen each other in the longest of time. but the heaviness lingers. both their minds scattered and hazed with what if’s and could we’s. but they remember themselves. the promises made to others. it will take time. she knows that without it being said. but something in his laugh tells her.. he’s equally happy to suffer through having a piece of her than not having her at all.

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realityextinct · 8 years ago

Text

JayRoy fanfic - Borderline

Summary: When Jason asked him whether he was alright, he never once used the word “relapse”...and that in itself was something sincerely dear to Roy.

Pairing: Jason Todd/Roy Harper

Rating: PG-13

Status: Complete

Warnings: drug abuse, abstractness/weirdness, language

A/N: just showing my appreciation for my, what seems to be, new obsession...

Word count: 2,026

If anyone saw him like this, he was certain they would think he lost his mind, but he didn't seem to care, not at all, as he swirls around on the rooftop, cigarette, not his, but with a very familiar flavor in his mouth, a can of beer in his hand.

The strong wind was making it hard for him to move around, but he didn't seem to mind. Moving to a beat that seemed to only be in his head, muttering the lyrics "...you're so cynical...narcissistic cannibal...". He paused for nearly a second to take a drag, watching the smoke disintegrate in seconds, the air carrying it away far...far far away...as if it was never there to begin with.

He glanced off into the distance, for a second it seemed like his mood faltered, but after a swig of his beer, cigarette back in his mouth, he swirled again, overwhelmed by euphoria.

He loved this feeling...he loved it so much!! The wind was messing up his hair, the strength almost made him fall on occasion, but he loved it all the more. His unbuttoned shirt swirled behind him endlessly and for a moment he felt as if he had wings.

Free! He was absolutely free there!

Roy threw his arms up. Unable to stop himself from laughing, he watched as the cigarette was carried away by the wind until the red dot finally disappeared.

"Fuck..." he muttered under his breath and patted his pockets in search of the pack. But he didn't have it on him.

Hm. Oh well! He still had beer!

Another swing and a swirl and he was at the very edge. Looking down, he stumbled a few times, trying to make out a road, cars... But it was hard! The damn clouds were making it hard to see.

But that was great too. He was alone up here, the entire world long forgotten somewhere below. Somewhere-

"Right under my feet!" Roy smirked, stomping his foot, kicking a couple of rocks off the edge, "Fucking rot you goddamn piece of shit!!" he yelled into nothing, throwing his can over the edge, caught in the moment, watching it disappear in the clouds.

And with that...something seemed to have disappeared inside of him too, the euphoric mood he had previously was now long gone and he looked down from atop the skyscraper with empty eyes.

"Fuck..." he started again, the realization of the entire situation hitting him with full force.

He was...running away...

Again...

What was...he doing..?

Why was he still-

"Are you high again?"

He didn't use the word "relapse".

Jason. Instantly, a half-smile was back on Roy's face and he turned to face his companion.

The wind suddenly stopped. As he turned around, he was no longer on a skyscraper, but on the balcony of his home.

Their home.

"Great timing, Jay. Got a fag?" he wasn't at all confused, taking everything in as a norm, stepping back into the apartment.

Jason was looking at him silently, scanning...and when he seemed to have finished his analysis, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, which ended up in his own mouth, then presented the pack to Roy, who grabbed it with shaky hands, "Don't you think you have had enough for today?"

"Just one more," Roy muttered, stumbling forward a bit, waiting for Jason to light his cigarette. When he did, after a couple of puffs, Roy calmly took a seat on the floor in front of the open balcony door, looking up at the cloudy sky.

Jason took a seat beside him too and a comfortable silence followed as they both smoked, each lost in their own thoughts...until Jason wrapped an arm around Roy, pulling him to himself, the other man not at all fighting back.

"What did you feel this time?"

Now that Roy had his shit slightly more together, despite feeling like a train wreck and nauseous, Jason's question got him thinking...

Roy knew exactly what he was being asked...and what amazed him most was how easily Jason simply accepted him.

Granted, Jaybird had his own set of, pretty damn serious, far serious than his own, struggles and a need to be accepted, but none the less...

The way he asked that question matter of factly. The way he didn't try to make him stop and just asked what it was he felt this time...

The way he evidently trusted him to get through this on his own and stop his sudden multiple drug abuse episode, all the while being there for him, making sure he didn't reach his worst...

Jason deserved a lot more credit than at first glance. Especially since Roy didn't even trust himself currently.

"I felt...like I was free," Roy managed a smile, turning to look at his lover, then glancing to the side again, dreamily, "The world was under my feet and I could stomp it, make it all stop, end it..." he trailed off, patting the ash off his cigarette before taking another drag, making it a harder task than anticipated at first with his shaky hands, "It was so small, I could crush it...destroy..." his timbre held slight anger as he said the last word, fingers twisting the cigarette between two fingers and he didn't realize he had crushed it before he was about to drag it back to his mouth again. Frowning, he threw whatever was left carelessly on the floor, nudging Jason, "Hey, hey...give me a new one~," he beckoned.

Jason watched Roy silently, hardly having taken any drags himself ever since he started talking...and as he heard Roy's pleading, he pulled the cigarette up to his lips, watching Roy grab his hand as if his life depended on it as he took a long drag, sitting back and drinking in the drug, the excessive amount leaving his system through the ajar mouth as he sat there leaning back against two hands, seemingly spacing out.

"We will, babe... We will," came Jason's calm reply as he finished his cigarette.

Roy watched him closely with half-lid, befuddled eyes...and smiled, unfocused, "You changed the flavor..." he was referring to the cigarettes.

"Cherry," Jason replied plainly, putting the cigarette out right on the floor. They would probably need to do something about the mess eventually, but for now... Jason stared at Roy, who stared blank into space once more.

For now...they had to take care of each other.

"I...I never thought I would-" Harper trailed off, blinking tears away from his eyes and it was Jason's cue to pull him into his embrace, caressing his back.

"Shhh... Don't go there..." a kiss on Roy's temple, but it didn't stop the older man from sobbing, silent tears running down his cheeks. Roy didn't say anything - everything was written in his dead blue eyes.

Suddenly, he laughed, Jason watching him with a stoic face, "You probably think I'm weak... That I need to somehow pull my shit together and go kill all those bastards...and you know what?!" Roy jerked away from Jason's embrace and jumped to his feet, outraged, "You are fucking right!! I will fucking destroy every last piece of shit that dared to-- to-" he trailed off, covering his face with a hand, as if he didn't have enough strength to say anymore. And, in fact...he didn't.

Jason's expression remained stoic...and he stood up, "Look at me, Roy," his tone mirrored his serious face, but it was not an order.

Slowly, Roy looked back up...and was met by a beautiful, endlessly green, landscape... A peaceful tranquility that situated for miles to no end...where there was neither worry, nor suffering...where he was truly at peace, not only with himself, but with the entire world too.

Roy felt Jason's forehead on his own, that endless green against his blue, "I already told you...we will," and he was pulled into a tight embrace again.

It was kind of strange to think about sometimes...Strange to think that he was accepted for the way he was. Having been discarded all his life, Roy never could have dreamed to meet the one he could confide in...and who subsequently confined in him too.

Jason has his own demons to fend off...yet, there he was, focusing his entire attention on him...a walking wreckage...

"She was my daughter too..." Jason whispered and Roy squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to hold back more tears, his arms hooking around Jason too.

Todd grabbed his phone in that very second, dialing a number. Right then, Roy seemed to have fallen into a trance and didn't pay attention as to what was said...

But his entire body seemed to have woken up when Jason declared, "I have a lead."

And he grabbed his mask and arrows before he even realized what he himself did.

His sense of justice has always been different since day one. It was evident, obvious, yet...he thought he could change him...he thought if he took him in, he could set him on the "right" path.

Jason wasn't sure what that "right" path was... But at that very second, at that very moment as he watched his lover slaughter every last motherfucker that did him wrong...

He had not a single spec of doubt on his mind that his path was, in fact, the "right" path.

Having grown up on the streets, it was kill or be killed...an eye for an eye. The world was no different. It was the same everywhere.

All his life, this is how he has lived and the only way he could live.

Watching Red Arrow's chest rise and fall, blood dripping from his hands, an evident adrenaline rush still in his system, and dead bodies all around him... Jason couldn't help but feel satisfied.

And then he saw it... Throwing his mask off, Roy looked up into the sky with a relieved expression on his face. Ecstatic.

He had his revenge. He was finally free.

It was Jason's turn to finally feel this way too.

And then...they would both finally be free.

They would finally be alright.

They would live their lives the way they wanted.

"Jay..." the way Roy called out to him made Jason feel like he was the only one in the entire universe, that he was one and only...

"How does it feel?" he asked his man again. Jason was asked the same question once in his life, in a different setting. But...this was definitely a far better place to ask that in his opinion.

"It...changes nothing," Roy's reply momentarily made Jason's heart clench, but he calmed down when the man continued, "But...they are dead...these scum..." Roy kicked the dead bodies for emphasis, smiling widely, "Lian, darling... You have been avenged."

'No piece of shit gets to live when my baby girl is dead' echoed in Jason's ears.

"Good..." Jason let out, stepping closer and Roy, still smiling, wrapped his arms around his lover's neck, pressing on the release button of his mask, "Thanks, Jay..." he whispered, pulling his mask up enough to kiss his lips. Jason's arms instantly hooked around Roy.

As they kissed, Jason's mind couldn't help but wander... Again he thought back to his so called 'family' and what he knew they would have done in this situation. His blood boiled thinking about how he and Roy are now considered criminals for, ironically, killing such.

How he and Roy would most likely be hunted down for this...not that they didn't already have visitors.

The "justice" most believed in...was a lie. And needed some serious work.

What Bruce failed to do for him... He was glad to see Roy did not.

'Rest well, Lian...' Jason thought to himself as they made their way back home, an arm hooked over the other.

Peace was at a heavy price, is something Jason knew better than anyone else. And despite all odds, he and Roy were going to fight for it until the very end.

Just like when Todd broke out of his cage of a grave...

Just like when everyone turned away from Roy and he was forced to fend for himself.

Their path has only just begun.

The End.

#jason todd #roy harper #jason x roy #jayroy #jasonroy

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alpaca-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Mystics, Chapter 16

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Read Chapters 1-15 and more HERE

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: drowning, assault, walking on broken glass (yeah really), captivity whump, one having total control over another

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN: FORWARD

There was nothing below their feet. That was the first thing they had noticed as they thrashed violently about in the thick liquid. They inhaled something. Akin to sludgy water that smelled rank; old gasoline, grease, and sulphur mixed together with just enough cornstarch to cause Arch to tire out within moments of trying to keep themselves afloat. It must have been they very same that Benji had been coated in as they were brought back to the school yard. They scrambled up to the surface coughing and gagging on the disgusting ooze that threatened to drown them and drag them below forever. How they had gotten there, they didn’t know. Wasn’t Uncle Arty talking to them right before-

HOLY SHIT.

He was telling the truth.

Uncle Arty was Uncle Arty!

It shouldn’t have been so shocking, but in the euphoria of the revelation, Arch cried out their name, hoping they would be there to rescue them- then terrified that he had been taken underneath the tide, never to be seen or heard from again.

They hadn’t opened their eyes. They were closed the moment the darkness had enveloped them, and somehow Arch knew that if they dared to open them now, the burn from the solution they were swimming in would be unbearable. So, they couldn’t find the shore, much less know if they were alone.

Kicking, writhing, helplessly choking back the urge to breathe at the wrong times and exhausted, Arch spit up the last rancid bit of liquid that had sneaked its way between their lips and onto their tongue.

They groaned, because what else was their to do when you were dropped into a pit full of whatever it was that Venom was made out of? At least, that is what Arch imagined it to be. They hadn’t opened their eyes- it may have been the colour of Pepto.

The curled-up hairs that were only recently styled into the short updo, were pulled taut by a hand that seemed impatiently waiting for them to figure their own way out. Arch reached their hands up to the forearm of the person pulling them up. While it was uncomfortably painful, there was still a tentative breath of relief escaping from their lungs in form of a cough. Then, as they felt the world solid beneath their knees once again, the hand released.

The clinking of glass, like broken glass, filled their ears the moment Arch could hear again. They leaned over the ground, palms down against it, and coughed up the remaining sludge as much as they could. It was arid, wherever they were, and there wasn’t a breeze to be felt in the dry heat. The romper weighed heavy on them, sinking them lower, little bit by little bit as it aired itself out. With a shaky hand, Arch attempted their best to wipe off the excess ooze from their eyes. They mostly just smeared it away to another portion of their face.

“Depths of despair.”

Paimon. Of course.

“How do you like it?” he inquired innocently.

Arch sniffed, hearing his voice without seeing his face.

“Still better than Buckley’s,” Arch said, through a wave of dizzying nausea. They heard Paimon give out a light chuckle.

“You are very funny,” he said lightly. “I can see why Lyrem chose you.”

A sudden reminder that Uncle Arty was out for Lyrem’s blood caused Arch to falter with a crushing guilt.

“Shit.”

Paimon raised a brow, though Arch didn’t care to notice it by looking up.

“He’ll be fine,” Paimon assured none to comfortingly. He then added. “Your little Uncle Arty will likely die by his hand anyway. In fact, I am sort of counting on it. He’s a rather annoying little pissant, isn’t he?”

Paimon shuddered, thinking about his use of the Abysmal Flame that ushered from the earthly realm so unceremoniously. Hades would certainly pay for that eventually.

There was the sound of broken glass again, and then Arch noticed it was because of how they had moved their feet in the effort to stand. The ground was coated in a black shining and sparkling material. They had taken a little bit of geology back in the day. Volcanic glass, is what they were willing to bet it was. They had kicked their heels off somewhere in the Depths of Despair. The first shard slid cleanly into their big toe on their left foot as they stood with great effort and seethed. Arch saw only an expansive wasteland. Paimon stood behind them, watching curiously.

“Wh-where are we? Where did you take me?”

Surprised by the questions, Paimon’s replied unhelpfully and condescending at best.

“Guess for me.”

The sky was a mixture of grey and orange. The air smelled of a raging forest fire, but there was no fire to be seen- not columns of smoke to indicate the direction it was coming from. Arch turned around, their eyes laying upon Paimon for the first time since arriving and they froze.

He was different.

Very different. No longer sporting the hat and coat or the cane, and what was more was that his head of black hair was nothing compared to the crown of opaque black antlers that seemed to be growing even now and morphing on their own as he tilted his head at them. His chest was nearly bare, with only a soft silk robe to cover the rest of himself with. He smiled, his teeth shone bright through the beard that was still long, black, and wiry.

Arch blinked a couple times, trying to back away, but the glass prevented them from moving on too quickly. Their feet sprang up with bloody cuts already. They didn’t want to create any more.

“Hell?” they answered hesitantly, “this is hell, isn’t it?”

“Hell?” he mocked. “Hell only exists on earth, try again.”

After a moment of thought, Arch guessed again.

“The Labyrinth then? Is that why I can remember people? Uncle Arty? … My mom?”

Paimon gave a sympathetic nod. Arch had never seen the inside of the Labyrinth before, so it was a reasonable assumption for them to make.

“No,” he said sadistically, “Sweet thing, I gave you those memories back for a very good reason.”

Arch threw up their hands at let them crash against their sides. Great, he gave them their memories back. How kind.

“I don’t know then,” Arch started, making it clear for Paimon that they were becoming disgruntled. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”

Paimon stepped forward and the clinking of glass was louder than expected. Arch looked down, expecting shoes, but seeing hooves instead.

Wincing, they stepped back once. Fucking, hooves.

“This is my home,” Paimon answered. “My… land.”

He had a calming air about him. That was frightening, since Arch was no longer certain about what they should expect from their new… boss.

The earth groaned and shook, knocking Arch off balance with a sudden jolt. They landed into the glassy ground, cutting up their arms in the process. The ground was changing before them, raising a tall mound with a gaping mouth of a cave entrance to welcome them in.

Arch shuffled back- searing slices into their skin be damned, they were not going in willingly. They forced themselves to their feet, ripping their romper until a piece of thin chiffon trailed behind them, and grimaced and gasped as the ran off into the… into the… horizon?

But they were suddenly running toward Paimon now.

He was simply standing there at waiting for them to return with his knuckles on his hips. The world had turned, without Arch’s permission and left them outside the cave mouth again, beside the Depths of Despair, which did not look quite as murky as Arch remembered. They groaned, and lifted a bloody foot. With a quick breath, they pulled out a large jagged piece of volcanized glass carefully set it back down. The left foot had more thin slices. It would take several hours of careful plucking to remove all he pieces that had been lodged in there.

Paimon approached them, amused by their futile attempt to escape and shook his head.

“I forget that you humans are so easily torn. You could have simply asked me for a pair of shoes.”

Without a moment more to lose, Arch felt Paimon grip them just above their elbow as he decided dragged them along to the mouth of the cave where the walls were lit with incandescent yellow bulbs draped along by chains.

An unmistakable murmur echoed up to them. Suffering. Arch tugged away, despite knowing there was nothing they could do to prevent what ever was coming next.

“I-I signed under duress!”

Paimon looked down at Arch, then up to the ceiling in the effort to hold his tongue.

“I signed under duress, so I can’t be beholden to the agreement.” Arch repeated like they almost believe they’d be let go on a technicality. “You threatened a friend and forced me to sign. It wasn’t of my own free will- free will matters, doesn’t”-

The way down was riddled with bumps and rolling hills in the lava rock. Paimon pushed Arch ahead, making sure that they smacked into the wall before crumpling into a heap around the corner. He sniffed, and tightened his robe.

“So, you do have an off button.”

Reaching a hand up, Arch supported themself up against the wall, groaning. Thankfully, their left forearm took the worst of the hit, but was scraped even further than it had been before from the glass. It was a miracle they had any skin left there at all.

“Forward.”

They heard the command and immediately stood again. Arch continued down the cave hall until they heard the next one.

“Stop.”

They stopped.

Paimon stepped around them, ignoring the echoing cries from elsewhere in his humble space, and chose to look at Arch more thoroughly. He lifted their arm, the torn up one, and stared at the marks briefly, and then tossed it down.

“Shake your head.” He commanded.

Arch shook their head, obeying without question- without the slightest hesitation and unfortunately as well, without any ability to refuse Paimon’s command.

“Nod.”

Arch nodded.

“Stand on your right foot.”

And they did.

“Stop nodding.”

And they stopped. Tears danced in their eyes as they realized what was happening. Paimon smiled as he was content with Ms. Bornath’s impeccable work.

“Forward.”

#whump #whumpblr #mystics by alpaca #mystics #mystics chapter update #whump writing #writing #creative writing #writeblr #urban fantasy #original work #Alpaca OCs #writers of tumblr #whump blog #written whump #tw swearing #tw assault #captivity whump #kidnapping tw

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carliisu-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Basic Instinct

The lights of New York City are vibrant and psychedelic. Fluttering my eyes from the luminous neon lights, bent and curled into letters in glowing blue colours that read ‘Up&Down’. I spend every minute here; letting time escape me.

The familiar blue hue and aroma of split liquid toxins are accompanied by the rush of the white dust coursing through my veins was enough to make me feel grounded in this haven of a club.

I knew for a fact, that I belonged here — between the sweaty bodies of random people whose faces were unrecognizable and will never see in my life again. People came and went away daily, almost never returning to this same club because not many could take the intensity of it all. Touching, grinding, kissing; there were no boundaries here. And, of course, the smoked up air that was flowing in through the ventilation shaft, that made thick dark clouds swarming above the dance floor. It was nothing new. In fact, I had lost the count of days already spent here. It got so bad the bartenders greeted me by name and handed me my drink before I could make the request. But there was no need to think about time before now. Now was all that mattered. Right now is about letting loose, forgetting all my sorrows that should be consuming me. I had this night and I had this song and damn, this song was good. I'm living song by song. The heaviness of my limbs and buzz of the night ringing in my ears lets me forget about everything; my friends, school, my parents. Everything. I was not always this way…

…

Eyes wide with wonderment as I gaze upon the big institution that has white letters sprawled across the board. New York University. It’s like a breath of fresh air. A place where I finally can make a change; a change in the world, a change in me. This is where the rest of my life begins, the place where I emerge into the world as an active part. New York University’s Biology program is my new beginning. This school will turn my world upside down. All of these new experiences are just waiting for me, my new life is about to begin. No more helicopter parents who hover over my shoulder and no more fake friends who use me for tests and homework. This is a place where I can start fresh, by my complete and truthful self.

On the bulletin board holds a flyer that with enormous red text that reads “Frat Party”.

Free endless drinks everywhere. Sprawled on the floor and when I first step out the car there’s beer bottles strewn about on the lawn. The blasting thumping of music pierces my ears, the popular stuff of the time mixed with some old classics. The messy room has empty bottles laid on the ground, waiting for someone to trip over them. I almost was a victim. The people in this crowded area reminded me of the beer bottles: empty and useless. Stepping over the god-awful mess, I hear a shout.

“There you are, we’ve been looking all over for you!” Andrew, my best friend grins, pointing at me. His eyes are red-rimmed and whole body is swaying side to side.

“You’re getting a drink, and you’re going to enjoy yourself!” He waved his hands to dismiss any protests I may have possibly given him. “Come on, what’s your poison?” There is an obvious flush of his cheeks, and drunken haze that clouded his eyes. Drink after drink, time was slowly escaping me, each hour passes as dusk approaches. Feeling feels hazy and warm, I remember that this is why I likes partying, great people with great music. There’s a faint light down the hall that lights up a wooden door the resembles a restroom. Opening the door, I stumble in but am not greeted by a fancy bathroom. Instead a room of a couple people, as I watch a man with fiery red hair do a line of coke with what looks like a rolled hundred dollar bill. Oh, shit. The redhead extends his hand out towards me, offering the rolled bill. I guess there’s a first to everything. That evening was filled with beer pong, strip tease and whatever else the crowd decided to do. I lost each game and made a fool of myself. Even then, a smile never left my face. A beaming smile I hadn’t seen in years.

…

I snort a tiny line off a filthy ceramic plate on an unsanitary glass table, unconsumed pills vibrating lightly across the plate as others surrounded me and injected into their bulging blue veins. Inhaling deeply, I take one last sniff before the provider dumps the remaining pills in her purse.

I peel my eyes open and take in my surroundings. Face first, horizontal on the wooden surface of a strangers house, eyes roaming around the room. A few others are beginning to sir, but most lie unconscious on the floor. My thoughts are foggy as I scan my brain for any memories from the previous night. It must of been an amazing party after the club, not that I can remember any of it. My days have been a constant repeat; a blur of people, parties, and drugs. None of it is very definite in my mind. Sitting up, there is pounding in my head, it must’ve been a few hours since I last took any coke because the comedown is really starting to hit me. I need more. Making my way around the strangers house, I fumble around in search of a bathroom. Gazing upon the mirror, my appearance makes my heart drop and I can feel my stomach in my throat. My pale face stares at the hollow and sunken eyes and permanent frown etched into my complexion. This addiction is not fun and games anymore. It’s a dependency. I pull a tiny plastic bag from my pocket. There is not much white powder left now, but measuring out just enough to gain the comfort I crave. Wiping my nose, I feel something trickle down my face. Crimson red blood create a thin trail out of my nose. Shit. My mind floods with thoughts of quitting. Deep down I know I won’t though. I can’t. Quiet and alone, I’m speechless. Tired and gone, I want it.

Heading back to my dorm room at NYU, the hot water from the shower cascades down my back and turns my white skin red. The door then creaks open as Andrew walks through.

“Another late night, I assume” Andrew voices out, tone close to resembling accusation. Chuckling, I put on my usual cocky smirk.

“Always” I confidently respond.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You haven’t been to class or home in a while?” His voice soft with worry.

“I’m fine, there’s nothing to be concerned about I’m just having the normal college experience.” There’s nothing wrong with having a bit of fun every now and then. Andrew was overreacting, I have everything completely under control. My eyelids blink heavily as I begin drift off, preparing myself for another night out. Lectures, studying, and friends forgotten about.

Bumping a line of coke once I arrived to the club, I feel in place and my body rushes with energy and power. A wave. A bizarre wave. A rush of raw emotion. Euphoria. The simple act of feelings in its purest form. I could physically detect the dilation of my pupils as the strobe lights are making my sense of sight blurry and disoriented. A sort of tranquil and peaceful but simultaneously flooded with energy that I could feel from every fibre of my being. The asphyxiated state I was suffering from puts pressure on my chest, weighing me down which is slowing disappearing with each hit. Dependable on the white powder as if it was my oxygen.

An attempt to fully describe my feeling of happiness and contentedness with the world would without a doubt, end in failure. The lines of powder on the clear table beckon me to consume more and delve deeper into this beautiful foreign realm. Naturally I complied. I am pushed back further into this life and I want it. I’m coming up for air.

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