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horansqueen · 3 years

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New Angel - Chapter 9

story masterlist [x]

chapter 1 ☆ chapter 2 ☆ chapter 3 ☆ chapter 4 ☆ chapter 5 ☆ chapter 6 ☆ chapter 7 ☆ chapter 8

NOTES

☆ written from Niall’s pov ☆ i don’t proofread, I never do, I hate it. ☆ AU comedy/fluff/smut/romance ☆ 2.6k ☆ i accept requests and ideas for this story, so message me in my inbox! ☆ if you want to be notified when this story is updated (or be taken off the update list) CLICK HERE

NIALL

It was not easy falling asleep on that night. Everything kept running around my mind, stressing me in a way I hadn't been in a while. I was wondering what would happen to the friendship between Millie and Louis, how would living with them turn out to be, and if they would just end up hating each other. Would I have to play the peacemaker or worse, be both of their voices when they would want to 'communicate'. I didn't want to get between them and stop fights and arguments, I just wanted us to be all friends the way we used to be. Perhaps, Millie was right. Everything became messy when feelings were involved, and it made me wonder if the same thing would happen with Summer.

I sat in bed and rubbing my eyes with a sigh. I was not even directly implied in this story and yet, I felt like it was affecting me more than it should, but I couldn't help it. So much had happened in so little time that I felt overwhelmed with all the feelings, fights and new relationships building up around me. I was not against changes but when everything feels perfect, it's painful to see it stop.

That thought made me think about Grace and suddenly, I wanted to see her face. I got up without thinking more about it and made my way to the kitchen just to look at one of the pictures of her placed on the fridge. It was stupid and pathetic, I knew it, but it was the middle of the night and at least, I would look stupid and pathetic in front of no one but myself.

I stopped dead in my track as I walked in the hall and realized I was right in front of Millie's room. I moved slightly closer to the door and let my head fall down slightly as my eyes closed. I could hear her sob, her face probably pressed against a pillow since the sound was muffled. I stayed for what seemed like an hour in front of her door as my heart thumped hard in my chest. I heard her pain and at the same time, it revived mine intensely and I swallowed hard, trying to keep my tears in. I wanted to knock. I wanted to walk in there and take her in my arms. I wanted to tell her everything would be okay. I wanted to be there for her the way she had been there for me, but I couldn't. I was not strong enough to comfort her. I was in the same bad place as she was and I was not sure I really could help in any way. i felt like I would just make things worse or bring everything back to me, and that's clearly not what she needed.

I thought about how Millie shook me, made me get up, almost forced me to get back on my feet and go back to work. I thought about how she took care of me recently, helped me with Summer, listened to all my shit and gave me great advice. I breathed in and knock at the door gently with one of my knuckle. The sob stopped and it became completely quiet. I waited a few seconds an finally licked my lips.

"Mill, it's me." I let out in a low and soft tone. "I just wanted to check on you."

"I'm alright, Niall, thank you." she replied quickly.

I heard her voice crack as she talked and placed one of my palms on the door as if it would change anything. "I know you think no one cares, but I do. I want to listen to you, Mill. You can vent to me if you want, you can cry to me. You can always be yourself with me, okay? I'm interested in how you feel."

I waited for about a minute but realized she wouldn't answer and I finally just sighed. "I mean it. You can knock at my room any day, any time. Good night, Mill."

I walked to the kitchen, only glancing at the picture of Grace and falling grabbed a water bottle before walking back to my room. I sat in bed and grabbed my phone, frowning slightly when I noticed a message.

'Thank you, Niall.' with a heart emoji was sent from my roommate and the left corner of my lips raised in a sad smile before I only typed a different heart emoji as an answer.

-----

I woke up the next morning and took a shower before walking to the living room with my laptop. I put golf on tv but I wasn't really looking. I had a dream about Grace and it was so real and vivid that I knew it would fuck me up for a few days and I hated it. Instead to try to get distracted from it, I decided to check on her social medias and just as I thought, it was an extremely bad idea. I started scrolling through the pictures of her trip and felt slightly better when I realized she hadn't lied to me. She was with her four best friends and she looked happy. It messed up with my head even more because while I was a total wreck and pathetic and sad human being, she was laughing and having fun with her friends. Clearly, we weren't going through this break-up the same way and it was not only painful but also unsettling. I has spent that time sitting on my couch watching the same movie three times in two days, I had not showered in days and felt like my heart was in dust... while she was drinking on a beach, partying and meeting new people. It was sad and I knew it, and I clearly needed to stop yearning for her and the love she was not giving me anymore. I had to move on, and not just survive.

"No fucking way."

I jumped at the voice behind me and quickly turned my head to meet Millie's raised eyebrows and judgemental look. What actually surprised me the most was not that she had walked in the living room without me noticing, but it was that if I wasn't aware of her fight with Louis the night before, and if I hadn't heard her cry in the middle of the night, I coul easily believe that Louis hadn't broken up with her at all. I had no idea how she was hiding it but it made me a bit jealous. I wish I could pretend I didn't care, too.

"Mill, hey, are you alright?"

"I was!" she started, tilting her head. "But then I walked in here and caught you checking pictures of your ex girlfriend on her social medias? It's not only creepy, Niall, it's also very sad."

"Yea." I agreed with a sigh, glancing at the screen of my computer again. "I can't say you're wrong."

Millie walked to the couch and sat next to me before quickly closing my computer and turning my way. Her eyes met mine and my eyebrows raised.

"What?" I asked, my lips curling on the left.

"Nothing, I was just thinking we both deserved to get drunk."

I nodded and put my computer away on the coffee table before turning to my friend with a bigger smile. "Yes, we do. What do you have in mind?"

"A small party. Here. Tonight." she proposed, shrugging a shoulder. "When we've had enough, we just throw everyone out. And we don't have to think of a way to get home, or get a designed driver because we won't leave this apartment."

"Okay, who do we invite?"

"Just a few friends and yes, you can invite Summer. You can even ask her to bring a few of her friends, too." she pointed out with a bigger smile. "I'd love to meet them."

"Eh, don't be so sure. They're... weird."

Millie chuckled and shook her head but her traits softened and she finally sighed. "I'm happy you found someone, Niall." she admitted in a low and gentle tone. "You really deserve to be happy."

My amused smiled turned into a fond one and I reached for one of her hands, squeezing her fingers tight. I wanted to tell her that she deserved it too and that it would definitely happen to her soon, but I knew she'd just tell me to shut up. Grace had broken up with me a few weeks before but for Millie, it was not even a day old. It was too recent to think about someone else, at least, emotionally. I pressed my lips together, realizing that with Summer, it was not really an emotional connection either and that even if I knew it could be, it would still take time. I had to admit that I normally fall fast but this time, it was different because I was not over Grace.

"You know we sort of have to invite Louis." I replied, raising my nose up.

"I know. It's all good. He lives here too." she shrugged, looking away. "Okay, I'll make a few calls and then go get some food and beers."

She got up and without thinking, I did the same. "Millie." I waited until she turned to me and finally tilted her head. "I meant what I said last night. I understand how you feel. You can open up to me, you know. I'm not curious, I honestly care about you."

Her lips parted lightly and her eyes roamed slowly on my face. My words seemed to surprise her and make her speechless but she finally nodded.

"Thank you. I just... I'm just not used to that." she admitted in a whisper. "I don't think anyone ever.. cared. I just don't know how to do that."

"Gotta start somewhere."

We just stared at each other for a minute or two but it was not awkward. I could read so many emotions on her eyes and I finally just sent her a small smile.

"I promise I'll try."

-----

Millie and I stopped at a restaurant for take out and ate together in the kitchen. I had decided to open a bottle of red wine and we were almost done with it when we brought our dishes in the sink.

"Are you going to invite Summer to sleep here?"

"Naa," I grimaced, shaking my head as I opened the fridge to grab a beer. "I'm scared that if we start that it'll become more intimate and I'm just... not ready."

"Take your time, there's no rush."

I opened my beer just as the doorbell rang and soon, a bunch of people had invaded my living room. My lips curled when Summer appeared in and I quickly walked to her, wrapping my arms around her neck and pulling her into a hug.

"The most beautiful girl has arrived. Finally."

She giggled against my chest and I loosened my embrace to look down at her. We had said we wouldn't kiss in public so I just smiled and licked my lips.

"Want something to drink?" I proposed, raising my eyebrows.

"I'm pretty sure my friends are already in the kitchen, stealing stuff in your fridge."

I chuckled and shook my head, glancing at the kitchen before moving my gaze back to Summer. "No worries, that's exactly why Millie and I filled it this afternoon."

I felt my heart jump in my chest, wondering if I should tell Summer about what had happened between Millie and Louis but I quickly decided against it. I wanted to tell her, if only to make sure she wouldn't say something awkward about their relationship, but at the same time, I was well aware it was none of my business, and not my place at all to share this with anyone.

"Just out of curiosity, does Andrew have something against me?"

Summer frowned for a second but finally shook her head and it surprised me that she hadn't noticed how her friend was looking at me. If she was that obviously about it, perhaps she would think my theory about him having feelings for her a bit hard to believe and once again, I decided not to tell her, at least not now. It reminded me that we had promised each other we'd be honest and I felt like I was failing to keep that promise.

"No, of course not!" she answered with a smile. "Andrew likes everyone!"

My lips curled slightly on the right as I looked at her. It was cute how naive she could be and the way she smiled made me want her to keep being oblivious to all the bad things around her. Maybe that was what real happiness was : only seeing the good in people. Unfortunately, I couldn't do that.

"Niall, come on, you're not being a good host!"

We both turned to Millie who handed a glass of wine to my friend and Summer sent her a big smile, thanking her.

"Thank you for inviting me and my friends, Millie!"

"You're very welcome, I'm glad you're here."

I chuckled as I watched them interact and finally turned to my best friend and raised my eyebrows, an amused smile spread on my lips. "What about me? No drink for me?"

"You've always drank half of a bottle of red wine earlier, go get a beer or something!"

I chuckled again and pushed MillieMs hips with mine, making her laugh again.

"Don't tell me what to do, pet!"

"And don't call me like that!" she whined, making me laugh even more.

"I think I need something stronger." I pointed out, sending a smile to Summer and walking to the kitchen.

"Sharing is caring!" I heard Millie yell when I was far enough and I turned around, bringing my hand high and showing her a thumb up. She smiled more and kissed her palm before blowing on her hand and I rolled my eyes, a smile still gracing my lips.

I wanted to have fun on that night and I wanted Millie to change her mind and get drunk with me, too. She was right, we both deserved it after having our hearts broken and I was scared she would fall into a depressive phase the way I had had. It was not the impression she gave and I knew she wanted to look strong and unbreakable in front of everyone but I could read her so easily it was scary. Perhaps it was because I was going through the same thing, or maybe I just noticed little things that other people didn't, but in the end, I knew Millie was extremely sad. No matter what she said, I knew she had strong feelings for Louis and it would probably be even harder for her to get over him than it was for me to get over Grace, if only because he was a close friend and they lived in the same apartment.

I walked back to the living room with two glasses of vodka but I lost my smile immediately when I heard Louis' voice. I had invited him but I had made it clear that if he would prefer to spend his evening with his new girl, it was totally okay. I hadn't expected him to actually show up and something stirred inside my stomach. He walked slowly closer and that's when I noticed the tall and pretty brunette next to him. I held my breath and blinked a few times, knowing that it was the worst case scenario happening right in front of my eyes. Louis had brought his new girlfriend with him, knowing that Millie would have to see them together and suddenly, I felt completely powerless.

#niall horan #niall horan smut #niall horan fluff #niall horan love story #niall horan story #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan writing #niall horan au #my fanfics #newangel

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ververa · 4 years

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Like Mothers, Like Daughter

A/N: You have no idea how nervous I am right now, but I said I’ll post the first part, so I’m keeping my word, even though I feel like it’s not good enough. It has been rewritten at least 10 times and this is only some kind of introduction. For now it’s just my precious little Ellie. There’s no Mildred and no Wilhemina yet. But they’ll appear soon, I promise. Just bear with me, please 🙏🏼 Many thanks to @awildgothappeared!!! Thank you so much for helping me with this series and thank you for convincing me to post this part!!! I’d probably never decide to do it if it hadn’t been for you Stevie <3 This story truly means a lot to me and all three of them - Ellie, Millie and Mina have a special place in my heart. They’re my new holy trinity. I put a lot of effort into this story - that’s why it’s taking me so long.

Anyways, I hope you will all enjoy it!!! And just in case, I am sorry if this is shit, cause I actually sort of feel like it is 🙈 Also if anyone has any thoughts/suggestions/opinions do let me know!

Words count: ~3k

Tag list: @midnight-lestrange, @natasha-danvers, @stopkillinglilyrabe, @welshdragonrawr, @saucy-sapphic, @yang12e, @xixxiixx, @pradababey

Seemingly nothing had changed. Life was going on as it used to before, its usual way. Some governess would wake Ellie up at 7am, it wouldn’t be the same one who was there the previous evening. No, because for some reason the former one wasn’t suitable for the position. None of them were, because it was truly impossible to measure up to Mrs Staple’s expectations. Ellie knew, because she had been trying to ever since she had learned to speak. It didn’t matter how many languages she mastered or how good her grades were or that she became a champion of the fencing team. The woman, she was supposed to call her mother, would never be satisfied, the same as she would never be happy with the work all those governesses did. Some of them were fired, because they truly were useless, others were just unlucky and had a horrible timing - it really was an unpleasant experience to get in a way of annoyed Mrs Staple‒

Ellie stopped getting attached to them a long time ago. Not that she actually had a chance to. In fact, she didn’t even bother to remember their names any more and decided to give them numbers instead. Though sometimes, she did wonder where they find all of them. How many well-qualified governesses could be there in town? Where did they all come from?

That morning, the governess was bearing a name “241”. Quite impressive. Ellie thought as she was brushing her teeth. But it wouldn't last for too long. Perhaps it was only until the evening or maybe afternoon - depending on Lillian’s mood. And then the poor woman would have to leave, quicker than she appeared, just like 240 other women before her. That's how it worked with her mother. The demonic, callous woman really knew no limits.

Ellie was barely twelve, yet she was well aware what motives drove her mother's behavior. Each action had a perfectly explainable reason. The desire for power, the need of being in control. Though, the truth was, Lillian wasn't in a place to be a decision making one. She had never actually had a say and she knew, for a fact, that she would never have. She wasn't even close to it. She wasn't Staple, not by blood. And yet, despite this, she always introduced herself using her husband's family name - being boastful and vain as ever, nearly driving her only child apoplectic each time.

Lillian wanted to matter so badly, even if just for a moment, but still her actions, words, commands meant less than nothing. Even Ellie, though still a child, had more power than the cruel woman. And that's why Lillian hated her. She hated her only daughter, because Ellie was born Staple, she was born to the purple and carried an incredible power within her small body–

And all that appeared to be a good enough reason to terrorize 240 babysitters, who would not be needed at all if Lillian could just bring herself to care about her only child in the first place. But she couldn't and she didn't. She never wanted to have children, definitely not a girl. Maybe a son. Maybe–

If Ellie was a boy… maybe she'd be able to care, to love her child. But even then it wouldn't be the unconditional type of love. It would be yet another transaction, the tying agreement, which would, of course, be in her interest. Just like her marriage and all the relations within the family. But Ellie wasn't a boy and she didn't matter as much as a male successor would and so Lillian didn't care. She did what was expected of her, she gave birth to the next successor, and that was it. All she was willing to do and there was no way she'd put any more effort into it. She gave her husband what he wanted and was the least bit interested in her child's future. Lillian was too selfish to care, too busy fighting for her own position to even think about Elizabeth.

Ellie's father always told her that everyone had a little bit of the light and dark in them. People were complex like a cosmic system, both inside and outside. She liked that comparison.

"None of us are just black or white, or always right and never wrong. We have a universe within ourselves. We all have a little bit of the sun and moon inside. Everyone has good and bad forces working with them, within them and against them"

She believed it, but as much as she tried - she couldn't find any kind of light within her mother. There was nothing, just coldness and hatred - guiding her through life, leaving her blind to everything, but her selfish needs and whims.

"Elizabeth," her teacher's voice would bring her back to reality. And the day would carry on, as usual.

Ellie would participate in her classes and then have lunch downstairs. She would eat alone, as her father would be still at work and Lillian wouldn’t even bother to join the girl, preferring her own company over watching her little defeater, a perfect copy of her husband. Or maybe if they were lucky enough, the governess would keep her company. Though even if she would, even if somehow lady “241” would manage to keep her position and call it a day - Ellie probably wouldn’t decide to talk to her anyways. Why would she, knowing that the woman would soon disappear from her life forever?

But Ellie didn’t mind being on her own at all. She already got used to it. She had been a homeschooler since… always. She had been under lock and key her whole life, because that was their way of keeping her safe. That’s what they told her at least and she accepted it. That was the only way of living Ellie knew and she completely settled into it. She didn't ask, she didn't question their motives. She let it be, because there was nothing she could do. She didn't want to do anything.

She liked her life, well, she thought so leastways. She had nothing to complain about. She was safe, warm, had her books and her piano. Her teacher, constantly-changing governesses and servants provided some kind of company - preventing her from loosening her grip on reality completely. Her life wasn’t all that bad. Yes. It could have been worse after all. And homeschooling wasn’t the end of the world, right? It had both positive and negative sides, as everything - just like her father said. And that’s what Ellie was focused on.

After lunch her lessons would continue. The teacher would ask about some mathematical equations and she would solve all of them, before unerringly answering all subsequent questions. Ellie was a clever child and a fast learner. She was also stubborn and aimed at mastering whatever she wanted to perfection. She had to be good enough, she had to measure up, prove herself. And she was doing her best, steadfastly.

Everyone was foretelling her a bright future. She could do anything she wanted, those who didn’t know certain things were convinced of it. And those who knew the truth, the reality, the true meaning hidden behind the Staple’s name and the family roots - remained silent. Ellie was only a child after all, besides no one wanted to have a problem with her father, or even worse - with her grandfather. But they didn’t need to talk about it. Ellie, as a highly intelligent girl that she undoubtedly was, knew. She knew her future was doomed, because she was a prisoner, just like her father and grandfather, even her mother and the rest of the family. They were all prisoners, shackled with invisible cuffs - the life-long deal their ancestors had made ages before. They were prisoners to the nonreversible decision.

It may seem quite dramatic, sad even to some people, but they didn’t understand it. They never cared enough to comprehend the deep meaning behind the family’s actions, perhaps too ignorant or narrow-minded to decipher it. But they didn’t matter. Their opinions were irrelevant.

Ellie never had a problem with that. She never truly allowed herself to think about the future, but she didn’t need to worry, not just yet. She had her father - her guardian and friend - who was there to keep her safe. He always knew how to make everything better. How to fix what appeared to be unfixable. And he was there at all times. He was there to hold his little girl, the apple of his eye. He was there to teach her and guide her. To grant Ellie the love and approval she couldn’t receive from Lillian. He was there, so that she could have a happy and peaceful childhood. And all that made Ellie feel lucky. Not all kids had what she did. Not all children were able to experience this kind of love. She knew. Elias told her about those children - left on their own, without anyone who would look after them, or love them the way he loved her. Whenever she remembered all those stories something inside her hurt. Her heart - it ached, every time Elias was telling her about that one little girl.

Ellie undeniably was compassionate and sensitive, her soul was still pure and free, untainted. She didn’t have to bear the burden of her decision, she didn’t have to carry it on her own like her father. That’s why she couldn’t understand his breaking down. She couldn’t figure out the reason for his tears, when she gave him one of her teddy bears, saying he should give it to the little girl. Ellie couldn’t know. Not back then.

And then, when her lessons were over, their butler - Leonard would take her to the fencing classes. That was the only time Ellie was out, freed from the thin walls of the castle they lived in. She always cherished every second of it, because every moment of freedom was like an incredible adventure.

She had been training for years, because fencing made her stronger and showed a certain set of thinking skills. The classes would go great, as always. Ellie as a wonderful fencer would win some clash, but she wouldn't even think about it, already engulfed by anticipation of the evening.

Ellie’s favourite part of the day was dinner. No, not the dinner itself - the whole process of it. The anticipation and preparations. Their servants would be preparing everything, putting a lot of effort into details, so as to avoid getting in trouble with Lillian. She was fabled for her choleric nature and no one wanted to be reprimanded. That's why they always did their best, striving to meet Lillian's expectations and avoid unhinging her.

The table had to be polished until it gleamed. Table covers had to be clean and smoothed. Dinnerware and cutlery had to be polished to a high gloss. And napkins… napkins had to have the right colors, because colors couldn't clash. After all those years Ellie learned the process by heart. She remembered everything, every little detail and the order of all those actions.

A plate in the middle. A napkin on the left, then forks - salad fork and dinner fork. The right side was where a dinner knife, dinner spoon and soup spoon were placed. And then glasses - a water glass and wine glass - on the right, above the spoons. It wasn't all that hard to remember. It definitely was far more complicated when it came to the formal dinner place setting, but when it was just the three of them - Ellie and her parents - the servants didn't have to worry about it. Informal setting was enough, unless Lillian decided differently.

By the time the table was set, Ellie would be fully in on her anticipation mood. After all it wasn't about the dinner or setting the table, it was about her father finally coming back home. Elizabeth would wait impatiently - pulled up to comfortably sit on the windowsill of the living room window. She did it every evening. Awaiting her father's car to turn into the driveway. Waiting for him to cross the doorstep and take her into his arms as he always did. She anticipated having dinner with him and then spending hours on talking and listening to his stories.

Ellie waited. One hour passed. Then another. Lillian gave up and ordered someone to bring her dinner upstairs, as she wasn't going to eat with Ellie even under those circumstances. They complied, Lillian got her dinner and finished it, while Ellie kept waiting, not moving from her spot even for a second, so as not to miss the moment of Elias' arrival. She waited, but he didn't come back. She fell asleep eventually and Leonard carefully carried her to her room. His heart was breaking for the girl, because he knew exactly what was happening. He already knew what Ellie didn't or maybe she did. She did, perhaps, but refused to accept it…

She kept waiting. For hours, days, a week. Whenever she heard some car, she would rush to the window, hoping it was Elias. Ellie found it hard to focus on anything else. She barely ate and sleep, she just passed out from exhaustion basically every evening. Each time Leonard would take her upstairs and tuck her in bed. Though in the morning she'd be back downstairs, most likely wearing one of her father's hats or shirts - almost three times too big for her- but it didn't matter. She didn't care. If she could, she'd most likely not only wear his clothes, but also spend every minute of the day in her spot on the windowsill.

Where did he go? Why didn't he come back? Every part of her aching heart couldn't accept it. She needed him… who would protect her now? Who would be there for her? Where did he think he's going and why couldn't he take her with him? He always did. They always did everything together. And then he was gone, just like that–

Honestly, she knew he wouldn't come back. She knew, but she didn't want to let go, not yet. She wasn't ready to do it.

And it was okay. Ellie could say it by the way their servants looked at her - so sympathetically. They hurt too. Perhaps not as much as she did, but they did in their own way. The only person who seemed to remain untouched was Lillian.

Even then, all she could think of was herself. She didn't display any kind of emotions. She wasn't sad or hurt and she didn't even try to pretend that she was.

"Will you finally pull yourself together?" Lillian growled, sipping on her drink, not even looking at Ellie "He won't come back. Ever."

Ellie frowned a little. There were a lot of things she could tell her mother, a lot of mean and hateful things. Though it didn't feel okay. It didn't feel like her, so she didn't. She held it all back, responding with simple "Why do you have to be like that?"

"Like what?" Lillian asked, looking at her manicured nails, acting the least bit interested in what her daughter actually had to say.

"Why can't you at least pretend that you care?"

"Don't be pathetic, Elizabeth."

Ellie sighed. There was no point in continuing the conversation. She wasn't pathetic. It wasn't pathetic. Feeling was a human thing, right?

A few days later a tall man dressed in black suit brought Elias' stuff from his clinic. They packed it all in a box. Over 20 years of his research, his work, his life - were enclosed in just one box. Leonard carried it to Elias' office and Ellie followed. She needed answers that no one wanted to give her, so she hoped she'd actually find something in the box. And she did. Her father left her a note–

Seemingly nothing had changed. Her body was still susceptible to pain, still breakable. It had to eat and breathe air and sleep. It still shuddered, as it had shuddered before. She still had to learn and she did, as she had done before. Life was going on, its usual way. Nothing changed - and yet everything was different. People, manners, course of boundaries. And amid it all her soul traipsed elusively. It disappeared, then came back, drew nearer and moved away from reality. She hurt, she cried. Feeling like an alien - at times certain, at others uncertain of her own existence. Trapped in her own grief and pain.

Ellie had been raised in a box - her father's castle, a perfect world he created just for her. But life was more than that. Life was different and not at all perfect. In truth it seemed to be far more unfriendly and sinister than she may have expected. She found herself lost in the new reality. The reality without her father. The world she knew had been shattered, completely destroyed. And learning to live all over again wasn't all that easy, but she was strong. Elias taught her how to be strong and she knew she could face all the obstacles. She had to - for him.

She was born into this goddamn family and that was the only thing she couldn't change. Though all the rest, everything else depended on her. He hadn't taught her all the things she knew without a reason…

"In life there are only two permanent things - happiness and existential pain. Life likes to gratify and hurt. It's a venom that heals and a rose that pricks. At times it's pretty good, although sometimes it's quite bad. And future matters are unforeseeable…" Elias' note said.

And so despite the pain she still believed there was more good than bad in life. She just had to look hard enough - like her father said.

#ellie staple #dr ellie staple #wilhemina venable x mildred ratched #Mildred Ratched #wilhemina venable #sarah paulson imagine #sarah paulson fic #like mothers like daughter #part 1

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thecleverdame · 4 years

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Control and Release - 33

Series Masterlist

TEDTalk!Sam x Reader

Summary: After the rest of the staff is caught in a snowstorm, you find yourself acting as a personal assistant to the notorious Sam Winchester. As the arrangement becomes more defined, you and Sam begin a sexual adventure with dangerous consequences.

Warnings: Dom/Sub, humiliation, embarrassment, sexual objectification, mutual masturbation, spanking, cum play, fingering, anal play, orgasm control, nipple clamps, dub-con, breath play.

Beta: @ilikaicalie

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You enjoy being out, it’s great to see your colleagues outside the office. People’s personalities come out here in the real world. But somewhere between your third and fourth drink, the bar doesn't seem like where you’re supposed to be.

Going back to Boston feels like both a beginning and an end. Everything will change once you get home and your relationship with Sam becomes public. And there’s a piece of your relationship you find yourself mourning. These quiet, private moments here in London. You’ve practically been living together. Going home means spending more time at your own place. Before it felt like independence and self-care. Now it just sounds lonely.

Smiling at Millie, you check your phone for the tenth time. It’s almost midnight. Sam must be done with dinner by now. If you leave now you could make it back in time to order dessert from room service.

“You’re always checking your phone.” Millie rolls her eyes. She points to Cole who’s across the room engaged in some rather animated storytelling with Mick. “Your boss is right there. What are you worried about?”

“I just wanted to see how late it was.” You tip back your glass, downing the last of the vodka.

“You’re not leaving already, are you?” She grabs your arm. “Leaving me here all alone?”

“You’ll be fine, I’m tired. I need to sleep.”

“Yeah, well no wonder. You’ve been working too hard. I feel like I’ve hardly seen you since we got here.” Millie helps you pull on your coat. “See you on the plane.”

As you walk down the hall heading towards Sam’s room you let two fingers trail along the wall. You’re a little drunk, enough to let your inhibitions go. Luckily Sam is always more than willing to fool around.

You fish the room card out of your handbag and slide it into the door.

What you find is the otherworldly sight of Sam sitting on the couch, and a naked Toni on her knees beside him. Doing a double take, you stare at Sam who looks like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His hair is askew. You don’t want to imagine how it got that way.

“Good evening, Y/N.” Tony flashes a smarmy grin. “We didn’t think you’d be home so soon.”

You blink twice and step back out into the hallway.

Sam is fucking Toni Bevell.

No, it can’t be true.

But you just saw it. Witnessed the proof with your own eyes. You can’t think, all you can do is feel and there’s an avalanche of emotion headed your way. Your hands are shaking when you hear Sam call your name.

Maybe if you just close your eyes this will all go away.

“What?!” You turn to him, getting a good look. His shirt is rumpled, hair wild, sticking out in all directions. You’re going to be sick. “Jesus Christ Sam! I can’t stand to look at you right now.”

“Don’t overreact,” he instructs, taking a step toward you. You want to slap him, to beat on his chest and scream in his face. If anyone has a reason to react, it’s you.

“Don’t overreact?!” you erupt. How dare he tell you what to do. You’ve never hated anyone more than you hate him at this moment. Toni’s smug, shit-eating grin comes back to you. They must think you’re so naive to trust him. “Fuck you! I trusted you. I must be so stupid. It never even crossed my mind that you would do something like this.”

“Nothing happened,” Sam says, holding up his hands.

Is that even possible? The sight of him tells you everything you need to know. He must think he’s got you wrapped around his little finger.

“Don’t lie to me. Something sure as fuck happened.” Your heart breaks at the sight of him. “For a guy who’s all about the details you’re not covering your tracks very well. You’ve got her lipstick on your mouth and your fly is still down.”

All the anger quickly sours into sadness and embarrassment. All his talk of love and commitment and then he’s fucking this aristocratic bitch the minute you’re out of the room.

“What?” Sam feels at his crotch, looking genuinely surprised to find his fly down. “Look, she tried and I-”

Does he honestly think he can talk his way out of this? As if you didn’t just see what you saw.

“And you what? Let her take her clothes off? Did you fuck her?”

You don’t want the answer. The thought of Sam and Toni is wretched.

“No, of course not,” he snips, as if you’re the one being ridiculous.

The heartbreak bubbles over and there’s no stopping the tears.

“I don’t get it.” Your voice breaks as tears slide down both cheeks. Why would he do this? You rack your brain trying to remember if there were any warning signs. He’s been all in, fully present. You didn’t see this coming. “I thought we were in a good place. I try everything you want. I gave you a blowjob just this morning. What could you possibly want from her that I’m not giving you?”

“Nothing.” He reaches out, moving toward you and you have to step back. It takes everything within you not to throw yourself at him. You want to pretend this never happened and go back to the happiness that existed only minutes ago. “Nothing happened. I know this looks bad. I get that. But nothing happened. You came back at the worst possible time, but nothing was going to happen. That’s the truth.”

Fuck him. You had bad timing?

“Oh, this is my fault?” you yell. “I need to get out of here. I have to think.”

You just need to have a second to collect yourself without him right there. You can’t think straight.

“Don’t leave.” He grabs your arm, forcing you to look at him. “If you leave it automatically makes things worse than they are. You can stay here and be pissed at me. We can talk. I’ll sleep on the couch. Just don’t leave, please don’t leave.”

He’s right, but the idea of going back into the room where he’s just done God knows what with Toni is stomach-turning.

Crossing your arms over your chest you look toward the door. “She’s still in there.”

“She’s leaving.” He puts his hands on your shoulders and you almost pull away from him. What if this is it? What if this is the last time he puts his hands on you? “Just let me get her out of there. Don’t go anywhere.”

Sam disappears back into the room and you immediately panic. You’re about to really lose it, so you head for the elevator and press every button until the doors close.

There’s a bathroom in the lobby and you lock yourself in the first stall, sinking to the ground and promptly sobbing into your hands. How is this how your life turned out? Cheated on by Sam fucking Winchester of all people. It wouldn’t be the first time. In fact, this makes a perfect streak, five out of five. Every guy you’ve ever been with has been disloyal at some point. You should have expected it.

Scrolling through your phone you look for someone to call. Your mom...no. She’d overreact. You could tell Millie, confess the whole thing. She loves you and she’s a good friend. She’d order a pizza and stay up all night talking about what a pig he is. But that’s not what you need, either.

Cole. He’s always said he’s there to listen. Telling him the truth about your relationship with Sam would make everything easier. And Cole cares about you. You know that much is true. But running to Cole seems wrong. It feels like retaliation because you know how much Sam would hate it.

The phone vibrates and Sam’s name pops up. You almost answer, but the image of he and Toni is too vivid. Her breasts in his face, the surprise when he saw you at the door. You press the power button on the phone and watch as the screen goes black.

This hurts so bad.

You find yourself suddenly sober and in desperate need of something to take the edge off. Cleaning yourself up as best you can, you cross the lobby and enter the hotel bar. There are a dozen or so people scattered around.

Finding an empty seat you order a shot of tequila and a beer.

You trusted Sam with everything. Up until twenty minutes ago, your biggest fear was that he would walk away, but never did you imagine he would cheat. Your sex life is active to say the least, and he’s definitely not looking for an emotional connection.

Maybe he was just bored. Maybe it’s his own personal brand of self-sabotage.

Wiping a single tear away, you sip your beer, watching an older couple happily chatting at the end of the bar.

The longer you sit, the more the details come back to you. The way she was perched over him, the red lipstick at the corner of his mouth. You’re irrational and semi-drunk but aware of both. You really want to call Cole and disappear for a night, really make him hurt the way he’s hurt you.

If you leave now, everything is worse. He was right about that.

He said nothing happened. Nothing was going to happen. And Sam doesn’t lie. Maybe about his feelings, but he’s never lied to you about anything else. He’s brutally honest to a fault.

You stand outside the door to his room for several minutes trying to decide if this is what you really want to do. But in the end, you knock on the door.

Sam answers immediately. His eyes flutter closed when he sees you, Adam’s apple bobbing as he shakes his head and steps to the side as a silent invitation to come in.

“I thought you left,” he admits. His voice is tight. He looks mad and you wonder if this is directed at you, Toni or the fact that he got caught.

“I went to the bar downstairs. Not far.” You stand just inside the door. For the first time, this feels like his space instead of the home away from home you’ve shared for the past two months.

“You weren’t answering your phone.” He runs a hand up the back of his neck. “I was going to come and find you.”

“I shut it off. I needed to think. I’m here now.”

His wool coat is thrown over the back of the couch and he’s got one sneaker on. He’s in sweatpants and his face is clean of any trace of Toni, but his hair is mussed and his eyes are red. You’ve never seen him quite like this before. He looks like a mess.

“I need you to tell me what happened. And if I feel you’re not being one hundred percent truthful, I am going to leave.” You look him in the eye for a fleeting second before taking a seat in the closest chair.

“Okay.” Sam nods adamantly, perching on the edge of the sofa. His knee is bouncing up and down at an exponential rate, he’s agitated. “We came back here after dinner to go over projections.”

“Go on.” It takes everything within you to remain cool collected.

“She came out of the bathroom like that. I told her to stop but she kept it up. She always fucking pushes to get her way.” His hands curl into fists. “Nothing was going to happen. I told her to stop, to get dressed.”

“Why was there lipstick on your mouth?” you ask, voice shaking. “And your fly was down…”

“She kissed me. I pushed her away. I don’t know about the rest of it, honestly. I couldn’t believe it was happening. I would never do that to you. I don’t want her.”

“You know Sam…” You stop to look at him. God, you want to believe him so badly. “I get that you can’t control her actions. And I understand that you had no idea she intended to make an advance...but fuck. You thought coming back to the room was okay? Our room. You came back here with a woman you used to fuck, alone. That seemed like a good idea to you?”

“I didn’t think of it like that.” He presses his lips together, hands on his knees, eyes locked on your eyes. “I don’t think of her as a woman I used to fuck. I think of her as a colleague.”

“Oh, well.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “That’s funny, but I exclusively think of her as a woman you used to fuck.”

You stare at each in silence, the seconds feel like hours. This is a complete role reversal, you’re in complete control here. You get sole determination about what happens next.

“You didn’t think that it would bother me?” You ask a genuine question. “For the two of you to be alone together in a hotel room?”

“I know you don’t like her. But I thought she’d be gone before you got back and that it wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Do you see how that’s problematic for me? I almost called Cole tonight. Not for anything weird, just to listen because I needed a friend. But I thought about how you’d feel if I did that. I could have called him, met him and not told you. But the difference between us is that I wouldn’t do that. You mean enough to me that I would never want you to feel the way you’ve just made me feel.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, looking down at his hands. “The thought never crossed my mind.”

“Did you do anything with Toni tonight?”

“No.” He looks up at you.

“Was there any part of you that wanted to?”

“No.” He confirms succinctly.

“Have you been with anyone else since we’ve been together?”

“No.” This question bothers him, his brow furrows. “Do you think that’s something I would do?”

“I didn’t think I’d come home to find you with Toni, but it happened. I just want to be sure there’s nothing else I’m missing.”

“No. I haven’t been with anyone else. You’re the only person I want.”

“I see.”

“Are you going to stay here tonight?” he asks. And for the first time, you get a glimpse of a Sam that you didn’t know existed. He’s crying. It’s just one tear, but it’s there. “I’m trying. I’ve been trying to do things the right way. To make a life for us. I shouldn’t have brought her back here. I know that now. I thought you left tonight and I didn’t think you were going to come back...I don’t know what I’d do.”

“I almost didn’t come back,” you admit.

“Why did you then?”

“Because I love you,” you explain matter of factly. “And I trust you. I couldn’t throw those things away, I needed to hear it from you, hear what happened.”

“Is there anything else you want to know?”

“No.” You shake your head. You want to go to him, hold him tight, but it’s too soon. There’s more you need to talk about and it might as well be now. “I was thinking about when we go home. I should move in with you. We should live together. How do you feel about that?”

“I would like that very much.” He smiles an exhausted little smile, relief overtaking his body and he slouches forward. He looks down at his hands again, sucking in a breath. “I bought a ring. I’m going to ask you to marry me.”

All the air evaporates out of the room. Did he just say what you think he said?

“Are you serious right now?” you whisper, eyes the size of saucers.

“Yes. All I could think when I came back to find you and you weren’t in the hallway is I have this diamond waiting back in Boston and you’re never going to know. So, I’m telling you. I love you. I’m committed. I’m going to ask you to marry me.”

“Well…” you don’t have words. An hour ago it seemed as if the world was falling apart and now this. “When are you going to ask me?”

“I can’t tell you that.” He presses a thumb into the opposite palm. “What are you thinking right now?”

“That I’m going to say yes.” You let out a laugh, overcome with emotion. “But I’m still mad at you right now. You can’t just magically make everything better by talking about a proposal. We’re going to have to talk about Toni. Assuming she’s going to continue working for you, I need there to be clear rules.��

“Anything you want.” He nods adamantly. “You can have anything you want.”

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester au #sam winchester smut

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bunnylouisegrimes · 4 years

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Episode 9 Review (The Future: What Does It Hold?)

Tagging @coldsoba per request

This episode was a headache for me. I was anticipating it, and although it wasn’t entirely bad and it wasn’t the worst, I think this episode highlights all the bad aspects of this season and brings them together. It brings some of the good that this season brought out together as well, but it’s evident to me now that we’re reaching the end so far that the bad is outweighing the good. This episode has me worried about the future of the series, and angry overall. I’m concerned that if this series does continue and has a season 3, it won’t be good, and it will turn into a shit show like The Walking Dead did (they want a season 3, although, based on the low ratings and low viewership, AMC might cancel, no one truly knows yet, especially if BBC and all that other stuff helps boost it).

Before I start this review, I’d like to say right here and now: this is a pretty critical analysis, and possibly has a bunch of unpopular opinions, but I’m saying it anyways. I’m mad, I’m annoyed, and I’m ticked. Last week’s episode ticked me off, this... Oh, man... just know I’m cool if you disagree with me, but I’m hoping by the end you all understand why I feel this way.

Now, don’t get me wrong: like most episodes of this show from this season, despite entire scenes and plot points being bad, it has great moments to enjoy. Did this episode contain lots of action and intensity? Hell yes, and I liked that. Did it stay true to the book ending so far? In a few ways, yes. Pretty much all the ways it didn’t due to the changes they made that were already questionable were the things I didn’t like, which leads me to this: Do I like the direction the story is going, based on what we know and have so far? Hell no. Of course, we don’t know 100% the direction it’s going until next week’s episode, but right now, I’m very on the fence.

Because there is a lot of bad I’m going to discuss, let’s get the good out of the way.

Lou and Vic in the beginning, as per usual, are sweet and I love them. Tabitha and Lou’s interaction was sweet as well. Seeing Charlie frightened and shook was oddly cute, but also funny. And Wayne and Charlie’s interaction... I’m sorry, it was just adorable. I like the idea of Maggie and Vic going to Christmasland together, that was a good choice (although now... I’m uncertain).

To begin the negativity, we’ll start with Charlie and the house scene. I like Charlie confronting his own fears, it’s a very interesting concept. I find it kinda stupid and confusing Charlie wouldn’t know this house exists in his own mind, I mean, it is a part of his own mind, even if it was in the back of it. Why would he not know? Despite that, we’re gonna move onto the meat and potatoes. Now, Cassie’s POV, based on how she was presented in the show (which I still hate, btw, and I am greatly annoyed with how she is not the abuser she was in the book, but I’ve discussed this already a million times), makes sense. We get why she’s pissed, she should be, although I don’t think she understands that her ex-husband had all of this shit happen to him as far as creating Christmasland and becoming a vampire and all that by having a mental snap. It all happened due to his mental pressure. He didn’t have full control (if any control!) over that entire situation. It happened, his life depended on souls and energy from that moment on, and he had to make do with the shitty end of the stick being presented to him. Christmasland is both good and bad, and vampirism is both good and bad, and Charlie has to try to make do with what he can to give himself and his daughter happiness, and focus on the positives. Cassie could’ve maybe given him at least that credit, but she makes it out like, “You’ve brought her happiness in presents and candy, not making her a woman.” Uh... Cassie? Charlie and Millie became vampires out of his control. All this shit happened, how the hell could he reverse all of it? Is there anyway he could? It’s not even explained if he can, but the writers ignore this fact and make it out to be like, “Look, he’s so evil!” Writers, is there anyway he could change these things, even if he wanted to? “Well, no, not exactly, but look, he’s still evil!” So... you’re not even allowing him to have an opportunity to change, and then when he’s stuck in the situation and making the best out of it, even if it isn’t 100% the best way... he’s still super heinous and evil? “Yes!” Okay... whatever... see this is another reason why it annoys me how they’re writing Charlie as “the worst person in the world,” when really, he isn’t. He’s not an angel, but he is not as evil as this show wants to present. Pretty much all of Cassie’s criticisms are valid, but she could’ve at least given Charlie some credit. Nope! But the thing that really bothered me in the back of my mind was how much better this scene would’ve been had they actually written his backstory properly. I kept thinking how much better it would’ve been if an abusive Cassie comes back to haunt Charlie and taunt him, degrading him, and mocking him, how much more sense it would’ve made. And if Millie pointed these things out to him, it might’ve changed his mind some (he would think, “oh, even my daughter kinda agrees with the abuser”). It works here with the way they portrayed her, despite the point I mentioned about Charlie making the best of shit falling flat on Cassie’s end, but it would’ve been 1000% better if they made her an abuser and she scared Charlie, then Millie brings up similar points and Charlie’s POV starts to change a bit.

(Plus, I’d like to add that by doing that, you’re setting potential up for a Charlie redemption arch, and he wouldn’t have to die, Vic and Maggie wouldn’t have to die, and season 3 has interesting potential, and you still have your main characters that we enjoy).

On the topic of this scene, here is a take a friend of mine gathered from it that I definitely can see as well: The point they were trying to make in this scene is that Charlie is a coward. This is their interpretation of Cassie being ‘abusive,’ they didn't leave it out (her being angry at him) like we thought they would. They wanted to give her a concrete reason to hate him so much and call him out for his bad deeds. Also, this house, which was hidden away at the back of his mind, is a mesh of Charlie's fears and his guilt. Based on his facial expressions and his mannerisms, and how he forcefully held Millie, this was all out of fear and guilt for what he did to them that first time and how The Wraith pretty much consumes you. She's literally trying to tell his stupid ass that they can never leave, otherwise, they'll turn to static, which they will. Millie can't go anywhere because she's stuck there and Charlie knows because he was selfish, he robbed her of her future without intending to. Charlie is highkey a yandere, even for his own kid, but it makes sense because he's never really had anything, Also, as to why he’s sort of controlling in a sense: he's driven by fear and also anger if you think about it. Christmasland is how he projects and saving other children because he had a rough and traumatic childhood, he has some serious mental health issues. This I see 100% presented here too, which is a good aspect coming out of this scene. This season does show us a really vulnerable Charlie as they explore his past and give him a breaking point, which we like! But we both definitely agreed that they wanted to make Charlie more of a dick than needed throughout this whole season. Maybe these writers really wanted more drama, especially Manx family drama, through Charlie acting worse? Not so sure. Either way, it gets on my nerves, and it’s almost inconsistent with the narrative they want to spin. They keep going back and forth with “Charlie’s so sad” (which, I would agree, he is, but they even mess that up and somehow still make him look worse) and “Omg he is the worst person ever.” I hope I’ve explained myself well enough in this area, it’s a very complicated and convoluted topic that has me conflicted and annoyed myself.

I think most importantly, the thing that annoys me about all of this Manx family drama the most is: How tf are they gonna “live normal lives” and “escape?” Millie grabbing onto the ornament prevents her from disappearing, which really doesn’t make sense. I’m sure they’ll clarify it next episode, but how is she gonna become a woman and live a normal life? For Christ’s sake, Charlie can barely understand the modern world as an adult man! You think a kid like her is gonna truly enjoy it or understand it? I have my doubts on this and how they’ll write all of that. Plus, she’s a vampire! If she returns human and all the other kids do when their ornaments break, and this is something that confuses me even in the book... where will they go? Oh yeah, they’ll somehow find normal lives! Honestly, it would make more sense to have them move onto the afterlife. Are they gonna keep them human and alive to make them the stars of the show? That possible concept of, “Oh, the kids are gonna be the stars of the show now!” No, writers... just no. Nobody is gonna care about that. Again, it’s a possibility, and it’s a possibility I’m not thrilled by personally. I don’t want them to be the stars. They can be awesome supporting characters, but not the main focus. Idk man, I’m just saying right now, I’m not so sure how this whole concept is gonna work and I fear how they’re going to write it.

Next up: Wayne’s shitty behavior. Wayne is acting like a really big asshole, and it’s getting on my nerves. “He’s now a vampire!” I hear someone say. “Of course he’s acting this way!” Yes, but the reason why it’s especially annoying is because Vic keeps trying and trying to get the point across to him, and it’s all for nothing. We know Vic’s opinions and her heartfelt feelings for her son, and she ends up having to repeat herself when she might as well be taking to the wall. What’s the point? Filler? We already know Vic’s determination is strong. In the book, how Wayne was acting was better. He held onto himself, but he also didn’t, but Vic’s words managed to get across to him quite a few times throughout his journey. This would’ve been much better on screen, but the writer’s were like, “HA HA NOPE!” The scene that really angered me: what was the point of Vic making her speech (which was really nice btw) only for Wayne to not listen... you’d think that’d be the scene where he changes, but the writers decided to turn it into a shock value filler moment (similar to Chris’s death, which, btw, all this nonsense is making his death for near nothing). And, let’s not forget my question from last week.. where is Craig in all of this? Hmmm... guess he decided to take a vacation from helping his biological son, because he’s just gone! Why?! What was the point?! He better at least appear next week, but even then... too late now, buster! Probably should’ve been here earlier! I mean, for real, what was the point of Craig’s character at this point? What a waste of potential...

The worst part imo from this entire episode: Okay, so the writers make Charlie an even worse villain, even giving him those subtle sadistic undertones even as Vic is trying to talk to Wayne (alright, I get it, there’s that element to “saving” Wayne that’s vengeful when it comes to Charlie, but it’s honestly just too much darkness; it’s almost out of character, especially when it’s in a scene like this. I get it, he likes the idea of getting revenge on Vic, but does he have to be THIS dark? That laugh he gave was funny, yes, and I couldn’t help myself but laugh just because of how stupid it sounded, but looking at the reason why he laughed... if anything, he would’ve stood there with a smug smile and say something like, “I told you he loves me more.” They make him way too dark and it really takes away from the fact he is a villain with moral code, but these writers have seemingly forgotten that with the exception of the one scene in episode 7 where he condemns Bing’s rape. Of course, the rapist might be getting a redemption arch anyways, not Charlie, but uh... moving on from all that past shit!). Yeah, as I was saying, they make Charlie darker. Okay, let’s forget my opinions on that for a moment: the characters have the opportunity to make him, this super evil and irredeemable villain, weak to the point he couldn’t get up at all... But Maggie stops him from being in this state? WHAT?! That shit is very out of character for her, and it’s very out of character for Vic to just stop! Vic would’ve persisted, and if the roles were reversed, Charlie would’ve persisted. That’s the thing about them both: they are persistent and protective about their kids. Why did Vic need to stop? “We need to find your son!” MAGGIE! You’ve both tried multiple times already! Focus on Charlie when you have the chance! How stupid are you two?! And better yet: Why would Vic drop the weapon?! She would’ve grabbed it!!!! What the hell is this shit?! I can’t even express how stupid this is... I get you can’t exactly kill him, but you could make absolute certain he would be subdued and unable to even have the chance to get up and grab his weapon. But nope! They need to attempt for the thousandth time to save Wayne in the exact same way, when it has shown not to work. You’d think they’d at least attempt to think of something else, even if their options are limited, but nah, we’re gonna do something very out of character instead... why?

Things aren’t looking too good for Maggie, so I have to ask: is Maggie gonna die? And if so, that is beyond fucking stupid. They set up the potential for a plot with Tabs and Mags for the third season. I didn’t pick up that they officially broke up, rather just separated for now, and... for what?! If she’s seriously gonna die, I’m gonna be extremely pissed. That wasted potential and insult to her character would be so fucking stupid. Yes, she dies in the book (in a different fashion, and it’s probably not that great how she goes there either), but look at all they’ve done for her character, especially giving her a girlfriend, a character that’s become even more important. Her death would be questionably more insulting here for sure!

Overall, while there were things I liked about this episode, I am majorly disappointed and concerned for the future of the series. I’m afraid it will take directions that are not good, and if it does continue, I am afraid it will be a living dead show of sorts. I think the only true way this show can carry on and be good is if all our main most important characters (Vic, Maggie, Charlie, Lou, Wayne, and Tabs) are all alive. Now, Vic and Charlie might be the only exception to this, just because they both do die in the book, and although even that is rough and not the best, it is expectant and I think this show can still be good with Maggie, Lou, Tabitha, and Linda taking care of Wayne (I’m not gonna go into the potential with Millie in this scenario because that’s a rocky topic lol). But if this show follows the path of TWD, where we have a whole new cast of characters you’re not really gonna care about and all the old cast you got to know and love is just gone... that’ll be the cherry on top of this shit sundae. I am excited for the concept of exploring the world of other Strong Creatives, as many rumors speculate the next season will contain, but if the show that explored the world of zombies failed by getting rid of pretty much their whole old cast... what about this show? They’ve already messed up quite a few things I don’t like this season I’ve discussed before, and if they go the route of doing anything that can get worse... I can’t describe how disappointing it would be. Not saying things have to be perfect or my way all the way, but it has to be generally good and enjoyable for everyone. Growing attached to a cast of characters only to erase many of them and focus on a new one is not a way that is good and enjoyable for everyone. AMC: This happened with TWD; for the love of God, don’t let it happen with NOS4A2.

As I said in my last review: let’s hope next week is better, and AMC, for the second time in a row, doesn’t deliver a disappointment of a show.

#nos4a2 #nos4a2 vic #nos4a2 charlie #nos4a2 maggie #maggie leigh #charlie manx #vic mcqueen

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mannien · 4 years

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“You’re Shaking”

Pairing: Tom Holland x Millie Beaver (my own fictional character)

Summary: When Millie is supposed to be strong and emotionally ready to celebrate her sister’s wedding, the best friend arrives to the rescue.

Word Count: 5.6K

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, friends to lovers tropes, weddings

Author’s Note: HEY! HI! I’m new at this! This is my attempt at the writing challenge made by the lovely @cunaeparker! I would post it on the deadline on the 30th, but it’s my birthday as well, so I’ll be probably busy eating chocolate then. Also, it’s a part of the fic that I’m currently writing, hence the specific characters here. If you have any questions about the plot, just ask!

When I first heard that my oldest sister was getting married, I knew I wanted to be a part of this. She may have not known that, but it’s been a very emotional ride for me, personally. Seeing her life roll out a red carpet in front of her, leading straight to the world of eternal love and happiness, it made me realize a lot of things about myself, too.

First and foremost, it showed me what love should look like. Liz and David were the definition of true love for me, and I could not thank them enough for unknowingly telling me this. But months of preparation, more frequent family dinners, and a bunch of personal issues later, the reality hurt like a motherfucker. Since their eye-opening engagement, I’d been struggling with my own relationship and my own happiness.

It’s not that I didn’t like my boyfriend Frank. If I didn’t, we wouldn’t have spent over 2 years together. He was kind, a little less thoughtful than I would like but still a decent amount, very handsome, and a tiny bit more intelligent than me in our common areas of expertise. In addition to it all, he was able to handle me, a very messy head, so there was really no reason for me not to be with him any longer.

Except, there actually was.

I never mean to point fingers either, because I don’t blame people for my feelings. But a number of conversations with my best friend also showed me that there are people caring more about me than Frank; people who are willing to sacrifice more and who pay a lot more attention to the details that make me, well, me. Although, perhaps I shouldn’t compare those two relationships; the guy who got to make out with me has known me since we took the same advanced journalism class at the university. But the one who actually knows the size of my shoe and what allergies I used to have, he’s known me forever. Of course, we had our better or worse times; months when I would be too busy writing essays to talk to him, and he would be lost in filming another blockbuster movie. But at the end of the day, he was like a brother to me. He took care of me. However, most importantly, he knew I was unhappy with Frank and he pointed it out to me a couple of times.

My sister’s happiness and my best friend’s care worked, though. They made me face the reality. They hit me in the face with it so hard that I’ve been feeling like shit for the past month. It’s been exactly a month since me and Frank broke up. To top it off, precisely two hours before the ceremony, at this gorgeous castle in the middle of nowhere in Scotland, my memory played me and told me: “Hey, Millie! It would’ve been your and Frank’s 3-year anniversary!”

This unbearable stream of thoughts hit me when I was watching Liz smile to the mirror at her glorious hairdo. It wasn’t too complicated, her hair was only curled and pinned up in a few right places, but her beaming expression was something to die for. She was ecstatic to marry the love of her life and I couldn’t blame her; it was her day, she was beautiful, and her fiancée was the nicest and most trustworthy man in the world. My torn apart heart envied her, but my face squeezed out the tiniest smile. She was happy, and nothing else was important.

“Come on Millie, let’s give her a breather.” Our middle sister pulled me out of trance. She already had her face full of a glittery, smoky makeup. Leaving Liz’s room meant we will see each other again during the ceremony, and that I needed to get my shit together.

We walked down the dark hall to where our rooms were, just a few doors apart. Our whole way from Liz’s she was on her phone and I stayed silent, patiently listening to her fingernails tapping against the screen, while I did all I could to hold back the disgustingly growing need to throw up from stress.

“Sam, could you stop for a minute?” She looked up at me, right when she was about to open the door to her room.

“What’s up?” She asked, her eyebrows narrowed in concern. I opened my mouth to say something, but I wasn’t even sure what would I allow myself to say. Should I say I’m nervous? Should I start rambling about how my heart is still aching, especially so because of the wedding? How I was supposed to have a peaceful relationship and an obvious choice of date for my sister’s big day but instead, I had to realize that I simply wasted 3 years of my life and emotional devotion?

“Do you…” I started, but nothing came out. I had to swallow down the terrible taste in my mouth. “…how do you turn off your emotions for an event like this?”

“Oh, sweetie…” She no longer had her pretty London accent. A few years in California made her tongue roll differently on each word, and I could barely feel the warmth of her voice. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this, especially now.” He hugged me, but not with all she had in her, because we both respected the effort put into her face. It saddened me, but that was the reality.

“I’m sorry, too.” I whispered.

“Hold on tight, okay? It’s gonna be alright. You’re a fierce one, Mills.”

“I wish I was.” I pity-laughed at myself, but soon regretted that. Sam’s hand slapped my arm quite harshly.

“Hey! Stop that right now. Go on, put that fancy dress you’ve got, make your eyes and lips pop, we’re the Beaver girls, right? Now chop-chop, move your arse.” She pushed me in the direction of my room with a grin. I tried to mirror her expression just for the sake of her attempt to be British again. To be homey, again.

When I was trying my hardest not to lose it emotionally, I focused on practical tasks. I mastered my makeup and sprayed myself with that setting spray the world was screaming about. My hair was a little unruly and I needed an extra bobby pin, if I wanted it to stay up and show off my dress. The self-conscious me didn’t want to, but Liz would want me to. And today was about Liz, so I fought with that high, slightly messy bun until my arms went numb.

My dress was the trickiest part. It required me to tie three bows and zip my whole back up to the neck. Maneuvering all that without messing up anything else in my appearance didn’t sound promising, and being harsh with the material wouldn’t work either. The dress was a work of art to me, so when me and Liz both looked at it one evening, she told me straight away she will ditch the sister dress code. She didn’t make us wear all similar colors, but rather encouraged me to pull the most ‘Millie Beaver’ look I was capable of. So, I ended up with a black tulle uneven material ending somewhere above my knees, going up to the waist in the tiniest folds in an A-line skirt. The see-through, sheer fabric was covered with draped embellishments made out of the tiniest sequins. They made a sort of brush-paint effect that covered my body from my bottom just above the round of my breasts. The neck and loose sleeves made of the thinnest black mesh which barely changed the color of my skin, ended with intense black stripes ready to be turned into the prettiest of bows. I don’t know if it complimented my body, but it definitely made me feel like the prettiest version of myself.

As I was getting into the long sleeves and pulling the body above my boobs, I loud knocking noise interrupted my focus. Intuitively, I looked at the time and exhaled a calming breath, knowing I still have some time and I’m not running late. I held the top of my dress with my right hand, not wanting it to slid down when I open the door.

Tom looked ready to knock again. His fist hovered in the air for a second, until he raised his eyes and noticed me. He smiled down at me with the warmest facial expression I was given today by anyone, or so did I think. I couldn’t help but give him a one good look over. He was dressed up in a very deep navy-blue suit; the kind of navy blue that makes each man look a hundred times more attractive. The way it clung nicely to his broad shoulders told me it was tailor made from a thick and rich material. His crispy white shirt had a few buttons unmade, so it didn’t hug his neck but rather made his throat more exposed in a way that I always tried to avoid. The smile reached his eyes and woke up the wrinkles around them, making his face look even prettier than before. His short brown locks were tucked away nicely with the tiniest amount of hair gel, and I knew right away he had done it on purpose; I’d used to make fun of the shiny look he so often went for at public events.

I could swear that all these details about his appearance my mind grasped within seconds. He didn’t make a funny comment about it, he just greeted me sweetly and nodded at me.

“Hey, Mills.”

“Hey!” I tried to return his smile in a way that would tell him how happy I was to see him. Or maybe how relieved? “Come in, just… avoid the preparation mess.” I laughed and let him in. I closed the door and unintentionally glanced at the way the suit nicely covered his muscular back and bottom. “Look at you, movie star!” I tried to whistle, but I failed and just blew into the air with a little swish to it. He turned to me with a raised brow and laughed at my poor attempt to be sassy.

“I called you, I didn’t know if you were busy right now and I didn’t want to interrupt if you were with Liz.”

“Oh, sorry,” I mumbled quickly, getting close to the phone that was peacefully left alone on the nightstand and charging. “I’m not feeling good, so I just wanted to get ready and face the world after.”

“What’s wrong?” His face scrunched up in concern.

“Just, you know…” My lips formed a tight smile. I shrugged and as it made the shoulders of my dress slide down my arms a little, I remembered that I still had to fix it and put on properly. I hugged the material tight to my chest and fought the terrible urge to bite my lips. “… a bit stressed out.” I mumbled, not willing to go into detail and break down. My mind worked really hard to change the subject as quick as possible, just because he knew I was overreacting and he would want me to be honest. It was a self-destructive behavior, really, but I couldn’t help it when the vomit was trying to make its way up my throat once again. I glanced at him fidgeting with his hands and only then noticed that he was holding two ties in his left hand. He opened his mouth to say something, but I didn’t let him. “So, spill the deal Thomas. You’ve never told me who’s your plus one?”

He watched me carefully, as if he already knew what I was up to. I hated this about him, but he played well. A knowing smile spread across his lips as he held up the ties.

“That’s actually one of the things I wanted to discuss with you. The last thing I want is to make you feel uncomfortable tonight, so I wanted your help with these.” He held both accessories in separate hands and put them close to his chest, comparing the way they looked with his suit.

“You can’t choose your tie?” I asked with a chuckle, while pulling the dress completely over my shoulders and hoping it would stay in place, although unzipped and untied. “What happened to your fashion sense?”

“Well, the fashion sense is still here, I mean…” He started cheekily, giving me a slow pirouette to show off of his outfit. “…it looks pretty good if I’m honest.” He laughed. “But no, I wanted to ask you because first of all, you know better,” the pure confidence in his voice made us both chuckle happily again. “and second of all, this option is for me going solo,” his hand holding a striped tie in different shades of blue moved to the middle. “and this one matches your dress, so that I could be your plus one.” He held up closer the burgundy one, with tiny golden embroidered elements. It was almost the exact shade that my dress had bursting out the most from the waist. We would match in a very delicate way, not overwhelming others with the similarity, but rather stating that we probably knew what we were doing.

My heart was rapidly beating, making my insides warm up from this single gesture that he offered. I felt tears well up in my eyes. He knew I was hurting during my relationship, he saw me hurt when I fought for what I had with Frank, as well as he saw me in pain when we called it quits a month ago. My lower lip quivered, not sure if it wanted to let out a tiny sob, or spread wide in a smile. I felt confused emotionally, but the simplicity of Tom’s thought spread a fuzzy feeling across my body.

I moved closer to him, forgetting about the lipstick and biting my lower lip. I took the dark red tie from him and straightened it up, before pulling it over his neck with a small smile. I started the first two moves that I had known from TV, but then absentmindedly started to play with the fabric, trying to look professional.

“Do you even know how to do it?” He tried not to laugh too much at me, so his stifled joy ended up in a sucked in smile.

“YouTube knows.” I smiled up at him. His eyes glistened in a joyful expression as he breathed out a giggle. He took out his phone from the jacket pocket and quickly searched for an easy tutorial for me.

“Go on.” He encouraged me and held his phone up, so that I could see the instructions. I focused on the task and felt the nerves creeping away. My hands slowly relaxed and in swift motions I finished up a loose knot. He noticed my progress and threw his phone on my bed. His gaze was fixated on me; I could feel his brown eyes watching me carefully.

“Can I finish this off?” I asked very quietly, not sparing a look at his face. My fingers hovered over the undone top buttons of his shirt and only when he didn’t reply, I looked up. He was already watching me with an expression I rarely saw on him. He was eyeing my face so closely and delicately, almost as if he tried to memorize that moment. He gently nodded his head and did so while locking our eyes. I swallowed heavily, trying to push away the nauseous feeling that crept back in as a nervous reaction. Very carefully I started working on the little buttons. Then I put his collar up to fit in the tie and gently pushed up the knot, focusing on not wrinkling anything. Then I smoothed out his shirt and smiled proudly to myself.

“Well done!” He chuckled at my childish pride and touched up the knot himself.

“Thank you for doing this.” I whispered, tapping lightly at his chest. I smiled up at him, feeling the tears threatening to escape again. I moved away from him; I didn’t want to become a mess shortly before such big and happy family event.

I started walking towards the bathroom and attempted to zip up my dress at the same time. Soon enough it turned into desperate fumbling with the material at the beginning of the zipper, because it sucked in a tiny piece of fabric. I couldn’t imagine taking it all off and then putting on again after a fight with the zip, my perfectly imperfect bun wouldn’t handle it well.

“Hey, could you give me a hand here?” I turned to him, as he was putting his phone back in the pocket. We used to see each other in many innocent, yet body revealing situations. Hence, we were usually comfortable with one another so that sleeping in the same bed only in our underwear was okay. We made fun of each other’s bodies and somehow, we knew them probably also for the sake of memories from our shared early childhood.

But it felt different this time. The fact that I was so emotionally exposed to him today was possibly one of the reasons why I felt nervous. I knew we were best friends, he was a brother I never had, but suddenly it felt intimate. I was conscious about the fact that I had no bra on, and although I made sure I wasn’t flashing him anything, he had to reach to my lower back to fix the zipper and then slide it across my bare skin.

“Please be gentle with it.” I added. His knuckles softly pushed against me, when he tried to slowly pull the zipper up.

“Exactly how gentle are we speaking?” He chuckled. Then he put one hand on my hip and led me slightly backwards, so that he could sit on my bed.

“Gentle as in I spent all my savings on the only dress I have for my sister’s wedding.” I turned a little to him, trying to steal a glance at what he’s doing. “It’s okay if you can’t do it, I’ll have to try…”

“Shut up, I’ve got it.” He shushed me and pushed me slightly forward again. I felt him stand up and take a light grip at the zipper, before gently pulling it up my spine. “Straighten up.” I stretched out my back as he asked, or maybe even a little too much. My hips moved backwards and made my butt hit his front. It made me feel nauseous again; I was definitely not ready for a wave of seemingly irrational feelings. It was just Tom, and yet I was scared of accidentally touching his crotch with my ass. “Alright, all pretty here.” He smoothed out the material on both my shoulders and I could feel him hesitate for a moment, before he let go of me completely.

“Thanks.” I smiled shyly at him and made my way to the mirror, before he could say I was nervous. I started working on the bow on my neckline.

“Oh, so you’re tying them all up?”

“Yeah, that’s how it’s supposed to look. So you better watch carefully, cause I can’t do the other two as pretty as this one.”

“Man, I thought I only came here to decide on a tie.” He moaned mockingly. I could see him in the mirror, he came up to stand next to me and watch my fingers in action.

“You’re free to go, I can always ask my mom to do it for me.” I shrugged, straightening up the loose ends of the bow.

“And leave my date for the night? No, thank you.” He winked at me cheekily, and I laughed at him. I pulled out my tongue at him and scrunched up my nose. “Don’t do it, your face will stay like this forever.”

“Wouldn’t you like that? At least you could laugh at me, if my jokes aren’t funny to you.” I challenged him, raising an eyebrow.

“Nah, at least one of us has to stay pretty.”

“I thought you said you were pretty?”

“The word is CUTE.” He emphasized. “And there are people who agree on this.” He added. I reached out with my hand to him, so he could try and make an even bow.

“Your granny?” And there it was. Making fun of him as a coping mechanism, whenever I was noticing the upside of his appearance and thinking about it longer than necessary.

“She’s my number one fan, so she counts.” I pointed at the longer end of the knot, so he started fixing it to make it even with the other.

“I thought she was Paddy’s number one fan. Or Sam’s for his abnormal cooking skills.” He smiled soundly at this. “But hey, don’t worry. Your best friend is your fan.”

“You mean Harrison? Yeah, he’s okay. But he’s got history of being more of an assistant, you know?” Tom snorted out a loud laugh at his word and I couldn’t stay silent at that.

“I thought you had another best friend?” He pretended to be deep in thought. I briefly checked on the ready bows and straightened up my sleeves.

“Can’t think of anyone else. Care to share?” He playfully scratched his chin like an old aristocrat. I moved around him to start gathering my things, keeping in mind that I should touch up my lipstick.

“For all I know, you’ve had one super fan ever since you met her as a wee nicked kid.”

“Wow, I must’ve had a very peculiar taste in choosing my best friends.” He laughed, and I only sent him a sideway smile. Although I was the one to encourage our fun exchange, I wasn’t sure if it made me feel comfortable. I wasn’t doubting his friendship, but sometimes I would get this nagging thought starting with ‘what if….’ I didn’t know how I felt anymore, and the sole fact that I was packing my small handbag to my sister’s wedding was near to give me a serious panic attack.

I sat down on a little chair next to the window and started doing up my deep red, velvet lace up pumps with four cross-straps that ended in tiny golden buttons. These were also way out of my every-day comfort zone, but figured as the prettiest pair of shoes I owned. Plus, they went well probably only with this dress. I actually had to spend a couple of days walking around the house in them, just so I could remember if I could walk in high heels.

I stood up, slowly moving around my feet to adjust the fit, and that’s when my mind became a complete mayhem.

“You look so foxy. You should wear heels to work, I bet they would take your ideas seriously in these.” Frank’s words kept on replaying in my head and I was ready to rip those shoes apart. I felt a terrible scrunch in my tummy and I couldn’t hold it anymore. As quickly as I could without tripping over, I made my way to the bathroom and knelt next to the open toilet, ready to empty my stomach any second. A loud sob escaped my lips when nothing would come out and I had to live through the worst wave of nausea. I started ugly-crying, letting go of every inch of calm that tried to keep my nerves under control. I leaned with my elbows on the toilet seat and just held myself there.

“Minnie, are you okay?” I felt Tom squat beside me, his hand gently laid on my back and started rubbing it in soothing circles. I just shook my head and kept on crying, unable to even talk to him. I tried taking deep breaths to calm my body down, but another loose thought about my ex-boyfriend clouded my head and I leaned over the toilet again, hoping this could end already in one way or another. Tom’s free hand went to the bow that started hanging in a risky zone and tucked it close to my chest. His other one went up, massaging slightly my neck to help me relax. “I will breathe with you, okay? It might get better if you follow.” He said in a hushed, yet stern voice. “Come on, one large in,” he inhaled loudly and I tried to mimic him. “now hold it for a second for me, let your body relax,” except that I couldn’t, and my face scrunched in misery. “It’s okay, try again Mills. It’s just a panic attack, you can get through this. Come on, breathe.”

He guided me through a few more deep cycles until my crying stopped. Somewhere during the second inhale I was breaking again, so he rested his forehead on the side of my head, right above my ear, where I could feel his breath on my skin and focus solely on it.

“That’s my girl. You’re safe with me, okay? I promise.” I only nodded rapidly. He slowly moved away to kiss my head in a protective gesture, as he used to whenever he was being affectionate with me.

“Fuck, I’m such a mess!” I groaned in frustration, still feeling the heavy beating of my heart. I sat down on the floor, trying to untangle my feet from under me and rest them somewhat comfortably, even if it meant resting my legs in the most revealing pose. I rested my back on the side of the bath and hid my face in my hands. I squeezed out a few more tears, until I felt a gentle tug on both my wrists.

“Look at me,” Tom asked sternly. He massaged my wrists and patiently waited for me to lift up my eyes to his concentrated gaze. “You’re a mess only if you let yourself feel like one. And I’m not here to see you miserable.”

“Easy for you to say! My sister’s about to get hitched and I keep on thinking about how… how I used to hope, that this would be me and Frank one day because my mind is so fucked up and… and I allowed him to treat my feelings like shit! Just because I wanted someone to fucking love me and want to have a life with me and be my fucking lover!” I let out loudly with a broken sob mid-sentence.

“For fuck’s sake, stop hurting yourself!” He raised his voice and I could feel my heart drop. “I understand it fucking hurts. And I’m so, so sorry, I know you were deeply invested in your relationship with Frank, I get it. But please, for just one moment, try to imagine how would it be if you stopped dwelling on this shit!” He took a frustrated breath and tried to remain composed. He stood up and leaned back on the sink with crossed arms. He closed his eyes, but then started watching me carefully, as if to see if I was going to snap again.

I just sat there motionlessly, too shocked to react in any way. My brain was tired from the panic attack, my body ached from the nerves, and my tongue got cut off by shame. I closed my eyes and tried to rethink my current situation, sort out my feelings. There was a part of me that wanted to reach out to hope, to reason, and to the right place in my heart. Right when I was imagining the right place for my heart, my eyes snapped open to check if Tom was still standing there. He was, eyes glued to me, posture flexed and ready to react. But his face so soft I wanted to burst out in tears again. He was this soft for me.

I reached out to him with my hands and he pulled me up from the floor.

“Exactly how many times should I fucking remind you that you’re better than this, that you actually are lovable, and that there are people who care about you more than that asshole, the one who actually called himself your boyfriend for three years but didn’t deserve it at all?” He asked gently, stepping closer to me. He swiped his thumb underneath my eye, where probably a mascara disaster was happening. Tom gave me a broken smile and it was that smile – the one that made my heart grow and get warm. And suddenly I got goosebumps across my whole body because he was the one to make my mind shut up. All that was left was pure admiration for his care, for his tender smile and for his sparkling brown eyes. This revelation made me feel incredibly exposed to him and almost made me feel shy.

“Could you tell me that one more time?” I replied quietly, still feeling the touch of his hand on my cheek. Curiosity led my voice and made me swallow hard. He smirked at me in a way that I knew made girls swoon over him. However, this time was different and I was the one over the moon.

“Millie, you are incredibly lovable and I fucking care about you. You can get through this and you will, just get your shit together.” He chuckled at the end and I mirrored his reaction, but still heard the first two most important phrases ring through my head. “You are too gorgeous to be still thinking about someone who didn’t make you happy, alright?”

“You promise?”

“Do I promise?” He asked dumbfoundedly and turned us both around, so that we were standing in front of a tall mirror. “Look at yourself, you’re a doll,” He wrapped his arm around my waist when he said that. It felt really warm and right. “you’re perfect in every inch, you look exquisite, hell I’m gonna say it…” he started before cracking a soft, almost nervous laugh. It was obvious he tried to stay composed and professional, but he broke. “you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, that’s it. End of this discussion. Now fix your pretty face, get your fancy bag, and we’ll go see your sister at her happiest.”

I did as he asked but with the amount of warm words that kept replaying in my head, the fifteen minutes that it took me to freshen up felt like a mere second. I felt as if my body was just existing and my soul was floating beside me, intently watching my and Tom’s every move. My floating side kept pushing me into his side, knowing that it will be the best way to stay safe and content. Tom always was a gentleman, his parents raised him well. However, this time when we walked down the corridor to the stairs, and then to the foyer where some guests gathered before entering the main hall where the wedding was supposed to take place, I couldn’t stop thinking about these little gestures. Carefully keeping his hand on my lower back whenever we were turning or passing someone. Smiling down at me whenever I stole a glance at him. Letting me go everywhere first, but not before smoothly checking if there was anything I would possibly trip over. Staying by my side all the time and making sure I was okay. Of course, he was now my date to the wedding. But if any of his brothers were at his place, it wouldn’t be the same.

We were approaching more crowded groups of people and I slowed down. I started feeling incredibly self-conscious and uneasy, especially with the looks that people I knew gave me. Most probably, they looked because I was the bride’s sister, I was finally wearing heels, I had the most makeup since last Christmas, and Tom was side by side with me. Although I doubted it stunned our families that we could be seen together, there were a lot of Liz and Dave’s friends whom we didn’t know, or just old aunties who loved a good gossip. I became fully aware of all of the eyes pointed at us and I felt my insides tremble dangerously. I stopped abruptly and tried to mask my nervousness by fake-fixing my dress. Tom looked back at and raised his funky eyebrow at me, silently asking what’s up. He stepped closer to me and blocked the view of the most intense stares. I stared down at the bows at my sleeves and started anxiously rearranging the strings. I exhaled with an audible shake to my breath and closed my eyes. We stood face to face and I could feel him watching my movements.

“You’re shaking” He whispered, bringing his mouth to the side of my head. Then I felt his fingertips gently touch my hand, before he slowly slid his fingers through mine. Our hands molded together and it calmed me in a way I didn’t know was possible.

“I’m nervous.” I mumbled, so that only he could hear. He left a sweet kiss on my cheek and winked at me.

“No shit, Sherlock.” I let out a nervous laugh and he seemed pleased with my reaction. “Come on, head up, you’re gonna walk in hand in hand with Peter Parker.” He slowly maneuvered the hand he was holding so that I could easily take his arm in an elegant way

“I would rather walk in with Tom Holland.”

“You’re lucky he’s friends with Parker. You can have both.”

Tagging some of the people who I wish would read this bc I love their blogs even though not all of you probably love Tom but I LOVE YOU

@lauras-collection @peeterparkr @thirsttrapholland @fondlynarry @niallandtommo @heyhihellowhatsup0 @constellationsv @angel-spidey @starkissedholland

#saws300followerwc #writing challenge #tom holland #Tom Holland fluff #Tom Holland blurb #Tom Holland fanfiction #prompt challenge #my writing #millie and tommy #millie and tom #my fic #tom holland blurb #tom holland fluff

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marvalinafangheart · 5 years

Text

Why are you?

Water droplets drip from the ceiling, the liquid ice cold. Slowly they drip, drip, drip on to Marvalina’s face. She stirs in her sleep not fully aware of where she is.

“Kassie...can you feed the baby this time?” She shifts on the ground the dirt and mud mushing under her fingernails. The rattling of the chains around her wrists and ankles slowly brining her back to reality.

Marvalina slowly opens her eyes, fluttering as she peers into the dim light of some kind of subterranean cave. Her vision blurred, her head pounding she reaches up and lightly touches the back of her head, “What the..?” Feeling around through her hair she feels dried blood. A large scab on her scalp.

She looks around trying to get a feel for her surroundings, “How long have I been down here? Where is here?” There is a groaning coming from about five feet away. Marv looks over to the sound, “Who is there?”

THe groaning grows a little louder, “Marvie? You’re awake?” Marvalina finally recognizes the voice, Nathaniel.”

“No, I am just really good at talking in my sleep.” She tries to get on her knees but a shooting pain runs through her legs and she lets out a small yelp. Looking down she can see that both her legs are severely disfigured...broken. Using just her arms she finds the wall she is chained to and leans against it. Picking up her legs she butes her lip through the pain, “How long have we been down here Nate?”

“I got no clue. He has been bringing meals at even intervals. If I had to guess ...I would say a week. Maybe two.”

“Well at least he is feeding us…”

“Yeah- just don’t ask what it is.”

“Wasn’t gonna. Not my first time being locked up.” She holds up her hands to get a better look at her chains, she focuses her energy and to make a brighter light only for runes to ignite on the shackles burning her wrist and ankle. She lets out a small scream.

“Marv? Are you okay?”

Marv stops focusing and drops her hands, “Yeah- yeah was just testing something out…” She rests her head on the cave wall, “How long until the next meal?”

“Twenty minutes.” Nate’s chains rattle.

Marvalina sighs and stares at the one source of light. A low flaming torch. A tear falls down her cheek, removing the dirt that covers her face, “We’re gonna die aren’t we…”

“If he was going to outright kill us he would have done it already.”

Marv closes her eyes, “If somehow you get free… get to Stormwind. There is a group they aren’t all that hard to find called the Collective Company. They will know what to do. I won’t die here. It is not my time but, I don’t want to be trapped in a cage again.”

Nate shuffles around in the darkness, “You’re gonna get out of here Marvie. I will make sure of it.” He sits there in the darkness for a long time, “So- Uh-- You mentioned kids earlier before we got knocked out ...are they-” His voice sounds awkward, “How old are they?”

Marv chuckles and smiles a little bit to herself, “Don’t worry. You are off the hook for child support.” She groans as she sits up a little straighter feeling her legs to see if she can at least temporarily fix them, “They are the product of- an asshole. Wants nothing to do with me or them.” She runs her hand through her hair, “I got two boys, Zandryl and Malaas. And three girls. Varmillia, Jaemere, Aellae.”

“You had five kids...in the few years since you have been away ...what the hell woman?” He chuckles and shakes his head.

“I got knocked up with Zan and Millie, and then their father left. Towards the end of my pregnancy I met a Draenei woman named Kasernia, who was pregnant with the other three and we uh- got married.” She stays silent for a moment, “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Getting married. But to be fair, one I had no idea who you were. Well I mean I had forgotten. My memories were taken from me and secondly. I thought everyone from my past was you know. Dead.”

“I don’t blame you for moving on Marvie. I thought you were dead too. Although gotta say a little surprised you are into women- that way.”

Marv shrugs, “I wasn’t really. Until you know- I met her.”

“What is she like?”

“Now there is probably the hardest question I have ever been asked. She- Kassie...she is. Well she is wonderful. When we met I was just elected to a council. And there was a jackass there who- let’s say he doesn’t like my kind. Thought I wasn’t worthy to sit at the table and make decisions, because I am a Worgen and a woman. Well, when he was removed and vowed to come back and take my seat. She took my gun, followed him out the door, shot him at point blank range. All because he insulted me.” She chuckles, “She is fierce. Takes no shit. But- honestly one of the most loving people I have ever met. Just- the way she accepted Zan and Millie, with their condition and everything. And the way she lets me be free. She is the best wife and mother to our children I could have hoped for. Kassie, definitely deserves every spec of treasure, silks, and gold I can get my hands on. I do it all for her.”

Nate raises an eyebrow even though Marv can’t see, “Treasure? What is the sweet little seamstress I knew a pirate now or something?”

Marv shrugs the rattling of her chains echoing through the room, “I prefer- liberator of goods and gold.”

Nate shakes his head a small smile in his voice, “What the hell happened to you Marvalina?”

“I got sold into slavery. That’s what happened. Got everything I had ever known taken away from me by force. Now, when I want something, I take it, striking off the chains of those held against their will in the process.” She holds up her arms and wiggles, “Current situation of course being the obvious exception.”

Footsteps slowly start to approach the cavern the two are in. Nate scoots himself closer to Marv finally coming into the light. He looks worse than she does. Marvalina looks over and notices he has several large gashes along his face and is now missing one of his ears. She looks away and stares at the makeshift cell door.

The door slowly opens up and standing before them, her brother Ricgard. Dressed in a well fit Gilnean suit, his hair slicked back and whatever injuries he had sustained from Nate’s torture have completely cleared up with the exception of a small cut under his left eye. His hands rest behind his back out of sight. He steps into the dim light.

“You’re both finally awake at the same time. I got to say, torturing someone who is unresponsive isn’t as much fun as I thought it would be.”

Marvalina fights against her chains only causing the pain to intensify, “I am going to give you one warning to let me out of here, Richard.”

“Oh and what are you going to do to me huh? That already hasn’t been performed by your former lover.”

“I could think of a few things. I have gotten a lot more creative since living under your thumb.”

Richard walks up to here squatting down just out of reach. His eyes looking over her form and they land on her left hand. Her wedding ring, made of permafrost, reflecting the orange light in the room, “Oh I am sure you have.” He stands up slowly.

In a flash his hand reaches out grabbing her left wrist. She tries to fight and remove herself from his grasp but it only tightens. The bones in her wrist cracking as they are squished together. He smiles down at her his teeth gnarled and discolored. His smile and eyes showing nothing but pure evil, the glint in his eyes putting the Burning Legion to shame. His other hand slides out from its hiding place. A rusty pair or sewing shears rests in them.

Time seems to move in slow motion for Marvalina as he opens the blades, bringing them to rest above her wedding ring. Marvalina is determined to show no fear. She growls and meets his gaze, “I promise. Whatever you do to me...I will make sure you burn for it. You’ll die screaming.”

He leans down his face inches from Marvalina’s, “Not before I hear yours, Little Sister.” Without hesitation he closes the shears shut severing the phalange from the rest of her hand.

Marvalina growls and lets out a small scream, the blade not making a clean cut. The wound jagged and bleeding. He lets go of her wrist and she holds her hand with her other, “I swear on our parents' grave. When I get out of here...you will know no peace by my hand. I will show you no mercy.”

Richard picks up the finger and looks at the ring. The engraving on the side now visible to him, “To my puppydog. Love your snugglegoat, Kasernia.” He smiles and examines the finger, “So sweet. You married a Draenei. Oh how far you have fallen from being human, Marvalina. How far. I think I will send this to her, let her know you live for now.”

Marv now fights against her chains with everything she’s got, “You stay away from her you sick son of a bitch. You lay a hand on her- I’ll show you just how much of an animal I really am.” Marv can’t control it. She shifts as she fights against her chains. Copper fur sprouting from everywhere. Her teeth and bones getting longer and healing. Snarling at her brother she growls, “I’ll rip your throat out and eat it as you lay there and watch.” One of her claws now missing her feet sink into the ground pushing the dirt into small mounds.

Richard walks to the cell door, “I’ll be sure to tell her you say, hello.” closing the door with a loud slam behind him.

Marvlaina turns around pressing her foot against the wall for leverage she yanks against her chains until flesh itself is being ripped off. Blood pouring down her hands and onto the floor. A small puddle getting bigger and bigger as each minute passes.

Nate is saying something but she can’t hear it. All she can hear is the blood pumping in her ears. Her mind imagining the sounds of her wife and children screaming. She doesn’t even seem to notice her vision failing. She falls to the ground as she looses blood, “I-I can’t...I can’t die here ...I'm not supposed to die here. Fire- songs of the beautiful ...the sea. Kas...K-kas…”

As her heart slows from blood loss the last thing she hears before she passes out is Nate screaming her name.

#OC #pirate #familydrama #fiction #writing #worgen #World of Warcraft #draenei

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chickensarentcheap · 3 years

Text

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 58

Title: Scared.

Warnings: angst, profanity

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip, @miss-smutty, @ocfairygodmother, @ocappreciation

Link on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28860450/chapters/80937475

She finds him in the kitchen. Standing in front of the coffee bar in a pair of Under Armour sweats that sit impossibly low on his hips and his hair and the back of his shirt visibly dampened by sweat. She’d been stirred awake by the profound need to vomit; morning sickness hitting her hard and quick and finding her throwing off the comforter and rushing for the washroom. For forty minutes she’d stayed there; on her knees in front of the toilet with her cheek resting on the cold porcelain of the lid. It had taken longer than normal for the nausea to pass; accompanied by profuse sweating and the horrific dizziness. And she’d just begun to return to normal and had been in the process of splashing cold water on her face and brushing her teeth when she’d heard the front door click open. When he hadn’t come upstairs, she’d gone in search of him, shoving her feet into a pair of slippers and one of his hoodies.

“What are you doing up so early?” Tyler inquires, when she wraps her arms around him from behind. “ Not like you to be up before the kids.”

“Woke up to an empty bed. Thought I’d come down and check on you.” Her hands slid around to his stomach and slip up to his chest; lingering briefly on broad, hard muscle before retreating to his hips once more. She rests her forehead against his back; enjoying his familiar scent -mixed with the slight tinge of perspiration- that clings to the slightly dampened cotton of his t-shirt. “You worked out? Already?”

“And went for a run.”

“Must have been pretty damn early when you got up.”

“Still dark out. Tried to fall back asleep and when that wasn’t happening, decided to get up and start the day. I didn’t want to wake you up; all the tossing and turning I was doing.”

“Are you feeling alright?” Her hands move to his shoulders, gently kneading the muscles as she presses a kiss to the middle of his back. “ You’ve been getting up crazy early every day for a week now. Don’t you think maybe you’re going a little too hard? With the heavy lifting and the running and…”

“My body feels fine. Couple extra aches and pains and some stiffness, but nothing major. Nothing I can’t handle. I’ve felt worse, that’s for sure.”

“I just don’t want you pushing it, okay? Don’t go past what your body will let you do. I know sometimes you get really into it and you’re in a zone and it’s really hard to stop, but…”

“Didn’t we talk about this?” He turns to face her; leaning back against the countertop as the coffee brews and the kettle boils. “A week and a bit ago? About me not pushing the limits? I said I’d listen to my body. And I am.”

“I just worry. I know what you can be like; when you really start going hardcore with things. I mean, I get that you feel like you need to be bigger…”

“I WANT to be bigger. I don’t feel I need to be. We talked about this.”

“I know, and I’m just reminding you that your skills and your ability to keep us safe? They are not tied to how big you are. I just want you to realize that, okay? Before you totally start busting your ass because you think one has everything to do with the other. It doesn’t. At all. And I don’t want you forcing yourself to get bigger and hurting yourself and…”

“Esme…” He smooths her hair away from her cheeks; looping wayward strands behind her ears and then cradling her face in her palms. “...I’m fine. I’m just trying to maintain. That’s it. You know how hard that’s been; trying to keep weight and muscle on. Ever since...well, you know.”

“I do know. It’s been a challenge; getting back to where you were and staying that way. And I am totally onboard with that; you maintaining how you are right now. Because it’s the healthiest you’ve been. In years. I just don’t want you feeling that you need to be different. Bigger. I don’t want you thinking I want you to be that way.”

“I don’t think that. I’ve never thought that. I know you don’t give a shit; big, small, muscles, no muscles. I know none of that matters to you.”

“It’s not that it doesn’t matter. It does, in a way. Because I want you to be the healthiest you can be. But I love you ALL ways. Your size means nothing to me.”

A grin plays on his lips. “We’re talking over all size and not below the waist, yeah? Because I seem to recall you saying...many times...how much you enjoy the fact I have a huge…”

“You just HAD to go there. You just had to turn around and make this weird. You damn well know what I was talking about.”

“I make it weird when I start to get uncomfortable. You should know that by now. It’s only been twelve years and…” he consults his watch. “...one month…”

“And thirteen days,” she finishes. “What? I keep track too, you know. You’re not the only sappy one in this house. And why DO you get uncomfortable? Shouldn’t YOU know by now that you don’t have a reason to get like that? That I’m the last person you should be that way with.”

“I do know all that.” Pushing his hands through her hair, he allows the dark, silky stresses to slip between his fingers; palms skimming over her shoulders and down her upper arms before sliding around to the small of her back. “ Just sometimes I can’t help it. Guess it’s just years of being that way with other people. Sometimes the past comes back. No matter how far I feel I’ve gotten away from it. What’s the saying? Old habits die hard?”

“I was thinking more ‘you can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” she teases, then gives a yelp when he brings his palms down on her ass cheeks in a ringing slap. “You know, that shorter hair? How blond it looks? Totally hides all your gray. My old man doesn’t look so old anymore.”

“Fuck you, Esme.”

“I wish you would actually. The one morning I wake up really wanting it? You’re nowhere around. Sadly, I had to take matters into my own hands.”

“You didn’t.”

“I so did. I’m sorry, husband. I didn’t have a choice. You have no idea just how badly I wanted it. And when I woke up and you weren’t there…”

“You’re kidding me right now. You’re not being serious.”

“One hundred percent serious.” She gives a dramatic pout. “Sorry.”

“Why didn’t you wait until I got home?”

“I didn’t know how long you were going to be! Some things can’t wait. A pregnant woman’s hormones? They can’t wait. Sorry.”

“You’re bullshitting me right now.”

“There’s two things I for sure never lie about. Sex and orgasms. And seeing as you couldn’t give me the sex…”

“I could have given it to you when I got home. But you couldn’t wait, so…”

“I think you’re underestimating just how bad my hormones are right now. I know it’s been a while, but do you remember how bad things got? During my first trimester with Brookie and Takota?”

“Just with them? You were brutal with all of them. And with them and Millie, I couldn’t really do much about it because Dhaka kicked the ever loving shit out of me. Twice.”

“You held your own. You found ways. But let’s put it this way; combine all my pregnancies together and that’s pretty much how out of control my hormones are.”

A slow, sly grin spreads across his face. “Really? ‘Cause when you’re not pregnant, you’re pretty out there with how much you need and want. I’m older now. I don’t know if I can keep up with pregnant lady hormones.”

“Why do you think I have a whole drawer of sex toys? Take some of the strain and pressure off you.”

His eyes narrow. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

She remains stone faced for several seconds, then bursts into giggles when he scowls and attempts to step away. “I’m kidding! I’m totally kidding, babe. Totally. No!” She wraps both arms around his torso when he tries to side step her. “You’re not going anywhere! I was joking! I didn’t mean to insult you. Or your penis.”

“You hurt it’s feelings.”

“Want me to apologize to it?”

“Do you want to apologize to it?”

“Would it offend your penis even further if I said ‘not right because I’d probably puke all over it’?”

“He acknowledges that as a perfectly acceptable reason. But he also says once you’re feeling better…”

“Once it passes, I promise I’ll be very nice to him. But right now? Right now I need the penis owner to hug me.”

“I don’t know…” he chides, and wraps both arms around her much smaller, slighter frame. “...I guess I could do that.”

“You DO love me.” She perches herself on the top of his feet and curls her arms around his neck. “Although the way I’m feeling? It doesn’t feel like love.”

A palm moves to the back of her head, cradling it to his chest. “I take it you really didn’t wake up horny?”

“No. I didn’t. I woke up to puke. A lot.”

“I’m sorry, Me. That you’re feeling like shit. And for being the reason you ARE feeling that way.”

“You should be sorry. You and your penis and your talented sperm. And your stupid handsome face and your stupid blue eyes and your stupid voice. All the stupid things I can’t say no to.”

“Can’t? Or don’t want to?”

“Both,” she admits, and then giggles against him when his hand slips from the small of her back and travels down to gently squeeze an ass cheek. “I’ve never been able to say ‘no’ to you. It’s a blessing AND a curse, I swear.”

“Well, for what it’s worth…” he drops a kiss on the top of her head, then crooks a finger under her chin and tilts her face up towards him. “...I’m sorry you’re feeling like shit. And that it’s my fault you are.”

“Technically, it’s both our faults. I can’t hold you solely responsible. And I guess it’s a small price to pay; for bringing beautiful little humans into the world. If you ask me, we’re doing society a favour by sharing our genes. We make really cute kids.”

“I can’t argue with that. But is it really a surprise? We’re not exactly hideous.”

“Speak for yourself. You’re the looker in the family.”

He frowns. “I don’t know what the hell you’re seeing when you’re looking in the mirror, because when I look at you? Hideous does not come to me. You are definitely the hot one.”

“I think you underestimate just how good looking you actually are.”

“I think you overestimate how ugly you are. Wait….that did NOT sound right.”

“No, it didn’t,” Esme laughs. “But I know what you were trying to say. I think.”

“Let’s just agree that we make awesome looking kids and that it’s scientifically impossible for us to have ugly ones.”

“I can definitely agree to that.”

“And I am sorry.” Once more cradling her face in his hands, he presses a soft, brief to her lips, followed by one to her forehead. “That you’re feeling like crap. Any better now?”

“A little. I don’t feel like I should be taking up permanent residence in front of the toilet. And I meant what I said; about not caring about what you look like. And how your size has no correlation with the skills you have and the things you can do. You do know that, right?”

“I’m trying. To force myself to realize that.”

“Just be careful,” Esme pleads, as she runs her fingernails along his forearms as his hands linger against her cheeks. “Don’t over do. I don’t want you hurting yourself. I’m not nagging. I’m just worried.”

“Nothing to be worried about,” he assures her, and kisses her a final time. Much deeper and longer; fingers locking together at the base of her neck as she stands on her tiptoes and leans her body into his. “I’m fine,” he promises, and pecks the end of her nose. “If I feel like I’m pushing things, I’ll stop. I’ll even give you permission to give me a kick in the ass if you think I’m going too hard. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” she agrees, and presses a kiss to the underside of his chin before retreating to the island and sliding onto one of the barstools.

“I’ll make you some of that tea. Maybe that’ll help. Think you can handle eating something?”

“Maybe. What are you going to make me in my delicate condition?” Reaching for the Ipad that sits on the countertop, she slides it towards her; pressing the home button to bring the screen to life and immediately checking her email.

“I’m not a rookie. I know what you can and can’t handle.”

“We’re not talking about sex, Tyler. We’re talking about feeding a horrifically nauseous pregnant woman.”

Grinning, he places a steaming mug of tea down in front of her and then drops a kiss on the top of her head. “And you say my mind is always in the gutter.”

“We don’t have seven kids and one on the way for no reason. Save to say your mind isn’t the only dirty thing you possess. Anything interesting happen while you were on your run? Anything exciting?”

“If you’re asking if I saw Mark, no, I didn’t. And it’s probably a good thing because I definitely would have killed him.”

“Not that he doesn’t deserve it, but I’m glad you didn’t see him either. Last thing I need is you in jail for the rest of your natural born life. I don’t quite feel comfortable bringing my children into that kind of environment.”

“You could always come visit me alone,” he chides, and drops a mixture of crackers onto a plate. “You know, for conjugal visits.”

“How romantic. Getting railed with a guard right outside the door. What’s more of a violation of privacy? What ruins the mood more? That or knowing one of your seven children could come running in any second?”

“For the record…” he opens the fridge and pulls out a block of marble cheese and a bag of grapes. “...my mood is never ruined.”

“That’s because when you’re in the sex zone, everything else ceases to exist. You practically forget you even have kids.”

“My dick forgets I have kids. He’s running the show. I don’t get a say in it. My brain shuts down. I just go along for the ride. And boy, can give you an awesome ride.”

Rolling her eyes, she pushes the ipad away and reaches for her mug; clasping it in both hands and blowing a stream of steady air onto it hopes of cooling it down. She watches him as she sips cautiously at her drink; noticing the way the muscles in his arms twist and bugle with even the simplest of movements. The veins more pronounced and the sleeves of his tee -once fitting with room to spare- now tight around his biceps and through the chest and shoulders. Within the past two weeks alone he’s stepped up the frequency and intensity of his workouts; no rest days and the weights much heavier and two hours in the gym now partnered with an hour run along the river. And while she admires not only the view and his consistency and commitment, it also worries her; the fallacy that his skills and his ability to protect his family are directly tied into his size. Mark’s appearance has only fed into things; turning Tyler’s need to be bigger and stronger into near obsession.

“You know…” she carefully broaches the topic once again. “....you’re built exactly like you were when we first met. And that was a good look. A VERY good look.”

“I put on that five pounds, And more. Nine in total. Doesn’t sound like much, but…” he slides the plate of food in front of her. A mixture of various crackers and cheeses and a handful of grapes; the lone breakfast she could tolerate and stomach during the beginnings of all her pregnancies. Until medication became the only thing that helped with keeping any water and liquid down. “...it’ll take a lot to maintain it.”

“Just have to keep eating like you have been,” she says, and selects a piece of cheese from the plate, nibbling at it as he moves to the coffee bar and begins preparing a mug. “You’re up to what? Five meals a day? High calorie, high protein?”

“Probably go up to seven soon. Maybe add in a few smoothies throughout the day.”

“That’s a lot, don’t you think? That’s what you were during back in Colorado; after we got back together. And you went into that whole lumberjack stage.”

“For the record, you called it that. Not me. And you didn’t complain about it at the time. You said you liked that look; me being thicker.”

“I did. I DID like it. It was a change. But things are different now.. YOU’RE different. You’ve been through a lot since then. Your BODY’S been through a lot. Not to mention you’re older. That was a long time ago. Millie wasn’t even in school full time yet.”

“So because I’m older it means I have to just let myself go? Get fat and out of shape? A dad bod? You should know that’s not me; I’m not the type to just around on my ass and not do anything. I’ve always kept in shape. Even when I was a fucking mess and living in that shack.”

“I know it’s important to you; keeping in shape and being healthy. And I’d never stop you from doing it and I’m not suggesting you shouldn’t stay with it. . I just…” she drums her fingernails against the countertop. “...it sounds like you’re going into a bulk.”

“Maybe a little bit of one,” he says with a shrug, and slides into the stool across from her; coffee mug raised to his lips as he regards her. “Why? Is that a problem?”

“No. It’s not a problem. It’s just…” Sighing, she takes a bite out of one of the crackers. “...I am trying so hard here. To navigate this as carefully as possible. Because I don’t want you thinking I’m nagging or attacking or…”

“Just say what you want to say. What are you worried about? I’m not going to lose my shit. We can have a conversation without that happening, can’t we??

“Usually. Eight times out of ten.”

“Just say what you want to say, Me. I won’t get pissed. Just say it.”

“I’m worried about you. I’m worried that Mark showing up is somehow putting it into your head that you need to be different. That you need to be bigger and stronger and…”

“I do need to be stronger.”

“You’re already strong. More muscles does not equal strength. You know that better than anyone. You’re the gym lover, right? You know more about this stuff than I do. Muscle mass does not equal physical power. Look how strong you were in Dhaka. The first time around. You were built EXACTLY like you are now. Look at the things you were able to do. Especially in that apartment. You were there all by yourself and you had to take down all those guys on your own.”

“I was armed.”

“Until you weren’t. Then you had to rely on your physicality, right? You didn’t have a choice. You had to trust in your skills and the strength you had. And it worked out really well, don’t you think? You got rid of all of them and got Ovi out of there.”

“That was all skill, Esme. Not strength.”

“It was a mix of BOTH. You were strong, Tyler. You were insanely strong. I saw what you were capable of. And you were built exactly the same way you are now. So if you didn’t need to be bigger and bulkier then…”

“I was also younger than. Almost thirteen years younger.”

“And at the risk of pissing you off, you were also an alcoholic and addicted to Oxy-Contin. Wouldn’t those have hampered you? Made you even a little bit weaker? You’re clean and sober now. That’s all out of your system. So if you’re just as big now as you were then and you don’t have addiction issues now….”

“I’m almost fifty fucking years old. You really think I’d stand a chance in that apartment now?”

“Yeah. I do. I do think you’d stand a chance. Probably even a better chance now. Because your mind isn’t all fucked up on booze and pain meds.”

“No it’s just fucked up in other ways.”

“That has nothing to do with this. You had PTSD then, you just didn’t realize it. Or maybe you did and you were just ignoring it and self medicating yourself. Numbing everything. Tyler, you already had the problems you do now. They were already there, babe. It just took a lot of extra fucking trauma to bring them out. Do you really think you didn’t have PTSD already?”

“I’ve never thought about it.”

“You’ve always had it. You’ve had it since you were a kid. Just no one ever gave a shit to get you help for it. And then Austin got sick and…”

“We’re not talking about that. We’re not talking about him.”

“I’m just saying other things happened. And they kept piling up and piling up and it took that fucking prick Nathan to really bring everything out. Those things were always there. It just took something to bring them to the surface.”

“Yeah, it only took getting shot in the back and getting fucking tortured. Hell of a price to pay, don’t you think? To make everything come out? Some fucking psycho slicing my face open and sticking his fingers in the bullet hole in my back. Threatening to rape my wife and my little girl and kill my entire family.”

She frowns. “What are you talking about? You’ve never mentioned that before. Threatening to…”

“I remember, Esme. I remember what happened in that storage locker. Everything he did, everything he said. Everything he told me he’d do to you and the kids.”

“When did this happen? When did you start remembering all that?”

“Couple months ago.”

“A couple months?! And you’re just telling me now? Why didn’t you say something? Why would you keep that from me?”

“I didn’t want you to know. The details. I figured it was just better to keep it to myself. What good does it do? You knowing that stuff? Why should we both be fucked up because of him?”

“What? You think I wasn’t already fucked up? You think seeing you that way didn’t screw me up? I was the one that was there. In the hospital. I was the one that was there when you got out of surgery and I was the one that got you the help you needed and busted my ass to get you sent back home where you’d be more comfortable and you’d heal quicker. That was all me. You don’t think that didn’t fuck me up?”

“I’m sorry it did. I’m sorry…”

“No,” she holds her hand up in a plea for silence. “ I don’t want you to be sorry because you have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t deserve what happened to you. It wasn’t your fault Nathan was a total fucking sociopath. But I WAS there, Tyler. I was going through it with you. Who HAS been going through it with you. And you should have told me. That you were remembering. You owed me that.”

“I don’t owe you shit, Esme.”

“Really? So everything I did and everything I went through and all the times I fought for you meant absolutely nothing? Is that what you’re saying? That that meant fuck all to you?”

“I never said that. That’s NOT what I’m saying.”

“It’s been twelve years and in some ways you’ve changed, and in some ways you’re still the same. One day you’re a totally different person and the next you’re right back to who you were. When we first met. You go right back to being that guy that put all those walls up to keep everyone out. It’s like two steps forward and a whole bunch of steps back. Why? Why do you do this? Why do you go back to being HIM?”

“Because that’s who I am. That’s who I’ve always been. You’ve just been so caught up trying to make me something I wasn’t to make yourself feel better. Had to change me right? So you could live with yourself for making the decisions you did when it came to me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I didn’t change you. You wanted to change. I didn’t force you. I didn’t demand that you change for me. I didn’t hold a gun to your head and make you become a family man. I didn’t…”

“You were pregnant with my kid. What did you want me to do? Let you walk away? Take my kid with you? Did you really think I’d let you do that?”’

“Holy fuck,” she scoffs, and pushes the mug away with enough force for tea to splash over the rim. “So this is what it took, huh? Almost thirteen years for you to finally tell the fucking truth. I asked you. After Dhaka. I asked you if it was what you wanted. If I was what you wanted. And you were so fucking convincing. I bought it. When you said it was. I actually fell for it. And in the end it WAS all just a bunch of bullshit.”

“No. It wasn’t. It wasn’t bullshit. I wanted you to stay. I wanted a life with you.”

“Because I was pregnant. Because you felt it was the right thing to do. Because you were trapped.”

“I wasn’t trapped. And it wasn’t because you were pregnant. I wanted you to stay BEFORE that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before? Why did you wait? Until I told you about Millie. Until I said I’d leave and never bother you again? Why didn’t you before that if I was what you wanted?”

“Because I almost fucking died and I was trying to heal and I was fucked up. I wasn't exactly in the right frame of mind. And maybe I was scared. Because I was feeling all the things for you. Because I’d just met you and suddenly I’m feeling shit that I’ve never felt for anyone in my entire fucking life. I went from wanting to kill myself to having something...someone...to live for. I’m sorry if I was a little fucking overwhelmed.”

“You? You were overwhelmed? I put my ass on the line on that bridge and stuck my fingers in your fucking neck! I stayed there! I stuck around and did everything I could to keep you alive! You were overwhelmed?”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have. Maybe you should have just got your ass on the helicopter and left. Like everyone else did.”

“Yeah…” she slides off the stool, and angrily shoves it against the island. “...maybe I should have. Considering you just spent the last twelve years building a life based on a FUCKING LIE!”

“That’s not what I did. That’s not true. That’s not…” he captures her by the wrist when she attempts to stomp away, fingers digging into the sensitive flesh. “...where are you going?”

“I need to be away from you. I can’t be here. In this room. With you.”

“Don’t do this. Don’t walk away. If you walk away...”

“Let go of me,” she orders, and struggles in vain to yank her hand out of his grasp. “Let go. Now.”

“I’m not letting you walk away. Not until you listen to me. Not until you…”

“I’m done listening to you. You’ve said enough, don’t you think? What do you want to do? Hurt me some more? I don’t think that’s even possible. Because what you just did….what you just said...what you just admitted to…”

“I never lied to you. Ever. Not about us. Not about you.”

“You just did! You just told me that the only reason you even had me stick around was because I was pregnant. Because you felt obligated to keep me around. Because you felt some sense of duty.”

“I never said that. That is NOT what I said.”

“I asked you!” She manages to yank her hand free, and instead of fleeing the room decides to confront him. Standing between his splayed thighs and jamming her finger into his chest as tears coarse down her face. “I asked you so many times in the past twelve years! I asked you to tell me the truth; I asked you to tell me if you only wanted me to stay because I was having Millie. How many times have I asked you that? Tell me.”

“A lot.”

“Every time you said ‘no’. You said that you asked me because you loved me and you wanted a life with me. You wanted us to be together and have a family.”

“And that’s exactly why! That’s exactly why I asked you to stay.”

“It was a fucking lie, Tyler! You said I wanted to hear. What you knew would keep me there. You never meant a fucking word of it. It was all a lie.”

“No. It wasn’t. None of that was a lie. It’s the truth. I never lied to you, Esme. Not about that. NEVER about that.”

“You just told me! You just said ‘you were pregnant with my kid, what did you want me to do?’. Those words just came out of your mouth!”

“But I didn’t mean them. I just lashed out. All I heard was you say that I haven’t changed and I was still the same and I lost it. I snapped. And unfortunately that’s what came out. But it wasn’t the truth. Everything I said to you back then….about wanting to be with you and wanting a life with you and wanting a family...THAT was the truth.”

“Twelve years. Twelve years and seven kids. And it was all built on a fucking lie.”

“No. It wasn’t. None of it was a lie. You? Us? None of that is a lie. Stop…” He once more grabs her in an attempt to keep her from leaving; fingers curling around her bicep. “...I’m not letting you walk away. Just stop.”

“Leave me alone,” she pleads. “Please. Just leave me alone. Just let me go. You need to let me go, Tyler.”

“I can’t. I can’t do that.”

“You have to. You have to let me go..”

“Esme….”

“Please,” she begs, and tries to peel his fingers away from her arm. “Please just let me go.”

He finally relents; releasing his hold on her and holding his hands up in a show of surrender. Struggling to hold back a flood of tears of his own as he watches her flee the room; heart breaking just a little bit more with every step that takes her further away from him.

******

Tyler gives her a chance to cool down. Nursing his coffee while counting down the minutes on the digital clock on the stove; time passing agonizingly slow as he fights the urge to rush upstairs and pull her into his arms and kiss her until they’re both breathless. Then drop to his knees and grovel for forgiveness. He calls Desi and asks him to come and take the kids for a couple of hours; giving very little details but letting the uncharastically frantic tone of his voice do all the talking for him. And when he finally lets himself into the master, he finds her standing at the side of their unmade bed; an open suitcase and a pile of messy clothes sitting in the midst of the rumbled and tangled sheets.

He closes the door behind him, then cautiously approaches. Resisting the urge to stand behind her and place his hands on her shoulders and instead retreated to the dresser; leaning back against it with his arms crossed over his chest and fear quickly spreading through his entire body. “What are you doing?”

Esme doesn’t look up from the task at hand. “Packing.”

“I thought you were going to leave that stuff until the night before we leave. We’ve still got four more days.”

“You’ve still got four more days. I’m leaving. Today.”

His top teeth dig painfully into his bottom lip; biting back a ‘like fuck you are’ and instead offering, “Where are you going?”

“Home. There’s seats on a flight that leaves in four hours. I’ll call Andy on the way to JFK; see if he can pick me up at the airport.”

“Andy left Australia about three hours ago. He’s flying in for the wedding, remember? Your son’s wedding.”

“Then I’ll take a cab. Or I’ll call Estelle. I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about it.”

His palms rub at his forearms, attempting to fend off the chill of dread that travels through him. “It’s kind of hard not to. You’re my wife. You’re pregnant with my kid.”

“Just let me worry about that, okay? It’s kinda my body. Not yours.”

“What the fuck is that supposed mean?”

“It means it’s my body. I’m the one carrying this baby. Not you. I’ll take care of it.”

“Take care of it as in make sure it’s okay or take care of it as in…”

She angrily tosses a pair of jeans into the suitcase. “I would NEVER do that to you. You think that little of me? That I would do something like that?”

“No. Of course not. I just…”

“Where’s the kids?”

“Desi came and got them. Took them out for breakfast.”

“How’d you convince him to do that?”

“I told him that some shit was going down and I needed to take care of it. That I needed to bust my ass and make things right.”

“I’m surprised you were so honest. What happened? Use up all your bullshit over the past twelve years? Had nothing left to give? Must have been tiring; keeping the lie up all this time.”

“Esme, stop. I never lied to you. Not about you. Not about us. Not about our life. I’ve never lied about any of that.”

“Our whole marriage has been a lie! Every year, every month, every week, every day. Even every fucking hour.”

“You can’t tell me you actually believe that.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. It’s kind of hard to trust anything you hear after you’ve found out your entire life...or a huge part of it...has been nothing but bullshit..”

“None of it was bullshit. I didn’t mean what I said. Downstairs. I didn’t mean….”

She finally turns to face him; hands clutching a t-shirt. “Was any of it true? Any of the last twelve years?”

“It was all true. Every day. All of it. It was all true, Me.”

Giving a derisive snort, she tosses the garment into the suitcase. “Don’t call me that. Things were good when you started calling me that. Things were great, actually. And I loved it; that you had this little nickname for me. Don’t ruin it, okay? At least give me one thing to hold onto.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You got seven beautiful children out of your lie, Tyler. At least something good came out of it.”

“Okay, you know what…” He finally approaches the bed, snatching the sweater out of her hands and dropping it into the suitcase; picking the latter up and angrily tossing it into the corner of the room. He’s desperate. Frantic. Needing to make that last ditch attempt to keep everything together. He won’t survive if things fall apart; at least not mentally. Losing her means he loses his entire world; the person who taught him what love TRULY is. It’s patience and it’s acceptance and it’s sacrifice and it’s sometimes painful as hell. And it tears him up inside; the thought of his world without his entire world in it. “...you’re going to listen to me. Whether you want to or not. Because I need you to hear what I’m saying. Esme…” he lays his hands on her shoulders, squeezing as hard as her body will allow him to. “Look at me. Please look at me.”

She shakes her head; chin remaining dropped to her chest.

“Please,” he begs, as his hands move to her cheeks; palms cradling her face and fingers pressing into the delicate skin as he tilts her head up towards him. “Just look at me. Don’t do this. Please don’t do this. Don’t shut me out.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He’s never heard her voice like that before; tiny and broken and lost. The hurt that he’s dealt her has struck extremely deep; the devastation and the heartbreak profound and reaching right into her very soul. Not even in the worst of times had he seen her like this; when she’d kicked him out and they’d spent six months walking on pins and needles around each other while desperately wanting to fix things and not knowing where - or how- to begin. She’s cried many times in front of him; tears of joy and anger and frustration and fear and horrendous grief. And he’s always been able to comfort her and ease some of the pain; his arms able to give her the solace and the escape that she both craved and needed. But it’s far beyond that; no lingering embrace or stroking of hair or whisperings of love will do the trick this time. It’s him that’s caused this; the shimmer of tears in her eyes and the trembling of her body and the look of pure devastation and loss that registers on her face.

“I don’t know either,” he admits. “And I don’t even know what to say. I just know I need you to listen to me. To whatever I DO say. Can you do that? I need you to do that. Please, Esme. Just listen, okay?”

She offers a feeble nod.

“I love you. I have always loved you.”

“No. Don’t you say that. Don’t make it worse. Don’t screw things up even more by keeping up the lie. If there was ever a time for you to be honest with me…”

“I AM being honest with you. I have never...EVER...lied about this. About you. About us. About our life.”

“I asked you, Tyler. More than once. Even after you brought up getting married. I asked you if it was because you actually did want me, or if you felt obligated to be with me. Because of Millie. I ASKED you.”

“And I told you the truth. I didn’t want to get married because of the baby. If there’d never been a baby...had you not gotten pregnant...I STILL would have wanted to be with you. I wanted to get married because I loved you. In a way I’d never loved anyone. That I didn’t even think was possible.”

“So you’re saying Millie had nothing to do with it? The fact I was having your daughter?"

“I mean, yeah, she did. In a way. I wanted us to be a family. I wanted it to be you and me and our kid. Because I knew we could make something of it. Don’t you think it was some kind of sign? If Dhaka couldn’t kill us, maybe things were meant to work out.”

“So if I hadn’t been pregnant…”

“I would have still wanted to marry you. I didn’t ask you to come to Australia because of Millie. I asked you because I didn’t want to lose you. I’d just found you. I wasn’t going to just let you walk away like nothing ever happened.”

“I gave up everything for you,” she snarls. “My entire life as I knew it. I gave it all up. And for what? For you to lie to me for twelve years? To base our entire life together on bullshit?”

“That’s not what I did. I didn’t lie to you. Our life hasn’t been bullshit. What I said downstairs? I didn’t mean it. THAT was bullshit.”

“Then why did you say it? If you didn’t mean it…”

“Because I lashed out. Like I’ve always done. Because all I heard was how I’m still the same person. I’m still the guy I was when we first met. The enormous alcoholic, drug addicted fuck up.”

“That’s not what I meant. I don’t think you’re that person at all. You haven’t been him in a long time. I didn’t mean…”

“You think what I said hurt you? How do you think that made me feel? I have busted my ass to give you a life. A GOOD life. I changed everything about myself. For you. And yeah, I needed to change; I needed to get my shit together and clean myself up. For once and for all. No more slip ups, no more going back to bad habits, no more running. And that’s what I’ve been doing for the past five years! I have done whatever I could to be the man you needed. That you DESERVE.”

“You are that man. I didn’t mean to say you’re not. That’s not what I meant; that you’re the same guy you were.”

“But that’s what I heard. You weren’t the only to give things up, Esme. You’re not the only one who had to adjust to a whole new life. I know the way I was living was pretty shit, but that’s all I knew. The job, the booze, the pills, hating myself, wallowing in my own fucking self pity. Do you think it was easy for me to just stop being that way? To just give up everything I knew for something else? Something totally different?”

“No. I know it wasn’t easy. I was there. With you. We went through all of it together. We helped each other adjust. I mean, we started living together and we barely knew one another. We were having a baby yet we were still learning about each other and trying to make a life together.”

“And that was pretty fucking scary wasn’t it. Jumping into all that and not even really knowing one another.”

She nods in agreement.

“ Everything said it shouldn’t work. That it WOULDN’T work. We were both pretty messed up. Some ways it was the same, some it was different. All the cards were stacked against us. All of them. And we somehow made it...US...work.”

“We had to put the effort in,” she reasons.

“And it was hard, wasn’t it. Nothing was easy about it. We pissed each other off, we disagreed on a lot of things, we had to get used to living with another person. It was damn hard. Wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” She finally reaches out to touch him; running her fingertips along the neckline of his t-shirt; intently focused on a single loose thread in an effort to keep her emotions in check. And he immediately feels the change in the room; the pronounced shift from having to beg and plead to save his life to having to do damage control. The tension in her body releasing; shoulders relaxed and the tears in her eyes not as prominent and the way she finds it easier to look at him.

“Do you really think if I was lying that I would have put that much work into things? That I would have given everything up for you? For US? Do you honestly think I wouldn’t have run? Like I’d run from everything else before?”

“I never thought of it that way,” she admits.

“You came into my life and turned my whole world upside down. Second I saw you on my porch, I knew that was it. That things were going to change and that there wasn’t a goddamn thing I could do to stop it from happening. And you know what? I didn’t want to. Stop it. And that alone? That should have been enough to send me running.”

“Why didn’t it? Why didn’t you run?”

“I didn’t want to.”

“It would have been so easy. All you would have had to do was tell Nik you’d take the job and then not even show up. Although, I guess that would have made no sense; you would have lost out on a pretty big pay day.”

“Honestly, the money wasn’t even the first thing on my mind. It was there, but it wasn’t the most important thing. Which is weird, considering that’s all that job ever really meant to me. The pay out.”

“So why did you show up? If the money wasn’t the most important thing…”

“I wanted to see you again. I guess I wasn’t that annoyed about it after all; Nik bringing someone there.”

She manages a small smile.

“You were different. You didn’t give a shit about where I lived or what it looked like. You didn’t seem to care about the booze all over the place and the pain meds right out in the open. You didn’t seem to notice I was huge fucking mess.”

“You weren’t a mess. You were hurt. You were holding onto a lot of things. A lot of pain. I could see it; in your eyes. I’ve always said that; you say more with your eyes than you do with your mouth. I knew it when you looked at me; when we were talking after Nik went outside. I knew that people didn’t really know you. That they didn’t really ‘see’ you. That they never took the chance or the time to.”

“You did. You took the chance.”

“I guess I realized you were different too. From everyone that I’d met while on the job. You weren’t like the rest of them. You weren’t loud and obnoxious and bragging about your kills the second I met you. I couldn’t handle it; guys proud of all the lives they’ve taken and not shy about sharing the gruesome details. They GLOATED about that stuff. And the worst part? They thought I’d be impressed by it. That I’d somehow find it attractive and throw myself at their feet.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t bring out my kill sheet right after I met you,” he chides.

“You’ve never been like that. You’ve never taken pride in what you’ve had to do. You’ve never killed because you wanted to. You killed because you had to. I guess I got that impression right away; you were quiet and soft spoken and like I said, your eyes. They gave a lot away. About who you really were.”

“And that didn’t scare you?”

“There was nothing to be scared of. You may have had your demons, but you were pretty good at keeping them contained. I knew they weren’t something I had to be worried about. You weren’t going to hurt me. You didn’t have it in you.”

“And you could tell all that just by my eyes?”

She shrugs. “You have very expressive eyes. Why did you show up, Tyler? In Fitzroy Crossing. If it wasn’t really the money…”

“Like I said, I wanted to see you again. Girls like you just show up on my doorstep. Figured that was a sign; someone like you just walking into my place like you owned it. And when you didn’t pay attention to the disaster it or I was…”

“You weren’t a disaster. If you were, I never would have gone along with Nik’s plan. I would have ran long before you did, believe me. Had it been anyone else? Any other merc? I wouldn’t have taken that job. You were different, Tyler. In a lot of ways. And especially didn’t hurt that you looked like you did.”

“You would have been really disappointed if Gaspar had still been in the game. Nik called him first.”

“I for sure would have ran. That...HIM...that would have been a ‘no’ from me. I guess I’m lucky. That you even came home that day.”

“I actually briefly considered killing myself. About half an hour before. Something told me not to.”

“I’m glad. That it did. Because if it hadn't…” she looks away, tears once again brimming in her eyes. “...we wouldn’t have any of this. This life, Our kids. Us. We wouldn’t even have existed. And I don’t know about you, but I’m glad we do.”

Smiling, he loops strands of hair behind her ear. “So am I.”

She turns her tear filled eyes back towards him. “I’m sorry, Tyler. I never meant to hurt you. When I said what I did, about you going back to who you were, I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I didn’t mean to say you WERE him. I just mean that you always go back to certain things. Like hiding stuff from me. Because you think you should protect me from it.”

“I should have told you. About Nathan. Remembering the things that happened. I don’t know why I do; revert back to keeping things from you. I guess I am trying to protect you. I guess I figured one of us was already fucked up because of what happened, why should the other one be?”

“But it’s not protecting me. When you hide stuff. It does this. It causes problems. Way more problems than what would exist if you just told me. After everything I’ve been through in the past twelve years, there’s pretty much nothing I CAN’T handle. And I was there too. Five years ago. The aftermath of it. I was the one there with you. And believe me, I’m just as fucked up as you are. Seeing you like that? Seeing you in Dhaka seven years BEFORE that? You have no idea what it’s done to me. The things that are STILL in my head. I can’t get them out of there. And I need them gone. I need them out.”

Laying a hand on the back of her head, he pulls her into his embrace. An arm wrapped tightly around her waist and her fingers tangled in her hair as she buries her face in his chest. “I’m sorry, Me. I am so fucking sorry. That you had to see what you did. That you had to do those things.”

“It’s not your fault,” she sobs. “It’s never been your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. You couldn’t have stopped what happened. I chose to stay. I couldn’t leave you there, Tyler. I couldn’t. I wasn’t leaving you on that bridge.

He attempts to gently shush her; palm moving to the middle of her back to rub in slow, soothing circles. “It’s okay. Everything’s alright now. YOU’RE alright.”

She turns her face up towards him, tears spilling down her cheeks as her entire body violently trembles. Voice terrified and frantic. “I’m not alright. At all. I am so far alright. And I need to be. I need to be alright.”

“You will be,” he assures her, and uses gentle fingertips to clear away the droplets glistening on her skin. “I’ll make sure of it. You’ll be okay. Right now, I need you to calm down. I need you to calm down and just breathe.”

“I can’t…”

“Yes you can. And you need to. For that baby. You need to settle down and breathe and…”

“I need help. I need help, Tyler. I need to get rid of this. This Dhaka stuff. In my head. I want it gone. You need to help me. Please help me.”

“I will. You know I will. As soon as we get home, I’ll call Doctor Klein and I’ll get you to see him, okay?”

She nods.

“It’s going to be okay. YOU’RE going to be okay.”

“I can’t breathe. I can’t…”

“You need to calm down. You’re thisclose to a panic attack and you need to settle down. Just breathe.”

“I CAN’T! I can’t breathe. It hurts...my chest…”

Muttering a string of profanities, he forces her to sit on the edge of the bed and then clasps her face in his hands. “Listen to me, you’re having a panic attack. I need to try and breathe, baby. Just breathe. I’m going to get you some meds, okay? You’ll be alright.”

“It really hurts...I can’t...take a breath.”

“I’ll take care of you.” He presses a kiss to her sweat slicked brow. “I’ll be right back. Just close your eyes and try to breathe. Can you do that?”

She nods.

Hurrying into the ensuite bath, he tosses open the medicine cabinet and begins violently rummaging through the contents. Various items tumbling off shelves and landing with a clatter in the sink; his own hands trembling and his chest feeling tight and uncomfortable. The blame and the guilt already screaming in his ears; silently berating himself for being the cause of not only her pain and her anger, but kick starting her ‘fight or flight’ response. Had he never said the things he had...had he never lashed out and even insinuated that he’d kept her around solely because she’d been pregnant with Millie...if he’d only…

He clutches the edge of the sink with enough force to crack his knuckles and turn his fingers white. And he drops his chin to his chest and briefly closes his eyes; forcing himself to push all of his own fears and worries and guilt and regret out of his mind. Needing to hold it together for her; be the shoulder to cry and the steadfast support and ‘the rock’ that she needs him to be. And when the sobbing and the gasping for air in the next room becomes even louder and incessant, he locates the bottle of anti-anxiety meds and asthma inhaler -prescribed to her for such events- and rushes back into the bedroom.

“It’s alright now,” he attempts to comfort her, and drops to a knee in front of her and shakes the inhaler before popping the cap off. “Here….take this...take it…”

Her hand covers his as he holds the device to her lips and she inhales shakily when he administers the dose.

“You need to take some meds, okay?” His hands tremble as he fights to open the bottle. “Just a couple. They’ll help. They work quick.”

“Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, you're having an anxiety attack. You’ll be okay. Just…”

“No!” she interjects, and when she grabs his arm it’s with enough force that her nails cut into his flesh. “Something’s wrong. With the baby.”

The invisible vice tightens around his lungs. “What?”

“Something’s wrong, Tyler.” Her face contorts with pain, her other hand clutching at her stomach. “Something’s really wrong. With the baby.”

“Okay we’ll get you to the hospital and we’ll get you checked out. We’ll get you looked and the baby looked at…”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish the sentence; both of her palms now covering her stomach as she cries out in agony.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction fan fic #Chris Hemsworth #Tyler Rake x OFC #Chris Hemsworth Extraction #Tyler and Esme series

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bunnylouisegrimes · 4 years

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Episode 8 Review

The usual spoilers

Alright, this episode was pretty good in the beginning with some stuff here and there I didn’t like, but that ending... that ending leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

Normally I start with the bad first, then the good, but I feel I should do chronological order for this one since most of the good is before the bad.

For starters, I enjoyed the very beginning with Chris at his dad’s funeral. For once, seeing an aspect of Vic’s childhood was interesting. You feel pretty bad for Chris because of the rough childhood he had, and you feel bad because he became his father. It’s good that he’s definitely changed tho. He pissed me off (and I’m sure everyone else off) last season, and to see him get emotional all those years before is definitely something. Seeing him grow now is rewarding.

I do really like how both of Vic’s parents see her bridge and are amazed by it. Idk why, but I always find it incredibly satisfying in a story when all the characters understand something/everything. I’m sure we all do, but clarification in a story has always brought me a satisfaction comparable to that of watching those satisfying video complications on YouTube.

How Bing is alive still... I have no idea. Maybe because he was sitting and that helped slow down the blood flow? Honestly, I really wanted them to get information out of him, then have him die. Look, there is a part of me that feels bad for him and sorry for him, but his actions are way less forgivable than Charlie’s. If you ask me, despite him talking with Vic (and hell, maybe at this point he does feel bad for what he did, although that is hard to believe because he did genuinely enjoy raping people, and rape is one of those actions it’s very hard to find really any redemption in once you commit it), I don’t see anyone forgiving his ass, and they shouldn’t. I also think Bing has always been a ticking time bomb. Who knows, if Charlie hadn’t come into their lives, he could’ve hurt Vic if she came off as “too nice” to him. We see what he did to his mom, despite her loving him and being the only good person in his life. He interprets love as something darker, and while it’s horrible that he thinks that way, and I understand what his childhood did to his mind, he has the knowledge that it’s wrong to do it (I mean, he has to subdue people with the gas, and he clearly sees his victims are unwilling) and he should stop it, yet he doesn’t. Charlie actually believes that what he’s doing is right, and there is a part of you that can see that in some regards, he is right, keeping kids away from harmful parents. What good comes out of rape? The only good that comes out of it is the benefit to himself for getting his sick pleasures. He does it all because he can and likes it, no other purpose. He could’ve gotten help, he could’ve tried to keep that all in and express it in a safe environment, he could’ve restrained himself from doing these things... yet he didn’t. If he had just killed the parents and strictly did nothing of a particularly cruel nature, you could understand Bing more and respect his character. But since he didn’t... it makes things harder. Is it respectable that he admitted he’s wrong? Yes. Should he be forgiven? Well... not really, at least imo. If Bing has any redeeming qualities, there are very few. Since he is kept alive, I hope he’s either rotting in prison or kept in a place where he can maybe get help that he needs. I think most importantly, I’m more than a little annoyed at this whole, “Yeah, we’ll write the rapist more sympathetically before we do the main antagonist, who’s actions are questionable and one could understand his intent. He doesn’t rape anybody and finds the act repulsive and kills rapists... but he’s less sympathetic just because he’s the main bad guy 😀.” Yeah, okay writers...

Moving on from the only truly bad thing in the episode before the ending, everything else seemed to be fine. I’m concerned with Maggie and Tabitha’s relationship, I really hope they’ll be okay. Tabitha was badass getting the respect and recognition she deserves for the work she does. Even though she made the stupid decision of going into that church by herself and possibly getting killed, I do love the balls she has, I just hope she doesn’t get herself killed by being stupid. Her and Maggie are a great couple and I love them. I feel bad for Vic and I hate that she feels so low about herself. I did like her talking with her dad. The confrontation with Millie was interesting, and I’m curious to see what’s in store with that. Based on the “next time” preview at the end of the episode, we finally make it to Christmasland, and I’m very interested (but also a little anxious) about what’s gonna happen next.

Now, the ending... this damn ending...

First of all, when Maggie was confronting Wayne, why didn’t she grab his ornament? Maggie is not a stupid character. Did she get hit by the car last season and not make smarter decisions on how to avoid it (ex, maybe getting in between two other cars)? Sure, but we’ll cut her slack, it was a very in the moment thing. This? I mean... they were anticipating this. You mean to tell me she couldn’t have thought of trying to get that ornament out of his hand and taking it away from him? She tricked the Hourglass for Christ’s sakes. It looks like from the preview she’s collecting their ornaments, but still, especially in that moment, she would’ve grabbed his. It might’ve made Wayne have a strength over his old self... what’s weird is in the book, he’s holding onto both sides of himself throughout his entire journey, in this they’re making it seem as though he has no control anymore. Which leads me to my next point...

Where is Craig in all of this? What, so his efforts didn’t do dick? What was the point in having him the last two episodes? I believe in the book, Wayne’s grandma (aka Linda McQueen), is helping him in a spirit form, and also by him “thinking backwards.” Craig was helping him by reminding him of Vic and staying by him. It would’ve made so much more sense for Craig to be by his side still (or hell, in the car if he can’t leave it and telling Wayne to “remember the plan”), Wayne “puts” the ornament on the tree (or Maggie takes it off after he puts it on), and Craig stays by him. Nope, let’s make his character useless. Who knows if he’ll return next episode, I’m hoping he will, but even if he does, it’s still annoying that his character has done little to nothing at this point when there was so much potential, and it seems to be almost too late. I’m glad Wayne didn’t eat Maggie or Lou like I feared (Lou did get a nip I suppose, which was a little unneeded if you ask me). I was hoping for more potential from Craig, guess we’ll have to see if there will be...

Another point: WHY THE HELL IS THIS CAR TOO OVERPOWERED? Seriously, it makes no sense. You can make Charlie’s abilities as op as you want so long as it’s not ridiculous, I could see that. But the car? That’s his total weakness. It can be stronger than the average car, but if lighting it on fire deals with it, explosions would. That is beyond lazy writing.

Now, the worst part: Chris’s death. Of course, let’s kill a character when he just seemed to redeem himself (but the character that rapes people and can’t really be redeemed, we’re gonna keep him alive, maybe he’ll get a redemption arch 🙂). Once again, writers, why are you making the most stupid choices? While his death wasn’t as stupid as his death in the book where officers shoot him down when he’s trying to protect Vic from one (this is all under Tabitha’s command, let’s just say she’s not that great of a cop in the book or with Maggie, I enjoy her character changes for the show), his death, the way I see it, is still insulting and pointless. Realistically, they could’ve kept him alive, what is the point of not? Also, I know that bike is heavy, but why wouldn’t Vic get up and kick some ass? Of course, her bike would act up just as the Wraith is coming towards her (what is the point of that too?). I really think Chris’s death was just for shock value and filler, and to make Charlie look like an even worse villain (because they reeeeally want to drill this point home, if the way his backstory is presented in the show wasn’t proof enough, which is stupid because we UNDERSTAND WRITERS. It’s you guys that don’t understand that Charlie is established as the villain through being the antagonist and his conflicting actions). While I’m glad they didn’t kill an even more important character (ex, Maggie or Lou or Vic), it’s still stupid to waste all that character development on Chris just for him to go out anyways, all for shock value filler and to make Charlie worse. Again, not saying he’s a saint, not saying it’s out of the realm of possibility for him to want to get revenge on Vic this way, but still, isn’t he already getting revenge on her through Wayne (plus, to him it’s poetic justice that he’s “saving” him from her). There’s really no point to Chris’s death. This reminded me heavily of TWD when they would pull that shock value filler crap with killing characters, and making a villain look worse than needed (an example is what they did with Negan in the show by writing him as even more evil and less redeemable than he is in the comics). I genuinely hope they don’t pull more of this.

All in all, this episode had it’s good moments I enjoyed, but there was definitely some stupidity and bad moments I despised. Let’s hope these last two episodes where shit gets more serious will be better. I’m hoping this show does not turn to crap through a series of stupid decisions, much like TWD did. I will be sorely disappointed at AMC...

#nos4a2 #nos4a2 vic #nos4a2 maggie #nos4a2 charlie #charlie manx #vic mcqueen #maggie leigh

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 82

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007

The storm rolls in shortly before nine; torrential rain and howling winds that rattle the windows, bend tree branches, and strip them of leaves. Both the thunder and lightning are intense and incessant; resounding booms that seem to shake the entire house and forks of silver that slice through the coal black sky. The sudden change in weather does little to improve Tyler’s mood; the pressure in the air bringing a migraine that settles in both temples and over his left eye. While the sadness and hints of guilt, regret, and even embarrassment have faded, they’ve been replaced with emotions much more profound and unsettling. Immense hatred. Blinding rage. A desperate and powerful want and need for revenge.

It’s been almost three months since it all began. Kicking off with Mahajan’s badgering of his son in regards to taking over the ‘family business’, escalating into threats against his family that grew more disturbing with each passing day, and culminating in an unwanted return to Dhaka. It’s complicated and twisted; each hour brings an added layer that only pushes the finish line further and further away. His physical pain may be worsening; but it’s his mental stability that is the most concerning. Unable to turn off the emotionally driven side of him and solely look at things from a mercenary’s point of view. He knows he’s on the edge; barely hanging on his last shred of sanity. The games have taken their toll; hearing vile things about his wife and children serving as the final nails in the coffin. Even if he does survive with his body intact, he’s not sure if his brain will be as fortunate. It’s a no win situation. Whether it’s a busted up body or a broken mind, he’ll suffer either way. And so will his family.

He places a call to Kyle’s cell phone, grimacing at the pain that shoots through his right leg and across the small of his back as he takes a seat at the end of the bed. Anil had one of his ‘people’ stop by; a physician originally from Mumbai who’d not only taken the CEO position at one of Dhaka’s private hospitals, but holds the utmost contempt for both the ghost of Amir Asif and those still pledging loyalty to him.

“He’s been dead for seven years,” he’d said. “Yet he’s still sending me patients and putting bodies in my morgue. Old, young; his drugs and his people do not discriminate.”

That had been the extent of conversation. No small talk exchanged as he put Tyler through a series of physical tests to determine the state of his mobility issues. The doctor offering little more than heavy sighs and shakes of head as he discovered things were worse than he initially suspected. Torn ligaments and tendons, the disintegration of cartilage, scar tissue. A lengthy list of things that could be causing problems but would definitely have to be properly -and extensively- investigated by a specialist. For the time being, there’s nothing anyone can do, aside from prescribing yet another painkiller with strict orders that someone else be in charge of dispensing it. He can’t be trusted to do it himself; the first one to admit that he has absolutely no control over the demon of drug addiction. And he’d been more than happy to hand over the responsibility; as long as he’d get some relief.

So far he's pleasantly surprised; the two pills he’d taken an hour ago successfully -and quickly- taking the edge off without making him feel ‘doped up’. The pain is still present, but nowhere as intense or unbearable. Relegated to a dull, continuous throb akin to the agony of a bad toothache.

Kyle answers on the third ring, giving a quick ‘hey’ followed by “I’ll get one of the kids for you.” It’s the first time they’ve spoken since right before he and Esme had left for Dhaka; Kyle still sore over the fact he’d been called out for his poor treatment of his sister.

“Hold up,” Tyler says, smirking at the sound of his brother in law’s heavy sigh. “How’s things there? And don’t bullshit me.”

“Things are okay.”

“Okay as in good or okay as in they could be better?"

“If you’re just asking about the kids, then things are okay as in good. Ovi and I are making sure we keep them busy; filling their days up. And they’re happy as they can be when they’re missing both their mom and dad as much as they are. It’s hard on them; both of you being gone. But they’re doing alright. They’re coping. We’re busting our asses to make sure they don’t catch wind of what’s really going on.”

“Thanks for that. Esme and I appreciate it. Keep an eye on Millie though. She figured everything out, and while she promised she wouldn’t say anything to her brothers, I wouldn’t put it past her if they pissed her off enough. Nothing she loves more than tormenting those two.”

Kyle gives a small chuckle. “I’ll keep an eye on her. There hasn’t been any actual fights so far, but she has threatened to beat their asses a few times. You know, she’s a mind fuck that kid. She’s so sweet and cute to look at…

“But she’s a total savage,” Tyler finishes for him.

“Exactly. She doesn’t take any shit. Esme was like that as a kid; no one dared messing with her because she’d beat the ever loving hell out of them. Small, but tough. How is she? She doing okay?”

“She’s hanging in there. Just ready for all this to be over. Sooner the better. Anything going on there? Anything weird or suspicious or…”

“Other than Anil going ape shit on all the nannies and replacing them all? Things have been pretty quiet. There’s been a couple little things here and there; people getting too close to the house, calling here and hanging up, dead cat thrown over the fence.”

“That’s all rookie stuff. Someone trying to unnerve ya. I wouldn’t put too much stock into it; guys who can really do damage start bigger and end even bigger. They don’t bother with bullshit like that. You’ll call, yeah? If things get any weirder?”

“I will,” Kyle promises. “Keep my little sister safe, okay? I wish she wasn’t involved in this at all, but..”

“She’s safe with me. She always is. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect her. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do. But I wish she’d never gotten dragged into all of this in the first place. And I’m not talking now. I’m talking seven years ago. If you’d just thought of her instead of yourself…”

“Is that daddy?” Millie’s voice interrupts Kyle before he can launch into his tirade. “Mommy said daddy was going to call us. Is that him? Can I talk to him? I want to talk to him.”

There’s a slight rustling noise as the phone is passed from person to person, and the first smile of the day manages to make its way to his face when his daughter greets him with a cheerful “Hi daddy! I miss you!”

He tries not to think about it; the threat made against her and the knowledge of what would be done to her. She’s only six. Still a baby. HIS baby. “Hey,” he says. “Hey baby girl.”

“Mommy said you’d call and you did! She said you were feeling a bit sad ‘cause you miss us so much.”

“I am a bit sad,” Tyler admits. “I do miss you guys. You being good?”

“I’m trying. But TJ really tests my patience. He’s so annoying! Why does he have to be so annoying?”

“Because he knows it bothers you. Just try to ignore him”

“It’s hard!” Millie laments. “It’s really, REALLY hard. It’s like he wants me to punch him in the face.”

“Well I’d rather you didn’t punch anyone in the face.”

“But I’m not a pacifist. I’d rather ‘pass a fist’.”

“Where did you learn that?”

“I’m not a snitch. Snitches get stitches.”

“How about you rein in your temper a bit,” he suggests. “Just take it from the source. He’s doing it to get a reaction. Don’t give him one. That’ll irritate him and he’ll get bored and back off. How are you? You doing okay?”

“I’m okay, I guess. I miss home. Can we go back soon? Are you almost done your work? I really want to go home.”

“So do I. And it’ll be over soon.”

“And then you and mommy will come and get us and take us home?”

“As soon as it’s over. Once it’s done, we’ll come and get you guys. I promise.”

“Maybe next time we go on a trip, we can go to Disney World. That would be fun.”

“Have you been talking to Tanner?”

“Maybe…” Millie sing songs.

“Tell you what, when we get home, your mom and I will talk about it, okay?”

“Okay. Is it stormy where you are? It’s really stormy here. It’s kinda scary! The thunder is really loud and it’s really windy. It never gets THIS bad at home. We get storms, but they’re not as scary as this one. I wish you were here; it wouldn’t be as scary. You always built a fort in the living room so we can all sleep together and we won’t be afraid. You always make it fun. Like we’re on a camping trip. We forget about being scared when you’re with us. I wish you were here, daddy.”

He swallows around the lump of emotion sitting square in his throat. “I wish I was there too.”

“Did you watch my video? I sent it to your email. Did you get it?”

“I did. But I haven’t watched it yet. I was going to do that before bed. So I could have good dreams instead of bad ones.”

“That’s a good idea! Maybe you can send ME a video and I can watch it before bed and that way I’LL have good dreams too.”

“You know what I’ll do? I’ll make a video for all of you and then you can all watch it before bed. Sound good?”

“Sounds good!”

“I gotta go. I’ve got an important meeting I have to get to. But I’ll make the video and I’ll send it to Auntie Nik’s email. You tell her I’m doing that, okay?”

“Okay. I miss you, daddy. I love you.”

“I miss you too. And I love you. ALL of you. So much. And I’ll see you guys in a few days.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah.” He hopes he sounds more confident than he feels. “I promise.”

****

It takes four attempts before he gets a usable video to send to the kids; trying to keep it light and cheerful and finding himself stumbling over his words and fighting back tears. The last thing he wanted was to turn a bedtime message into something so dark and depressing. Even Millie -who is incredibly intuitive and had known from the start that Mumbai wasn’t a normal family holiday- doesn’t know the full extent of just how serious things are. He doesn’t want to scare them; seeing daddy emotional will only cause them to ask questions no one truly has answers for. And it would only send their fears and anxiety -especially Tanner’s- through the roof. In the end he’d been able to hold it together. Reciting one of their favorite bedtime stories by heart and telling them how much he loves them and misses them; promising that they’ll all be heading home soon. The latter had actually helped lift his own spirits. Saying the words out loud doing wonders for his confidence; the promise itself -and not wanting to break it- giving his motivation a desperately needed kick in the ass.

By the time he journeys downstairs, Yaz has already arrived; joining Esme, Koen, Rata and two of Anil’s men -who’d been ordered to help out in each and every way possible- in the living room. And the younger man pauses in the setting up of his laptop in order to greet Tyler with a warm, tight hug and a playful backhand to an unshaven cheek. He sees the exhaustion that clouds Yaz’ eyes and dampens his smile; his own fears and worries revolving around a heavily pregnant girlfriend back home. It’s been hell on everyone; long hours and restless sleep and one stumbling block after another. There’s finally some light at the end of that very long and winding tunnel. It’s faint, but at least it’s there.

He pours himself a coffee from the freshly brewed pot in the kitchen and then joins the others. Returning Esme’s smile as she looks up at him, giving her a wink before taking a seat beside her and then pressing a kiss to her temple as he leans into her. Her hand slides along his inner thigh and then settles on his knee; squeezing lightly before her fingers locate the most tender area and begin digging and manipulating. She doesn’t need to be asked; always knowing where the painful spots are and never hesitating to provide even the smallest bit of relief.

“I hope this weather isn’t some kind of bloody omen,” Raka grumbles. Nervously bouncing his legs and both jumping and looking towards the sliding glass doors with each boom of thunder that shakes the house.

“Forty damn years old and he’s scared of a wee storm,” Koen scoffs.

Rata glares at him. “A wee storm? Sounds like Mother Nature is getting ready to blow shit up!”

“Do you need your favorite blanket? A warm bottle of milk? Someone to cuddle with you? It’s nothing but some wind and a bit of rain.”

“That’s more than just some wind and some rain!” his friend argues. “It’s like the end of the world out there! And if this some kind of omen about how things are going to go down…”

“Ain’t no bloody omen!” Koen laughs “Don’t tell me you believe in all that shit. Signs and karma and all that hoodoo voodoo, hocus pocus crap!”

“I d0n’t know,” Esme says, as she reaches for a mug of tea sitting on the coffee table. “I like to think that karma exists and that it finally caught up to my ex. Because if anyone deserved to be hit head on by the karma bus, it was him.”

Tyler nods in agreement and takes a swig of coffee.

“So what’s it looking like?” Koen addresses Yaz. “End getting close or what?”

“Depends on what news you guys have for me. I know where I stand on my end of things. What about over here?”

“I was able to get an extra twenty four hours,” Esme says. “But I really had to up the ante; an extra five million wasn’t going to cut it. I had to promise another ten. I tried to talk them down, but it was either the extra ten or pieces of Neysa and Aarev start washing up on the shores of Buriganga in a few days' time.”

“And Anil was willing to up that much?” Yaz asks. “IF it comes down to having to pay the ransom?”

“He didn’t hesitate when I told him. I don’t know where he gets all his money from, but he acted like it was nothing more than pocket change. He’s prepared to pay IF all else fails. But they still won’t give me proof of life unless I agree to meet them at Asif’s house and have them take me to where they’re being held.”

“Which is NOT happening,” Tyler says. “There’s no way in hell that’s happening.”

“Now hold on a second,” Koen speaks up. “It’s the way that makes the most sense.”

Tyler frowns. “What are you talking about? It makes no sense. You really think they’re going to keep their word? That they won’t hurt her? They’ll use her as bait. She won’t get anywhere near Neysa and Aarev; they won’t take her there. They’ll keep her at Asif’s and do God knows what to her until I show up to get her out.”

“She won’t be going alone,” Koen points out.

“I don’t give a shit if there’s ten of you going with her. She’s not doing this. She’s not going there. No fucking way.”

“But when they take her there...US there...you just follow behind and…”

“You’re not hearing me, mate. They won’t take her anywhere. They’ll kill you, then use her to bait me. And they’ll do all kinds of sick and twisted shit to her. You’re just going to take them at their word that they won’t hurt her? I know you’re not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you’re not THAT stupid.”

“Okay….” Esme speaks up. “...why don’t we all calm down and talk through all of this rationally. There’s got to be another way to find out where Neysa and Aarev are that doesn’t involve having to go to Asif’s house. We all know it’s a trap. We can’t trust a single word they say and there no doubt in my mind they’d keep me in order to get Tyler to show up.”

“She’s NOT going,” Tyler stresses. “End of story. After tonight, her part in this is down. She did everything we needed her to do. Enough’s enough. I’m not risking her or the…” he catches himself. “...I’m not risking her. We gotta find another way.”

“I think I have one.” Yaz says. “It unfortunately does involve sending people to Asif’s house, but not in an official capacity. What if I can get people to plant tracking devices on a few of the cars that are always coming in and out of there? We’ve had eyes on that place since we got here; there’s a constant flow of the same six vehicles going in and out at all hours of the day. If I can get some guys close enough to put some GPS trackers in place, we just sit back and see if any of them visit a storage facility.”

“The storage thing was just something I pulled out of my ass,” Tyler admits. “What I saw in the pictures and the videos reminded me of where we held McMann. That’s the only reason I said. Could be a factory or a warehouse for all I know.”

“What if it’s Asif’s basement?” Esme asks. “Does that place have one? Or a cold cellar or something like that? Cements walls and floors? Could be a basement or a cellar of some kind. It would explain no windows.”

“Well that makes it even more complicated if it is,” Koen grumbles. “How would we ever find that out? We can’t just go on up and knock on the front door and ask for a tour.”

“Any way of getting eyes in there?” Tyler asks Yaz. “It wouldn’t hurt ruling it out. Kind of fitting if it is where they’re holding them. Almost like they’re offering them up as some sacrifice to Asif. Appease the Gods of whatever the fuck they believe in.”

“I’d have to study the blueprints again,” Yaz says. “I didn’t see a basement, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. A lot could have changed since the originals were made; people renovate and add on all the time. We definitely need to check it out. Better to be safe than sorry, right?”

“Can you do it?” Tyler inquires. “Get eyes in there?”

“It’ll be hard. But I’m sure I can come up with something. There’s got to be a way of getting in there without tripping the alarms or grabbing their attention. I’ll work on it.”

“I think the bigger worry right now is the bridges,” Esme pipes up. “Koen and I saw it with our own eyes. They are locked down and both the police AND the military are manning the road blocks. And they have pictures of me, of Tyler, and they’re comparing them to everyone that goes in or out. Whether they’re walking or driving.”

“They do have them locked pretty tight,” Koen confirms. “There’s no way we could get him across without him being seen.”

“What about going in from the north?” Esme suggests. “Does anyone know if they’ve got things blocked off up there too? If you go north into one of the smaller towns, you can backtrack your way into Dhaka, You can’t send a chopper right into the city; you just can’t. Not when even the police and military are wanting to cash in on the bounty. A chopper is big and noisy and that’s way too much attention right off the hop. But if you take one into one of the towns north of the city, you can drive back in. IF there’s no roadblocks that way.”

“That’s a big if,” Tyler says.

“I can send some people to check it out,” Yaz offers. “There’s a lot of remote areas north of Dhaka. Could them in, get them to see what’s going and probably have an answer in five or six hours. Gotta mobilize them first. Have they sent anything? For proof of life? Any pictures, videos…?”

“The last proof Anil received was three days ago,” Esme sighs. “Nothing since.”

“So they could be dead,” Koen concludes.

“There’s no way they’re dead,” Tyler says. “They need them alive. They know if I don’t come there, they’re going to have to settle for the cash. Which means they have thirty million reasons to keep them alive.”

Or they could kill them and just let on that they’re alive,” Koen argues. “Bait you there with the impression that they ARE still breathing.”

“That’s highly unlikely,” Yaz speaks up. “This is a huge pay day for these guys. If Tyler bails, the money is all they have. They’ll take it.”

“Then why not just bail?” Rata asks. “Why not just say ‘fuck it’ and get out of here? Just let Anil give them the money. Hand over the cash and Neysa and Aarev go free, that’s it.”

“It isn’t just about Neysa and Aarev,” Esme reminds him. “It started with the threats against them and it escalated into a whole lot more. WAY more than any of us thought it would. Did any of us image it would get this far? Did any of us really think it would get this bad? It never should have led to this.”

“This is about my family too,” Tyler adds. “Look at all the shit that’s been said. About my wife, about my kids. You think I’m really going to sit back and let them get away with it? If it was you girl, would you just tuck your tail between your legs and run?”

“Of course I wouldn’t. I’d fight too. But haven’t we fought enough? We took care of all those people on that list. Just like we were supposed to. It’s not our fault that Mahajan changed the game when he grabbed the woman and the kid. We did what we set out to do. So why don’t we just say fuck it and go home?”

“Why don’t YOU just say fuck and go home?” Tyler retorts. “If you can’t handle it, just say so. If you’re scared to do this…”

“I’m not scared of shit!” Rata interjects. “I just don't understand why we keep busting our asses like this. Haven’t we done enough? We got all the names checked off the list, Anil is going to take care of Mahajan. We’re done.”

“We are NOT done.” Esme argues. “They have Neysa and Aarev. And Nathan. Did you forget about him? I know he’s no one’s favorite, but they have him too. We can’t just leave them there.”

“And we can’t leave Asif’s people alive,” Koen adds “They’re too much of a threat; especially to Esme and the kids. We leave them alive and they’ll always pose a threat. We have to get rid of them so Tyler and his family can leave in peace.”

“If you want to go, go,” Tyler says. “You want to walk away, no one will fault you for it. This has been sheer fucking hell from day one. If you’re tired and you’ve had enough then just walk away. I won’t hold it against you.”

“I sure as hell will,” Koen snarls.

“I ain’t leaving you two useless assholes here!” Rata protests. “Someone has to make sure things get done right. Might as well be me.”

Koen gives a derisive snort and shakes his head.

“Well it’s true,” Rata mutters, and leans back against the couch, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m the one who’s been doing it all right since the beginning.”

“I’ll get trackers on the cars right away and send people north,” Yaz announces, and snaps the lid on his laptop closed. “We’re in the end game now. Everyone needs to keep on their toes and be ready to go at any given moment.”

“What happens when we get where we’re going?” Koen asks. “When the shooting starts? That’s going to bring a whole lot of attention our way. We’re going to have every fucking drongo in Dhaka showing up. Regular people, cops, military. How do we deal with all of that?”

“That’s why we have guns,” Tyler informs him. “They shoot at you, you shoot back. And shoot to kill. Injuring them will do shit. You gotta put them down and put them for good.”

“What if someone creates a few distractions on the bridges?” Esme addresses Yaz “I’m sure Anil has some extra people he can lend or even people here in Dhaka that he can convince to go against Asif. If we have people causing a disturbance on the bridges, all the attention will be down by the water.”

“Not just a pretty face,” Koen teases, and shoots her a playful wink.

“I like that idea,” Rata enthuses, “Stir up some chaos. Shoot some people, blow some shit up.”

“Well I was thinking relatively non violent,” Esme says. “But yeah, that works too.”

“Just remember to not shoot unless you’re being shot at,” Yaz instructs. There’s a lot of Dhaka. Good, innocent people. We don’t want their deaths on our hands. Know your target before engaging. And believe me, you’ll know your targets.”

“They don’t waste time shooting,” Esme adds. “Thankfully, most of them can’t shoot for shit. So your chances are pretty good that you won’t get hit.”

“Until they shoot you from behind,” Tyler smirks. “Then all of a sudden they’re really good shots.” He immediately regrets saying it; noticing the way Esme’s entire body stiffens and hears the heavy sigh that escapes her lips.

“Ask me, that was just luck,” Yaz remarks. “Extremely bad on your part, extremely good on his.”

“Can we NOT talk about?” Esme irritably requests. “We don’t need to talk about this.”

“Gonna need eyes in the back of our heads,” Rata grumbles. “If these fuckers are known for cutting you down from behind. I don’t want to be catching one in the throat. I wouldn’t be so lucky, that’s for sure.”

“No sense rehashing all of that,” Yaz attempts to derail the conversation. “It was a long time ago. Let’s concentrate on now and…”

“I’m just saying,” Rata continues. “If we got kids out there putting bullets in our backs or our necks…”

“Enough,” Tyler orders. “We all know what happened. We don’t need to talk about it.”

“You got lucky,” his friend informs him. “Someone was there to save your ass. All you bastards would high tail it out of there and let me fend for myself.”

“This conversation is not for me,” Esme declares, and shrugs Tyler’s hand off her shoulder when he tries to prevent her from standing up. “I’m not talking about this. I don’t even want to hear about it. Bad enough I had to go through it. Last thing I want to do is relive it.”

The next thirty second feels as if it lasts thirty minutes. Tension filled silence and a painful awkwardness; all four men attempting to avoid eye contact with one another and trying not to acknowledge the obvious tears sparkling in Esme’s eyes and the way she drops her empty mug into the sink with a loud clatter. Or the way she hurries from the room; light footsteps impossibly loud on the stairs.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Koen angrily elbows Rata in the ribs. “You know we don’t talk about that. We never talk about that.”

“It’s been seven years! I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”

“It’s a big fucking deal! To her, anyway. You better start kissing some serious ass, you fucking drongo!”

As his friends continue to bicker, Tyler leans forward and places his forearms on his thighs. Eyes on his feet as the fingers of his right hand fidget with his wedding band; twirling it back and forth, pulling it up to the knuckle and sliding it back down again A nervous habit that creeps up when his anxiety rears its ugly head or the PTSD is gearing up to unleash hell.

Yaz slips into the empty seat beside him, then leans in close. “Still a sore spot for her, huh?”

Tyler nods in confirmation.

“It won’t be much longer until go time. Think she’s going to be able to handle it?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I honestly don’t know.”

******

He manages an hour and a half of sleep. Waking to the sounds of Esme muttering and whimpering beside him. Her body drawn impossibly tight and her hands tightly gripping the bottom sheet; heels digging into the mattress as if trying to push herself away from an attacker. He opted not to shake her awake, wanting to avoid sending her into a panic and turning her extremely combative. He’d learned the hard way how NOT to handle a night terror. Confronted by a five foot nothing woman with the sudden strength of three grown men and having to physically restrain her until the nightmare released her from its clutches and she came out of it on her own.

Instead he took the easier approach. Rolling over onto his side and laying an arm across her midsection and draping one leg over both of hers and effectively keeping her flailing limbs and trembling body still. A forearm resting lightly on the top of her head and his fingers reaching for her face; gently clearing tears off of her cheeks and lightly tracing random patterns on her forehead and down the bridge of her nose. Within minutes she’d been successfully comforted. Body finally stilling, tears ceasing, eyes never opening as she issued a heavy sigh and moved onto her side.

After that, all hope of getting back to sleep had abandoned him, and for the last hour he’s been lying there in silence. Holding her as tightly as her body will allow him to; face buried in her hair as he listens to her soft, rhythmic breathing. And when her body grows uncomfortable with the heat radiating from his own and the weight of his limbs becomes too much, she moves away and he gives up on rest entirely. Sliding out of bed and then bunching up both of his pillows and placing them -one on top of the other, lengthwise- behind her back. If she rolls over in her sleep and blindly reaches for him, she’ll at least discover the pillows; his scent hopefully enough to comfort her.

He’d fallen asleep fully clothed. Wanting to be ready at the drop of a hat; whether it be a phone call from Yaz or a threat on their doorstep. And he picks up the holster -gun securely stored inside- from it resting on the nightstand; clipping it to the waist of his jeans and then shoving his feet into his combat boots, lacing them tightly before leaving the room.

He grabs some fresh air; giving the guards a nod in greeting as he steps out onto the back porch. While the storm had settled hours ago, it had brought no relief. Heat near stifling, the humidity already oppressive; causing sweat to quickly bead across his forehead and to gather at his temples and the nape of his neck. The air is thick and heavy, yet he barely notices it as he sits on the edge of the deck. Jaw firmly set, elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together; eyes dark and staring out into the stillness of the night. He neither sees or acknowledges anything around him. Not the movement of the guards patrolling the darkened perimeter or their quiet conversation. Not the faint music coming from the neighbouring home or the chirping of the crickets.

His mind is switching over now, and soon his senses and instincts will kick into high gear; his brain thinking of nothing but the task directly in front of him. The adrenaline is starting to build; that rush of blood in your veins and the anticipation that causes your heart to speed up and your stomach to flutter. For now he’s still experiencing other emotions as well; worry, nervousness, fear. Haunted by the thought that he could be called upon at any given moment and he many never return to his old life. To that sprawling, beautiful home on the beach with its million dollar view. To the sound of his children laughing and playing. To kissing his wife good morning when she wanders into the kitchen clad in one of his t-shirts. To kissing her goodnight and having that warm, supple body snuggled into his; her breath tickling his skin and that familiar smell clinging to her hair.

It’s shortly before one in the morning when he heads back inside. The house shrouded in silence; the open concept living, dining, and kitchen area illuminated only by the light above the stove. Instead of returning upstairs, he sinks into the easy chair in the living room; relieved that he’s able to stretch out his legs without wincing or groaning from discomfort. The two pills he’d taken almost three hours ago effectively reducing both his pain and stiffness yet not leaving him groggy or with altered senses. It’s a temporary fix; he knows long term usage is out of the questions. His body will get accustomed to both the drug and the dosage and soon the need for more will start. The cravings will kick in soon afterwards, and he’ll find himself desperate for a fix and willing to do anything to get it. Seeking out a doctor is the safest and only hope he has; whether it be through extensive physio or surgery. And he’s more than willing to put in the time and the effort. After all, it’s the only way he’ll be able to keep his life from falling apart.

“Tyler?”

His eyes snap open at the sound of her voice, and he glances towards where she’s paused at the middle landing of the stairs. “Yeah?”

“Just checking to see if it was you. I didn't want to come down there and sit on someone and find out the hard way it’s Koen.”

“Might give the guy a heart attack. Probably the most attention he’s had from a woman in a long time.”

“Everything okay?” she asks, as she descends the remaining stairs and joins him; settling herself sideways on his lap with her legs dangling over the arm of the chair.

“Everything’s good.”

“You feeling alright?” She pushes a hand through his hair, palm settling at the back of his head, nails lightly massaging his scalp.

“I’m feeling pretty good, actually. Those meds are doing their job. For now anyway.” He turns his face into hers and places a kiss to each corner of her mouth before covering it with his own. One hand sliding up and down her back as the other settles on her hip. “You okay? You were having a pretty bad dream, huh?”

She nods in confirmation.

“Want to tell me about it?”

“Not really,” she says, and rests the side of her head on his shoulder.

“So it was about me?”

Another nod.

“That bad?”

“Bad enough. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” he assures her, and rests the tip of his nose against his forehead, feeling the tickle of her lashes when she closes her eyes.

“Nice attempt with the pillows though,” she says.

“It usually works.”

“I woke up completely this time. And then I panicked; I was worried you’d gotten the call and left without saying bye.”

“I’d never leave without telling you. We have our thing, yeah? Shit we always say to each other before I go? It’s like my good luck charm; say those words and everything will go right.”

“It’s held up so far. You started saying it when you went back to the job the first time and you’ve been saying it ever since.”

“Pretty good track record. I wouldn’t risk screwing things up by leaving without waking you up and telling you. You sure you’re alright? Dream still got you rattled?”

“A little,” she admits. “It was scary. And gruesome. I haven’t had one that bad in a long time.”

“Thought you didn’t want to talk about it?”

“I don’t.” She nuzzles the side of his neck with the tip of her nose, then presses a kiss to it. “It was bad…” her voice cracks. “...it was really bad.”

“It’s okay…” the hand on her back moves up to her hair, slightly stroking it as his other hand rubs her hips. “...everything’s fine. I’m right here.”

“For now.”

“We knew this was coming.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier. I know you have to go, but it doesn’t mean I want you to.”

“Would it make you feel better if I wore my lucky underwear?”

“You didn’t bring them. I packed your bag, remember?”

“And you didn’t put them in? What’s wrong with you?”

“The only thing those underwear are lucky for is making babies. Declan, Addie. I bet you were wearing them when this one was made too.”

A hand moves to the small baby bump already straining against her pyjamas pants. “I wasn’t wearing any.”

“You don’t even know what day this one was made on. How do you know if you were wearing underwear or not? You can’t remember what you had for breakfast most days.”

“I figure if I don’t wear them six days a week, the chances are pretty high that I wasn’t wearing any that day.”

“Maybe THAT’S why your sperm is so good. You’re not suffocating them all the time. They're free range. They’re not penned in and they can come and go as they please. Like how the chickens in Colorado used to poop out butt nuggets everywhere.”

Tyler chuckles. “Butt nuggets.”

“I used to call eggs that all the time when I was a kid,” Esme muses. “My dad taught me. We’d have a big family breakfast every Sunday; like we do now. And he’d always ask me how I wanted my butt nuggets cooked. My mom would get so mad! She hated that we were so close. I think in a way she was jealous. I was her first girl and I wanted nothing to do with her. She couldn’t figure out that she was the reason I didn’t want to be around her. And here we are, thirty some years later and she still has no clue. Makes me sad for our kids; they don’t even have one grandmother. Your mom would have been so good with them. I just know it. Her only kid...her son...having kids of his own?”

“She would have spoiled the hell out of them. She would have loved them; there’s no doubt about that.”

“She’d be so proud of you. For how you turned out.”

“Something tells me she wouldn’t he completely on board with the whole hired gun thing.”

“I’m not talking about that. I mean how you turned out as a man. If she was alive right now, she’d know all the struggles you went through and saw all the battles you fought and how you beat every single one. And she’d see how you turned out as a husband and a father despite not having the best role model to emulate.”

“Growing up I told myself that I’d never be like him. That I’d never turn out like that.”

“And you didn’t. You work hard at it every single day; to not be like him. It would have been so easy for you; to end up the same way. But you went in the opposite direction.”

“You keep forgetting that the first time didn’t turn out so good.”

“You were a kid when you got married the first time,” Esme reasons. “And judging by the stories I’ve heard she wasn’t exactly wife material.”

“She had her flaws , that’s for sure. One of them just happened to fucking anyone that showed interest.”

“Well if you ask me, she must have been crazy. Cheating on the likes of you? Why give up filet mignon for ground beef?”

“So I really AM just a piece of meat to you,” he teases, and she giggles when he kisses the side of her neck and playfully pinches her side.

“I’m just saying that I don’t get it. Why do you cheat when you have an amazingly hot husband that’s a god in bed? There has to be something seriously wrong with someone. And don’t get me started on how you were deployed when she would do it. Your husband is off...in the Middle East...getting shot at it and trying not to get blown up by roadside bombs...and you’re back home serving as the base slut? That’s the lowest of the low!”

“I guess both of us weren’t very good judges of character when we were younger.”

“There is a bright side though. To what we both went through the first time around.”

“What’s the bright side?”

“Well if things had been wonderful in either of our first marriages, neither of us would have ended up doing the job. You probably would have stayed in the military and I probably would have been a happy little housewife. In the PTA and driving a minivan and taking the kids to soccer and drinking Starbucks.”

“You take the kids to soccer now. Except it’s a thermos with homemade coffee with Bailey’s in it. “

“That’s in the cooler weather. When it’s hot, it’s pink lemonade with vodka.”

He grins and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Hey, it’s not the most exciting sport in the world; I have to get through it somehow. And I also have to survive all the thirsty females that show up whenever you coach. I don’t know how they know when it’s your turn, but that many never show when you’re not there. And they show up in their slutty little outfits and their make up done. And there I am; no makeup, ball cap on yoga pants and UGG boots and one of your hoodies. And you wonder why I have self confidence issues.”

“Who cares about the thirsty women? I only have eyes for you, you know that.”

“I care when they’re openly discussing my husband’s ass and his muscles and his bulge.”

“You should have married an uglier guy with a small dick then,” Tyler teases.

“I did that with my first marriage. I traded up the second time around.”

“Just ignore them. I do. I don’t pay attention to them. I don’t need to. I’m already married to the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Wow…” she’s grinning as she pulls back to look at him. “...do you ever know how to lay it on thick.”

“It’s the truth. That’s how I see you. I’ve always seen you that way. It’s how I’ll always see you. So fuck ‘em. Who’s the one I go home with? Who’s the one I share a bed with every night?”

“Me. Lucky little old me.”

“Exactly. It’s always been you. It always will be. I choose you every day.”

“Even when my hair hasn’t been washed in four days and I’ve got baby puke on my clothes and dark circles under my eyes and I’m a raging bitch?”

“Even then.”

“Now THAT is true love,” she says, and places both hands on the side of his as she kisses him. Nothing hurried or overly needy; soft and languid, lips moving slowly against one another. And when she pulls away he sees the tears that sparkle in her eyes and the way the corners of her mouth droop.

“Baby…” he combs his fingers through her hair, then kisses the bridge of her nose and cradles her cheek in the palm of his hand. “...don’t…”

“I don’t want you to go. I know you have to; it’s the only way this will ever be finished. But I still don’t want you to leave. I wish there was another way; to end all of this.”

“Believe me, so do I.”

“I’m scared. This is the most scared I’ve ever been. I wasn’t even this scared seven years ago.”

“We barely knew each other then,” he reasons. “But now…”

“There’s so much to lose. Way too much. If something happens to you…”

“Stop…” he lays a hand on the back of her head and draws it down to his, pressing their brows together. “...just stop.”

“You have to come back for me. You HAVE to. Promise me you’ll come back for me.”

“Esme…”

“Promise me, Tyler,” she pleads, fingers tightly gripping his hair. “Promise me.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“At least promise you’ll try? That you’ll do whatever it takes to get back here. Can you promise me that at least?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he vows, and places a kiss on her forehead. “I promise.”

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fic #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction #Extraction 2020 #Extraction fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth character #best part of me

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 23

WARNINGS: SMUT. NSFW.

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007

“So how mad are you?” Tyler asks, as he stands in the doorway of the main floor laundry room, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest.

The situation is touch and go. She hadn’t set foot upstairs while he’d carried out Millie’s bedtime routine or when Kyle had wandered in with a sleeping five year-year old under each time; dumping each of them fully clothed into their beds before taking off again.

“Why would I be mad at you?” she counters, as she gathers a bundle of laundry from inside the dryer and drops them on top of it. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Well, besides getting glitter all over the goddamn place.”

“You can blame your daughter for that. She's a little obsessed with sparkly shit.”

“Just a little,” Esme agrees with a grin.

He takes it as a sign that all is well between them and finally approaches, standing behind her and pushing a hand through her hair, tangling his fingers in the soft, fine tresses and lightly tugs; drawing her head back and kissing her. Teeth lightly capturing her bottom lip as he pulls away, and she gives a grin and reaches back to grab a hold of his ass, lightly squeezing before he steps beside her.

They work in companionable silence; each tending to handfuls of clean clothes that they drop into a wicker basket that sits on the floor between them. And he glances over at her every few seconds; eyes wandering her entire form; clad in nothing more than one of his old t-shirts, tattered and filled with holes and paint stainss. Taking in the way her hair falls to just below her shoulders and brushes against the sides of her face; the natural red high lights sparkling under the artificial light.

She catches him watching her and a grin tugs at the corner of her mouth, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks and the tips of her ears. Almost seven years later and she’s still self-conscious about how she looks to him. Always fretting about the shape of her ass or the size of her thighs and how wide her hips have gotten. He sees none of that; he doesn’t notice the extra ten pounds she complains about or the stretch marks she tries desperately to hide. All he sees is the woman that he’d fallen in love. And keeps falling in love with each passing day.

“Tyler...” she says.

“Esme...”

“Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m not staring. I’m admiring. I’m not allowed to admire my wife?”

“Admiring or critiquing?”

He frowns. “What the hell is there to critique?”

“I’ve had five kids. Things don’t look like they used to,” she laments. “I’m definitely not the same person I was when we met.”

“Neither am I.”

“But you’re only getting better with age. Me? I just get worse.”

“Baby, have you looked in the mirror lately? Because you look fucking amazing. And I know you’re just going to say I’m just being biased or that I’m just trying to boost your ego. But it’s true. Every word. You’re beautiful and you’re sexy and you always will be in my eyes.”

He hates not only what her own battle with depression and the monsters from her past has done to her, but also her disastrous first marriage; Mark’s abusive behavior –physical, emotional, sexual- leaving so much damage in its wake. And it’s been a full-time job in itself getting her to see herself the way he does. It’s his main bone of contention in their marriage: having to listen to her degrade herself and drag herself down when he just wants to worship the ground she walks on.

“Even after five kids?” she challenges.

“Especially after five kids. I don’t know what more I can say. How to get you to see yourself like I see you. I just wish you would.”

“Maybe you need glasses.”

“Maybe you need to stop. I love you. And I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. I have since that day you walked into my place. I don’t see what you do. I don’t see the extra weight you bitch about or the marks on your skin or the how your clothes don’t fit like they used to. All I see is you.”

“You really are determined to make me cry by the end of the night,” she teases, and playfully slaps him in the face with one of Addie’s sleepers.

She watches the way his hands move as they fold that simple piece of clothing. His hand –from the base of his palm to the tip of his middle digit- longer than the actual sleeper itself; those fingers with their various scars and their swollen and misshapen knuckles never fumbling as they tend to impossibly tiny buttons. She knows what those hands are capable of; the things that they’d done. The blood he has on them; hundreds of men in Dhaka alone were dead because of those hands. Large and powerful. Frightening, even.

But she also knows how those hands feel; the callouses on the palm and the even more prominent one on the right index digit; his ‘trigger finger’. She knows they’re capable of inflicting so much more than brutality and death. They can be soothing and gentle; rocking babies to sleep, caring for the kids’ injuries and clearing away their tears, massing her aching back when in the agonizing final stages of childbirth. And she knows how they feel during intimate times; how they can alternate between gentle and rough depending on his mode and what how she wants and needs his touch to be. She’s experienced those delirious heights of pleasure that they’re more than capable of bringing her to.

She looks away; the mere thought bringing a flush to her cheeks and a familiar warmth that builds between her thighs and in the pit of her stomach.

“I was always looking at you because I was trying to figure out if you’re wearing underwear or not,” Tyler admits.

“This is not a safe house to walk around in wearing JUST a t-shirt. Not only do we have all kinds of little people that can show up out of nowhere, but now we have Kyle wandering in and out.”

“How long’s he staying for anyway?”

“He SAID his vacation was for two weeks.”

“But? There’s a ‘but’ coming. I can feel it.”

“He did say if he liked it here that much, he might not go back.”

Tyler sighs.

“I thought you liked my brother.”

“I do. I just don’t like the baggage he brings with him.”

She smirks. “Nik?”

“We just got rid of her. He sticks around, that means she’s going to come back. And I don’t know about you, but the less of her the better.”

“She does tend to bring the drama with her.”

“Drama, home wrecking, whatever you want to call it.”

“But if we could get him away from her...”

“We are NOT getting involved. We just talked about this. We agreed to stay out of it.”

“No, you agreed to stay out of it,” Esme corrects.

“And I told you to stay out of it.”

“When do I ever listen to anything you say?”

He smirks.

“We could always kick Chloe out and have Kyle take her place.”

“You mean Ovi could kick Chloe out. Because we’re not doing shit. We are staying out of people's personal crap. Didn’t you hate when people were always in our shit back in Colorado? Your mom, your other brothers...”

“But they’re evil and were always trying to cause problems. We’re trying to avoid a huge problem. If we get Kyle away from Nik, then there’s no more Nik. That way if he stays here, we won’t have to worry about her coming around and sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. Neither wants you to stick in her...”

“Let’s not start that conversation again.”

“I’m just trying to think of what’s best for my brother. And I know she’s not it.”

“Then you never should have set him up with her in the first place. This is kind of all your fault.”

Frowning, she rolls up the beach towel in her hand and smacks him hard across the ass with it.

“I’m just saying that we need to stay out of. Let Kyle do what he wants and whatever happens, happens. I just don’t want him living here. We have enough people living under this roof. We don’t need another one.”

“And yet you want another kid,” she scoffs.

“That’s totally different and you know it. That’s a kid. That we’d make together. Kyle’s a grown ass man. Let him be one. Stay out of it. If he wants to marry Nik, let him marry Nik. If he wants to dick down the neighbor, let him dick down the neighbor. Who gives a shit?”

“And if he’s dicking down both?”

“Then good for him. He’s lucky.”

She rolls her eyes.

“He manages to juggle both of them, he’s a fucking legend.”

“You’re going to be juggling both your balls in a second. Is this your sly of way of telling me you want to be dicking down the neighbor?”

“Are you fucking insane? No way in hell.”

“You have to admit, she’s cute.”

“She’s not you. I don’t want to be dicking down anyone else, okay?”

“You know,” she grins. “Sometimes you can really redeem yourself.”

“And even if I did want to, I wouldn’t have the energy to dick anyone else down anyway.”

“I’m not sure if that’s reassuring or...”

“Just you, baby. I only want you.”

She smiles, then lightly bumps his hip with her own.

“So I never did get a yes or a no. About the underwear.”

She gives a dramatic sigh and then lifts the bottom of the t-shirt to her waist; giving a slight peek of the elaborate and colorful tattoo that graces her entire left rib cage, and a look at the lacy black garment that sits low on her hips but is cut high on her ass. “Good?”

“Very good. Very, very, very good.”

“You’re getting easy to please in your old age. Pretty soon all it’s going to take is some side boob to get you in the mood.”

He grins. “Who says it doesn’t already?”

“You have been very...what’s the word...amorous...lately.”

“Lately?”

“I mean, you always are. You always HAVE been. Our track record was amazing sex over the past almost seven years is remarkable. But since the doctor gave that green light, you’ve been extra...I don’t know...extra.”

“Do you blame me? I just went four months having to flog the bishop two to three times a day.”

“Flog the bishop,” she can’ t help but laugh. “Baby, you’re so cute.”

“What I am is horny.”

“Yeah,” a grin tugs at her lips. “I’ve noticed that the last couple of days.”

“No. I mean like right now. This very second.”

“I’m busy.”

“Get unbusy,” he says, and yanks the piece of clothing she’s folding out of her hand and tosses it aside.

“You need to chill,” Esme suggests, and then has the nerve to bent over in front of him as she fetches a wayward sock off the floor; the shirt slipping up to the small of her back.

Just the mere sight of her ass –that smooth, pale skin- causes his cock to stir; the pressure beginning to build in the pit of his stomach. And he reaches out, running a fingertip along the edge of the lace, feeling the goosebumps that prick her flesh. Finger slowly travelling over her skin until he reaches her hip; then pressing his palm against it and squeezing tightly.

“That hurt!” she scolds and reaches around to rub at the tender spot. “What’s gotten into you?”

“It’s what I want to get into you.”

“Okay, well can give you five minutes to get shit done? Patience is a virtue, after all.”

“Screw patience,” he growls, the slams the dryer door closed and places on hand her stomach and the other at the base of her throat, fingers applying slight, yet firm pressure as he presses his erection against her. His hand slips down the front of her panties; fingertip dragging along the top of her pubic bone, his breath warm and moist as his mouth hovers by next to her ear. “Let’s fuck.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but all words escape her when she feels the tip of his nose and the scratch of his beard against the side of her throat, followed by the sensation of his hot, wet mouth. Lips aggressive and demanding against the skin; teeth lightly grazing along the flesh, fingers pressing harder and deeper into her neck. His aggression has always been a turn on; starting with that moment he’d pinned her against the wall in the hotel room in Dhaka in a fit of a rage. She’d quickly discovered it was what she liked. What she craved. And she’d initially been ashamed because of it; Mark had caused a tremendous amount of pain and torment during their shit show of a marriage, so she’d felt disappointed and disgusted in herself for wanting sex to be that way with another man. But she’d learned that the two situations were vastly different; one was abuse, the other someone she trusts with her life. Who’d never intentionally do anything to hurt her.

She presses her ass against him; loving the way he groans in her ear. It’s empowering. Knowing you have that kind of effect of someone. When you know all the little things that drives them crazy; those magic spots that can nearly bring them to their knees. And she reaches up to grab a hold of his hair as he kisses her. His tongue aggressively pushing its way into her mouth just as his hand slides lower into her panties, palm cupping her mound; hot and wet against his skin. Giving a low moan of approval at the sensation before his mouth finds the side of her throat once again. Her eyes closing and the grip on his hair tightening as two of his fingers push past the swollen lips, the ends coming in contact with her clit; causing her body to shudder against and her hips to jolt backwards, bringing her ass in contact with his cock yet again.

“Fuck...” he growls. The simple contact even through the fabric of his sweats causing the pressure to build; erection painfully straining against the confines around him. And she cries out when his teeth clamp down on the juncture between neck and shoulders and he slips two fingers inside of her. “So good...” he breathes, mouth against her neck. “...you feel so good...and you’re so fucking wet.”

“For you,” she says. “Only for you.”

A low and almost feral moan resonates from deep within his chest and removes his hand from inside of her panties. His gaze never wavering from hers as he licks and sucks her fluid from his fingers, the taste sweet and delicious on his lips and his tongue.

“Tastes so good,” his voice is low. “So fucking good.”

There’s a primal, animalistic look in his eyes; a hunter stalking its prey. And it makes that aching and longing between her legs almost overwhelming; almost too powerful to bear. She grinds her ass against him once more; feeling how hard he is through the fabric of his sweats. His breathing quickening and become more ragged as she continues to rub against him, feeling the way his fingers bite into her hips. And she attempts to slip her own hand between her legs to chase some relief, but he roughly grabs her by the wrist, then brings her arm behind her back.

“I don’t fucking think so,” Tyler snarls, and uses the force of his grip and the weight of his body to propel her towards the countertop across the room. A knee pushes her legs apart as he keeps her arm secure behind her back; his other hand roughly yanking her panties off her hips and over her ass, letting them to pool at her ankles. “Take them off,” he orders, and she hurriedly obliges.

Anyone else in this situation and it would scare her, the intensity in his eyes, the aggression in both his voice and his movements. But the trust is there. It always has been. The confidence that he’d never hurt her; that he’d stop the very second she showed any signs of pain or discomfort.

Tyler tightens his hold on the wrist that’s pinned behind her back and pushes her further into the countertop. His free hand on her shoulder; pushing her upper bod down before hastily shoving down his sweatpants. “Open,” he demands, using a thigh to push apart her legs. And still holding her arm firmly behind her back, the other hand settles on her shoulder as he pushes into her with one smooth, solid thrust that has her crying out, cheek pressed against the cold ceramic beneath her.

He hesitates; leaning over to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “You okay, baby?”

“Mm...hmm...” she responds, and pushes her ass back, encouraging him to continue.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Just fuck me,” she orders. “Now.”

He grins. “You’re demanding.”

“Now!” she forcefully repeats and reaches back to dig her nails into his thigh, hard enough to break the skin.

He pulls out completely, smirking at the disappointed, pissed off look that crosses her face before slamming back inside of her with brutal force. It always surprises him; how someone that small and seemingly fragile can take as much as she can. How she’s always so eager and willing to this side of him to come out; aggressive, mean, controlling. Sometimes it even scares him; how quickly he can lose control of both the situation. Afraid that he’ll hurt her and then spent a week hating himself for it.

But he gives her what she wants. Repeatedly driving into her; that arm still pinned behind her back, the other hand now on the back of her head; spurred on by her pleas for ‘harder’ and ‘faster’. Sweat beading across his forehead and gathering at the nape his neck and the small of his back. Fucking her until she loses the ability to form coherent words and is gasping and sobbing; tears streaming down her face. Hips jerking back towards him, matching every movement. And he drops the hand from the back of her head and reaches between her legs, fingers easily finding her clit; vigorously and relentlessly rubbing at it until her orgasm hits her. The scream muffled against the countertop and those internal muscles contracting almost painfully around his cock. It quickly brings on his own release; a few deep, controlled thrusts until a deep, low growl rumbles in chest and he empties himself inside of her.

He finally releases the hold on the arm behind her back; both hands now resting on her hips as he closes his eyes and drops his forehead onto her shoulder. Chest heaving and legs sharking as he attempts to regain his composure.

“Tyler...” she reaches around and lays a hand on his thigh, trying to push him back. “...I love you, but you’re really fucking heavy.”

He didn’t realize his entire weight had collapsed against her, and he places a kiss on her cheek and gives an apologetic smile before backing away, withdrawing completely. Snagging a towel from the laundry basket, he uses it to clean himself up, then gently presses it between her legs. “You alright?”

Esme nods.

“Was I too rough?”

She shakes her head. “You were perfect. But I swear to God if you got that towel out of the clean basket...”

“Sorry,” he gives a sheepish grin, then kisses her softly before tossing the item in question into the nearby sink before pulling his sweatpants back up. “Here,” he locates a pair of pajama pants in the dryer and hands them to her. “I don’t think you’ll want to put that underwear back on. They’re a little...wet.”

“Well if you didn’t have that effect on me, they’d be perfectly fine,” she retorts, and then turns to face him; hands on his chest for balance as he helps her slip into the pants. “I never thought you’d be the type of guy who’d be into aftercare,” she teases.

“I never was. Until I met you.”

“Look at me. Bringing out all the good sides of you.”

“All the best sides,” he declares, then lays a hand on the back of her head and kisses her. “You sure you’re okay? I think I was a little too into it.”

“I would have told you if you were. You were amazing. Trust me. And thank you,” she stands on her tiptoe to kiss him, her arms wrapping around his neck. “I love you,” she says, as she buries her face in his chest, fingernails lightly scraping against the bottom of his hairline. “So much.”

“I love you too, baby,” he brushes his lips against her temple. “Always.”

****

The second time lasts longer. Slow yet intense love making that follow two rounds of foreplay. Now they lay in a mix of tangled sheets and sweaty limbs; on their sides with her back tucked into his front, one of his legs draped over hers and their tightly clasped hands pressed against her stomach. Tyler’s eyes are closed, tip of his nose and his lips pressed against the nape of her neck; happy and sated. Not just from the sex, but from the intimacy afterwards; lying together and feeling the warmth that radiates from her body and the familiar smell that clings to her hair. And she gives a long, content sigh and turns her face to the side, smiling back at him.

“You asleep?” she asks.

“Nope. Just completely and utterly fucked out.”

She laughs at that, and he gives a chuckle of his own and raises his head long enough to kiss the corner of her mouth.

“I love you,” he says, and brushes his nose against her temple.

“I love you too,” she snuggles tighter into him and increases the grip on his hand. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing really. Just lying here. Thinking about how happy my dick is right now.”

She snorts.

“Which is very fucking happy, by the way.”

“If he wasn’t, I’d be very insulted.”

“What are you thinking about?” he inquires.

“You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

He frowns. “As long as it’s not Dhaka. Because if you say Dhaka...”

“It isn’t Dhaka,” she assures him. “As amazing as those five days were...”

“Best five days of my life.”

“...I was NOT thinking about that place. I was thinking about that shack of yours. After Millie brought it up, I started thinking about wanting to go there and see it.”

“It doesn’t look the same anymore. Not after what he’s done do it.”

“You mean it actually has walls and an actual roof now?”

“Listen, smart ass...”

“I don’t care what it looks like. I just want to see it. It’s where everything started. It’s where WE started.”

“Technically WE didn’t start until Bangladesh.”

“But we met there. At the shack. It’s where I first saw you. It would be nice to go and see it. To see Koen again. And bathroom chicken.”

“I don’t think bathroom chicken is there anymore. I think he’s probably made dinner out of her by now.”

“That dick. That’s fucking savage.”

Tyler chuckles and presses his lips to the side of her head. “You eat chicken,” he reminds her.

“I wouldn’t have eaten HER. We could have kept her as a pet. Or considered her our first child.”

“I remember when we were in Dhaka and...”

“Hey!” she jabs him in the stomach with her elbow. “No saying the D word.”

“When we were THERE, I used to think about how we’d make things work. If they went okay between us and we didn’t kill one another while we were travelling. If you’d be happy staying there with me whenever you came to town.”

“Why wouldn’t I have been?”

“It wasn’t exactly five-star accommodations.”

“You were a bachelor. You didn’t care what your place looked like. You were on the job so much it was basically just a place to eat and sleep. And fuck some of your pieces of ass.”

“I never had any pieces of ass there. I didn’t want anyone close to home. In case they got attached and started showing up all the time.”

“What about Nik? I’m sure she visited you there.”

“We only ever fucked when I was on a job and she’d show up at the hotel. Never at my place. I didn’t want her there. I didn’t want ties to anyone, which meant keeping them away from my place.”

“You’re a very complex man, Tyler Rake,” she muses. “But you thought about having me there.”

“Because I wanted you there. I wanted you to be part of my life. If it was a dick and ditch, I would have told you right from day one. When we first fucked.”

“So you wanted to keep me around. Right from the start.”

“More like from the third day in. I was hopeful. That you’d want to stick around.”

“And here I was thinking it was me getting attached way too soon,” she teases, and he smiles against the back of her neck. “I was hopeful too. That there’d be more to it. That we’d travel like we planned and find out if we actually liked each other outside of sex. We never got that chance though.”

“No. We didn’t.”

“Do you regret that?” That it never went according to plan?”

“No. It’s the butterfly effect, right? Change one thing, everything changes?”

She grins. “When did you become the deep thinker?”

“Not just a pretty face and big muscles, baby. If things had had went the way we planned, there’s a chance that the twins and Declan and Addie wouldn’t even be here. The only for sure one is Millie. Because I wasted no time knocking you up with her.”

“Your swimmers were very determined,” she concludes. “I wonder what day of the five it happened on. I hope it wasn’t the first day.”

“Why’s that?”

“You want your daughter knowing she was conceived while you were choking me?”

“You want her to know how much you like it?” He counters.

“How about we agree to keep our mouths shut. Because those five days were extremely dirty and what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Deal?”

“Deal,” he agrees, and presses his lips to her shoulder; lingering on the lotus flower tattoo that graces her skin.

“I would have been happy there,” she says. “At the shack.”

“Yeah?”

She nods. “I think WE would have been happy.”

“Wouldn’t have been able to raise a family there. Maybe one kid. But not five.”

“We would have had to move once we found out about the twins. Or added onto the place.”

“The outback is not a place to bring up kids. Trust me.”

“I would have liked some time with you there. Even just a little while.”

“Honestly? I would have just liked to fuck you there. At least once.”

She looks over her shoulder at him, frowning.

“What? You have your thing, I have mine. Just ‘cause it sounds weird, doesn’t mean it is. And I’m not gonna lie, I would have done it that first day.”

“Seriously? What about Nik?”

“She could have watched.”

“I don’t fucking think so,” Esme scoffs. “Bad enough she’s seen you naked. I don’t want her seeing me naked. Seeing us...you know.”

He grins. “Fucking?”

“To be crude about it, yes.”

“She could have just waited outside then,” Tyler reasons.

“You wanted to seriously fuck me the first day we met?”

“First day? First ten minutes. Do you blame me? I’m a guy. And you walked in there looking so cute and...”

“Cute? You’re calling me cute?”

“What’s wrong with being called cute? I think you’re very cute.”

“I want to be beautiful and sexy and alluring and...”

“You’re those things too. But sometimes you look cute. That’s not an insult. You’re tiny and cute and I want to pick you up and put you in my pocket. And you looked cute that day. You had on those little jean shorts and that yellow tank top that had one strap that kept falling down. Your hair was in a ponytail. And you smelled like coconut.”

She rolls over onto her side to face him. “You remember all that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Like I said, you looked cute. And you walked in there like you owned the place. All fucking attitude. I liked what I saw. You were different. You didn't take shit and you let me know pretty early that you weren’t going to put up with any from me.”

“I knew it. You’re turned on by assertive women.”

“Well I was turned on by YOU. I don’t know about other assertive women. I so would have fucked you. Right there. Right then.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered, or....”

“Flattered. Definitely flattered.”

“For the record, I would have let you.”

A broad grin covers his face. “Yeah? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey you, nice hair. Let’s fuck’?”

“That would have worked actually. I would have been like ‘let’s go’.”

“Why didn’t YOU say anything? Esme counters.

“I was trying to be a gentleman.”

“You plied me with alcohol.”

“I asked you if you wanted a drink and you said yes. I gave it to you. I didn’t ply you with it. There’s a difference.”

“Well even without the booze, I would have given in. Just so you know.”

“I used to have a thing about wanting to fuck you on the kitchen table,” Tyler admits. “Just bend you over it and just give it to you.”

“You’re dirty.”

“That’s tame compared to some of the things we’ve done. Most of them, actually.”

“You’re such a bad influence,” she declares, then places a hand on the back of his head and kisses him; mouths moving slowly against each other, naked limbs rubbing and brushing together. And when he pulls away, he brushes the hair away from her face and presses his lips to her forehead, then the bridge of her nose.

“I’m hungry,” Tyler announces.

Eme sighs. “Me too. What are you going to make me?”

“What do you want?”

She shrugs. “Guess we’ll have to see when we get down there.”

“How come I have to be the one to make it?”

“Your daughter said that you were the good cook, so I’ve given it up and handed you the reins,” she chides. “You wanted to try your hand at the domestic life, well there you go.”

“By domestic life, I meant siting on my ass while you do everything.”

“You wish!” she scoffs, and he pecks his life being throwing back the covers and climbing out of bed. “Baby...” she muses, rolling over onto her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows. “You’re sexy. Can I feel your arms?”

“You can feel whatever you want, whenever you want, however much you want.”

“Wherever and whenever?” she enthuses. “That’s dangerous. What if I start feeling you up at the grocery store or when we pick the kids up at school? Make Millie’s teacher extra jealous.”

“Baby, if you want to fuck me in the parking lot at the grocery store, all you have to do is ask.”

‘Kinky,” she giggles, then frowns when he tosses on his t-shirts at her and lands on top of her head. “Are you really going to Port Douglas tomorrow?” she asks, as she sits up and shrugs into the shirt. “To see your dad?”

Tyler nods.

“And you’re taking Millie?”

“She wanted to see him. And asked if he could come to her birthday party. She even made him a special invitation to give him.”

“You think she’ll be okay? I mean, if he’s having an ‘off day’...”

“If he is, we leave. I wouldn’t take her anywhere I didn’t think she could handle. You know that.”

“And what about you?” She climbs out of bed and stands in front of him, hands on his chest. “Think you can handle it?”

“I did the first time,” he points out.

“Did you?” her fingertips trace the scar on the left side of his chest, where the sniper’s bullet had caught him on the Sultana Kamal Bridge.

He hadn’t even known what hit him; the shot knocking him off his feet, an immediate burning sensation filling his entire chest and blood rising into his throat. He remembers thinking that he had to get up and get cover; that the sniper would be waiting to take the ‘kill shot’. But his legs wouldn’t work; he was nauseous and dizzy and in excruciating pain and all he could do was drag himself across the asphalt while coughing up blood.

“I think so,” he replies. “I didn’t come home and crack open a bottle and pop some Oxy, so I guess I did okay.”

“I know there’s a lot you’re holding back,” Esme says. “From your childhood. That you’re angry and you’re hurt and even though he’s sick, you want him to pay for what he’s done. And I get it, Tyler. You know I do. And you know I support you one hundred percent.”

“But...”

“I just don’t want Millie hearing all of that. If something happens and you snap on him, I don’t want her being there. Because she’s five and she’s a baby still and she doesn’t need to shoulder adult things. It’s bad enough she asked about the time you nearly died.”

“In all fairness, you brought that up the other night and she’s been holding onto it for days.”

“I know. And I feel like shit for doing it. Sometimes I forget she’s listening and that she’s as smart as she is. She’s insanely smart. It’s almost scary how smart she actually is. Which is why I don’t want her there if things go bad between you and your dad.”

“I promise you, if something goes wrong, we just leave. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. You know that.”

“I do know that,” Esme agrees. “But I also know what you get like when you go off, Tyler. When you can’t control what you say or what you do. And...”

He silences her with a kiss. “I would never...ever...put our daughter in that situation. You know I wouldn’t.”

She smiles, then stands on her tip toes and circles her arms around his neck. “You’re a good man, Tyler Rake. Whether you think so or not.”

“I think you overestimate me way too much.”

“I think you need to keep your mouth shut,” she counters, then squeals when he pinches her ass hard enough to leave a bruise. “I could take you; you know.”

He smirks. “I’d love to see you try.”

“It’s the little ones you have to watch out for.”

“What are going to do? Bite my ankles?”

“You’re such a dick sometimes, you know that?

“I do. But you love me.”

“Yeah....” she smiles, then tightens the hold around his neck. “...I do.”

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Sanctuary - Chapter 20

Warnings: none really

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

She stares at the cellphone in her hands; trying desperately to keep back the flood of tears that threaten. Tears of worry. Sadness. Relief. Anger, even. And frustration. So much frustration. That he’s been sent into yet another shitty situation.

It’s willingly. Offering himself up for people that don’t even know him, putting himself into harms way like some sort of sacrificial lamb for strangers that…for the most part…don’t understand the choices he has to make on their behalf. The danger he puts himself in. The lives he has to take. The way that he’ll have to escape death just trying to keep them alive. Most never express thanks: very few of those who are rescued -and even less of their families- ever offer up even the smallest bit of gratitude. He’s being paid, they figure. He’s taking the money. Isn’t that enough gratitude?

“Mommy?” TJ is at her side, looking up at her with those huge blue eyes. One of which is going to be black and blue in a few hours; Millie had caught him square in the face with a right hook. A knee to the face causing a bloody nose.

“Let me see…” she sets her cell phone down and hooks a finger under his chin, tilting his head backwards. “She got you pretty good, huh?”

He nods, not even flinching when her fingertips press against the swollen orbital bone and the bridge of his nose.

Definitely his father’s son.

“Well nothing’s broken,” she says, a sigh of relief escaping her lips.

She’s tended to many of her husband’s injuries. Seen a lot of bloody noses and black eyes and a hell of a lot worse. Fractured ribs, both stab and gunshot wounds. She’s pulled shards of glass and other debris out of his skin with a pair of tweezers. In Dhaka she’d stitched up a wound on his right bicep with a needle and run of the mill sewing thread. Without anything to dull the pain. And she’s seen the aftermath of shoulder and knee replacements; the one that would clean the incisions and apply fresh bandaging when homecare nurses weren’t able to make it.

He holds up a sandwich bag with near melted ice cubes in, and she takes it to the sink and dumps it out before adding fresh cubes from the freezer and tying the bag up tight. “Does she look worse than you?” she asks, as she presses the ice to the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t hit her back, mommy. She’s a girl. Daddy said never to hit a girl. No matter what. That it’s wrong. Did daddy ever hit you?”

“Daddy knows better. He knows I’d drop him. But he wouldn’t do that, anyway. He’d never hit any girl. Especially me.”

“I’d beat him up. If you did. Just so you know.”

She leans down and presses a kiss to his lips. “You keep the ice on it for a little while longer, okay? Just to keep the swelling down. You’re going to have a hell of a shiner tomorrow. You’ll get to show that off to daddy when he video chats with you guys. He wanted me to tell you that he’s safe and sound in Ireland. And that he loves you and misses you. He misses you so much.”

“I miss him too. Maybe he won’t be gone for very long.”

“Maybe. Hopefully. Here…” she takes his hand and places it against the back of ice against his nose. Then moves to the freezer once again and takes out three popsicles. “One for you and Tanner and one for Ovi. Can you ask him to watch you guys for a little bit longer? There’s something I need to do. Someone I need to call. Can you ask him, please?”

Her son nods, then turns his face up for another kiss.

“You’re my favourite,” she says with a wink, and pecks his lips. “And be careful out there, please. I don’t need you breaking an arm or a leg. Or a neck. Just take it easy, okay?”

“Okay mommy,” he chirps, as he rushes from the kitchen. Nearly colliding with the glass patio door that he’d forgotten he’d shut behind him.

“Tyler…” she sighs. “…really?”

“Ooops,” he giggles, then gives a shrug as he hurries outside.

She stands over the sink and watches him through the window, bounding across the deck in his bare feet, leaping from the top step and hitting the ground running. The landing never even breaking his stride; those long, lanky legs carrying him through the grass to where Ovi is pushing Declan in the baby swing and Tanner in the regular sized one. TJ begins handing out the popsicles and explains to Ovi what she had asked, and the teenager looks up towards the house and gives her an okay sign.

***

Picking up her cell phone, she flips open the cover of the case and plucks a business card from the inside fold. She wasn’t planning on hanging onto it; she’d taken their conversation at the park as a one off and was going to just throw the card away and get on with her life. Satisfied that she’d been able to give him the absolution that he’d desperately searching for. Finally able to put that long and dark chapter of her life behind her.

Instead, she finds herself dialling the number, leaning sideways against the counter as it rings on the other end. Nervously drumming her fingertips against the granite, tapping one foot against the floor.

“Are you busy?” she inquires, before he even manages to get a whole greeting out.

“Esme?” Shocked. But pleased.

“I really need to talk to you. Do you have a few minutes? I wouldn’t have called you if this wasn’t important. If I didn’t think you were the right person to go to.”

“I’ve got some time to spare. Anything for you. You know what. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Tyler’s in Ireland. On a job. And I don’t trust the person that he’s working with. The one that asked him for his help to begin with. I need you to look some things up for me. I’d do it myself, but with four kids to manage on my own…”

“Let me just grab a piece of paper and pen…” there’s a slight rustling noise as he searches for the items in question. “…go ahead. What is it?”

“I need you to look up the name Michael McCann. M…C…capital C…A…N…N…”

“Got it.”

“He says he’s ex IRA. I’m worried he’s still active IRA. That should be available info, right?”

“Should be. There’s always articles about those guys. They’ve been a little quiet the last couple of years, but there’s bound to be something. You know what his role was? Or might still be?”

“By the sounds of things, he might have been…or still is…some kind of intel. An inside man. He knows a lot of secrets. He’s done a lot of dirty work for them. He might still be doing dirty work for them. That’s what I need you to find out. I need to know what this guy’s story is. The real story. Not the line that he’s been feeding Tyler.”

“Is he falling for it? The line?”

“No. I think he’s starting to realize that something isn’t quite right. None of this is sitting right, Mark. It’s leaving a bad taste in my mouth. He is not who he says he is. He came to Tyler for help. He suddenly just showed up in Telluride one day. Said he’d even followed him while he was in Guatemala.”

“How did he know Tyler was in Guatemala?”

“There’s someone giving him information. Someone that works for Nik. I haven’t even started to look into that yet. But I will. This guy says that he tracked Tyler down through me. That he’d heard about what happened in Dhaka and somehow my name got out there as being connected to it. Which is weird, because Nik said she kept that on the downlow. I don’t even have a personal file with her. I was a ghost. I didn’t even exist as far as the outside world was concerned.”

“The worldwide web is vast, Esme. You can find information on anyone. And if he heard your name and somehow connected that to this Nik…”

“He told Tyler that someone I used to work with told him my name. Which makes no sense because how would that person even know I was in Dhaka? And how would they tie me to Tyler? We weren’t married then. I still had my maiden name. So where would they get Esme Rake from? It makes no sense.”

“Well they’ve gotten it somewhere. Information is easy to find if you know the right people. And have the right amount of cash.”

She sighs. “I suppose so.”

“This guy just showed up? In Telluride?”

“He asked Tyler for help. Said that his wife and his kids were taken by the IRA. Had videos of them and everything. All bound up, beaten to shit. I didn’t see them. Tyler watched them. He said they were legit. And Tyler’s instincts are never wrong. He’s being doing this a long time. He knows when something is bullshit. He would have known right away if it was just a game. He doesn’t just jump blindly into things.”

“Could it be some kind of elaborate ruse? It isn’t unlike terrorist organizations to do pull out all the stops. It could be someone that is after Tyler. Someone that feels slighted. Someone he crossed paths with or got the drop on.”

“Tyler says he’s never dealt with the IRA. He’s never even been to Ireland. Until now.”

“Doesn’t mean someone he’s pissed off doesn’t have connections to them. Strong enough connections that they’d do a favour for them. Loyalty runs deep, Esme. And money runs even deeper. I’m sure Tyler’s pissed off a lot of people. Not that I don’t agree with what he does. Because I do. I’m quite fond of vigilantism myself. I admire him for taking on other peoples’ shit and doing the dirty jobs no one else wants to do.”

“So what do you think?” she asks, as she moves to the fridge, opening it and taking out a bottle of water. Fingers briefly lingering on the wine before changing her mind and shutting the door with her hip. “Sounds weird, right?”

“I’ve heard weirder, to be honest. Could be something. Could be nothing. I’ll look into it for you.”

“Off the books, right?”

“What do you mean? What…?”

“Mark, I know what you do. My mom told me. I know you’re FBI.”

He sighs.

“You didn’t have to keep it a secret. It’s no big deal. So you’re a Fed, so what? This means you have connections, right? You have ways of finding out shit that normal people wouldn’t be able to do? And you must know people that know people. People that have even farther reach and deeper connections. Right?”

“Esme…”

“This is between the two of us. I do not want this getting out there. And I especially do not want Tyler finding out. Not yet. Not until you dig something up. If there is anything to dig up. Can you do that for me? Everything off the books? Between us?”

“I can. I probably shouldn’t. But I can.”

She sips her water, glances out the window and watches Ovi and the kids are they feed the chickens and goats. “There’s something else.”

“Go ahead.”

“I know this is a lot to ask of you. So feel free to tell me to fuck off.”

“I’ve gotten myself in this far. Might as well jump right into the deep end. What is it?”

“Do you know anyone in Ireland? And by that I mean people like you. Feds. Ex Feds. Ex Marines even?”

“I know a couple. Why?”

“If I send you Tyler’s info…his cell number, his SAT number, where he’s staying…can you get someone to monitor all that?”

“Doesn’t he have his own people keeping an eye on him?”

“An extra pair of eyes wouldn’t hurt. I just want someone to watch out for him. He’s going into this alone, Mark. With nothing but the word of this McCann guy to go on. If something goes wrong and Tyler’s people can’t reach him or find him…”

“You’re really stirring the shit pot here. I highly doubt he wants you doing all this. What’s going to happen when he finds out? Because he will. Find out.”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Please Mark. I need your help. And I know you can do this. This isn’t easy for me. Asking for help. Especially from you. And it can’t be easy for you either. Me asking for help for something that involves my husband.”

“It’s a little…awkward,” he admits.

“He saved me, Mark. In every way a person can be saved. My life was so different after we broke up. I was in a really dark place that I didn’t think I’d ever get out of. That I didn’t know if I really wanted to get out of. I became a completely different person than the one you remember. Tyler came into my life at a time where I needed someone the most. And it shouldn’t have happened the way it did. It was stupid and it was dangerous, and it never should have gone down like that. But it did. And I don’t regret it. I don’t regret falling in love with him. Or staying in Australia. Or getting married and having kids. His kids. You said you just wanted me to be happy.”

“I do. That’s all I want, Esme.”

“Then help me. Please. Because I can’t lose him, Mark. I almost lost him once. And this time I don’t want to lose him for good. I need your help. And that’s what would make me happy.”

He sighs heavily. “Send me the information. Email. I have an account on a protected server. I’m sending you the address now.”

And with that, he disconnects the call.

*****

Tyler’s not sure how long how he’d been asleep for. After devouring three orders from room service and opening up another bottle of scotch, he’d stretched on one of the beds to watch the local news. Fully intending on staying up in case Yaz had already gotten to work and was able to dig up some information to send him. He’s still lying on his stomach in middle of the bed; fully dressed, sheets and blankets not even turned down, his cell phone lying next to him, feet up by the headboard. Jolted awake by a sharp rap of knuckles upon the door.

His head swims: a mixture of booze and the painkillers he’d taken after he ate. A dull ache in the base of his neck as he places his chin on the forearm he’d been using as a pillow, eyes blinking against the harsh light of the cell phone screen within the dark room.

12:53.

His time? Colorado time? He doesn’t even know anymore. It couldn’t be the latter. Not if it had already been one in the afternoon when he spoke to Esme. He was tired; but he wasn’t THAT tired. There’s no possible way he’d sleep that long. Even with the help of meds and alcohol. And he’s pretty sure he changed the time on his cellphone. Or maybe it had done it itself.

He clears sleep out of his eyes, rubs at the back of his neck. Internally yells at his muddled and disoriented brain to get shit its shit together.

The knocking continues. Louder. More insistent. And he attempts to ignore it, switching positions on the bed and resting his head back on one of the pillows. The smooth cotton of the pillowcase cool against the back of his head. Eyes closed; hands clasped together at his chest. Knowing if he just stays quiet, whoever it is will just fuck off and leave him alone. Whatever it is, it can wait until the morning. And he’s just beginning to nod off again when he hears whispering from in the hall; Irish accents, two female, one male. One of the female’s asking the other two if they’d seen the man that he’d checked into the room. Had he left sometime in the middle of the night? If he did, do they know if he came back? He can’t make out the reply, but there’s a heavy sigh followed by more knocking.

It’s louder. More intense. A different sound than what knuckles make against wood. The dull thud that ensues when you use the toe of a sneaker or a boot.

His eyes snap open and he reaches for the top drawer on the nightstand, quietly pulling it out and then slipping the Glock from the holster. Flicking off the safety as he slips off the bed and silently makes his way towards the door. Pausing with a hand on the deadbolt as he listens; trying to pick up any hints of a conversation or any other noises coming from the hallway. Palm resting against cool, smooth wood as he peers out the peephole.

She’s young. Twenty at the most. A simple grey hoodie and blue jeans. A ball cap pulled over bright red hair. Carrying a purse along her left forearm, cell phone in her hand. A file folder clasped in her right. She pounds at the door now, slamming her fist against it with all the power she can muster.

He holds the Glock down at his side, opens the deadbolt but leaves the chain across. A foot against the door, preventing her from trying to open it further.

“Who are you?” he asks.

“Are you the Australian?”

“Yeah, I suppose I am. Answer my question now.”

“Can I come in?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I have no idea who the hell you are.”

“I’m Erin.”

“Erin what?” he presses.

“Ferguson.”

“What the hell do you want, Erin Ferguson? It’s almost one in the morning. How’d you know who I was? Where to find me?”

“A lot of people know who are,” she says. “You’re the Australian. Here to get Michael McMann’s wife and kids back.”

He smirks. “Word travels fast. Who’s they? And how did they find out?”

“They. As in the people who have them. The people who took his wife and his kids. The people who are watching your wife and your kids.”

Tyler’s blood runs cold. Hand tightening around the Glock. “What did you just say?”

She cocks her head to the side, a smirk curving her lips. “Can I come in now?”

“No. Whatever you have to say, you say it right where you’re standing. What do you mean they’re watching my wife and my kids? The IRA?”

She nods.

“Why?”

“Because you’re sticking your nose in other peoples’ business. You don’t belong here, Australian. This isn’t your fight. If you knew what was good for you…for your family…you’d leave. Right now.”

“If you knew what was good for you, you’d stop talking in riddles. And you’d know that I have a loaded gun behind the door and my finger is already on the trigger. So stop the bullshit and tell me who you are and what you want, or I won’t think twice about putting one between your eyes, you hear me?”

That wipes the smirk off her face.

“Who are they” he repeats. “The IRA? You’re working for them?”

“I work for a lot of people,” she says. “They asked me to give you this. As proof.” She offers the file folder.

“Proof of what?”

“That they aren’t messing around. That you’ve gotten yourself mixed up in something that you never should have wandered into it. What goes on between them and McCann is their business. Not yours.”

“It became my business when McCann hired me. So you go back to whoever you’re working for and tell that their games won’t work on me. I don’t scare easily. And it’s them that’s gotten mixed up in something they don’t want to be mixed up in. I don’t fuck around. I’ll find his wife. And his kids.”

“And the risk of losing your own?”

“They’ll never get near my wife or my kids. They can try. But it won’t happen. You tell them I said that. And you tell them that if they so as much go near my family, I’ll come after them personally. And they won’t like the results. Tell them that. You tell them exactly what I said. That I’ll bring them within an inch of their lives and then I’ll stop and start all over again. You got that?”

She nods, shoves the folder toward him.

“Put it on the ground,” he orders. “And then back away. Nice and slow. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

She places the folder on the carpet and does as she’s told, hands up as she slowly steps backwards, until she’s almost pressed against the door across the hall.

Tyler removes the chain from the door and pulls it open, casting a glance down both ends of the hall, keeping the Glock pointed at her. “Now go. Move. To the elevator.”

She walks backwards; hands still up, eyes never wavering from his. She never blinks. Never shows any signs of fear or nervousness with a gun trained on her.

“Press the button,” he orders. “Get on when the elevator gets here. Go back and tell them exactly what I said.”

He waits, gun still focused on her, until the lift finally arrives and she steps on. Not picking up the envelope and backing into his room until he hears the elevator doors slide closed and he knows she gone for good.

***

He hurriedly snaps the deadbolt back in place; refastens the chain and then stalks across the room. Tossing the gun into the middle of the bed and tearing at the envelope; splitting it down the middle as opposed to the flap or the seams. His heart pounds mercilessly in his chest; stomach clenching and brain swimming with a thousand different thoughts. None of them good. And the frowns when he finds two smaller envelopes inside of the first. Each one marked with the words PROOF OF LIFE. One dated two days ago, one just this morning.

What the fuck…

He rips into the most recent one first. Photographs. Of McCann’s wife and kids. The kids are no longer hog tied and restrained on a filthy mattress. Sitting in crude metal chairs, hands and feet bond by what he easily identifies as rock climbing rope. Both kids are naked from the waist up, most likely so whoever views the pictures grasps the extent of what’s been done to them: bruises covering the entire rib cage, finger marks from wrist to shoulder. There’s dried blood on their face: caked under their noses and around the corners of their mouths. And the skin is raw where the duct tape over the eyes had been cruelly ripped off.

He feels sick. Bile rising in his throat.

The wife is in far better condition. But still bears the marks of her ordeal. Her hair has been crudely chopped off; chunks missing, the edges just skimming the bottoms of her ears. Unlike the children, she’s in a wooden chair that’s in remarkable condition; polished, a clean, like new cushion. Bound only by her wrists. He frowns at that, holding her picture and one of the children side by side. It makes no sense. Why the children would be in such inhumane conditions while she…despite the hacked hair job and her own bruises…is still in pretty damn good shape. Normally the kids are treated better than the adults; it’s easier to beat on and torture adults, as they’re in far better condition and can take a hell of a lot more punishment before death finally takes over.

Photos still in hand, he wanders around to the side of the bed and grabs the SAT out of the drawer of the nightstand. Pressing three on the speed dial.

“Yeah?” Yaz simply greets. There’s no hint of sleep in his voice.

“Did someone just come to your door?” Tyler asks.

“I was just going to call you. A girl came here. Looking for you. Said her name was…”

“Erin,” he finishes.

“Yeah. I take it she found you? I wasn’t the one who told her. I acted like I had no idea what the hell she was talking about. But she obviously knows me. She talked about Dhaka. About me flying the helicopter that got Ovi out. She kept going on and on about how ‘they’ know all about us being here. About you being the one that killed Asif.”

“Well technically that was your sister. What else did she say?”

“Just kept calling you The Australian. Says that ‘they’ know all about us. All about you, especially. About Esme. And the kids.”

“Fuck…” he mutters. “…what the hell? How’d this get out so quick? How’d they know we were here?”

“I don’t know. I have no clue. I was going to call Nik after I talked to you. Maybe we’ve got a mole on the team. Someone is feeding them information. What did this girl want with you?”

She gave me pictures. Of McCann’s wife and kids. Proof of life as of six hours ago.”

“How they look?”

“Kids are fucked up. Wife looks pretty good though. What’s her name? The wife? We have any information on her? Maiden name, anything like that?”

“First and married name. That’s it. Why? What are you thinking?”

“Something isn’t right here. Why are they being held in different spots? When was the last time we ever saw that when we had multiple marks?”

“Never. Not in the ten years that I’ve been doing this, anyway.”

“The kids have been worked over pretty good. Whoever sent these wanted us to see that. Just how fucked up they are. But the wife? Worst she has is a shitty hair cut and some bruises. The kids are being kept in some shit hole and she looks like she’s just been tied up for shits and giggles in someone’s dining room.”

“You think we’re being played?”

“Yeah. But I’m not sure by who. You find out everything you need to know about the wife. Like right now. Don’t wait.”

“I’m on it,” Yaz says, and hangs up.

Tyler drops the SAT into the middle of the bed, followed by the photographs, then reaches for the second smaller envelope. Pausing before he opens it, stealing himself against what he knows is inside. He’d known as soon he saw the first selection of photos. Hell, he’d known as soon as Erin had brought up his own family. He also knows that it’s a scare tactic, that whoever is behind their existence is hoping it will cause him to give up the search for McCann’s wife and kids in favour of returning to his own family. The chances that someone will actually hurt Esme and the kids are slim to none. That’s not what these people want. Their endgame isn’t to hurt him. Just scare him enough to send him running home.

He tears into the paper, dumping a handful of polaroids into his palm. His heart once again pounding ferociously, ever muscle and tendon in his body suddenly tense. Hands remarkably still despite the trembling travelling through the rest of his body as he flips through the pictures. Ovi and Mille going into the ice cream shop, Esme and Millie while out of their girls day, him and the boys while leaving after their getting their hair cut, the entire family out together for dinner, him and Ovi at the shooting range, Esme and him, alone on that hammock in the backyard.

Fuck…fuck…fuck…

He grabs his SAT once again, this time calling Nik.

“Yaz just called. Talk to me.”

“They know, Nik. Whoever has McCann’s wife and kids. They know who I am and why I’m here. How the fuck do they know?”

“I have no idea. Yaz thinks there’s a mole on the team. Someone who has access to all your files.”

“Just how many people is that?”

“Half a dozen.”

“For fuck sakes, Nik! This was supposed to be kept quiet. McCann knew I was in Guatemala. He said he followed me for the entire week I was there. Now whoever has his wife and his kids know who I am and why I’m here. Explain to me how the fuck this happened?!

“I’m working on that, Tyler. You’ll have answers as soon as I get them.”

“I have pictures, Nik. Pictures of my wife and my kids. Even pictures taken in my backyard. What the fuck is going on?!”

“They’re trying to scare you, Tyler. They’re trying to force your hand. They want you to back out and go home. Don’t give in to them.”

“You get someone to my house,” he demands. “I don’t care if you have to go there personally. You get someone there to keep an eye on my family. I’ll stay here. I’ll see this job through. But you get someone to my place, Nik. Now. Not an hour from now. Not two hours from now. Not six. Now.”

“I’m already on it. What do I tell Esme? Do I tell her about the pictures?”

“No. Just tell her that you think it’s better that way. To have some folks there. That you sent people ‘just in case’. That will be good enough for her. At least for now. Don’t even tell her that I talked to you. None of this ever happened as far as she’s concerned.”

“Do you really think McCann’s wife has something to do with this?”

“I don’t know. Everything is fucked. Right off the hop this time.”

“We should call it off. I should just bring you and Yaz home.”

“The job’s not finished. We haven’t even started it.”

“The job is fucked, Tyler. We’ve lost the element of surprise.”

“Doesn’t mean the job can’t go on. I’ve got this under control, Nik. At least on this end. You just make sure that my family stays safe. Because if anything happens to my wife or my kids…”

“They’ll be fine. I’ll personally make sure of that. Keep your head on straight, Tyler. Don’t let them win.”

“I’ve got shit locked down over here,” he assures you. “You just make sure you do the same thing over there. Take care of my family, Nik.”

“I will,” she promises. And ends the call.

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

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