#and then there's skip; who once pretended to be norman and who took over this body in valdrinor's eagerness to get away

[thevalleyisjolly]

Hmm, thinking about Lucienne saying that for cerebro slugs, bodies are just bodies, and how throughout the season, most of the cerebro slugs we’ve come across have proven that true.  They don’t care about the bodies they take over, the people or the lives that once inhabited them.  And there’s nothing really more to it, they’re brain slugs!  It’s what they’re designed to do!  If they bother to look at their host’s memories, it’s just to blend in better, to make themselves less conspicuous.

And then there’s Skip.  Takes over Norman, and it's your typical brain slug situation at first.  The obligatory shenanigans while figuring out bodily mechanics, the cases of mistaken identity.  Except at some point, there's a shift.   Because Norman comes with so much baggage, Skip has to dive deep into his memories to understand why people are after this body.  And the more he searches, the more he understands about the person he's taken over, the person whose body this was.  All of a sudden, the body is not "just" a body. It was someone else once, and it was their way of engaging with the galaxy, for better or for worse, just like Skip is using it now.

Cerebro slugs need host bodies in order to participate in the galaxy.  That's what they're designed for, it's what their biology enables them to do.  But as Skip has come to realize, that's not all they have to do and it’s certainly not all they can do.  They can choose to try and understand the person who was there before, to think about the legacy (good or bad) that the person leaves behind, to decide how they will move forwards in light of the past, even if their decision is to start anew. 

And I think that's a pretty cool exploration of the whole brain slug trope, to go "Yes, as a cerebro slug, I need a host body to live, but the body does not have to be just a body.   It's not just about me, and it’s also not just about them.  Who they were mattered and who I am matters.  This body is now mine, but that doesn't make it just a meat sack or a tool for my purposes.  I was born to do this, I have the power to do whatever I want, and yet.  I choose to recognize the person who had this body before.  I choose to acknowledge their memory, their existence.  I choose to allow myself to be changed by this, to create something new, an identity, a sense of self that isn't about either of us, that's more than either of us alone.  There doesn’t have to be any more to this than just me and a body, but I choose for there to be more.  I choose to care.”  

[mypoisonedvine]

Home for the Holidays | Robert Pronge (aka Mr. Freezy) x reader

summary: robert is tired of pretending to be normal, he’s tired of the shitty holiday known as christmas and he’s really fucking tired of watching his adorable, innocent next door neighbor without getting a real taste.  luckily, he has a plan to solve all three of these things.

word count: a bit over 5k

warnings: smut (noncon, vaginal and anal), gunplay, bondage, stalking, kidnapping, slight-to-medium breeding kink, innocent!reader, lots of degradation, blood mention, pain kink, spitting, implied age gap (??? kinda), cringy and disturbing dirty talk, maaaaybe the darkest thing I’ve ever written… proceed with extreme caution

Robert hated the holidays.  The fact that it was too cold to sell ice cream was a factor, sure, but he didn’t like anything else about them either— the cheesy music, the stupid advertisements on TV, the gaudy decorations everywhere… he wasn’t sure if there was anything he liked about this time of year.  Getting gifts would be nice if he actually had any friends or family to do that with.  Giving gifts sounded like too much fucking work anyway.  He was sick and tired of this stupid holiday and the way it started sooner every year, too.  

This year, when he heard Jingle Bell Rock on the radio for the first time of the season, something snapped.  He wasn’t going to just sit idly by and let the holidays come and go.  He wasn’t going to avoid and half-tolerate all the dreaded ‘cheer’ and ‘spirit’ like he had for the past few years.  No no, this year was going to be different.

This year, he was going to get a Christmas present for himself: you.

He’d been watching you for a long time, since the day you moved in next door.  It wasn’t often that a young woman lived alone around here, and for good reason.  Still, you had this air of blissful ignorance about you— you never caught him spying on you, for one, and when he was spying you were always off in your own little world, listening to your records, daydreaming about god-knows-what.  He wished he could know, because he figured it was something innocent and wholesome.  

You weren’t all innocent and wholesome, though.  He’d seen you doing the things you did when you were totally alone (or at least, you thought you were), late at night, cuddled up under the covers…

He wanted to see more, though.  He wanted to see everything.  And he was tired of waiting.

He was on his porch when you came home, and he waved; you waved back, your hands obscured by big fuzzy mittens.  Damn did he miss the summers, when you would wear tank tops and short shorts and wash your car in the sunlight.  Now you were all bundled up in coats and scarves, and even though you looked sort of adorable like this, he missed that perfect body he knew you were hiding under there.  

You were bringing groceries in from the car, and he could see you had a few bags in the backseat.  “That’s a lot to carry, lemme help you,” he offered as he jumped up from his seat and walked towards you.

“Oh, it’s fine, I’ve got it,” you dismissed, but you started to stumble and he had to catch you so you wouldn’t fall and drop your stuff.  “Thanks,” you mumbled awkwardly as you caught your footing— you felt so good in his arms he could barely stand it.  

“What is all this?” he asked as he glanced into the bags.

“Oh, uh, just Christmas stuff,” you explained.  He furrowed his brow as he saw you had bought enough food to feed a whole family.  

“Your folks comin’ into town or something?” he pressed, pulling one of the paper bags open to see inside.  “Or are you hosting a party I didn’t get invited to?”

“Uh, neither,” you laughed, “my family doesn’t… no, they’re not coming.  And there’s no party.  I just love cooking Christmas food and I thought, why not?  I mean, I’ll freeze whatever I can’t finish and have meals for the next month…”

“So you’re gonna make this whole ham just for yourself?” he clarified, admiring your ambition.

“Yep!” you grinned.  “I know it’s stupid, but I just love Christmas and I don’t think I need to justify celebrating it to a grinch like you.”

“A grinch?  Says who?”

“Freezy, you’re the only house on the block that hasn’t put up lights yet,” you smirked.  “It’s sort of obvious you don’t like this time of year.”

“Are you kidding?  I love Christmas!  I’m just subtle about it, that’s all,” he decided sternly.

“Really?  Are you going to see anyone for the holidays then?” you pressed.

“Uh, no, I’m sort of an… orphan, I guess you could say.  No parents or siblings or anything like that.”

“No girlfriend?” you grinned, elbowing him playfully.  

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he laughed, “I just know a few women who would be really mad if they heard me say that.”

“You’re such a dog,” you rolled your eyes.  “Will you help me carry these in or not?”

He sighed as he picked up two bags and carried them up to your porch, pushing the door open with his back to set them on your counters.  He’d been inside your place a few times— mostly with you there, a few times when you weren’t— and he noticed how much you’d changed in the spirit of the season: an enormous, real pine covered in lights and ribbons; decorative ceramic figures all over the place including Santa, elves, reindeer, and even a nativity on the dining table; stockings on the mantle, god knows who those were even for. 

You had literally decked your halls with boughs of holly.  

“Damn, woman, you went all out!” he observed with wide eyes.

“Well, I thought it would be nice,” you smiled, although it was a somber smile, “you know, Christmas like it used to be…” you trailed off as your gaze became distant.  You snapped back to reality with a little sigh, shaking it off and heading back to the car for another load of bags.  He understood that emptiness he saw in your eyes, it was all he felt anymore.  Maybe you could change that for him; maybe he could change that for you.

Aw, who was he kidding?  He didn’t care about that.  He just wanted to figure out what you were hiding underneath those puffy winter clothes.  If the smell of your stolen panties was anything to go by, it was going to be worth the wait.

//

Christmas Eve was just as boring and cold as any other day, except that it was filled with a riveting anticipation.  That was probably true for most people, but for Robert it was for something much more exciting than presents under the tree.  

Nightfall came early, it being winter and all, so it was already pitch dark outside when it was just about time for him to go over for dinner.  He considered smashing a window to get in, but then you might call the cops before he had time to explain, so he decided the easier method was just to knock on the front door.  He didn’t really care who saw at this point— besides, who’d be staring out their window to spy on their neighbors the night before Christmas?  Aside from Robert, that is.

“Oh!” you gasped when you answered the door.  The dark red turtleneck looked even better on you up close, like you’d jumped right out of a Norman Rockwell postcard— or a festive pin-up.  He didn’t wait for your approval before stepping in and shutting the door behind him, relishing the adorable look you wore as you stared up at him with the perfect mix of confusion and concern.

“I know you didn’t invite me,” he smirked, “but I figure two people alone on Christmas ought to be together, don’t you think?”

“Robert, I—”

He pulled his gun out from his belt, watching you freeze as he pointed it at you.

“I think you should start making dinner, sweetheart,” he instructed darkly.  You nodded quickly, walking to the kitchen as he followed you closely.  “What are you making?”

“H-ham,” you stuttered nervously as you turned on the stove before slipping on a cute little apron with white lace around the edges.  “With green bean casserole, and some gingerbread for dessert.”

“Sounds delicious,” he grinned, taking a seat at the bar and keeping his gun pointed towards you.  

Your hands were shaking as you tried to chop the ingredients, and he tutted a little in sympathy.  “Don’t be scared, honey, ‘m not gonna hurt ya.  It’s gonna be a great Christmas— just like the way it used to be, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” you shivered, lip quivering, “I… I wish you just would’ve asked if you could have some dinner, Robert, I would’ve happily had you.”

“Oh, you’re gonna have me either way.  Up to you if you wanna be happy about it.”

He laughed as he watched your eyes start to water, a meek little sniffle 

“Aw, don’t cry, pretty baby,” he cooed, “it’ll make me wanna skip right to the good stuff.  But, let’s just have dinner first.”

You stayed quiet after that, cooking in silence as he unabashedly undressed you with his eyes.  You looked like a perfect little housewife in that apron; he wanted to see you wearing just that, so he could bend you over the counter and— 

Damn, he was already hard, just like that.  You’d always had such an effect on him.

He went ahead and took a seat at the table once you were nearly done with the meal, leaning back to let you drape the fancy napkin over his lap (and smirking when you gasped a bit, obviously noticing the bulge in his jeans).

“I hope you like it,” you offered weakly as you set his plate in front of him.

“I’m sure you do,” he grinned, picking up his fork.  “You won’t like what’s gonna happen if I don’t.”

You just stood beside him for a moment as he took the first bite, smiling weakly when he hummed in content at the taste.  “Aren’t ya gonna eat?” he asked, looking you up and down.

“I’m not hungry,” you explained quickly.

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, “it’s good.  You’re quite the little chef, aren’t ya?”

“Um, I suppose…” you deflected awkwardly.

“Learn to take a compliment,” he hissed, “say ‘thank you.’”

“Thank you,” you replied dutifully.  

“That’s better,” he announced firmly, shovelling the last bite of casserole into his mouth before working on the slices of ham.  Your ability to follow instructions was a good sign for how tonight was going to go— apparently for all your naivete, you still had a self-preservation instinct.  He couldn’t wait to exploit it.

He continued his meal in silence, delighting in the way your eyes watered and your lip quivered.  “Alright, sweetie, dinner’s over,” he announced when he was finished.  “Time for dessert.”

You shivered slightly as he stood up and approached you.  “You want gingerbread?” you asked innocently.  He frowned and shook his head, watching you start to cry again as he roughly grabbed your arm and pulled you closer.  

“I had something even sweeter in mind,” he informed you with a low growl, taking a big whiff of your scent— that same shampoo smell he was used to by now, mixed in with the new perfume you’d gotten a few weeks ago along with the warm, spicy smells of Christmas.  “Been waitin’ so long for this,” he groaned lowly as he leaned down to stare right into your fear-widened eyes.

“N-no, please,” you whimpered, weakly attempting to twist out of his grip, “you wouldn’t—”

“I would,” he disagreed as he turned his gun backwards, whipping you across the head with the handle.  He caught you before you collapsed, and hoped you wouldn’t be hurting too much when you woke up.  But he would deal with that then.  Right now, he had a present to wrap.

//

There was a radiating ache in your skull.  You felt that first as you groggily opened your eyes.  The next thing you noticed was that you weren’t in your bed.  Looking around, you couldn’t see well because the only light was from your Christmas tree, but you could see that you were naked and bound with ropes.  Oddly enough, on top of the ropes was thick red ribbon, gathered in a big bow right at your chest.

What the fuck is going on? you were about to ask yourself, but then it all became clear.

The shadows shifted, and your neighbor emerged from them.  You struggled against the ropes as you remembered everything, realizing what was happening.  Of course you had always thought he was a bit creepy (who didn’t?) but you were nice to him and he was nice to you.  How could you have known he was this disturbed?  

“That’s my favorite part,” he purred as he stooped down to be eye-level with you.  “The moment when they realize what’s going to happen.  You were so peaceful just a moment ago, knocked out and without a care in the world, and now you’re fighting for your life.”

You whimpered into the gag as he smiled at you, running his hands over your skin.

“I mean, not fighting very well, but fighting.”

You tried to kick him as he stepped closer but the ropes made it impossible.

“I think it’s time to open my present, hm?” he grinned.  You shook your head but he ignored you, slowly pushing your legs apart and growling a little when he saw your exposed pussy, ripe for the taking.  “Look at that, you’re wet,” he laughed.  You wrenched your eyes shut, refusing to believe this was happening.  “Don’t be embarrassed, that happens a lot.  Although I’ll admit, I don’t think any of them were ever this wet before…”

You jumped when his thumb started to rub your clit, the pressure much too intense and unexpected.  He laughed at your struggle, and you could feel your walls throbbing in response to the stimulation.

“I know I didn’t need to do all this to get you in bed,” he continued his taunting rant.  “I know you wanted me already— don’t think I didn’t notice you makin’ googly eyes at me like a dumb little schoolgirl.  If I’d’ve asked you out, I could’ve had you under me after a few drinks… but it’s better this way.  You probably would’ve made me wear a condom, would’ve made me be all gentle with ya, some wholesome missionary shit,” he laughed.  “I don’t have time for that crap.  It’s so much better with your body at my disposal, and you cryin’ those pretty tears.”

The shocks that shot up your spine from the way he was touching you made you feel like your body was betraying you.  How could this actually feel good?  How was it that the fear burning in your gut was actually adding to your pleasure and not nullifying it?

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he groaned as if he were reading your mind.  “I know you love it, little girl, don’t act so innocent.  I know you’re not the good girl everybody thinks you are.  You’ve been naughty this year, haven’t you?”

Even though logic told you not to play into his twisted game, you felt compelled to shake your head ‘no.’

“Don’t lie,” he warned, “I’ve seen you.  I’ve watched you play with this pretty pussy every fucking night.”

You couldn’t watch this any more, you couldn’t look at him while he did this to you.  Forcing your eyes shut, you tried to find a place in your mind to run away to.  Instead, he slapped you right on your clit and your eyes shot open as you whined.

“Keep looking,” he instructed.  “I want you to see it.  I want you to know that it’s me.  I want you to see what I’m about to put in you.”

He stepped back and hastily discarded his shirt, making quick work of his boots and trousers, too.  Then it was just his boxers, and you could see the outline of his erection already.  You hoped it wasn’t as big as it looked, but then he grinned as he pulled the fabric down and yep, it was— you tried to squirm away, uselessly.

“Aw, don’t be scared, baby,” he pouted, “I know it’s big, but with how wet you are I bet it’ll fit like a glove.  A really, really tight glove…”

He leaned down and pressed his lips right against your ear, rubbing his swollen head through your slick folds as you whined.  

“Gloves can tear,” he chuckled.  “Gloves can rip.”

Tears stained the ribbon of your gag as you tried to beg him not to, but it was too late— he was pushing forward and spearing you onto him.

“Fuck!” he groaned as he pushed all the way to the hilt, and your eyes rolled back as the stinging, burning pain shot up your spine.  “So fuckin’ tight, fuck, can’t believe I waited this long to get my hands on you.”

He pulled the gag down, smiling at you tenderly when you coughed out a cry of pain.  “Please,” you sobbed, “please stop…”

“No no, babygirl, I’m not gonna stop.  I wanna fill this slutty little cunt with my come.”

Renewed sobs shook your chest as your nails dug into your own palms, each thrust somehow going even deeper than the last, somehow hurting even more.

“Want my come, pretty girl?” he pressed, refusing to let you ignore him.  “Want me to shoot my load into this sweet pussy a’yours?”

“No,” you sobbed weakly, shaking your head, “no, no…” you trailed off, chanting it like a mantra as you felt like you might pass out.

“Aw, you’re not on the pill, are you?” he realized with a toothy grin.  “Never saw any empty packs in your trash.  Are you worried I’ll knock you up?”

“Please, please don’t,” you shivered.  There was nothing quite as demeaning as having no recourse but to beg even when you knew it would do nothing.  The only thing that came close was the knowledge that your orgasm wasn’t so far off— his cock was slamming right into your spot with every movement, his hips rubbing your swollen clit, and it was impossible to avoid the pleasure that was making your walls tighten around him.

“How could I not?” he countered.  “Fuck, you feel so good, how could I not breed this dripping, desperate cunt, hm?  There’s no way I’m pulling out now when you’re squeezin’ my dick so good like this.”

“Please,” you repeated, so quiet you couldn’t be sure he heard it at all.  You could hardly breathe with his weight on your chest, black static dancing at the edges of your peripheral vision.

“I’ll be honest— I hate kids,” he growled, “never wanted ‘em, but it does sound like a lot of fun to get you pregnant.  Would you like that, pretty baby?  Bein’ full of my kid?  I’d be so nice to watch you get big and know it was all my fault.  Think of it like a Christmas gift, from one neighbor to another.”

“Robert, please!” you cried, although it sounded a lot like you were begging him for more as opposed to begging him for mercy.  You weren’t sure how that happened, except that you could feel the coil in your gut tightening and tightening and tightening until it finally fucking snapped and you choked on nothing, your walls fluttering as a gush of wetness seeped out between your bodies.

“That’s it,” he groaned, “fuck, what a nasty little skank you are, Jesus… coming so hard from being tied up and abused by your neighbor, who knew you were a total freak?”

You couldn’t say anything, you couldn’t even think as hazy pleasure flooded your brain and you went limp in his oppressive grasp.  Exhaustedly, you slumped down and let him use you— all you could do now was hope he would finish soon.

“I mean, I knew,” he laughed, “but damn… you’re somethin’ else.”

He said it with pride in his voice, as your entire body burned with shame.  How had you already given in so quickly, accepted your fate and come harder than you ever had before?  It sort of made sense that this would be more intense than what you got from getting yourself off at night (and the thought that he’d been watching you made your stomach churn), but why was this so much better than the sweet, loving sex you’d had with your boyfriend way back when, before he’d run out on you?  Why was Robert, as disturbed as he was, the best you’d ever had?

“God, you’re so wet, I can fucking smell you,” he grunted through his teeth.  “You made such a pretty mess on my cock, babygirl.”

You could hear that he was right, you could feel the wetness that had dripped down to cover both of you— the wet slapping of his balls against your ass was disgusting, yet arousing, and you hated yourself for it.

“Shit, I’m close,” he moaned, “fuck yeah, just like that.”

You weren’t sure what he was referring to until you realized you were arching your back, forcing his cock to hit your overstimulated spot directly.  It made jolts of electricity course through your veins, pleasure sizzling just beneath your skin.  

“Kiss me,” he instructed, and you were too far gone to disobey as you turned and captured his lips in a kiss, instantly accepting his tongue into your mouth.  It was sloppy and forceful and kinda gross and he tasted like Christmas dinner and cigarettes, but it made your walls tighten around him again anyways.  Something about his beard against your face made you moan a little, the sound lost into his mouth but unfortunately not unnoticed.  “Fuck, I know you love my cock so much,” he purred, pulling back only as much as he needed to to speak— he was so close that his lips brushed yours with every word, those dark eyes staring right into yours until you felt entirely helpless to his gaze.

“Please,” you whimpered, not even sure what you were asking for.

“Best pussy I’ve ever had, you know that?” he praised, grinning as you bit down on your lip.  “Yeah, you love being my good girl, you love pleasin’ me, don’tcha?”

“I— I don’t—”

“Just nod your head, dumb baby,” he grunted coldly.  After a moment of hesitation, you nodded ever so slightly and he moaned above you.

“Fuck— gonna come,” he informed you breathlessly, “gonna fill up your wet fuckin’ hole, ‘m so close, ah fuck—”

The first pump of his cock painted your insides and you cringed as you tried not to moan at the feeling.  His come was hot and thick as it filled you, the faltering thrusts of his hips making your swollen walls flutter weakly.  It felt like it would go on forever— his weak groans in your ear, his thick cock pulsing inside you, your breathing quick and fast until it felt like you weren’t getting any air in your lungs at all.  It stopped, finally, as he sighed and relaxed a little bit.

“Goddamn,” he breathed as he pulled out of you, making you both wince.  Already you felt soreness radiating from your opening, and your face burned as he looked down between your legs.  “Look at that, what a perfect little pussy I just ruined.  It’s all stretched out and red and covered in my come,” he announced proudly.  “There’s a little blood, too, but you’ll be better in no time,” he assured with a smirk.  “Red and white— it’s sort of festive, don’t you think?”

You swallowed down the acid threatening to come up your throat— of course he was disturbed, but did he have to be so disgusting?

Again, it was like he read your mind as he grabbed your jaw and forced you to open your mouth, spitting onto your tongue before commanding you to swallow it.  Just when you thought you’d reached the limits of his depravity, he found some new way to up the ante.  What worried you most, though, was the fact that he’d already come and hadn’t left yet.  Deep down, you knew it wasn’t over yet, but you hadn’t accepted it consciously.

“Such a good slut for me,” he praised through his teeth, “I bet I can go again, fuck, you turn me on so much.”  Pulling back a bit and gripping his cock at the base, you squirmed a little as you looked at it.  “You see this?  I’m still hard.  You make me feel like a fuckin’ teenager again, I swear.”

“I can’t…” you sighed weakly, your voice sounding all cracked and whiny as it moved through your sore throat.  “I can’t take it again…”

“Don’t worry,” he soothed, “I’m gonna give your poor cunt a break… so I can rape this cute little ass.”

“No!” you yelped.  “Please!  Not there!”

He slapped you quickly before maneuvering two fingers to your other hole, teasing it as he laughed at your pre-emptive wince.

“It’s not gonna be so bad, baby, I’m gonna get you ready for it first, see?  I bet you’ll love it, nasty little thing like you.”

The first finger slipped in with a little pop as the tight ring of muscle shifted to accommodate him.  You’d never had anything go up that way before, and it was nothing like you could’ve imagined.  Hissing in a breath through your teeth, you whimpered as he added a second finger already.

“Just relax,” he instructed.  “Not that I don’t love you gripping my fingers with your tight little hole, but it’ll hurt less if you just let it happen.”

You willed your muscles not to tighten even as he twisted his fingers inside you, moving slowly until he was buried all the way to the knuckle and then finally pulling back.  The third was a bit more of a challenge as he opened you wider, your fists clenching at the sting of pain.  He let his come drip down from your pussy to use as lube, which was undoubtedly the filthiest thing you’d ever experienced.  You tried to keep quiet and relax as he told you to, but your fight was renewed slightly as he pulled his fingers out and lined up his cock with your hole.  

“Please,” you shivered, “don’t do this…”

“When are you gonna stop fucking fighting it, huh?  How stupid are you?  You’re tied up on the floor, I already made this pussy mine and you fucking loved it, how much more obvious could it be that I’m gonna do this?  You’re fucked.  It’s over.  Just accept it and I’ll make it good for you.”

“This can’t be good for me,” you hissed through your teeth.

“Well, in that case,” he groaned, interrupting himself as he roughly shoved his cock into your ass.  The air was punched from your lungs as pain burned white-hot through your body— it didn’t feel like his fingers had done much to prepare you at all, with the way this hurt.  As soon as you had the oxygen needed to do so, you were crying again, loud sobs echoing around your dark, empty living room.  “I was gonna be gentle,” he taunted you darkly, “but you had to run that mouth of yours.”

You tried to choke out an apology, but it was useless as he shoved his fingers into your mouth. 

“Suck on ‘em, show me what your mouth is good for,” he demanded as you closed your lips and swirled your tongue around his fingers.  “Fuck, that’s better.  See how good it is when you know your place?”

You couldn’t really process his words, though, as you spent all your energy on trying not to think about how his cock felt in your ass.  It was like being full in a completely different way than before, like being opened wider than you knew was possible.  He pulled his fingers from your mouth and you hated the moan that spilled out after them.

“Your cunt is getting wet,” he sing-songed mockingly as he leaned back and looked down at it.  “You love it up the ass, huh?  Dirty bitch.”

You shook your head in denial (even though you could feel that he was right, at least about the first part), but he grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him.

“Say it,” he grunted.  “Admit it, slut.  Admit you love getting fucked up the ass.”

“I…” you whimpered, barely able to get the words out even though you knew you needed to if you wanted to prevent him from hurting you worse.  “I love… getting fucked—” you stopped to swallow the lump in your throat— “up the ass.”

He backhanded you, hard, right across the face.  You cried and gasped all at once, choking on air from the force of the hit.  “WHORE!” he yelled right in your face.

You sobbed uncontrollably as he fucked you with more brutality than you’d known was possible.  “Please,” you tried to beg, even if you knew it was useless, but it was totally incomprehensible as you shook with the force of your cries, hissing in breaths through your teeth to try to cope with the pain.

“Thought it would take me a while to come again, but your ass feels so goddamn good— fuck, I’m close already.  Want me to fill up that tight little ass?”

You shook your head as you sobbed, shaking violently against the confines of the ropes.  Distantly, you heard the chimes of your clock in the other room.

“You hear that?” he whispered.  “That means it’s midnight— it’s Christmas.”

He leaned in until his hot breath tickled your ear and neck, making you wish you could turn your head away more than just a few centimeters.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” he purred, just as you felt his cock swell and pulse inside you.  Your eyes rolled back as you wondered if you’d ever been so full before.

It was a haze after that as he gently untied you, getting his gun out again and keeping it trained on you as he followed you to the bathroom and forced you to shower.  Force was a bit of an overstatement, though, considering your desire to clean him off of you as much as possible.  “I’m not gonna tell anyone, Robert,” you tried to calm him down as you shivered under the stream of water that hadn’t quite warmed up yet.

“Yeah, well, just in case,” he insisted as he waved the gun pointed in your direction.  “Wash between your legs real good, push my come out.”

“Not gonna matter if you knocked me up like you said,” you reminded him.  “A paternity test will be evidence enough.”

“Shut up,” he grimaced.  “Can’t prove you didn’t want it, anyway.  We both know you did.”

You didn’t respond to that, opting to shower silently instead and wincing every time you tried to clean between your legs.  You were going to be sore for days, if not weeks.

“We both know I’m gonna be back for more real soon,” he added darkly.  “Too good for just one night.” 

[criesblood]

; I’ve been working on some sub-verses and some AU verses for Mary, you can find them HERE ! Anyone is free to request them when you like a starter call or send me a meme, or plot with me! ooor honestly just toss them at me if you write me a starter! They include verses for Harry Potter, historical/legendary/epic settings, The Vampire Diaries/The Originals, The Hundred, Bates Motel, a college verse, The Following and a Heroes/Marvel/DC/etc verse. She is still Bloody Mary, the spirit, in all of them, but there are twists. I still want to have an OUAT verse, maybe a pirate verse and a few others, but these will come later.

The verses are under the cut for my own reference but if you wanna check them out you should go HERE because I have more pretty icons there and you should appreciate them haha!

v; slithering through mirrors (Hogwarts)

Mary Worthington was a 5th year Slytherin student at Hogwarts, but something had changed by the time 6th year started. Her friends and other students could tell something was off-- Mary was skipping a lot of classes and sometimes her eyes would spontaneously bleed. The professors didn’t acknowledge it or brushed it off, but they added a mysterious mirror to the Slytherin girls’ dormitory; they knew what happened. Mary kept it a secret from everybody else but the truth was she was dead now. Murdered during the summer between 5th and 6th year, her restless, vengeful spirit attached itself to a mirror. The magical energy surrounding Hogwarts helps her stay corporeal and out of the mirror (though she can still be summoned too), and the legend of Bloody Mary has yet to spread. Who killed her, how she died and the mythology behind the mirror, the summoning, the killing etc are exactly like in Mary’s main verse, but she is a born witch here; no demonic deals needed. Also note she is eternally sixteen in this verse, the only verse where she is underage.

v; the legend of the dead witch (historical) 

Not a fandom-specific verse but geared toward anything that as a mythological, legendary, epic, historical or fairytale vibe. Mary Worthington was a well known powerful witch, who traveled between kingdoms and used her abilities to help others, often staying in kingly courts or powerful covens. She gained her magic not through a demonic deal but through a deal with one of the Fae, a member of the Seelie Court (the fae’s identity is thread-dependent!), who favored Mary due to her open heart and closeness with nature. Her powers are mostly relating to working with the elements, healing, glamours and of course using herbs, but can wander into darker territories if necessary. Her fame granted her many admirers but not all were convinced; some feared and were threatened by anyone who possessed magic. It was one such man who wounded her with iron (a weakness inherited from her Fae patron) and murdered her while her magic was bound. He gouged out her eyes and she tried to write a blood spell on the mirror, but couldn’t finish it before succumbing to her injuries. Perhaps it was a combination of the Fae folk watching over her, her half-done ritual on the mirror and the anger and trauma of the murder that brought her back to life, as the vengeful ghost of Bloody Mary (the summoning/killing rules are the same as in her main verse!). But instead of fading into being thought of as a myth, she made sure everyone knew she was still around, murdering those that kept murderous secrets and even innocents if they didn’t summon her correctly. She maintained her presence on the courts and covens, still trying to use her powers for good whenever she could, and her fame only grew.

v; blood sacrifices (TVD/TO)

When a witch dies with vampire blood in her system, she loses her magic and ceases being a witch; everyone knows that. But what happens if a soul that is to become a restless, vengeful spirit has vampire blood inside her upon her death? Something weird, and Bloody Mary is proof of it. Her backstory in this verse is the same as her main verse, up until the murder and attempt to write the killer’s name on a mirror. She died and was brought back to life because of the vampire blood in her system, given to her by a friend who knew a killer was after her. Mary didn’t want to live like that, so she refused to feed and died again, peacefully. That should’ve been the end, but the anger and trauma of the murder and the injustice that the murderer was never caught brought her back as the vengeful spirit known as Bloody Mary, same as the main verse. The difference is, something of the vampiric blood still affected her: she grew fangs and could sustain herself by drinking blood. Unlike a vampire, she doesn’t need to feed (she is still a ghost, after all), but whenever she’s out of the mirror, in corporeal form, she can increase the length of time she’s free by consuming the vital life energy contained in blood. Hearing that Mystic Falls and New Orleans are hotbeds of supernatural activity, she traveled to those locations in search of something that could free her from mirrors and end the curse of the bloody Mary once and for all. [Please note that her strengths and weaknesses remain that of a ghost, not a vampire. Her eyes flash red and fangs grow when she feeds and that’s about all the vampiric you get from her!]

v; space pocket mirror (The 100)

Mary Worthington was 21 when she lived on the Ark. There was a little girl she cared for like she was her own sister, and the girl got sick. Instead of a demonic deal for witchy powers like on her main verse, in this verse Mary’s solution was much more mundane. She stole antibiotics and saved the girl, but she got caught. Arrested, and floated. Her mother watched, and cried, clutching a pocket mirror Mary had given her as a way to remain close to her family in the afterlife. The last thing Mary saw as she drifted into space was this blinding light that hurt her eyes, and then she was dead. And then she was back--- kind of, thanks to the anger over her death sentence being unfair, and seeing her mother’s grief. Mary’s spirit was stuck inside the mirror now, bloody tears coming from her eyes, the only way to free her was with a surge of energy...which she didn’t know about. When The 100 were sent down to Earth, someone took the mirror too, unknowingly bringing Bloody Mary along for the ride and separating her from her family again. The violence freed her from her prison (the mirror/summoning rules are the same as her main verse) and a girl that lived her whole life in space has to learn to adapt to living on a nearly empty Earth, among nature and enemies.

v; the eyes are the windows to the soul (The Following)

I’ve yet to come across any muses from TF, but a girl can hope (this verse works well with any police investigation type of universe, anyway!) With Mary’s canon death involving her eyes being gouged out, and Joe Carroll’s canon MO being exactly that, the verse kind of wrote itself. Mary was a modern day witch, pursuing an English degree at Winslow University, Virginia, right around the time the Virginia Campus Murders started . Nobody suspected the rather well-liked (and Edgar Allan Poe obsessed, thus equating beauty with death) literature professor, Joe Carroll, of being a serial killer. Unfortunately for Mary, she fit his victim profile to a T, and he killed her. Drawing her last breaths, she wrote the letter J on a mirror, attempting to write the name of the killer, but she died before finishing. Several other female students would still be murdered before FBI agent Ryan Hardy apprehended Joe. The traumatic death and the anger at the injustice kept Mary’s spirit trapped in mirrors, and from that point on everything is the same as her main verse, with one addition: when the cult of Joe emerged she did her best to work with the police to find them, but only very few people within the task force knew one of Joe’s victims had returned as a ghost.

v; peering through a broken mirror (Bates Motel)

A sub-verse that is part of her main verse, started as a thing between me and ofwrittenschemes’ Norman but open to anyone that wants to interact within this setting! Everything is the same as the main verse up until two girls who are staying at the Bates Motel decide to play the Bloody Mary game, summoning Mary who has no choice but to kill them. Just as the now-corporeal ghost stepped out of the mirror, motel manager Norman came into the room and Mary had to quickly pretend that she was a victim too, the only survivor of a paranormal attack. Little does she know that Norman is hiding something too. Now Mary is staying in White Pine Bay, a small town with a history of crime, conspiracies and mob wars, and the pair have some crimes to cover up, some crimes to try and solve, and they have to decide whether to trust each other with their secrets or not. At least until Mary’s time is up and she’s swept back into the mirror.

v; haunted sorority house (college)

Also a sub-verse that is part of her main verse, meaning everything is the same up until she is summoned by some college boys playing the Bloody Mary game. They die, the energy lets her loose on campus, where curiosity and a desire to live a normal life make her decide to stay and blend in, pretending to be a student with an undeclared major. She even manages to rush a sorority, all while keeping her ghostly identity a secret from most.

v; vengeful vigilante (Heroes/DC/Marvel)

Also a sub-verse that is part of her main verse, meaning everything is the same up until the rise of superheroes and supervillains. The wave of vigilante crime fighting resonates with Mary, who decides to put her supernatural skills to good use whenever she’s out of the mirror and learns how to physically fight too. She finds those guilty of murder and gets them arrested or, sometimes, killed. Whenever she’s out crime fighting she wears black, ties her hair up and often times she’s crying blood; Mary doesn’t bother with a mask because she can’t be caught or found anyway--- she lives in mirrors and is a spirit that died centuries ago. She goes by Blood Tears, but many people refer to her as Bloody Mary because she ‘reminds them of the urban legend’, not realizing she is, in fact, the urban legend. They usually assume she’s some kind of metahuman/evo/mutant that can travel through mirrors and/or control blood. She’s not a hero, she’s an antihero who is not above murder and petty crimes if they help her stop other killers.

[ask-joeydrewstudios]

((wtf anon

....too many headcanons under the cut ;T))

  So this is an idea I’ve... vaguely touched on in my own free time. I know what order everyone dies in and I know exactly when and how, Sammy actually dies before Susie but I always wondered how it would go if it were the other way around. Get ready for the worst Tuesday ever.

  Lets just skip the noise about how she died, the ceiling probably fell on her or something because this place is held together with duct tape and string. (Or uh, if you'd like a different flavor of angst, take this thing from @littlefreaky13. thanks for the pain fam.) Whatever the cause, it was some kind of freak accident. Sammy's immediate reaction would be shock and denial, and he'd get stuck like that for a few days. After It happened Joey would have sent everyone home, and he even pulled Sammy aside specifically to tell him if he needed some time for himself he was free to take it - but the cleanup was quick and people were back to work the next day, and he was among them. Some people didn't turn up, Susie was a strong presence in the studio and her death struck a chord with nearly everyone. Wally and Norman were among the absent. Nobody would see Alice all week, and they’d only catch rare glimpses of the other toons. Joey was mourning while trying to deal with the business-and-paperwork aspect of her death, and Henry showed up if only to be a comfort to others. And then there's Sammy, continuing life as normal which scared everyone given how close they were. And here he is, just, y’know, business as usual. He keeps more to his office and his fuse has gotten shorter, but he didn't seem terribly different if you didn’t look too hard.

  Come Friday, Joey stops by his office to talk to him. It was one of the few times he actually knocked on the door instead of just walking in, but when he was ignored entirely he tried to let himself in anyway - locked. He expected as much so he was glad he had asked to borrow Wally’s keys beforehand, which he didn’t have time to be surprised he actually had for once. Sammy heard the door open, but he pretended like he didn't and stayed hunched over his desk while furiously bouncing his right leg. He had one hand anxiously scribbling musical nonsense on paper (it wasn’t even anything good, which he would have hated doing under any other circumstances. He just wanted to pretend he was busy now that Joey was there) and the other knotted through his hair. Joey wasn't even sure he was listening when he told him he was to take the weekend off, and he was more than welcome to take another few days off after that if he needed to. Sammy made no effort to let him know he'd heard him, and when Joey walked up behind him and hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder his leg stopped, he turned his head down and further away and gripped his pencil so hard it was surprising it didn't snap in half right there. Presence recognized. He sighed heavily and said "take a break, Sammy" before leaving him alone in his office again. The shock and denial was starting to wear thin, and that little moment didn't help at all as it awkwardly jutted him back into reality for a brief while. He stayed frozen at his desk like that for a few minutes before finally breaking his pencil in half and chucking it into the trash bin. That was the fourth pencil he'd gone through this week.

  Joey said he was to take the weekend off. Heh. Fat chance. He took his work home with him, it was the only thing he could use to distract himself from the grim circumstances and he wasn't going to just leave that behind. After getting home though, he found he couldn't write a thing - he'd hit a dead end. Fine. He turned the radio on as he usually does for inspiration and got some wine, and after sitting at his desk for over an hour still with no ideas a familiar tune starts to play through the old radio's speakers. He had been zoned out for at least twenty minutes now, so it was easy for the memory to replay in his mind: a few months back, she'd tried to sing this for him while they were on lunch break. She started strong but messed up the lyrics halfway through and got embarrassed because she was normally so on top of her singing. He smirked and said it was fine because wrong lyrics or not, she still sung like an angel. She made a joke over her voice acting work ("yeah, duh!") and after sharing a laugh they finished the song together, fingers interlaced across the table.

  That was the breaking point. Memory ends, he swears he can still hear her singing distantly, and he comes back to reality with tears running down his face and a terrible, soul-crushing ache in his chest. He lazily brushes his music sheets aside, snuffs his cigarette in the ash tray, and buries his face in his arms on his desk and he spends the evening sobbing quietly there until he falls asleep. He probably cried more in that four hours than he did during the rest of his adult life. A lot of things that would make a normal person cry just pissed him off instead, but he and Susie were really close and he hadn't dealt with loss in a long time. Anger wasn't going to get him anywhere while he was alone in his apartment, it wasn't going to bring her back, so crying was really all he had at this point. He'd wake up the next morning with a headache and pains in his neck and back from sleeping at his desk, and he'd spend his Saturday and Sunday grieving, trying to get as many emotions out as possible before Monday so he had less to sweep under the rug.

  Monday comes, and he’s back at the studio. Back to trying to act like he had made a full recovery in under a week, though it was clear her hadn’t. He was unusually quiet and more reserved, people were worried but fine with the change because it was better than him giving everyone a death glare and yelling at every other person he talked to. Nobody needed that right now. Now he kept his eyes to the floor and almost never spoke unless addressed first. He wanted to grieve on his own, so when Henry and Alice tried talking to him he shut them out. Alice would try this multiple times as she was also close to Susie and thought it would help if they got through it together, but when he started actively trying to avoid her she gave up. He couldn't even stand to look at her, Joey had made her with Susie in mind and they shared the same voice. She was her own person... er, toon? ...but she shared enough similarities with her voice actress that looking at her now just felt wrong, almost like talking to a ghost. Norman tried to offer his condolences when he found Sammy sulking around the recording booth while he thought he was alone, but he quickly ran out of the room and back to his office before he could even finish his first sentence. He so badly wanted someone to blame, someone to lash out at... but, it had been an accident. Accidents are accidents, there’s no one to blame no matter how hard he looked for any such person. He felt so displaced, like he was in a bubble from the rest of the world. He had a few quiet meltdowns in his office, and there were scattered days off born from dreams of a world where things turned out a more pleasantly, dreams of a future with a happier ending. They would nearly tear open the still-healing scars, and put him in enough of a bad mood that he didn’t even see the point in going to work. He wouldn’t have gotten any work done anyway.

  Sammy does not have the healthiest of coping habits, but he eventually... sort of got over her death. It subtly haunted him for the rest of his days, sure, and he wasn’t anywhere near the same for months - eventually he would get back to being the bitter asshole music director who hates everyone. Except, maybe just a little more bitter than he was before, and he couldn’t look at Alice without feeling heartbroken and sick for years.

[meenasmoon]

How about meena/johnny and the theater family dancing in the awesome looking club in the movie being nervous about dancing?

Johnny is me dancing but if I can get by so can he and so canMeena. Goodnight from paradise!

So You Think You Can Dance?

Meenacould hear the pounding beat of the bass coming through the walls of the cluband she nervously looked down at her outfit, smoothing the fabric of her dressnervously. She was wearing a sleeveless dress with a white top and a blackskirt with white pleats. She stumbled slighting in her strappy white sandals,quickly regaining her balance so that she could chase after Ash.

“Whyare we going to this club again?” she whispered nervously, clutching the fadedwhite clutch that her mother had loaned her. Ash was wearing ripped black andred striped tights, a black leather dress and her combat boots.

“Becausewe need a night out and Mike has got connections here.” Ash rolled her eyesaffectionately and grabbed Meena’s hand, dragging her towards the door. Theimpassive gorilla guarding the door held out his clipboard and when he foundtheir names on the list he opened the door and let them past. Meena stared athim nervously as they walked past, almost pleading for him to refuse to let herin, just so that she wouldn’t have to brave the club scene. The gorilla gaveher a wordless look but eventually he turned back to the crowdand she was dragged inside by Ash.

Immediatelyshe was bombarded by flashing strobe lights and the heavy thud of the beat. Thedance floor was completely covered by masses of writhing bodies and variousglowing balloons that were being passed around by the patrons. She lookedaround desperately for the rest of their group and she almost collapsed inrelief when she saw Rosita waving at them from a table on the upperlevel. 

Rositalooked radiant in a sparkly red dress with tassels that swirled andshimmered with her every movement. Her husband Norman was wearing histypical brown suit. They were both holding drinks and looked like they werehaving fun. Meena hurried over to the familiar faces, stumbling slightly overher own heels before sliding to a stop in front of the table.

Rositablinked slightly in surprise at her sudden entrance but she quickly recoveredand put a hand over Meena’s.

“I’mso glad you made it!” she yelled over the music and Meena smiled nervously upat her and then looked around in an odd mix of curiosity and fear.

“I’venever been in a club before!” she leaned in so that Rosita could hear her voiceover the music but her voice was too soft even when she yelled. Rosita justsmiled and nodded as if she understood. Ash slid up into a chair and waved downthe nearest waiter, ordering a strong drink and a platter of chips. 

Oneby one the rest of the theatre family trickled in and soon their table waspacked with drinks and food. Gunter had only lingered at the table long enoughto say hi before dashing off to the dance floor where he began displaying hiselaborate moves for everyone to see. Everyone else drifted onto the dancefloor, even Ash who was properly tipsy and was dancing with a muscular buffalodressed in all leather. Buster and Eddie were moving along to the beat withoutreally dancing but because of their age it was probably the most appropriateoption for them. However, the way that Eddie was downing drinks, Meena was surethat his moves would soon change. She was left alone to babysit everyone’sthings as well as the food and drinks that crowded the small surface that thetable provided.

Shewas playing a game on her phone when Johnny finally appeared, looking a littlerushed but still very handsome. He was wearing black jeans, a white t-shirtwith music notes flowing out of a piano and a black suit jacket with itssleeves rolled up. He was looking out at the dance floor when he initiallygreeted her but when he looked over at her he stopped short.

“‘EyMeena ‘ow’s it goin….” His eyes widened and he looked her over in a way thatmade her heart skip a beat in her chest. She offered him a drink menu and heglanced at it before sitting down next to her and turning all of his attentiontowards her. When the flirty waitress appeared out of nowhere he politelyordered his drink but promptly returned to his conversation with Meena. He wastelling her why he was late and how his truck had decided to have a minorbreakdown that day and was therefore out of order. Needless to say it was along walk, skateboard or not.

Withher advanced hearing she was able to make out what he said, even with his thickaccent, and thankfully she only had to shake her head or laugh at hiscorny jokes in order to keep up their conversation. The entire time they sippedtheir drinks and within an hour they had demolished quite a few glasses ofmixed drinks. Meena’s head was starting to feel kind of light and she waslooking at the dance floor with renewed interest. As if reading her mind,Johnny stood and offered her his hand, a lopsided smirk on his face.

“Wouldya loike a dance love?” He asked, and to her surprise and his she took his handand let him lead her out onto the dance floor. Once there she found herselfsurrounded by dancing strangers and not sure what to do. Despite the alcohol’seffects she started to get nervous and looked to Johnny for some kind ofguidance on how to act.

Whenshe saw him she nearly burst out laughing, but thankfully held it in. He wasdancing passionately and with a huge smile on his face but it was probably someof the worst moves she had ever seen. His arms were flailing without any kindof guidance and his hips were moving contrarily to the rest of his body.Meena’s smile grew like a weed and she slowly began moving her body to thebeat, trying to keep up with Johnny while not exactly matching his moves.

Shespent the rest of the song dancing like there weren’t crowds of people aroundher and she was completely confident in her dance moves. Somehow, Johnny’s baddancing made her feel more comfortable with dancing like she did at home whenshe was alone at home and singing into her hairbrush. If he could be braveenough to dance like that so could she.

Whenthe song ended, Johnny moved in close to her so that he could speak in her earwithout yelling at her. Meena’s entire face turned red at his close proximity,and she shivered when his breath tickled her ear in the best way.

“Yera great dancer.” He said and her blush automatically grew deeper and redder.Sure it wasn’t much of a compliment coming from someone like him who lookedlike he was having a seizure on the dance floor but it was still a complimentfrom a boy, from Johnny.

Justwhen she looked up at him to attempt a reply the music switched from anenergized dance beat to a slow, romantic song. Johnny wrapped an arm around herwaist and clasped her hand in his. He slowly swayed them to the beat of themusic, not saying a word and not really needing to. While he was awful atdancing on his own, he was a gentle dance partner who new how to follow a beatwith a girl in his arms.

Itwas like his dance skills did a U-turn and Meena decided that she had a lot tolearn about the handsome gorilla that was holding her close to his chest. Butlearning was for another time, because in this moment she laid her head on hisshoulder and relaxed happily. He steered her around the dance floor, narrowlymissing her toes a couple times before he seemed to get the hang of it.

Whenthe song was over she was reluctant to pull away from his embrace but the DJhad chosen another high-energy song to get the crowd going again. Meena jumpedwhen she was bumped in the head by one of the many balloons that were bouncingaround the cramped space, begging for attention. She bumped it away and watchedas it hit a motionless Johnny in the head, waking him up from whatever trancethat he was caught in. He weakly bumped it away and moved in close to Meenaagain.

“I’m reallyglad that you’re hat ‘ere wif me, ” He said in here and they were the onlymotionless figures in the middle of a mass of moving bodies. “I’m not reallythe best dancer but ‘avin’ ya ‘ere wif me means that it doesn’t matter.”

Meena’sheart definitely stopped beating.

Shelooked up at him in awe, surprised that he placed that much value in hercompany. Johnny began to move again, and this time she followed his every move,mirroring his horrifying dance moves as if she was learning from a master.They sped up at they finally got into the groove and soon they were doing theSprinkler to each other and pretending to lasso the other with a rope. It wasbad, and kind of embarrassing, but they didn’t notice because they were havingtoo much fun.

Theyalso didn’t notice Ash and Rosita watching them from the table with identicallooks of confusion on their faces. Finally Ash chose an opinion on the odddance that her two best friends were doing. She whipped out her smartphone andbegan taping their ridiculous moves. As she filmed they moved to a kind ofdance off where the moves were getting progressively horrid and complicated.

“Ilove those two dorks!” She yelled at Rosita who smiled and her face melted intoher marveling over their cuteness.

“They’reso cute together. It’s perfect.” She laughed and downed her drink beforeshimmying down onto the dance floor where Norman was waiting. At the same timethe buffalo rocker that she had been dancing with returned with their drinksand some spicy nachos.

“Oknow that’s what I call massacring a good song with your dance moves.” Hechuckled and Ash smirked as she jumped off the stool and down to the ground,the nachos clutched to her chest like a precious prize.

“That’s what I call true, horribly dorky love. I can almostguarantee it.”

[igotanaddixon]

Falling deep (Norman Reedus x Reader)

Fandom: The Walking Dead/ Norman Reedus 

A/N: Hi guys! I hope that this short imagine will be enough to make you wait for the requests I still have to write! I’m so sorry again! xxx Lisy 

(Y/N) = Your Name (y/h/c) = Your hair color (y/e/c) = Your eye color

Imagine being friend with Norman since you were kids and falling in love with him but not wanting to say anything about it, fearing to loose him.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You had the impression to live in a bad romance novel. Why? Because in those books the hero -being a woman or a man- always fall for the wrong person, the special someone who's simply inaccessible and too perfect. For you, it was your best friend Norman.

The two of you had always been inseparable since you were kids. He had been your only friend back then and he was now the only one who was still by your side. You had supported Norman since the first day you met, defending him against mean girls at school and giving him advices with girls. You were there when he got his heart broken for the first time, letting him cry on your shoulder and cuddle you all night long.

Norman had indeed done the same for you. He was a loyal friend and the most important person in your life. Slowly, you started to grow stronger feelings for him. Every time he would kiss your cheek, you would blush. Every time he would hold your hand while wandering down the streets with you, your heart would skip a beat. Every time he would hold you close, you would sigh and hug him tighter.

Every time he would tell you about another girl, you would cry yourself to sleep.

Life was hard after you realized what kind of feelings you truly had for Norman. You would constantly try to hide them, pretending not to be jealous or hurt but 'Oh Lord' was it hard!

What you didn't know was that Norman felt the same about you. He had always wanted to be more than your best friend but you never seemed to be interested. Even if he would hold you close for hours and whisper sweet nothings into your ears, you would still seemed to look at him as 'the good friend'. Norman had tried to tell you but he never found the courage to admit it, even to himself.

Nowadays, Norman was a really famous actor. He was working nonstop and so were you. You unfortunately grew apart and your health had slowly started to get worse. You weren't ill, you didn't have a major sickness but you were falling deep. Norman had always been your sanity, your only friend, loosing him and seeing his life throughout your social media accounts was killing you.

You saw how happy he seemed... Without you. He didn't need you as much as you needed him.

At least, that's what you thought.

You sighed as you stared at the screen of your phone. You were sitting on your sofa, staring at the same picture for almost 15 minutes now. The picture was one of Norman's Instagram account, he was with an unknown girl at a party.

She seemed nice and he seemed happy.

Your eyes slowly drifted to your lap, letting the tears drop into the dark fabric of your jeans, creating small darker wet patterns.

You placed your phone down on the sofa next to you and hugged your legs close to your chest, resting your forehead on top of your knees.

You missed him so much.

----------x----------x----------x----------

Norman checked his phone for the hundredth time today. He was waiting for (Y/N)'s call, every Friday when he was away for work or at home they would call each other and spend hours over the phone. Hearing her voice was for him a real relief. He knew that her voice was the one he wanted to hear every morning when he woke up and every evening when he went to sleep.

Weirdly, he didn't have any news about (Y/N) today and it was already 10 pm. Norman sighed and ran the palm of his hands several times over his face. He knew that (Y/N) had seen the picture of him and the lady on Instagram and he was afraid of her reaction. Norman shook his head, pissed off at how much he started to worry. Why would she feel bad about the picture anyway, she wasn't more than a friend. She never wanted more, even if he had always wanted more. The lady on the picture was actually the girlfriend of one of his friend who wanted him to attend the party with him. He didn't have the time to had a caption under the picture as a furious headache hit him directly after his friend had took the picture.

Norman got up and paced into his apartment. It made him sick to wait without knowing if you were fine or not. He had call your sister, asking if she had heard about you lately but she hadn't.

Even your mother hadn't hear about you the whole day. Norman bit the skin of his thumb nervously. 'What was happening to her?' He grabbed his phone and called you for the hundredth time.

"Please (Y/N), call me back when you got this message. I'm worried sick and so is your family. Please..."

Norman pleaded over the phone, his voice shaking with worry. He hung up and paced again, not knowing what to do. After a while, he couldn't help it anymore and grabbed his motorcycle keys and jacket before running out of his apartment.

----------x----------x----------x----------

You were still sitting on your sofa, time had passed and the rain was hardly tapping against the windows of your flat. The atmosphere in the room was thick and depressing but you didn't have the strength to move or to go out. You had seen the several missed calls on your cellphone but you didn't care who it was.

You simply wanted to be alone.

You knew that deep down it was a lie. You wanted to be with Norman, you wanted to be in his arms, you wanted to feel his warm and toned body against yours, you wanted to feel his long soft hair tickle your cheeks, you wanted to tell him how much you needed him.

You hugged your knees closer, feeling the suffocating spiral of despair spin and tighten around your small silhouette. You were drowned into sadness until the sound of you doorbell made you jump and gasp.

The time seemed to stop, the only sound you could hear was your laborious breath and your beating heart. You stared at your front door, the sound of the door bell seemed far away and the strong knocks too.

"(Y/N)!! Open the door! Please, open!"

His voice filled your ears and broke you out of your daze. You jumped up and walked carefully towards the door, touching it slightly with the tips of your fingers.

"N... Norman?"

You asked in a weak and low voice but the man seemed to hear it anyway.

"(Y/N)! Oh my God, are you alright?"

You leaned your head on the cold and hard wooden surface, closing your eyes and let his voice filled your heart.

"Y... Yes. I'm fine."

You lied but your voice cracked at the end, betraying you.

"Open the door, (Y/N). Please, we need to talk."

Your lips quivered as you felt new tears fall down your cheeks.

"I don't think so... There's nothing more to say, Norman."

"(Y/N), I need to understand. I need to know that you are fine and for that I need you to open the door."

His voice seemed calmer and nearer. You knew that he was probably in the same position you were in. His forehead probably touching the door inches higher than yours. You sighed then unlocked the door and backed away. Norman heard the sound of the lock and slowly opened the door.

His eyes widen as he saw you. You were a crying mess. Your face was covered in fallen mascara, your hair was all over your face and your eyes puffy and red but for him, you were still the most beautiful woman in the world.

Norman couldn't help it, in four long and quick steps he was on you with his arms cradling you against his chest. You let out a strong sob that made your body shake but this time Norman was there to comfort you. Instead of feeling yourself collapse under the ruthless pressure of sadness, you felt the warmth of his love envelop you.

You cried a bit more, relieving all the frustration you had alway kept locked inside. Norman was running his hands up and down your back, his lips left sweet kisses on your forehead and on your shoulder while he whispered sweet nothings and soothing words into your ears.

This time, you felt the unconditional love he had towards you. This time you knew that Norman wasn't the wrong person to fall for but the right one.

"(Y/N), what happened? What have I done?"

You shook your head, trying to tell him that it wasn't his fault. That you had never had the courage to act on your feelings and that it was eating you alive but the words were once again stuck in your throat.

"Was it the picture with Jess? Steven's girlfriend?"

Your eyes widen in shock. Steven's girlfriend?! You looked up at Norman and felt suddenly extremely stupid and embarrassed.

"Oh my God..."

You tried to pull away from him but Norman kept you close, searching your eyes.

"It was that, wasn't it?"

You nodded your head slowly before mastering the courage you needed to talk.

"I... It made me realize that you didn't need me to be happy anymore. Y... You're a famous guy, with fans and so many other friends and people who love you. You don't need me anymore but... I need you."

You finished as your eyes started to water once again. Norman looked at you as if you had two heads. He couldn't believe that you had kept all these depressing feelings inside whiteout telling him. He grabbed your face into his hands, cupping your red and wet cheeks into the palm of his hands.

"I need you too. I've always needed you. You think that now that I'm famous I don't want to be your friend and maybe you're right."

You gasped, feeling your heart break into million of pieces but Norman smiled uncomfortably and kept talking.

"I don't want to be your friend anymore, I want to be more. I want to be the lucky man who can wake up every morning next to you, I want to be the one who can hold you close all night long. I want to be the one you choose to spend the rest of your life with. I want to be the only one who can kiss your lips and love you. I want to be the only person who matters to you. I want to be your everything and I want you to be mine. I don't want to be your best friend anymore, I refuse to hide my feeling any longer because I love you, (Y/N). More than anything."

You cried as you listened to Norman's declaration. Your heart felt as if it could explode at any moment, not used to feel so much happiness and joy. You sobbed happily, a small laugh escaping your lips as you threw yourself at Norman. You hugged him tightly, hearing his chuckles and feeling his soft hair tickle your cheek. You smiled and pulled away to look at him.

"I've always loved you, Norman. As long as I can remember you had always been the only one for me. You mean the world to me and I can't live without you by side. I love you, mister Reedus."

You beamed at the man before you, expecting another hug but Norman brought his lips down on yours instead. You closed your eyes as soon as his soft and warm lips touched yours. The feeling was so perfect that you couldn't help but let a small moan escape your lips. You tangled your fingers into his hair and jumped up to wrap your legs around his waist. Norman caught your with ease and held you close as he kissed you passionately. The kiss was full of love and need but you had to broke apart to breathe eventually.

"I will never let you go, my love."

Norman whispered against your lips then pecked them slowly. You smiled against his lips, finally feeling where you were meant to be.

"I will always love you, Norman."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

And a Happy New Year folks! (A bit late lol) 

[meenasmoon]

How about meena x johnny swimming and johnny helping meena how to swim ?

It;s been a long day of shopping and excitement but I’m getting into the groove of responding to these asks. I can do it! i can do it! Anyways, thanks for this little gem of a prompt anon.

Swimming Lessons

It was the middle of summer and the heat was nearly unbearable in its intensity, and yet Meena refused to move from her spot on the pool chair. The entire theatre family had gathered for a barbeque at Eddie’s house one afternoon in order to celebrate Johnny’s birthday. Meena had been eager to go until she found out that the party was a pool party. In that moment her paralyzing fear had set in. 

She hasn’t been truly paralyzed by fear since her first performance, but then again she hadn’t had an intense fear of drowning before then. She agonized over whether or not to pretend to be sick and skip the party to preserve her dignity or suck it up and sit on the edge of the pool with her feet in the water the whole time.

 Twenty minutes before the party, standing in her bedroom in her bathing suit and pool cover dress with a towel in hand she decided to pretend to be sick. Unfortunately for her, her mother didn’t buy it and practically forced her into their old car. She spent the entire drive rambling about how Meena needed to branch out and socialize more and Meena was inwardly hyperventilating. When they arrived at Eddie’s estate her mother drove around back where she could see the others enjoying the pool area. 

Meena took a deep breath and gripped the door handle with a death grip. She took another deep breath and stared at her hand as if that would inspire it to move and open the door. It didn’t work. She looked at her mother one last time to see if she would take her home but she was gone. Suddenly the door opened from the outside and Meena’s mom gently pulled her daughter out of the car. She gave Meena a big hug before getting in the car and driving away. Meena was left standing in the driveway, completely petrified. 

Eventually she worked up the courage to go through the gate and walk over to the pool area. She greeted her friends with a shaky smile and hurried over to a pool chair. She set down her things and stiffly laid back on the chair. Around her the party continued and she tried for a few minutes to distract herself by observing what the others were doing. Rosita had set up a slip n’ slide for her piglets and they were all taking turns sliding downhill in various ridiculous positions. Rosita was standing next to the grill chatting with her husband Norman, who was busily cooking lunch. Buster and Eddie were having a jumping contest on the diving board like children. Ash was laying on a nearby pool chair sunning with her sunglasses on and her headphones in her ears. Johnny, the birthday boy himself, was swimming in the pool, laughing as he judged the jumping contest. Meena fleetingly wished that she could get in the water with him and enjoy the party, but that only turned her thoughts to the water. Instead of panicking outwardly, she pretended to be sunning like Ash, but in reality her mind was filled with the rushing water, the burning in her lungs from a lack of air and the all encompassing fear that gripped every inch of her body. 

She sat like that for what felt like hours but her fear refused to go away. Just when she thought that she could go put her feet in the water it would surge back up in her head and send her into another silent panic attack. 

The torturous cycle was broken when she heard Johnny’s sweet voice calling her name. She sat up and looked at him in surprise. He was leaning against the side of the pool with his arms crossed in front of him on the pool deck. He was resting his head on his arms and smiling up at her. 

“Come swim wif me Meena.” he called to her and Meena’s heart jumped into her throat as her stomach sunk to her feet. She was beyond happy that he wanted her of all animals to swim with him, hang out with him, but her fear was bigger than her crush in that moment. She smiled nervously and shook her head no, unable to refuse his request verbally. 

He frowned for a second before reaching out his hand and smiling mischievously, “Ya ‘ave ter. It’s me birthday wish.” And just like that he won.

Meena stood on shaky legs and slowly removed her pool dress, revealing a lavender one piece bathing suit that tied off behind her neck, leaving her back exposed. Tentatively she walked towards the pool, her throat dry. She focused on Johnny, who was now beaming as he watched her approach. Instead of heading for the stairs to get into the pool she sat down on the side and carefully slide her feet into the cool waters. 

Johnny swam over to where she was sitting and habitually slicked back his wet hair, effectively making his unruly hair bounce back messier than before. If Meena hadn’t been consumed with her fear of the water she probably would have been charmed beyond belief by that small move. 

Johnny stood up on the shallow bottom of the poll and waded the rest of the way over. “Tha’s not exactly swimmin’ Meena.” He scolded her playfully and took her hand in his. He gave it a playful tug, trying to pull her in the water but Meena resisted with every ounce of her being, despite that fact that her heart wanted to jump in that water and enjoy her time with Johnny. She was trying to calm her already pounding heart when Johnny tugged again and sent her sliding into the pool. 

She immediately panicked, thrashing around and desperately trying to fine traction on the slick floor of the pool. Her frantic motions sent her back to the edge and she grabbed onto it like her life depended on it, which she was pretty sure that it did. She tried frantically to restart her heart, which felt frozen in shock. She was still gripping the edge when Johnny’s hand gently came to rest on her shoulder. With a slight pressure he turned her around to face him. At the sight of his face screwed up in concern for her, her heart started beating once more, fast and frantic. 

“Meena ‘re ya okay? I didn’t meant ter scare ya.” he looked honestly concerned that it was his fault that she was freaking out and for some reason that calmed her down enough to let her get some words out. 

“You didn’t scare me…the pool… I haven’t been able to get near a lot of water since the theatre was destroyed.” She stuttered out her explanation, pleading with her eyes for him to understand and not laugh in her face. Thankfully, his concern changed to deep understanding and her pulled her away from the ledge to be enveloped in a tight hug. Meena clung to him out of fear and the need for support and when he pulled away slightly she kept a weary eye on the ledge that was so close yet so far away.

Johnny followed her gaze to the ledge and then turned back to look at her with a new determination shining in his eyes. “Meena, do ya trust me?” Meena tentatively nodded her head yes, unsure where he was going with this.He smiled and slowly started to walk towards the deep end with Meena still clinging onto his arms. He stopped at the very edge of where he could stand and Meena was already hyperventilating, her eyes glued to the slightly dark water. Johnny turned her head to look at him and they stayed there for a little bit. Just when Meena opened her mouth to ask him to take her back someone turned up the radio so that familiar melody drowned out her words. Johnny smiled encouragingly and began singing along.

Just a small town girl

Living in a lonely world

She took the midnight train goin’ anywhere

He nodded to Meena who kept her eyes on him and shakily sang the next lyrics, her confidence rising with each word.

Just a city boy

Born and raised in south Detroit

He took the midnight train going anywhere

Johnny slowly spun her around, getting her comfortable in the water where she could still stand and depend on him to hold her up. As they slowly danced under the water he continued singing along, occasionally joined by Meena.

A singer in a smoky room

A smell of wine and cheap perfume

For a smile they can share the night

It goes on and on, and on, and on

As the chorus started he stopped singing and pulled her out to the deeper waters where she could no longer touch. Her confidence evaporated but before she could start to panic he grabbed her hand and held her steady above the surface, showing her how to kick with her feet. When she stopped singing he gave her a meaningful look and she nervously joined into the chorus of the song.

Strangers waitin’

Up and down the boulevard

Their shadows searching in the night

Streetlights, people

Livin’ just to find emotion

Hidin’ somewhere in the night

By the end of the chorus she was singing just as strongly as she was kicking and she was too wrapped up in Johnny and the song that she was singing to let the fear take her over. A smile broke out on her lips and even though she was still gripping Johnny’s arms she felt like she was able to relax. At least she was until he started to pull away.

She went silent and watched him nervously as he pulled away from her grip and showed her how to use her arms to keep herself afloat without him. This time Meena kept singing along without his prompting, knowing that if she focused on him and the music then everything would be okay.

Workin’ hard to get my fill

Everybody wants a thrill

Payin’ anythin’ to roll the dice

Just one more time

Some will win, Some will lose

Some were born to sing the blues

Oh, the movie never ends

It goes on and on, and on, and on

Just as she was getting comfortable Johnny grabbed her hand once more and began leading her in swimming around the pool. She watched his movements and copied him easily, gliding through the water a little awkwardly but effectively nonetheless. She began to enjoy the feeling of the water flowing around her and appreciated how it cooled her down in the face of the heat of the sun. She continued to sing with each stroke, a habit starting to form as the echo of the music danced around in her brain.

Strangers waitin’

Up and down the boulevard

Their shadows searchin’ in the night

Streetlights, people

Livin’ just to find emotion

Hidin’ somewhere in the night

Johnny stopped moving motioned for her to watch him as he took a deep breath and dove under the surface, swimming around underneath her before coming up for air with a big smile on his face. Meena began shaking her head frantically as he pointed to her and panic welled up inside of her. She could handle being above water but what if she ran out of air? What if he didn’t save her in time? What if she drowned?

Johnny saw her rising panic and quickly swam over to her side, letting her hold onto his arms again. “Meena, Meena.” he gently called her name and she focused in on his big brown eyes, so caring and warm.

“Relax. It’s gonna be ok, you’ll be fine.” he said slowly, squeezing her hands gently to let her know that he was there, he was holding onto her, and she was safe. Meena’s heart slowed in her chest but that didn’t stop her brain from producing scenario after horrible scenario.

“What if you don’t get to me in time? What if I-“ he cut her off with a finger to her lips and immediately replaced that horrible thought with the most romantic thing that she had ever heard.

“I will always save ya. Always.” He looked so serious when he said it that Meena couldn’t find the words to argue with him. He just said it like it was a fact of nature, an inevitable future, a law, and how could she possibly refute that? Why would she want to?

Don’t stop believin’

Hold on to the feelin’

Streetlights, people

Ohh-Ohhh-Ohhhhhhhh

“Do ya trust me?” He asked softly and Meena immediately nodded, hoping that she was nodding fast enough to convince him.

Don’t stop believin’

Hold on to the feelin’

Streetlights, people

Ohh-Ohhh-Ohhhhhhhh

“Do ya trust me ter save ya?” he asked again and Meena nodded much slower this time, taking the time to convince both him and herself. She knew that he would be right there, he had promised.

Don’t stop believin’

Hold on

Streetlights, people

Ohh-Ohhh-Ohhhhhhhh“Then let’s do this. Together.” he declared and Meena slowly followed him below the surface, closed her eyes and was suddenly completely surrounded by water. For all of a few seconds images of her near-drowning experience flashed through her mind. She quickly banished them with the lyrics to the song that was now firmly burned into her mind.

Don’t stop believin’

Hold on to the feelin’

Streetlights, people

Ohh-Ohhh-Ohhhhhhhh

At that exact moment Johnny’s hand clasped hers and led her up to the surface where she gulped in precious air and let out a joyful laugh that was music to his ears. She began swimming around him, playfully splashing him with water and laughing when her returned her attacks.

“I knew ya could do it.” He said as he watched her dive under him and swim around the bottom of the poll, little bubbles following her in a trail. She popped up once more and swam over to him to envelope him in a gentle but sincere hug. She leaned up and whispered in his ear jsut as his arms came around to hug her with as much affection if not more.

“Maybe swimming isn’t so bad.” Meena shrugged and dove under the surface. As soon as she disappeared he followed suit, playfully chasing her around the large pool. Everyday, especially his brithday, was a good day when he could make Meena smile just like that.