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bumbleklee · 3 years

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philocaly (kaeya x reader)

masterlist | 1k prompt masterlist | discord server

★ ironically this came to me in a dream last night lol. it’s also 4 in the morning so please excuse anything that makes no sense <3

★ summary: you have the worst nightmare of your life but thankfully kaeya is there to calm you down

★ content warning: there’s a very quick, very vague sex scene that isn’t detailed at all but just so everyone knows. major angst but also major comfort so do with that what you will. also reader was written as female but its pretty vague so feel free to imagine them as whoever you want

philocaly

(n) the love of beauty

The first thing you noticed when you opened your eyes was the intoxicating smell of gasoline that surrounded you. Your body felt sticky and wet and it didn’t take long for you to realize you were drenched in petroleum. You felt dazed and when you tried to look around, your eyesight blurred and you stared into a cloudy abyss.

A voice began speaking and you jolted up, trying to find the source only to find absolutely nothing. You didn’t even know if you were sitting in a chair.

“So naive…”

Your breath caught in your throat when you recognized the voice as Kaeya’s. But your mouth wasn’t moving. You thrashed around but it was like your arms were being held down by invisible bonds.

“Don’t panic, pretty,” Kaeya said. His voice echoed around the room and finally the clouds started to dissipate. Your beloved boyfriend stood feet away from you, wearing a brilliant white tuxedo. “We’re just going to talk. For now.”

Out of thin air, Kaeya pulled a chair in front of you. He sat down in it backwards, leaning his head on his arms. He had his signature smile on his face but his eyes were dull and emotionless. Suddenly your feet hit something hard and you glanced down, seeing a polished wooden floor beneath your shoes.

“Tell me, Y/N,” Kaeya purred, looking at you in a way that made you shiver, “Do you really think you amount to anything in this world?”

His words stunned you. What was going on? You gaped your mouth to speak but no words came out. You didn’t know what to say.

“It would solve a lot of problems if we just got rid of you right now, don’t you think? I would finally be free to find someone worth my time and the rest of Mondstadt would be happy to have such a burden lifted.”

You felt like your throat was on fire. You couldn’t believe Kaeya was saying these things to you but he really was. Tears streamed down your face and you sharply inhaled, your chest aching in pain. You prayed that this was some sick joke.

The gasoline that was poured on your head before started to run down your face, sliding between your eyes and burning your nostrils when you breathed.

“You’re crying now? How pathetic,” Kaeya laughed. He shoved his hand into the pocket of the tuxedo jacket and pulled out a pack of matches. Your eyes widened and you felt yourself stop breathing momentarily. He hummed casually and stood up from the chair, “I can’t wait to find someone so much better.”

You tried to scream, defend yourself, but no sounds came out. It was like your voice box had been ripped away. Your eyesight was blurry again from your tears but you couldn’t even wipe them away. A gloved hand reached out and gripped your jaw, pulling your face upwards. Kaeya was in front of you now, his eyes even more sadistic than before. He cocked his head at you and rubbed his thumb along your bottom lip.

“You always had such an ugly face.”

And with that, Kaeya ripped his hand away and lit a match. He threw it at you carelessly and turned on his heel. As soon as the tiny flame touched the gasoline, it was like an explosion. The flames crawled up your legs and surrounded your body. You had never felt this kind of pain before and it was unbearable. Once again, you tried to scream but only silent heaves escaped your throat. The last thing you saw was Kaeya’s long ponytail being thrown over his shoulder before the flames consumed you.

You shot up in bed, your hands clutching your nightgown like never before. You heaved and erratically inhaled, trying to catch your breath. While you couldn’t feel the flames anymore, in that moment they felt so real. Never before had you had such a horrendous nightmare and you didn’t know how to handle it.

Kaeya’s words rang through your head over and over again. You couldn’t stop the tears falling from your eyes, only this time you could reach up and wipe them away. Hands crawled up your shoulders and Kaeya, the real one, rubbed them slowly.

“You’re drenched in sweat, Princess,” He mumbled, “What happened?”

Your blood grew cold as your dream replayed. You choked back a sob and managed to twist your body so you were facing Kaeya. “I’m okay,” You lied, your voice hoarse and quiet, “I’m just a little shaken up.” Kaeya raised an eyebrow at you. He had seen you shaken up before and it was never this extreme. He opened his mouth to speak but you surged forward, pressing your lips against his. “I want to do it. Right now.”

“What?” Kaeya mumbled between desperate, rough kisses. Normally he wouldn’t be opposed to a spontaneous midnight session but you were clearly in distress.

“Please,” Your voice cracked. You needed to be intimate with Kaeya right now, you needed to feel his body flush against yours. You needed to know that he still wanted you.

Kaeya only nodded and let you push him back onto the bed. You inhaled sharply again and rubbed your cheeks. You slung a leg over Kaeya and wasted no time in kissing down his neck. You placed wet kisses on his skin and Kaeya’s hands grazed your hips. If this was going to make you feel better right now, then he would do anything you wanted.

You inched backwards so your crotch was over Kaeya’s and you pulled down his pants quickly. He was still soft but you didn’t care, lifting up your nightgown and lowering yourself onto Kaeya. He didn’t make his usual sound of pleasure when he entered you but you paid no mind, placing your hands flat on Kaeya’s stomach so you could move your hips and back forth. Your movement was erratic and, honestly, didn’t feel good at all but you needed this intimacy now.

When you and Kaeya made love, it was gentle and sensual. He treated you like glass and his touches made you feel like you were on cloud nine. But this didn’t feel right. You weren’t feeling loved and beautiful this time. You could only think about what Kaeya said in your dream and maybe he was right.

You started crying again and Kaeya’s heart ached. He hated seeing you like this and he knew that having sex wasn’t what you needed right now.

“Alright, we’re done,” Kaeya said softly. His hands tried to lift you off of him but you only ground your hips down and let out a sob.

“No!” You cried, “We have to finish. We have to.”

“No, we don’t,” Kaeya countered. He suddenly overpowered you, lifting your hips off his and moving you beside him in bed. He pulled his pants back up and pulled your nightgown back down. This time, Kaeya leaned over you and boxed your head in with his arms so you couldn’t roll away. “Tell me what happened.”

At this, your cries turned into uncontrollable sobs. You couldn’t breathe and inaudible words floated out of your mouth. You tried to explain your dream but your wails only drowned it out. Kaeya waited patiently for you to stop crying. He hated seeing you cry but knew you needed this and wasn’t going to push you to stop anytime soon.

He stayed perfectly still until your sobs eventually died out. You were still a teary, sniffling mess but at least you could form coherent sentences now. You shakily explained your dream, repeating what was said to you by the love of your life. Kaeya listened and felt sick. His nose brushed against yours.

“None of that is true,” Kaeya said firmly. His eyes stared intensely into yours and your bottom lip quivered again, “You know that, right?”

“I’m so in love with you,” You started, “So in love that a nightmare about you not loving me is more painful than getting stabbed fifty times. I want to be enough for you.”

“You are enough for me.”

Kaeya’s hands brushed through your hair gently, his thumbs rubbing circles in your temple. Your eyes felt heavy and stung from your hysteria. You snaked your arms around Kaeya’s waist and managed to maneuver your bodies so you were both lying on your sides. Kaeya pulled you close to him and you found solace in the crook of his neck. Kaeya pressed soft, warm kisses all over your face and kissed away the rest of your tears.

“I love you, too,” He whispered.

Your eyes fluttered closed and Kaeya waited until your breathing was normal again to close his own. His hand found yours and laced your fingers together and in that moment you realized that this was the intimacy you were longing for so deeply. Your dream that night would haunt you probably for the rest of your life but as long as you could bring yourself back to reality, back to Kaeya, you would be okay.

Kaeya pressed a final kiss to your temple and spoke one last time before sleep overcame you both. Quoting your favorite book Kaeya said, “I’m in love with you, and I know that love in just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we’re all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we’ll ever have, and I am in love with you.”

a/n: did i just quote tfios? yes <3

#kaeya x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin kaeya #kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaeya x you #genshin x you #genshin self insert #genshin writing #genshin drabble #genshin headcanons

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tokisguitarpick · 3 years

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drunken skunk

Characters: Toki Wartooth x Reader

Words: 2500+ holy FUCK

A/N: hey i written in uhh 1000 years and i just binged metalocolypse on hbomax which apparently unlocked something in me. this fic takes place immediately following fertilityklok because I’ve had a weird amount of experience talking to men who want but for some reason can’t/don’t have children and watching Toki worry about it gave me feelings i just wanted someone to kiss him and tell him he was okay:( so he turned down the woman in the ep, went home and fucked, wakes up and doesn’t actually feel that much better so drinking, smoking, not being understood by his bandmates, leads to going somewhere else to drink, and that’s where we are. i also like the idea that the band members have slutted around so often that even blitz drunk, they’d still be quick and nimble in the sack

“Y/N, can you come to my office, please?” Charles’s voice came through your cell phone.

You had the phone pressed to your cheek, despite the spikes digging into your shoulder, as you pulled on a pair of socks. When you saw Charles calling you, it was almost always to request you come to his office for a task so it was second nature to get dressed when his name popped up. “Of course, sir.” His thanks were short before the line clicked off and you were left alone to finish getting ready.

_________

Scooting past a masked employees leaving Charles’s office, you stood in front of your boss and nodded when he met your eye over the documents on his desk. “Y/N, thank you for coming. We’ve got a small situation I’m hoping we can keep small.” Your brow furrowed as he picked up his phone and start swiping through it.

“What’s the matter, sir?” you asked.

Charles held up a finger, continuing to swipe until he finally clicked a button and a whaling voice suddenly filled the room.

“Whys is this happening to mes, iS AMS I UGLIES?! Ams I- Ma’am, MA’AMS, AMS I UGLI-“

The silence that followed Charles pausing the recording was deafening. “Um, was that-“

“Toki, yes,” Charles cut you off. “He’s currently at the Drunken Skunk and is living up to the name. I need you to go collect him as discreetly as possible.” As though that was all the information you needed, Charles began looking over the paperwork in front of him again.

You sighed quietly, you hated how little you got told about your tasks since they always spiraled into some kind of crazy mess when the members of Dethklok were involved, but Charles wasn’t one to question. “Yes, sir. Consider it done.”

You turned on your heel and began to head out but when your hand touched the doorknob, Charles spoke again. “Oh, and Y/N? Be careful. Toki has been sensitive since his birthday. Tread carefully.”

Brow furrowed again, you glanced back but Charles was already looking away, eyes on his documents. You wondered what he meant but as always, better not to question him. Stepping into the hallway, you let his office door swing shut behind you as you headed into the night.

___________

The Drunken Skunk was a dingy little bar on the edge of downtown whose usual crowd were streetwalkers and weary men, so it wasn’t crazy that Toki had decided to come here but as you drove closer and closer, you were surprised how dingy it in fact was. It was cheek to cheek with the industrial district, had an empty printing shop on one side, and a storefront covered in plywood on the other. You parked in front of the boarded-up shop and did a quick check on all sides for sketchy characters before you stepped out of the car.

The bar was choked with cigarette smoke, and the stench of stale alcohol and vomit. You frowned, standing in the door while you scanned the dirty room until your eyes fell on a heaving form slumped across the bar. Toki.

His long hair was draped over his shoulders and hung down his back, quivering slightly with each heave. It seemed like he was crying, his head buried in his arms. “AMS I UGLIES?” rang in your ears again and your frown softened. You weren’t sure what had happened, but you had noticed he’d been… off since his birthday.

You had thought it was related to the fake kidnapping that kicked off the party- a horrific and idiotic idea you had spoken out against and were immediately told by Nathan not to be a bitch about- but even that wouldn’t lead to the question of if he was ugly. Would it? The Dethklok members were strange. Five lives full of tragedy and unprocessed trauma all packed into the most popular band in the world made for an uneasy balance in the workplace and living quarters. You were skilled at navigating it when you had to clear up the messes, but you were hardly ever around for the inciting event so it was always tricky to understand how it all connected.

You approached cautiously and made sure to make a little noise so you wouldn’t spook him. If he heard you, he showed no reaction, so you perched on the bar stool beside him. “Hey, Toki?”

The guitarist lifted his head finally and his red rimmed eyes were bleary when they met yours. “Y/N? Whats is *hic* you doings heres?” His voice was hoarse and thick with tears, a few of which were clinging to his eyelashes and glittered in the dim light. It made his grey-blue eyes shine and your breath caught in your throat. You had to admit, Toki was your favorite member of the band and it had little to do with his musical talent. You weren’t one for metal much anyway.

What drew you to Toki was first his appearance. Back when you were just applying for a position at the record company behind Dethklok, he’d caught your eye on the poster in the lobby. Long hair on men was something of a turn-on and his piercing gaze struck a chord inside you. His angular face and extremely fit build made him one of the hottest members in your opinion but on top of all of that, he was a sweetheart. That wasn’t written on the poster, of course, it was something you’d discovered about a week after you started when he was the only person besides Charles to take the time to learn your name and point your in the right direction. You wouldn’t say you were close but you had a causal friendship, just right for making light conversation during elevator rides and not much else.

“I’m here for you, Toki,” you replied, trying to master a tone that was both soft and cheery. “I came to take you home.”

“Takes me… No! I wants to stay heres. I-I-” His bottom lip started to quiver as he spoke but you put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, hey, relax, Toki. It’s just late and I think it’d be good for us to get you into bed,” you gave him a small smile, trying to coax his drunken mind into listening to you. He might be slim but if he tried to fight you on leaving, you’d have your hands full. Maybe you should’ve asked for an escort…

Toki slumped on the bar again with a huff before sliding off his stool towards you, prompting you to hop up quickly to catch him as he stumbled to his feet. He was heavy with alcohol and leaning on you to keep steady, so trudging to the door became a task. Despite having at least half a foot on you, his face was nestling further and further in your hair until you could feel his breath on the back of your neck.

You could feel your cheeks warming but it wasn’t until you got out the door, opened the back of the car, and loaded Toki halfway in that you really had a reason to blush.

“Y/N, ams I uglies?” Toki asked suddenly, looking up at you from under his lashes. He only had his butt on the edge of the car’s bench seat, looking at you with his face inches from yours, and fresh tears welling in his eyes.

Your eyes widened and your blush raged in full. Working around the object of your affection, even when that work was dragging him out of a shitty bar, was easy enough. Being asked directly about it by him was a whole other thing. Swallowing against the sudden knot in your throat, you decided to be honest and lightly shook your head. “No, Toki, not at-“

Anything and everything else you might be about to say was thrown out the window because the moment you said no, Toki launched forward. One hand on your hip, he lifted the other to your shoulder and pulled you to him lightening fast, his mouth finding yours with a squish. In his drunken state, he was a little sloppy at first but his skill began to show itself. His tongue traced the dip between your lips as he pulled you against his chest, your head fogging when he nipped your bottom lip. It was finally enough to coax your mouth open and Toki took full advantage of that fact, squeezing your hip as his other hand, warm and calloused, slipped around your neck and held you to him. Electricity jumped through you when his tongue met yours, twirling together for a moment before he moved on to exploring your mouth with a greedy moan.

“Wa-wait,” you mumbled around his lips. This was moving too fast, or maybe the fact it was happening at all was what was making you feel overwhelmed in the moment. It took everything in you to pull away, a solid percentage of your mind screaming at you to continue, to let Toki think he had control of the situation and see how far you could get with him. But you couldn’t. He was drunk and clearly something was bothering him enough to drink in the first place. You needed to just get him home. Plus if you did anything with Toki, you’d like for him to remember it, too. “Toki, wait.”

Your eyes met his just in time to watch his face crumple. The only way to describe his expression was pure heartbreak. The disappearance of his hands on your body made you miss the weight of them instantly but you hardly noticed, watching him melt right in front of you.

“I ams uglies, I knews it! I knews it!” Desperate and broken, his voice turned your stomach. His shaky hands found his hair and he began tugging on the ends, seemingly unaware of the motion. “No ones will loves me, I’ms hideous, I wills never find love! I wills never finds the mother ofs my childrens!”

While you had been paralyzed with bewilderment, his last sentence only compounded your confusion but brought you back into the moment enough to move again. Toki had cringed away from you, burying his face in the back of the passenger seat while still tugging on his hair, and you hurriedly heaved his long legs into the footwell before shutting the door and jogging around to the other side.

Even sealed in the car, you could hear his drunken crying. It twisted your heart but still, the mother of his children? Is that what he thought of you? Your blush burned your cheeks once more but you shook the thought off. He must’ve been crying about this when he left that voicemail for Charles. But what had happened?

Opening the back door on the other side, you slipped inside and snapped the door closed behind you. Toki seemed worse than before, now holding his face in his hands and heaving with small sobs. “Whats is it, Y/N? Whats makes me so uglies? I can change! I has monies, I can change!”

You furrowed your brows and put a hand on his arm, scooting closer to him. “Toki, you’re not ugly.” Quicker than you expected, his head snapped towards you.

“Then whys do you not likes to kiss me?” His lip started to quiver and you expected another outburst but his eyes stayed locked on you, expecting an answer.

Your mouth was dry and you scrambled for an answer that would keep him from crying again. How had you ended up here? Eyes darting around the car, you quickly mumbled, “I do, I liked the kiss! I jus-“

Once again, the Dethklok guitarist moved faster than you thought in his state. His hands found your face and pulled you up to him, putting you nose to nose with the lanky musician. His eyes were bloodshot and rimmed red from tears but it only exacerbated how bright his stormy irises were. You felt nervous and excited and tingly all over from being held so close and you hardly dared to breathe. Hypnotized by his gaze, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. “Thens kiss me,” he murmured in a throaty voice. It made you shiver and lust began to haze your thoughts, the previous kiss still so fresh in your mind when his lips found yours again.

Slowly this time- painfully, delightfully slowly- Toki kissed you. His hands nearly covered the sides of your head as he held you in place, his lips closed while he kissed you once, twice, three times before deepening it. You let him without hesitation, heat coiling in your stomach. Of course, the thought of breaking the kiss occurred to you but with every motion of his, that thought got further and further away. Toki’s tongue slipped past your lips again and he gently stroked over yours as he made his way around your mouth. You returned the kiss with fervor, trying to match his speed to keep him close as long as possible.

One hand on top of his over your cheek, you let your other wander. His knee pressing into your thigh, then up the outside of his leg to rest on his hip and give it a squeeze. He moaned in your mouth and your body responded in kind, your own moan escaping as the heat in your belly moved south. When his free hand fisted in your hair and tugged, you wondered if maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Toki didn’t remember your hookup. Hell, maybe it would keep things from getting awkward at work?

Skwisgaar’s best guitar solo blared through the vehicle, interrupting your mental plan to get the man in front of you undressed. It was your phone, ringing out from your back pocket, and you knew without looking that it was Charles. He tended to check status on the jobs he gave people, especially when they went alone, as the Dethklok members seemed to have a way of making mountains out of molehills and then exploding the mountain into a bunch of fiery chunks raining from the sky.

Toki hadn’t stopped kissing you. If anything, he seemed more desperate, his hands falling to your shoulders and tugging at your shirt. But you straightened up and caught his large wrists to still him. Pulling away, your lips tingled and you had to blink a few times to gather yourself. “I have to get that, hang on.” Your voice was hoarse and you cleared it twice as you pulled the phone from your pocket and selected ‘Answer’. Toki huffed but he seemed much more relaxed compared to the last interruption, leaning back against the seat and putting his large hand on your thigh with his eyes closed.

“Hello?” you asked, still trying to steady your voice.

“Y/N, any updates?” Charles bluntly asked back.

You cleared your throat again and replied, “Everything’s going well, I just got Toki in the car,” the guitarist squeezed your leg at the sound of his name, “and we’re about to head back home.” The thought of leaving the back seat, of having to drive with the fruity taste of whatever he’d been drinking still on your tongue and the memory of his hands on you front and center in your mind, nearly made you groan aloud but you held yourself back.

“Good, good. Knew you could handle it.” *click*

Just like that, Charles had broken the heady mood and hung up in under a minute. You sighed, knowing what the right thing to do was and knowing exactly what you wanted to do instead. As if reading your thoughts, Toki spoke, “Wes don’t has to leaves yet, does we?”

“We does,” you replied playfully, trying to convince yourself of that fact. It wasn’t often that you wished for another job, one where you could be a groupie, act a little slutty, and turn one of your daydreams into a reality. But this was one of those times. However, people got fired- or killed- at work for less and you wouldn’t have even gotten into Dethklok if it weren’t for your job.

Toki sighed, squeezing your thigh again and holding it for a moment. Glancing at him, you’re eyes scanned his face thoroughly. His eyes were closed and his head was tilted back on the headrest, giving you an eyeful of his neck and throat. He had the slightest stubble growing and as you watched, he gulped, making his Adam’s apple bounce. You wanted to remember this moment, every detail, as though that would make it last longer. While you were looking, he opened his eyes and caught yours.

“But you liked to kissing mes?” he asked, his voice more nervous than you’d heard all night. “You thinks I’ms is handsome?”

You hesitated before concluding the cat was fully out of the bag on this one and nodded. “I liked kissing you and I think you’re handsome, Toki. If you asked, I might even say you’re hot as fuck.”

Toki beamed at you, nudging you with his knee. He seemed too tired to move as fast as he was in the heat of the moment but he reached to put his hand on your hip and squeezed. “Okies, you cans drives us home. We is goings to my room,” you blushed but he continued without notice, “we cans talk, I ams asking you questions, it is ams dates.”

#metalocalypse #toki wartooth x reader #so i'm open for writing more but if it's for other characters give me detailed prompts because.....#i may have only really paid attention to toki and nathan #but i wanna rewatch it to get more details anyways so yeah i hope you enjoy #also if you read this and know the right tags to put other fics in let me know!!

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eideticmemory · 4 years

Text

TWO GHOSTS | MATTHEW G. GUBLER

It’s been 15 years. 15 years has to be long enough . . . right?

Set 15 years after the end of Ever Since New York, so give that a read first!

Word Count: 3.1k.

Warning: Usual angst, porn, and poor communication amongst characters.

SOUNDTRACK:

Maps - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Stop the World, I Wanna . . . - Artic Monkeys

Space Song - Beach House

May 16, 2002.

New York City, New York.

“[y/n] . . .” Claire whispered. “Honey, c’mon . . . just, try to sit up.”

You couldn’t. You just, couldn’t. It was as if your entire body was filled to the brink with sand — coarse, wet, heavy sand — and it was weighing you down, keeping you anchored to Claire’s bed. Your head rested in her lap, and your fist gripped, tightly, onto the fabric of her jeans — which were stained with your tears. Her hand ran along your spine, and her arm wrapped around you, protectively. She wanted to shield you, she wanted to keep you safe, happy. She wanted to distract you from your luggage laid out on the floor.

But, the pressure of her body, coddling you, God, it just hurt. Everything hurt, and you couldn’t get it to stop, and you couldn’t stop sobbing, ugly sobbing, snot running down your lips.

“Cl—Claire . . .” you whined. “I . . . I . . .” your hand flew to your mouth, muffling a loud and painful sob that echoed throughout the room.

“I know, I know . . .” she cooed, kissed the top of your head, and ran her hand over your hair. “It’s okay, don’t try to talk, just rest.”

Claire held you, all day and all night on May 16, 2002. She held you until you lost your voice, until you cried yourself to sleep, and after that, she still held you.

Because it was May 16, 2002.

And May 16, 2002 was day one without Matthew Gubler.

After crying yourself to sleep that morning, you awoke alone in Claire’s bedroom that night. You rubbed your tired and sore eyes, and sat up, surprised to see the sun had gone down. Your mouth felt dry, and your throat was sore. Claire had left you a bottle of water, and you chugged it in one gulp. You stood from the bed, slowly and groggily, stumbling your way through the boxes of clothes, and decorations that Claire hadn’t even put up yet.

You wandered aimlessly into the bathroom, and switched on the light. You didn’t recognize yourself in the mirror. Only a faint resemblance of what you looked like that morning, before the airport, before the tears.

You had dressed up. Did your makeup. And now, your clothes were wrinkled, and your face was smeared with mascara. You looked miserable, you felt miserable, you were miserable.

Claire walked in just as another tear rolled down your cheek. You looked at her reflection, and saw she was eyeing you, sadly.

“Hey,” she attempted to smile. She stepped over to you and held onto your shoulders, catching you as you fell back, dramatically, into her arms.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” she whispered. You hiccuped as you looked in the mirror, making eye contact with her. “It’s just day one . . .” she said. “It’s just . . . day one.”

And it’s true, what everyone says: one day turns into one month, and one month turns into one year.

And one year turns into one decade.

October 13, 2017.

New York City, New York.

Today, is Friday the thirteenth.

Day 5,629 without Matthew Gubler.

And somehow, someway, you feel just as stuck, and frozen, and scared shitless as you did on day one.

You haven’t felt this way in a very long time, though. And of all the days, of all the nights, to feel like this, to be stuck and frozen and scared . . . tonight is not the night.

A knock rings at the dressing room door, startling you from your thoughts. You cleared your throat, and found yourself, once again, focused on your reflection.

You know this person. You’ve spent 5,629 days growing into this person. And y’know what? She’s fucking hot.

“[y/n]!” Another knock follows.

“I’m coming!”

“When?”

“Ramona, I will fire you, and trust me, I really need an assistant!” You shout, fixing your dress in the mirror once again.

“Oh, yeah, right. Then who would make your coffee and make sure you’re on time?” she replied. “. . . You’re late!”

“Okay!” You stumbled to the door in your heels, flung it open, putting your hand on your hip.

“Wow . . .” Ramona said, nearly speechless. “You look . . . hot.”

“That is not how you speak to your boss, dude,” you laughed. “You really think I look hot?”

“Marshmallows on an open fire, smoking, kind of hot.” She winks.

You chuckle, “Thanks, I needed that. Walk with me.”

“Okay, um,” she starts, walking beside you as you strut down the hall. “Hair and makeup are gonna take care of you in no less than thirty minutes, that gives you, approximately, two minutes to get into the studio.”

“Two minutes?” You stop in your tracks. “That’s it?”

She can’t help but grin, just a little, “Told you you were late.”

You scoffed, “Okay, so are we shooting when I step into the studio?”

“Yep!”

“Great . . .” you sigh, walking over to the cosmetic chair.

“But, hey, you’re the big boss, they can’t film without you.”

“Yeah, except big boss told everyone we’re filming at seven sharp, and big boss probably won’t even be ready at seven sharp!” You ramble.

“Okay . . .” Ramona nods, slowly. “Are ever gonna tell me why you’re so nervous about tonight, or . . ?”

“Uh, why am I nervous about a major, televised, celebrity event that I not only put together myself, but choreographed?” You rambled. “I don’t know, pick a reason!”

“Wow . . .” She says. “As valid as all those reasons are, I think something else is going on and I will find out, so you might as well spill.”

“Can’t talk!” You pip. “Getting my makeup done! Tell them I’ll be in at seven.”

You exhaled deeply the minute Ramona stepped away, closing your eyes. Not opening them until your hair was done perfectly, and the makeup artist added her final touches.

You, once again, came face to face with your reflection.

“[y/n]!”

But you didn’t have time to process it.

“[y/n], cameras are rolling, thirty seconds to seven.”

Of all the days, of all the nights, you tell yourself, looking into the mirror, to feel like this, to be stuck and frozen and scared . . . tonight is not the night.

“[y/n]!”

Because you are the big boss now.

Your purple dress — perfectly matched to the NYU logo — hugs your body tightly as you walk across the floor, the hem splayed over feet, which are covered in tall, silver heels. The clack of your shoes silences everyone as you walk by. Everyone, except for Ramona, who steps in before you can enter the studio.

She clips an NYU pin to your dress, “For good luck,” she smiles.

“3, 2, 1 . . . rolling.”

You enter the studio, and the room fills with a flood of “oooooh!” from each and every one of your students. The camera pans over their faces as you walk across the hardwood floor, smiling at them, laughing at their expressions. Their jaws are dropped, hands clutched over their chests.

“[y/n]! Holy shit!”

“Hey!” You laugh. “Language! We’re rolling!”

“You look great!”

“Thank you, how are you all?” You ask.

“Nervous, thanks for asking.” They all laugh.

“You guys will be fine, I’m an excellent teacher,” you giggle.

“Damn right, but are you sure you can’t hold our hands while we’re on stage? Just for a little bit?”

“Big babies!” You shake your head. “You’re ready. Signals from off camera indicated a time crunch, and you quickly brought the group together for a big hug.

It’s been a long time coming. Tonight. Or, as printed on all invitations and promotional materials:

New York University’s 2017 Celebrity Alumni Event: In Support of the Ballet class of 2017.

Coordinated and Choreographed by [y/n] [y/l/n], executive producer and star of the hit reality show, New York Best and Ballet.

Big boss.

The camera follows you as you exit the studio, walk down the hall, “They’re gonna kill it,” you smile into the lense. “I know it.”

All you can think about is the blatant, gross hypocrisy. The way you’re completely, beyond a shadow of doubt, confident in your students and their ability to pull this off.

And you can’t even say the same thing about yourself.

With the cameras off of you, you put your hand against the wall, and steady yourself. Ramona walks up to you, walking along your side. “Got you a water, you should stay hydrated tonight.”

You give her an appreciative look, taking the bottle of water and standing up straight, “Is it too early to start drinking?”

“I guess not, guests are starting to arrive.”

“Holy shit, already?” You gasp.

“You did plan this thing, right?”

“Ugh,” you huff, dramatically rolling your eyes.

“You’re expected in the ballroom, a margarita will be waiting for you at the bar.” Ramona grins.

You continue down the hallway, as she watches you walk away, a crew of people following behind you.

“[y/n]!” Ramona calls.

You turn to her, stopping in your steps.

“Marshmallows on an open fire, smoking, kinda hot,” she smiles.

You laugh, out loud, and give her a nod. Then, you continue on your way downstairs.

More people had already arrived than you thought. The ballroom was packed, covered by a sea of people, tables, cameras and crew meandering through the crowd to catch every ounce of footage they could. You were filmed as you walked down the steps, passing the stage and stepping onto the floor with a grand smile.

“Pretty good turn out, huh?” You chuckled, beaming at the camera as you branch out to greet your guests.

This helps.

The smiles, the laughs, the presence of people that support you and your program enough to show up, pay a lot of money, and witness the magic of NYU ballet in all its glory. The light highlights the brightness of your smile, the glow around you in your element. Your chuckle echoing around the room, as you coasted from table to table, person to person, thanking them for coming.

Reconnections were made, stories were told, and retold, and thoughts of college had you blushing on the spot. You’re so lost in the whirlwind of energy, of being the proper hostess, and managing everything in sight, you didn’t notice that an hour had passed.

Until a crew member taps you on the shoulder, and tells you it’s five minutes to show time.

“Excuse me,” you nod, removing yourself from your current conversation and heading backstage.

You blow kisses to the band of nervous students, give them two thumbs up as cameras trailed behind you. “And . . . you’re on, [y/n].”

You stand up straight, hand your margarita off to a crew member, take in a deep breath. And walk. You march up to the podium, the bright lights beating down on you as you stand in front of the large crowd.

“Hello, everybody, welcome!” You announce, bringing the room to a gentle silence. “Thank you all so much for being here. I’m [y/n] [y/l/n], director and head of the ballet department here at New York University.”

You become flustered at the wave of applause, cheering the crowd and backstage. “Thank you, thank you so much. As a NYU alumni, there is truly nothing that makes me happier than to teach this extraordinary class of students. They’re focused, they’re determined, incredibly talented, and the best of the best. So, without further ado, I present to you the NYU ballet class of 2017, presenting a remastered rendition of their first performance in 2014.”

You exited the stage, the curtain behind you shielding the students that were already positioned in place. You stood backstage, watching them on screen, with your hands bound against your chest. The curtain was drawn, the music kicked up, and they went.

They move effortlessly, dare you say it . . . perfectly. In sync, and with a wide range of motion that rolled without a hitch. The crowd watched in awe, and you were right there along with them. Cameras focus on your face as you’re entranced by the class, and so immensely proud.

“They’re incredible,” you beam. “Aren’t they amazing?”

The full set took about half an hour, and when the curtain flies down, closing dramatically, you jump up and down, and run over to the group of kids who couldn’t wait to see you. The joy can be felt through the lense of every camera trained on you.

Their energy and excitement is putting you on cloud nine. Your own adrenaline is rushing, and pumping in your ears.

You let your guard down. You hand out kisses and hugs left and right, and step back in the crowd on a high, head empty, no thoughts. No feelings except for happiness and pride.

“That was incredible, [y/n], absolutely incredible.”

“Wonderful show!”

You were saying thank you faster than you could hear the accolades, caught in a rush of people passing you by.

You turn to see your students trailing behind you, shaking hands as they’re showered in praise. You grin at them, entirely consumed with elation by their looks of satisfaction, of relief, of relaxation and accomplishment.

You let your guard down.

You got comfortable.

“[y/n]!”

You let yourself slip.

“[y/n], [y/n]!” A hand is placed on your shoulder, causing you to turn around, a smile still plastered across your face.

“You know Matthew, right?” Your co-producer asked. “You guys graduated the same year?”

You nearly collide with him. You stop on the toe of your heels, and come to a screeching halt. Your eyes connect like magnets, the pull is strong and intense. Your breath catches in your throat, you smile fading along with your breath. You instantly begin to sweat under the light of the cameras, your skin heating up, your hands shaking.

“U—u—uh,” you stutter. “Yes! Hi!”

“Hi, [y/n]!” He exclaims, happily, opening his arms to give you a hug.

“Oh!” You gasp as he pulls you into his chest.

And he smells, so good. He’s grown, and it feels different holding his tall frame in your arms. But the embrace is quick, and brief, and he holds your shoulders in his palms as he speaks to you, “The show was amazing, blew me away!”

You’re expected to talk. You’re expected to breathe. But you’re left speechless by the scruff lining his jaw, the curl atop his head, the suit shaping his body, and topped off with a jet black bow tie.

“Thank you, thank you,” you ramble. “Thanks for coming, um, let’s catch up later,” you nod, to which he politely nods back, and clears a path for you to walk on by.

You let your guard down.

And now you can’t seem to catch your breath.

Your feet were killing you by the end of the night. You didn’t get to take a proper seat — without the cameras, and the crew, and the crowd, until nearly ten o’clock at night. As you were trying to regroup, Ramona found you hiding away in your dressing room, halfway asleep.

“[y/n]?” she taps your shoulder. You groggily lift your head, and look to her, “There’s a car waiting for you out back. It can take you home or to the hotel across the street. What do you think?”

“Mm,” you hum. “Hotel. Hotel is fine.”

The Lillian Hotel had been acquired specifically for tonight’s event. A cozy room, with an even cozier bed was waiting for you, calling your name. And after tonight, after day 5,629, it’s all you can think about.

You give Ramona a quick hug, and thank her for everything before you sneak out of the building. You take the back exit, avoiding an entanglement of people and paparazzi.

The atmosphere of the elegant hotel was much calmer. You were given the key to your room, and you turned on your heels to head to the elevators. Your shoes created an echo against the tile, and the sound suddenly silenced when you saw him. Waiting for the elevator.

“Matthew?” You call, timidly. The courage comes out of nowhere, flies out of your chest before you can catch it in your throat.

He stops in his tracks, and turns to you, holding the strap of his bag. “Hey!” he grins.

You give him a shy smile, as you let out a dry laugh and step closer to him.

His eyes darken, not noticeably, but just a little. He looks down at you, and you look up at him, and all you can say is . . .

“Matthew . . .” you clear your throat. “Thank you for coming tonight, and supporting the program, and for . . . being so professional about everything, I know it . . . couldn’t have been easy, I really appreciate it.”

His eyebrows furrow, only for a second, and his face almost goes blank. He looks down at his shoes, taps his foot as his mind swirls with words to say. But all he can is chuckle. Laugh.

“I knew you were gonna do this,” he says.

You tilt your head, “Do what?”

“This . . . think . . . think that what I did today had anything to do with you.”

“I—“ you stutter. “Okay . . .”

“I came tonight to see friends, to catch up, to visit New York. And I knew I would see you, and I knew . . . I knew you’d, I don’t know, expect me to fall to my knees the second I saw you. I can’t do that . . . I, personally, see no reason to do that. I acted professional, because I am professional, not to cushion your feelings.”

And although, he’s changed, he’s grown, he’s matured, and he’s a completely different person than when you saw him last, Matthew Gubler still knows how to make a dramatic exit.

He turns away from you and continues down the hall, boarding the elevator without looking back at you. You — who’s paralyzed, stuck, scared shitless. Standing in the foyer of the hotel lobby, wondering why you’re unable to move, to breathe, to keep your eyes from misting.

And back to day zero.

You knew for sure that you’d struggle to sleep. That Matthew’s word would eat at your gut and brain like a parasite, haunting you, rattling around your head. But, the second your head hits the pillow, you were out like a light.

And you dreamt of him instead.

The way he was 15 years ago.

The way he made you feel.

Bing, bing, bing!

“Huh!” You jolt awake, spasming out of your sleep violently. Suddenly, the sun had risen again, and it was burning your eyes through the windows.

Bing, bing, bing!

“What the—“ You sit up, rub your face, and anxiously search for your phone, wondering why you were being called so early in the morning.

Ramona’s name flashed upon the screen, and you swiped to accept her call. “Hello?”

“[y/n] . . .”

“Ramona . . .” you slur.

“Have you checked twitter this morning?”

“Tw — no? No, it’s . . . seven in the morning, of course I haven’t checked Twitter.”

“Check it.”

“Ra—“

“Check it!” She shouts.

You groan, and navigate to the Twitter app. “Oh . . . oh, I’m trending . . . that’s good, right?”

“Yeah, uh-huh, check who you’re trending with . . .”

“Okay . . .”

Clicking on your name, you instantly sat forward, your eyes going wide, “NO!”

TAGLIST:

@muffin-cup

@pinkdiamond1016

@ncsls0515

@spencersbed

@safertokiss

#mine #esny #mgg #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler fanfiction

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the-fourth-knower · 3 years

Text

Diary of a lost doe, part 1

A short fic where my character Annabelle writes in diaries

Fresh off losing her parents, Annabelle Flaches must contend with trying to fend for herself and her baby sister Angelica. And with Angelica talking to a mysterious green orb when she thinks Annabelle isn’t watching, things are only at the tip of the iceberg.

This is for me and Aquillis’s “half and half” AU, our ‘main’ AU. not to be confused with Aqui’s pack universe which is her underground re-write.

Due to the length I'm splitting this into two parts. This is part 1, part 2 is here!

Diary Enry 1, Day I dunno.

Okay here it is. First diary entry I guess. Gotta keep it brief, writing instruements are hard.

Been a few months since that day. We’re doing fine. Angie started another garden. Moved to a new spot.

Got some new things for the house. Old car door and a tire. Not sure what I’ll do with the tire gonna use the door as part of wall.

Finished roof this morning. Good thing 2, might rain.

Angie still sleps bad if not next to me. Writing while she’s curled up. Wasn’t for scars on ear and having to sleep in same clothes she’d look like we’re still home.

Gotta sleep now.

Diary Entry 2

Maybe got a job. Illegal probs but $ is $

Angelica talked more today. Good sign? Maybe she relapses back into not talking but progress.

I never thought i’d miss her annoying stupid “hey lets go explore a cave and not tell anyone bout what we’ll do” self. Never thought about losing mum and pa ei

Shit crying. Bye.

Diary entry 3

Diary didn’t get too wet yesterday.Don’t think bout mom and pa it ends badly.

I can’t afford to break down even if Angie’s sleeping

If I break down then Angie will get upset

I won’t put her through it

I won’t

…

Diary entry 54

Had to leave town but am 600 $ richer

Angie’s quiet again. But she didn’t complain bout us leavin

gonna go for a city maybe. more risk but more money and places to live.

Jadetown’s the city. Dunno too much bout it but mum liked it.

Should get there in maybe a cuple weeks or so

Angie’s sound asleep. No kicking or anything so that’s good

Hope the city’s okay. Angie hates crowds.

Need somewhere with not a lot of crowds to live at

…

Diary Entry 63

Been a hot second. Settling in Jadetown’s pretty hard.

Find a quiet spot in the slums. Pretty shitty now, but the two of us can make it work

Angie still isn’t talking, but she kept close to me while we made our way through the crowds. She seemed fine as long as she held my hand

Lost her a couple times, but not for long. She seemed upset bout it.

Sorry Angie.

I’ll do better. I promise.

...

Diary Entry 169 (it’s the morning but fuck it)

The nightmare happened again.

Angelica having her ear scared by those monsters. mum and pa being taken away in exchange for us being set loose

Only it loops around and around before it’s just cries and blood and knives and screams and crying and they’re all surrounding me judging me for just failing everyone because you’re a fucking failure

Haven’t had it a while. Don’t upset yourself, Angie needs you.

Diary entry 169? Night

Angelica almost killed some street thugs.

we caught some dumbass looking punks bullying some sort of chao. I think it’s a chao

I ran up to one like an idiot and gout in their face to know what they��re doin, and the things went dark. I got knocked out on my ass, apparenlty the big brute that led them butted me in the head. Asshole didn’t even let me get ready

I came to to Angie trying to shake me awake. When I looked around the punks were gone, there were plant vines all over, and the other kids that had gathered were a mix of crapped their pants and mouths on the floor

I asked angie bout it and she just said she took care of them and that the punks had run off

What the hell did she do? Usually I’m the one saving her? But she was having none of it today.

Oh the chao’s fine, weirdass chao though. Never seen chao that just cause flowers to grow around them or in their footsteps.

Made 30 $

Rib’s hurting and headache, Angie fast asleep. Time for bed.

Diary Entry 170

Chao’s bak.

Visited Angie’s garden for a while watchin me watchin it. It waved and left right around Angie gettin up.

Showed up again when we got back home. Angie hasn’t seen it yet. Good thing, she wanted to bring it with us. We can’t afford three mouths.

I don’t like it. We save its ass and now its stalking us.

Made nothin.

Ribs hurt less. Still a bitch.

Diary entry 171

Angie’s found the “chao”

She talked to it all morning when she thought i was napping. Couldn’t sleep, too afraid of bad dreams.

It doesn’t make chao sounds. Or it does but really weird ones.

Then it turned a green light ball for a bit and back into a chao

Angie liked that.

I don’t trust it. Even less.

Need to watch it.

Angie’s relaxed.

Made 5$.

Diary Entry 172 morn

Nightmare again

Diary Entry 172 night

Angie got excited, claimed that she “found Trevor”

he lived near us back in our old home

Had to tell her no, every red mouse we see is not Trevor.

She says that Trevor and his family were gonna move here, pretty inistent too.

Man she gets caught up on the smallest things

Made 20$

Diary Entry 173

Chao returned while i was working. Left Angie on her own

Shes seemed like she was having a fun time being able to talk with someone

She’s not made friends much. Maybe i’m being too hard on the ‘chao’

Still gotta watch it. It could be manipulating her

Haven’t told her I know bout the chao yet.

Should i?

Not now. Angelica is sleeping.

Made 5$

Diary Entry 174

‘Trevor’ spotting 2. Angie wanted to go bug the person. So we went and sure enough as we got closer Angie changed her mind. It was a rat, not a mouse she said.

How can she tell the difference?

No Angie and chao visit. Unless it was while i slept in. but why would she be secretive bout it?

Saw the punk bitch again today. Looked like he crapped his pants when he saw Angie and she glared at him. That’s my sister.

Made 60$

…

Diary Entry 364

Got a new diary. Last entry for this one. Things going well. Got a good thing going for myself.

Angie found a new plant today, and now she’s got it in her garden.

Loved the look on her face when I got it for her.

Made 50$

Angelica’s chatted with the Chao again. Sort of like, is her guardian I think. Or is that its name

Guess good bye diary 1. Really weird to do but it feels right.

Angie’s sleeping well enough on her own. She mumbles but that seems it.

Do I do a good job keeping her safe

Diary 2 Entry 1

Managed to find a new diary. Keeping the old one just cause, and because I have the storage. For a couple of street bum does, we’ve got a decent enough house going. Been able to put it together from bits and bobs lying around, Angie even threw in her hat and added her own touches.

Looks ugly as hell with the plants holding things together and it’s all a mish mash of junk and crap I found, but it’s our mishmash of junk and crap.

Also saved up enough and am making enough to afford more than one pen and even some pencils. So I can write more often. Just felt like writing

Angie’s started to get more vocal again. I think she’s catching onto the fact the way I’ve been making money is less than honest a lot of the time.

I’m not going to sell myself for it though. I’m not degrading myself with that and nayone who fucking tries is going to a hospital.

And if any of those freaks dare go near Angie there won’t be enough left for a morgue to pick up.

Oh, and the chao’s still around. I can feel it. Angelica loves it, I think. I don’t trust it entirely, yet. But, it hasn't been a danger for the past months. So I think it’s actually a good thing.. Angie calls it Guardian. Maybe it's our own Guardian Angel.

Made 65$ today.

Good journal entry me. You got talkative. Writative? Whatever.

...

Diary 2 Entry 23

Got into a fight today, that was fun. The punks from when I helped save Guardian decided to jump me when Angelica was at the house. Guess they figured they could jump me without little sis to back me up. Too bad for them, when I don’t get suckered I’m damn good at defending myself. Sent them packing. Got a bit bruised. Why is it always the ribs with those guys.

Admittedly. I didn’t have to beat the crap out of them. But talk shit get hit, I say. They shouldn’t have been trash talking me when I was walking by.

Angelica was upset when I got back. Should’ve expected that, really. Don’t know why I didn’t think she would notice me being hurt, she’s got a sixth sense for that sort of thing. Always has. Kinda weird.

But, she did try and heal me a bit. Somehow, she’s gotten better at it -Ever since she's met Guardian, she’s gotten more control over that healing ability she has. I just need to make sure she doesn’t overdo herself again.

I don’t know anything much bout healing magic or whatever it is, but I don’t think what Angie has is normal. I think she uses herself for it. Whatever healing she tries to do just eats away at her. And whatever it was was enough to frighten Pa to move us in the first place

I think part of me might blame ANgie for it. For getting us out of the safety of where we lived near Agateton and moving.

But if we didn’t move would we really have been safe still. And it wasn’t Angie’s fault she did what she did, it was Pa who pushed for it and Mum who went with it.

So do I blame them? I don’t want to. The monsters that took them and hurt Angie are the ones to blame.

But they wouldn’t have found us if we didn’t move near that forest. But Mum and Pa couldn’t have seen it coming.

Ugh. brain hurts. Fuck this mind screw bullshite

Spent 123.54$ today. Groceries and supplies. Tampons are stupid expensive but I want to have a decent supply for when we need them. Also some food.

Made 13$. Gonna need to work more to recoup.

No idea if Angie talked with Guardian. She still thinks I don’t know anythin bout it.

At least, I think she doesn’t. She gets defensive and acts like she doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

I wonder why she does that. Wonder if it’s tied with how I react to her saying she’s found Trevor for the umpteenth time.

Maybe I should press her bout it. But I don’t want to get her worked up over nothin.

Okay that’s enough, my mind’s getting wandering now and I stay up if I do that.

...

Diary 2 Entry 54

Someone showed up with a bunch of robots earlier. Cause quite the commotion, sent people running, the usual.

Apparently he set up shop in the rich quarter and is causing all sorts of troubles. People have been coming to and fro a lot the past few days.

Angie got worried over explosions. Had to calm her down, explain that whatever it was probably wasn’t coming here. She asked me bout the people there and if they needed help - told her that someone would take care of the rich fops. That’s what they do after all. Who gives a shit about two practically orphaned kids.

Not sure if she bought it. Gotta keep an eye on her. Might need to pull an all nighter.

And we don’t have any energy drinks or coffee. I could go grab one, no one is gonna give a shit if I do, not in this current environment.

Gotta stop for now. Gotta focus on Angie not some stupid book.

Entry 55

Angie’s missin

#Knower writes #Sonic #Sonic Fic #Sonic the Hedgehog #Annabelle Flaches #Angelica Flaches #didn't realize it'd be so long #guess that's what happens if I just let myself write something #but I had fun writing this #hope everyone enjoys this first part

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writingsfromhome · 4 years

Text

Nuclear Family V

Part Five: Some Things Never Change

A/N: I’ve reread and rewrote and finally wrapped this up! It got really long because I didn’t want to drag it into another part, but I did include an epilogue--I couldn’t help myself. Hope it lives up to the expectations! And thank you x100000 again for reading along <3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

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

The next morning, we sit down together and soothe Charlie's worries. Harry holds my hand at one point and we play the best acting gig either of us have ever played as we pretend there's not a ginormous unspoken trilogy between us. Charlie's tentative at first, but when Harry pulls her onto his knee and whispers something to her. She breaks into a giggle and hugs him. At least that was patched over, I think. But when Harry meets my eyes over her head, I look away. Some things might never be patched over.

I’d set up a play date this morning, thinking Charlie might have needed a distraction. It also gave me time to pack our things without her to distract me or feel the emotional baggage I was packing up too.

I had planned to find an air bnb, waking up at 7am to start searching. But when I updated Marc after he asked what I was doing that evening, he insisted we stayed with him. We’d lived together before, and he was almost always at work, so it gave us enough space.The best part was he lived in the same building as Harry; it was almost too perfect, and when I’d asked Charlie she was totally on board. Spending time with Marc while being able to take the elevator to see her dad sounded just sounded like her play place had expanded.

After Charlie leaves, and I’m almost done packing, I look for Harry to talk. I find him toweling his hair after his shower. He had to head out for shooting today so I needed to speak to him before he left or else he would think I slighted him. He notices me in the foggy mirror and turns, and I try not to find the towel tied around his waist distracting.

“Hey, so...I’ll be out of your hair today...no pun intended.” I laugh lamely after he continues to stare at me blankly. Okay, maybe his towel was more distracting than I’d like to admit. And this was an awkward conversation when we had so many unspoken things between us. “Um, so I found other accommodations finally. So we’ll move out and it’ll be like we planned initially?”

“Huh?” Harry freezes, arms in midair.

“I don’t know why it took me this long to find another place,” I blabber on. “But I think yesterday was kind of a wake up call? I shouldn’t have stayed this long anyway and-”

“Wait, Y/N, stop. You’re leaving?”

“Just the flat,” I finally look at him, he looks stony. “We’ll actually just be a few floors down staying with Marc, so it’s kind of perfect.”

“Marc?” A flame lights itself in his eyes, usually the colour of a spring field, they’ve now turned into a field of ashes as he realises what I’m saying. “You’re moving out? To Marc’s? Because of yesterday?”

“Yes, that’s what I just said.” I try to remain calm, but it’s hard when he’s acting like this. “Harry, yesterday just made me realise I’d lost sight of the horizon or whatever. We were never supposed to live with you for this reason! We knew when we planned this that it would complicate things. I was just so obsessed with making Charlie’s birthday perfect I didn’t look for anywhere else, and her birthday was basically disastrous so that was useless. Now you can live freely, Miranda can come and go-”

“Oh and living with Marc won’t confuse Charlie?” Harry demands.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you know exactly what that mean Y/N. You’re being a bloody hypocrite-”

“What?!” I can’t keep the calm anymore. “I’m a hypocrite?”

“Yes! You! You think Charlie seeing Miranda and me together would confuse her yet you’re taking her to your boyfriend’s house-”

“Who said anything about my boyfriend--and how dare you sound so judgemental about that! Sorry I didn’t get the memo; Harry can have a girlfriend but Y/N can’t! She’s got to be the single virgin mother all by herself!”

“That’s not what I said!”

“No, I think it’s what you were trying to say! Being so fucking judgemental about my love life. This isn’t my fault! I’m not asking you shit, Harry!”

“What the fuck Y/N!” Harry whips the towel he was using for his hair onto the ground. My heart beats erratically in my chest; the last time we fought like this it was because I’d told him I was pregnant and it had ended really ugly. But the way he got under my skin, as hard as I wanted to be the mature one, I couldn’t. “You don’t have to be so bloody sarcastic all the time! I just don’t understand how living with Marc will be any better!”

“Marc’s barely every home, and he’s lived with us before, it’s worked out fine. Charlie adores him-”

“Oh yeah I bet she does! You would’ve loved it if Marc was her father yeah? He’s always had a thing for you, even when we were together. Now’s your chance to be a perfect little family with Marc!”

“I did not say that, don’t put words in my mouth-”

“Oh, but I think that’s what you were trying to say,” Harry mocks me. He’s a ball of rage as he stalks towards me. “I don’t understand your obsession with this guy and why he’s so close to Charlie!”

“You know Marc! We’ve been friends with him for-wait why am I defending myself? This isn’t about that!”

“Well I think it should be!”

“Where are you going with this Harry?!” I shout, putting my hands out to his chest as he continues walking towards me, as if maybe I could shield myself from his growing fury. “I don’t want to fight! I’m just trying to do what’s best for Charlie. And for us.”

We stare at each other, uncomfortably close, chests heaving as the fire crackles low.

“Well, too late for that.” He says, but the snark is gone. “I’ve finally got Charlie living with me and you’re taking her away.”

“I-I’m not taking her away.” My voice rises immediately. “Don’t you dare say I’m taking her away!”

“You are!” He says stubbornly.

“What the fuck do you expect? You want me to stick around so it’s you, me, and Charlie? You want me to stay here and be miserable, have our kid be confused about what’s going on with who?”

“I don’t want you to be miserable, I just want us in one place!”

“We’re not this perfect little nuclear family you have in your head! We can’t be!”

“Not when you’re bringing the nuclear into the family,” Harry mutters immaturely.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong with you?!” I want to pull my hair out.

“What’s wrong with me is you’re taking away my daughter from me!”

My blood was just boiling now. I get in his face, “Harry, do you not remember that you never wanted us? You had the option to stay with me, while I was pregnant with Charlie. You had the option to hold your daughter the day she was born. You could’ve had all of it. Every step of the way! You chose not to, you let me go, you-you told me I could go...” I break off suddenly, so I didn’t sob as the memories rush back. I told everyone I was over it, I had processed it. But when Harry rejected me, he also rejected Charlie and I never got over that.

Harry hears my breath hitch, he backs away from my outstretched hands and I let them drop.

After a heavy silence, Harry speaks up: “Y/N I’m sorry. I heard what you said yesterday. I was up all night just thinking about it...”

“Well that’s wonderful for me,” I retreat into the comfort of sarcasm.

“No--you were right, I didn’t want commitment. I was bloody afraid of it. I was listening to everyone who said if I had a kid, my career would be over. I wanted to stay young, and I just let you deal with it by yourself. I was selfish and I wish I could go back and change everything.”

“Well that’s not much help now; you never once said any of this to me! You moved on--don’t deny it. I saw you in the tabloids, the media. You don’t think I kept track of you? I loved you! You’re the father of my kid, and while I was up on less than an hour of sleep trying to get your 2 month old to stop crying at 3am, you were out partying with models and getting smashed.”

“I couldn’t-I just spiraled-”

“Well it’s nice that your spiraling looks so much like partyingl” I roll my eyes. “Mine looked like crying in the bathtub with my ears ringing, and covered in baby vomit.” I cross my arms. I had held it in for four long years, it was about time I snapped, and I guess this was it.

“Y/N.” he turns away from me, rubbing his face. When he turns around, his heart is on his sleeve. “There were so many times I would pick up my phone and type in your number, just to hear your voice. Just to ask you about Charlie--it ripped me apart that I wasn’t there. That you weren’t here, with Charlie. You’d send me pictures of her and I would get so excited to see what she was up to, what new thing she learned...”

He breaks off, his face now shining with tears. He walks up to me and holds my hands, my heart tugs and I know I’m crying too. “Y/N when I held her for the first time when she was a few months old, and she looked up at me and smiled. I didn’t even know I could love like that. So I changed Y/N--tell me you saw me doing anything reckless after that first visit. I made sure I grew up so I could always be there for her. And you. But you never talked to me. You were always so cold to me and I was scared to break the ice. So I just let you raise her without me, not realising what I was missing out on. I fucking missed all of it because I was just trying find the perfect words to get this off my chest and I never found them.”

“Harry-” I sigh. “You could’ve tried. But...you moved on though. You have a girlfriend-”

“I had to try to move on,” he explains urgently. “You barely spoke to me. I’d ask how you are and you wouldn’t always reply, our texts were only about Charlie. You never invited me over when I was in LA. I thought you didn’t care about me so I had to move on, and the way we ended things I didn’t blame you! I let you know I would be there for Charlie--but I had to move on because I didn’t think we would ever have another shot.”

“I didn’t know what to say to you when you came over Harry. The way we left things before I moved back home, It was awful.” I whisper. The words he’d said, the things I said, the broken glass and just hours of fighting. Then the panic attacks and crippling fear of not knowing what I was doing with my life. It was easy to let it harden you, rather than invite it back in.

“The way I let you leave...was awful.” He agrees. “So I’m asking you now to stay Y/N.”

“And do what?” I ask, didn’t he get it? “Sit around while your girlfriend is over all the time, have her pop in with her own key while I’m only just woken up looking like a troll? Let you kiss me in the dark when she’s not around? Have her ignore me like I’m not even there?”

Harry has the decency to look embarrassed, dropping my arms. He sighs, and looks at me with regret. “This is balls up.”

“Yeah, I know Harry. That’s why I’m finding other accommodations.”

“I don’t like it’s with Marc.”

“I don’t care Harry, you don’t have any say over who I stay with.”

“But Charlie-”

“She can stay with you when she wants,” I agree. “I know you’ve got a shoot all week so it’s a good week to be out.”

“I like coming home to you two.”

“Harry,” I warn him. He couldn’t afford to speak like this when he had a girlfriend. I didn’t want to fall for him again. He made it hard not to.

“I don’t like it but I can’t stop you.” He concedes, arms crossed over his chest. I skim over the bare flesh, taking in the ink that Charlie loved to ask a million questions about. He notices me looking and I catch the cocky grin on his face.

“I’m looking at the ink,” I say, even though I didn’t have to defend myself.

“I know,” he shrugs but the grin stays on his face. I roll my eyes and head back to finish packing but he pulls me back to him and suffocates me against his bare chest. “I’m sorry, for then. For now. Forever.”

He lets me go but he keeps his arms around my waist. I look up at him and for the first time in a long time, I see my old Styles. Confident, determined, and a little cocky. The one I fell hard for.

“Noted,” I say, not giving in this easily, I still had to process this whole conversation and figure out what this thing between Harry and I meant.

A low chuckle bursts out from him as he stares down at me. “I miss you,” he says.

“I’m right here,” I say, stepping back so he lets me go. I leave him with a smile on his face, not ignoring the way he said he misses me. Without even realising it, my feelings of resentment had begun to slip away. But I still knew space would be best for both of us.

***

It’s Thursday evening, Charlie was with Harry having dinner at his mum’s place. Marc’s edition is officially in printing and he’s home at a decent enough hour that I put aside my work and share a glass of wine with him.

“Sounds intense,” Marc says to me after I give him the details of mine and Harry’s fight. Since then, we’d have breakfast as a family once but I did text him beyond just talking about Charlie. Pictures, memes, old memories, the occasional pointless text. It was sort of nice having him in my life again.

Charlie was going to work with him tomorrow, and she was so excited about that. It gave me time for alone time, and to catch up with Marc.

“It was intense, it felt like the old Y/N and Harry.”

“Uh oh. I don’t miss them,” Marc huffs. “You’re a lot nicer now, and he’s not as much of a cocky bastard anymore.”

“Wow, tell me how you really feel.” I tease. But he was right, back then I was young and sassy and I wasn’t afraid to let the world know. Marc and I had met when he reached out to me to write an article for his magazine and it was a coincidence that Marc and Harry knew each other from cover shoots. Marc used to be a photographer.

“I like this Y/N better,” Marc leans into me, his voice deepening. “She’s kind and strong and gorgeous, and the best part is she lets me kiss her.”

He pauses in front of my face and I lean the rest of the way in to let him know he could. That’s all the signal he needs. Our drinks abandoned, we quickly move into the bedroom and I can’t believe I forgot how good it felt to be wanted like this.

***

The next time I’m in Harry’s flat, I’m picking Charlie up. She stayed with him, but Miranda had surprised him by showing up early right after her flight landed. His short text made me get up there right away, after what happened the last time Charlie saw Harry and Miranda together, I wasn’t sure if she would misbehave.

But oddly, she’s mostly quiet.

“Did you have fun?” I ask Charlie, as she eats her cereal slowly. Her back is to the hall Harry stands in and it was a good thing as Miranda drapes herself across him. Unfortunately, I had to see it; I guess she got the memo that Charlie knew what was going on, and she was okay with it--or as okay as a four year old could be.

“It was so cool mom,” Charlie says. “There was so many rooms and one was space! It had the moon and there was a castle and they made the explosion sound and...” Charlie explains in no sensible order everything she saw at the studio, and I listen to her spill out her excitement but every so often my eyes drift to where Miranda shamelessly reunites with Harry. It makes my stomach turn. Especially after the conversation we had. I wasn’t an idiot, I knew Harry wasn’t going to rearrange his whole life because we’d finally had the Talk about what happened between us all those years ago. It was just watching them, and knowing that that was Harry moving on. From me...when I never fully moved on from him. It was pathetic, I know.

“Have you had coffee yet?” Harry asks a little while later after he’s unhooked Miranda’s claws from him and made his way to the kitchen. Charlie is slowing down her speech but when Harry appears she launches into more questions about set and when his “movie” would come out (it was a music video).

“No, I saw your text as soon as I woke up.” I say, between Charlie’s breaths. IT seemed she was going to be a while. “I could use a cup.”

“I heard you’re staying with Marc,” Miranda suddenly comes up and sits at the table, addressing me. “He’s a nice guy, I’ve worked with him in the past. Easy on the eyes too.”

“I’m right here,” Harry holds up my empty cup and looks pointedly at her. She winks and I nearly vomit.

I smile instead, “Yeah. He’s a really good friend, and Charlie loves him. And he lives downstairs so it worked out really well.”

“Yeah,” she smiles. This was the most she’s said to me since she got here. I watch as she glances at Harry who’s making my coffee the way I like it. “I heard you two are really good friends.”

Yeah...” I didn’t like what she was insinuating. I look up at Harry but he’s suddenly very interested in the sugar. “I can do that.” I grab it from him and make sure to glare at him as he passes it to me.

“We should do like, a double date.” She suggests. “Harry, don’t you think that would be fun? You and me, Y/N and Marc?”

“What about me?” Charlie pouts.

“You and Gemma!” Harry looks at me. “I forgot to mention, Gemma wanted to take Charlie out, spend some time with her while she was in London.”

“Perfect!” Miranda sounds almost too excited. It makes me suspicious.

***

When I tell Marc about the double date, he’s more than eager to attend. I know he just wanted to annoy Harry. I was nervous what this all meant.

But somehow I find myself standing with Marc in front of the restaurant while I try to prepare myself for whatever the evening held for us. Marc eventually just grabs my hand, winks, and pulls me in even though I wanted to just stay outside for a bit longer. Maybe a lot longer. Maybe just never go in.

As dinner goes on, things grow more and more awkward. Miranda is chatting up Marc about their old shoots, Harry grows more irritated as Marc receives all the attention, and his eyes track Marc’s hand any time it’s near me. I knock back my wine, as does Harry. Miranda continues to chat up Marc, and I inhale the food when it finally comes simply because the whole situation was stressful.

“The food’s good here,” I comment but only Harry hears me over the other conversation at the table.

“I always wanted to take you here,” Harry comments. “It has the best victoria sponge I’ve ever had.”

“You know I hate victoria sponge,” I scrunch my nose.

“I know!” Harry laughs which seems to get the table’s attention. His laugh usually did, as I’ve said. “That’s why you have to try it, you’ll finally like it.”

“Like what?” Marc asks.

“Victoria sponge,” I cringe visibly which makes him laugh.

“I think she loves cheesecake too much, right?” I know Marc is remembering the night I came to his house after a big fight with Harry, he’d bought a cheesecake for his then-girlfriend but I’d cried into it and finished the whole thing in one sitting. He’d had to improvise with cupcakes the next day. I still feel bad about that.

“Y/N is a cheesecake fanatic,” Harry says a little aggressively.

“Cheesecake’s way too fattening,” Miranda says absentmindedly, not realising what she was implying.

When the table grows awkwardly silent, Harry tries to come to her rescue. “That’s when you know it’s good food.”

“Touche,” I tip my glass just to have an excuse to have something to do and...well, drink.

At the end of the night, Harry asks if we want to go back to his place. I say no as Marc says yes and because he had the louder voice that’s what we do. I shoot him a dirty look but he only winks at me. He was having way too much fun.

Harry excuses himself and joins us in the Uber late. In his hands is a box with victoria sponge.

***

“Do you think he knows I’m not your boyfriend?” Marc asks later that night. We’d drank another bottle of wine and everyone was a bit more...vocal than before. What started out as fun stories from our younger days, quickly turns into passive aggressive comments as Harry stared a hole at Marc’s hand on my thigh, and Miranda stared at Harry staring at Marc’s hand on my thigh. She’d asked to speak to him midway through and now they were arguing in another room where every so often we caught some of their argument.

“You can’t even take your eyes off..............a bloody cake? You didn’t even think to.........I don’t get it!” That was Miranda.

“Thinking too much..........stop........of course I love you.......Charlie’s mom!” and that was Harry.

“I just knew this dinner would go like this,” Miranda says loudly.

“So you’re testing me now?”

“Yes Harry, that’s obvious isn’t it Y/N?” Marc comments beside me.

“You’re having too much fun,” I lean my head back and sigh against the headrest.

“I have a stressful job, I don’t go out often. Can you blame me for being mildly entertained here?”

“Ugh...yeah okay me too.” I look over at him and he laughs. I hated the tension it was causing between Harry and I but I couldn’t help the small petty satisfaction of showing Miranda up after she tried to steal the show at dinner tonight. “What happened to the flight attendant you were seeing?”

“She took a flight out of London and never called me back?”

“Poor you,” I pat his shoulder. “We’re just not cut out for relationships are we?”

Marc shakes his head solemnly. I sigh, the alcohol making me more melodramatic than I was. “We’re finding my ex and his girlfriend arguing, entertaining. Who am I?”

“This is why we get along,” Marc leans into me, he smelled good. “Two boring people, getting our petty kicks with other people’s drama.”

“I think this is kind of my drama too,” I groan.

"Then I guess it’s kind of my drama too,” Marc says happily.

“You’re serious,” I say, leaning my head back against the sofa again, too tired to say anything else.

“I always have your back,” Marc says and I open my eyes just as he nuzzles a kiss against my exposed neck, and Harry walks into view.

“Harry,” I sit up and Marc jolts up as I nearly knock my head into his. Harry looks roughened up, his hair lays every which way as if he ran a rake through it. His face is flushed yet he stares at Marc like he wants to pop his head off.

“I’m really sorry, I’m going to have to call it a night. Miranda is...we have to talk and-”

“Yep, yep, we’re out.” I don’t need to be asked twice. Neither does Marc. Marc heads immediately to the door but I pause by Harry.

“Sorry...” he apologizes again. He looks like a lost puppy which is what makes me press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“We’ll talk in the morning. Gemma is dropping Charlie off around noon.”

“Okay,” Harry looks over my head to Marc, who is opening the door to give us some privacy. He looks back at me, searching my face for something. “I didn’t want the evening to end like this, it’s just...complicated.”

“I get it,” I cut him off, and more gently say again, “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yes please,” he mumbles. Even though Harrys’ done this to himself, I can’t help but feel a little bad. I pat his arm and turn to head out with Marc. Harry could get himself out of the mess if he wanted.

***

I don’t hear from Harry the next morning, before I pick up Charlie, he leaves me a cryptic text that we should probably not go over today. Charlie and I spend the day exploring London some more instead, although she’s tired in a few hours so we end up picking up Marc after work and enjoying dessert by the river.

I still hear nothing on Saturday morning, Charlie asks about Harry and I lie saying he way busy. It’s only around noon that a haggard Harry shows up at Marc’s door. I was helping load the dishwasher so Marc answers the door. It’s the loud shout from Charlie that alerts me to the guest.

I pass Marc on my way to the door, he just raises his eyebrows to say yikes and it’s an understatement when I see him. Messy hair, a five ‘o clock shadow, and he looks like he hadn’t slept.

“You look...rough.” I say while Charlie sits on his back. I almost want to tell her to be fragile with him with the way he looked.

“It’s been a rough couple days.” He comments, his voice scratchy. “I need to talk to you.”

“Charlie, love, go inside for a bit? I’ve got to speak with your dad.”

“Aww,” she moans as Harry helps her dismount.

“I’ll play with you later little monkey,” Harry tickles her and she squeals as she runs away. His eyes follow her with a smile.

“So...” I step into the hall, tilting the door behind me.

“I think Miranda and I broke up.”

“Ah,” that made sense. “What happened?”

“She...it’s so complicated. Why are women so complicated?”

“Woman here,” I point to myself and raise an eyebrow. He shakes his head and sighs.

“Apparently she...set up that double date so I could see you’d moved on. Except, according to her, the way I was acting made her realise she was never going to measure up to you. She...she wanted me to choose between you and her, I told her...” he gulps, leaning against the opposite wall for some support. “It wasn’t the same. You were Charlie’s mum, we would always be in each other’s lives. She made her peace with it but this morning when I woke up I don’t know...I don’t know what I said. She was just gone. She isn’t answering her phone. I thought we were okay, we made up yesterday but today...I don’t know.”

“Wow,” I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t think she would actually ask him to choose. And now she went AWOL. “Do you know where she might be?”

“I went to her place, her roommate said she thought she was with me. I just don’t want her to do anything rash.”

“Sorry, Harry.” I look him over, I couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Before I could say anything more, Charlie zips outside with the drawings she had done at the museum. She just wanted his attention, and as he takes them from her he smooths his face over and gives her all the excited feedback she wanted. I slip inside and tell Marc we might head up for a bit.

Harry hesitates before letting us in. The place was a mess. Things are strewn about everywhere. A broken lamp sits near the entrance.

“Woah,” I say.

“Woah” Charlie echoes me with more emphasis.

“Ehm,” Harry scratches his head. “I...was trying to find something.”

“You shouldn’t be so messy dad,” Charlie immediately begins walking to her room, like she always belonged here. A small part of me is already sad for when we had to leave.

“Sorry love,” Harry cracks a grin and we exchange a glance.

“D’you need help...?”

“No, come sit. I’ll pour us a drink.”

We sit in the kitchen, sipping our wine in silence. Charlie plays with her toys in the back, a comforting background noise.

I reach my hand out eventually and brush Harry’s hand on the countertop. He looks over at me, zoning back into the present. His smile is small and sad, dimmed and broken like his lamp. I thread my fingers through his and squeeze for comfort. He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it and I try not to look as affected by it as I feel. He lets go after he kisses it.

“Thanks for being cool about this, I didn’t know who to go to.”

He looks so lost, and upset. I want to comfort him but there are no words I can say to do that. I open my mouth to try to say something anyway, but the familiar sound of his front door opening interrupts me before I can.

“Harry?” Miranda’s distinct voice carries over. Harry shoots out of his chair and goes to meet her. I watch on, out of view as she hugs him and apologises. “I just needed to clear my head. Then I got a taxi and ended up near my mum’s. I think I drank too many mimosas. I don’t know Harry, I brought an apology drink...”

She trails off as she spots Charlie laying down with her toys. She looks towards the kitchen and I look away quick enough to not see if she’d seen me or not.;

“I didn’t realise you had...guests.” She says slowly, slower, I can tell her words slur together. She really did have too much to drink.

“My...Charlie came up, her mum’s just in the kitchen.” Harry says, his words loaded with unspoken meaning.

“Oh. So I leave for a few hours and you invite them back.” My eyes bug out as I realise Miranda was planning on rehashing it right here. I get up and move towards Charlie but unfortunately I have to pass by them to get there.

“I was supposed to see Charlie yesterday, I didn’t know where you went! You weren’t picking up I just invited them up-”

“My phone died!” Miranda pushes Harry away and I move quicker towards Charlie, urging her to go play in her room but she stays on the floor stubbornly.

“Miranda please love, let’s not start this here again. Charlie-”

“What about me Harry? I haven’t gotten any attention from you for weeks! I thought we agreed yesterday-”

“They’re just here for the month! I never get to see her Miranda stop being unreasonable.”

“I don’t know why I thought coming back here was a good idea!” Miranda shouts. I pull Charlie up but even she’s frozen in spot watching Miranda. “You’re just never going to love me the way I want to are you? I’m never going to compare against...her. Them. Whatever!”

Harry tries to soothe her but she throws him off again, dropping her bottle to the floor with a thud. She turns to me while I back away to the bedroom with Charlie. “This is what you wanted isn’t it? Him all to yourself? This is why you came here all along? I bet your air bnb didn’t even have a bloody issue! He never wanted you in the first place! Newsflash: he has a girlfriend! Me! Not you-”

“Miranda! Enough.” Harry says and she shuts up. I scoop Charlie up and take her to the room but she starts crying because she dropped Oreo in the living room. I go back for it and Miranda is shouting at Harry, either she was too drunk to care or she was at the end of her stick. Or both. But when she starts to swear Harry tries to move her outside.

“It’s not like she can hear over how loud she’s fucking crying!” Miranda shouts. She really was having this breakdown here, but I pause. I wasn’t okay with her talking about Charlie like that, and I watch as Harry freezes over as he feels the same way.

“Miranda. That’s enough.” He says seriously.

“I’ve had enough Harry,” she’s on the verge of tears. I shuffle back to the bedroom and quiet Charlie down but as soon as she does the shouting gets loud enough that we can hear.

“Why is she yelling at dad?” Charlie asks, her nose red from crying.

“She’s...upset.” I say lamely.

“She shouldn’t yell at him,” she says quietly.

“Sometimes, when you’re that upset it just feels like you have to yell. But you’re right, we shouldn’t yell at each other. They’ll be okay.”

Eventually they quiet down and I feel like a prisoner stuck in the room, wondering when it was okay to leave. Charlie feels the same way because she eventually opens the door when I’m distracted and heads out.

“Charlie,” I whisper from the room but she doesn’t come back. It’s oddly quiet out and when I peep through there’s nobody actually there. I strain my ears and maybe hear them in the bedroom. I guess he’d convinced her to move location.

There’s a feeling in my stomach, like a hard seed rooting in place and pulling up the dirt as it sprouts up into my chest. I suddenly just wanted to go home, back to LA. It felt so complicated here, and I know Charlie felt at home with her dad but I was just a traveler passing through here. London, felt like a home, but it wasn’t my home. And the feeling forces me to sit down on the edge of the couch. Charlie notices my expression and hovers nearby, eventually climbing up beside me and leaning her head on me. I pull her into me and try to work my way out of the funk I found myself in, turning on the TV just so I didn’t have to suffer in silence.

When Harry eventually comes out with Miranda, I’m making a snack for Charlie who stays seated in front of the TV, eyes glued to whatever was on. I try not to think too hard about why they both looked freshly showered, about what this meant for us all. Miranda sits on the couch and Harry hovers over them all watching. From my view in the kitchen, the feeling from before creeps back. Harry catches my eye just then and raises his chin, is everything okay. I smile reassuringly, it takes everything in me to fake it, before resuming my slicing.

I had to get over Harry, I think. On some level, I was still holding onto him and not dating anyone because I continued to compare everyone to how he made me feel. I was vulnerable living with him, I’d made up some version in my head of a family while I lived here and I watched Harry in his fatherly role. Some part of me hoped it would come true. But watching him with Miranda and Charlie like this, he didn’t need me. I was just a past dream, one that felt good to indulge in. Miranda was clearly his future.

“Charlie,” I call her name once I’ve cut up her snack. I stay in the kitchen, where I watch Harry touch Miranda’s shoulder reassuringly. I watch them make up and then watch as she leaves. Harry doesn’t once come into the kitchen, and I try not to show how gutted I feel.

***

I don’t hear from Harry for a few days. Charlie decided to sleep over for a few days, and I’m more than fine with it as I work to meet some upcoming deadlines. Marc pops in and out of his apartment, we have a few meals together but mostly I let myself get lost in my work. Charlie comes up every so often, but she spends most of her time with her dad. With only one week left here, I understand. I didn’t want to be around him, and make it harder for me to move on.

With less than a week to stay, Charlie asks me curiously as I put her to bed,

“Is Uncle Marc your boyfriend?”

“What?” I stare at her, where was that question coming from? Marc and I made sure to keep our distance whenever she was here. “Why would you ask something like that?”

“I dunno. Dad said you cared about Marc.”

“Dad said what?” I breath deeply. For someone who was calling me a hypocrite he outright told Charlie Marc was my boyfriend? “Marc and I are just good friends honey, like you and Carrie. I don’t know why your dad said that.”

“I like Uncle Marc,” Charlie says as she grows sleepy. “He’s nice.”

I grind my teeth, why would Harry say something like that?

I go back to the living room where I was working on an article, Marc sits opposite me working late too. But no matter how many times I read what I wrote, I can’t focus. My mind spins asking why Harry would tell Charlie something like that.

“Where are you going?” Marc asks as I get up suddenly.

“I’m leaving Charlie asleep here,” I pick my sweater off the couch and slip it on. “I need to talk to Harry.”

“It’s 12am,” Marc puts his laptop to the side. “Ohh I see. You don’t have to use code with me love.”

“What?” I’m confused but it clicks a moment later. “Marc don’t be so immature I just need to talk to him about something he said to Charlie.”

“I won’t wait up, don’t worry. Charlie’s fine here.” He resumes working on his laptop and I don’t even bother correcting him. I fly out of the apartment and up to Harry’s. I didn’t care if he was sleeping, I needed to speak to him. I do a quick knock before fiddling with my key, entering the space just as Harry comes into view.

“Y/N?” Harry’s sleepy face stares at me for a beat, his eyebrows furrowed. And suddenly faced with a shirtless Harry, I realise I could have walked in on him doing anything. I didn’t really think this through--Miranda could be over. Shit.

“We needed to talk,” I close the door behind me and stand up straight, ready to lay into him.

“Now?”

“Yes, now. It couldn’t wait.”

“Come in, I guess.” He steps back and I walk into a brighter space, he follows behind.

“Why would you tell Charlie that Marc was my boyfriend? Or we were seeing each other?” I jump right in.

Harry must still be sleep-confused because he sits down on an armchair and stares up at me trying to piece my sentence in his head. My hands on my hips are fists as I wait impatiently.

“I didn’t tell her he was your boyfriend.” He starts slowly. “She just asked why we weren’t hanging out like before and all these questions about--well you know Charlie. So I said it was complicated; we cared about each other but you cared about other people too like Marc.”

“Why bring Marc into this? She doesn’t know anything.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Harry gets defensive. “I was just trying to break it down to her.”

“So you brought Marc and me into her mind as someone I’m with--the reason why we weren’t hanging out like before? As if Miranda and you isn’t excuse enough?”

“Well, not anymore?” He squints up at me.

“Well...why not anymore?” I didn’t follow.

“Y/N...” He stares at me, searching my face as if I was lying but I don’t even know what I would be lying about. I raise an eyebrow. “Miranda and I broke up--that day you were here and she came in, we broke up, I thought you knew that. That’s why Charlie was staying with me for so long, I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“Y-you broke up?” I was stunned, the way it looked to me, they had made up. “Charlie knew?”

“I don’t know. She just thought Miranda wasn’t coming around. I don’t know if it was worth explaining to her.”

“Oh. Wow,” I sit down on the couch, digesting that Harry and Miranda actually broke up that day. All this time I thought he was quiet because they were back together, but he must have been getting over the breakup. And I didn’t even ask him how he was--he must think I was- “Harry I had no idea, I would’ve....done-or said something. If I knew. I’m sorry.”

“I thought you were just staying out of it,” Harry chuckles to himself. “I didn’t realise you didn’t know.”

“The breakup was so...civil. I couldn’t tell! Can you imagine if we broke up like that all those years ago?”

That makes Harry laugh. “Maybe we would have made up quicker.”

“Maybe,” I whisper, playing with the ring on my finger. My mind races as the last few days make a lot more sense. But the only question that lingers on my mind was, why Harry didn’t try to make his move. If all those words he said over the last few weeks were true--why didn’t he try to talk to me? The only thing I can come up with was that he wanted to stay friends. It would get too complicated. “Well, now that that’s cleared I should probably go.”

I stand up as Harry does. He clears his throat, looks up at me like he wants to say something. I wait a moment, and when he doesn’t the awkward starts to settle.

“Sorry for waking you,” I say, trying to signal that I was now leaving.

“Doesn’t matter.” He shrugs it off. “But...aren’t you mad that I told Charlie?”

“Uh, yeah. Kind of,” I try to figure out where he’s going with this. “But, given your circumstances, I’ll let it slide just this once.”

“Oh c’mon Y/N,” There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Don’t give me that. I don’t need your pity-forgiveness.”

“Fine,” I cross my arms playing along. “If that’s what you want, I don’t forgive you.”

“Good. I want to earn my forgiveness.” Harry says, and it sounds like he’s saying one thing but meaning another.

“Okay well, I’ll think of something.”

“I can think of a few things,” he says with a twinkle. I can’t help the laugh that bursts out; he was making me nervous.

“Like what?” I impulsively ask, fuck it I tell myself. If I couldn’t flirt with my daughter’s single dad what was the point, right?

“Hm,” he takes the few steps between us and flashes me a charming smile. “I could get on my hands and knees and beg, or” he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and his finger traces the curve of my ear down to my neck, his movements slow and his finger dipping borderline dangerous. “I hear jewellery can work.” he taps my chest but just as quickly his hand moves up to cup my face, his thumb brushing my lips, “or I can cook you your favourite meal and watch you enjoy it or...” I keep my eyes on him, trying not to give in, but as soon as he moves his hand up into my hair, I close my eyes without meaning to. He knew my favourite feeling was his fingers in my hair and even now, it was no different.

“Or what?” I whisper, eyes still closed, too afraid of what I’ll see if I open them.

“Look at me,” He whispers. I swallow, he says it again and I finally open my eyes. He’s not even hiding what he wants, but he is holding back. “I don’t want to force you into anything, I want you Y/N...but I know you’re with Marc so if you want me to stop I-”

“Harry,” I cut him off. Marc was right, he really didn’t know--that must be why he left me alone. And now in the midst of this heat, I had to tell him--I’d only played myself: “Marc and I aren’t together. We got together a few times but we were never actually...together.”

“Wait.” his hand leaves my hair and I want to snatch it back. He takes a step away, his eyes flitting at he thinks. “So this whole time?”

I shrug.

“This whole time, you just let me believe you and him...”

I try not to look too guilty as realization dawns on him. When he steps towards me again, his mouth is curved into a smile. And one might think it’s a nice smile, but the look in his eyes, I knew he was gearing up for something, because now he knows I let him believe Marc and I were going out on purpose. And I was going to pay.

“Okay, okay so I can explain,” I hold my hand out but he just keeps walking until I stumble back into the couch I just got up from. He leans over me, and a giggle bursts out from nervousness. “Harry really, I-”

“You let me believe,” he grabs the hand I have raised and envelops it in his, taking away my only defense. “That you were going out with Marc? just to bother me?”

“Well,” I’m at a loss for words as I look everywhere but at his face. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“A little too well,” he murmurs. When I give in and look at him, I'm a goner.

“I'm sorry,” I say. “Really I-”

“You’re not getting away with it that easily.”

“What happened to forgiveness? We can mutually forgive!”

“I’m not that kind of person,” he says. Before I can respond he’s somehow managed to lift me up and sling me over his shoulder.

“This-Harry!” I try to wriggle out but his hands are iron clad on my legs. His apartment floats upside down as he carries me. “I’m sorry! C’mon! This is cruel and unusual punishment! I-”

The breath is knocked out of me as he lays me down on the bed, we look at each other for a moment and then his face cracks into a grin, “Last time I checked, you were into cruel and unusual punishment.”

I laugh, “That was four years ago love, a lot can change in 4 years.”

“Hm,” he leans over me and I crawl up the bed until my head hits the pillow, as he follows. “But some things never change, do they?”

“No,” I stare into his green eyes. They shine with unadulterated joy and adoration. My stomach swarms with butterflies like I’m a teenage girl, like I was Y/N so long ago, excited the hot guy from the party took me home. I hold his face in mine and kiss him with the same joy and adoration. “Some things never change.”

“I love you Y/N,” he says into my neck. I push him up to look at him, he says it again and I can’t stop grinning.

“Are you going to make me wait?” he raises an eyebrow. “Is that my punishment.”

I shake my head, “I think we punished each other enough the last few years.”

He nods in agreement, “That’s deep.”

“So’s my love,” I push the cheesiness which always got him to laugh. He laughs now too, and I feel the small thrill of being the one to do that. “I love you”

“Phew. Now let me kiss you,” he pulls my shirt off effortlessly and our lips meet in the middle, missing each other already.

And as we press into each other, relearning every inch of the other, catching up for all those silent years, we just fit together like we were absolutely made for each other. And truer words didn’t exist: some things never change.

Epilogue

#Harry Styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles fluf #harry styles imagine #fic #writingsfromhome #dad!harry #writing #fanfic #harry styles series #here it is #finally #finished series

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freddiefcknmercury · 4 years

Text

A Promise(part 2)- Crimson & Clover

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader(Black coded/Genderless)

Word Count: 2.7+

Warnings/Disclaimer: SMUT. ANGST. cursing. mild depression/heart-ache. etc etc. if something needs to be tagged please lemme know.

A/N: LOL I'm back on my bullshit yall. heavy angst/depression from the previous Steve centered storyline so if you haven't read "You really think I didn't know?" I'll do some magic linky links here and at the bottom just in case. Also I'm trying something kinda different with the way I post the fics so feedback is welcome.

ALSO this one comes with a tiny playlist! there are Bolded lyrics throughout if you want to get a deeper sense of where I was emotionally writing this and where reader is as well you can Def give these songs a listen, they are in order of appearance:

Crimson & Clover- Tommy James & The Shondells

Every Time I Breathe- Arlissa

Navy Blue - Hasani

Summary: Bucky takes an extended leave for "work" related reasons and reader slips back into some dark places in his absence...

~*As always, be Nice to me I’m Delicate*~

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

He said he might be gone most of the week. Sam called the day before and all you know is it's something important. He didn't go into detail, just packed a bag and you'd never seen him do that before. But he was also only gone a day or two at a time and never felt the need to tell you about it before now either.

Up until recently you'd tip-toe around each other. Not like you used to with Steve though, worse. Bucky is a lot better at making sure you don't know he's there until it's too late. It felt like you'd never get used to each other, or more likely that you'd never want to. You might've still been secretly hoping that he'd stop caring and go away... after a while you got tired of your own bullshit and realized he's giving off that vibe on purpose. Wordlessly telling you how you should feel about him, not wanting to get too close. You never much liked being told what to do.

It was only about two months before you became a Barnes' expert. You'd sit up at night listening intently for when he'd shower, get in bed, or wake up. He never slept more than five maybe six hours at a time, you'll never understand how he can function like that. You know how he likes his coffee, which angle he holds his cup. How and where he takes off his shoes, how much ice he puts in a drink, the way he likes to cut his toast, and what time he has to do all of it. There's an almost unnerving pattern to him, one that's always been there and you were just unwilling to notice for so long, and you're not sure if he's even aware of it.

You woke up to him already gone. You knew he was leaving but actually being left alone like that unsettled you more than you anticipated, a serious case of Deja vu. You went into your routine like normal, because everything still was, but by the fifth day... you stepped into the front room and got that empty feeling. One you hadn't really had since...

It stopped you for a few seconds longer than you liked and a large knot formed in your stomach. You spent the whole day trying to ignore the feeling but it only got worse. Like a hunger pain but much more vague, crawling through each muscle. You'd catch yourself staring at his room, Bucky's room but also... Steve's. It's the first time you let yourself admit to him fully crossing your mind in over a year.

You laid up in bed, trying to count the metaphorical sheep to no avail. Getting up thinking that a snack or a warm drink will stop the restlessness, you pause in the tiny hallway shared by your bedrooms. The low blue light from the moon outside dustily illuminating the space through a cloudy bathroom window. You stare at the door like any second he's going to ask what you're doing up so late and you can tell him to mind his own business while pouring two cups of tea.

You just wanted to touch the knob; turn it to make sure it still works- that you're still "allowed in there if you want". But stepping inside was too far, an invasion of Bucky's privacy, and you felt it. But you couldn't help yourself. You needed to know.

They were definitely cut from the same cloth. Sparse furnishings and no decorations, save a few very small trinkets he'd held onto from who knows where. There is exactly one row on his bookshelf filled with composition notebooks that were beat to hell and back. Sticky notes lined the edge of most of the pages, so much so that they easily could've been mistaken for feathers on a quick glance. You dare not touch them. Observing someone with a past that checkered is very different to reading into the things they deem worthy of physically writing down.

Where Steve used to leave small drawings and notes Bucky left half empty ink pens and a few well used pairs of gloves. You saunter to the far corner of the room and caress a worn leather jacket hanging precariously on the lowest peg of a coat rack. Doing a slow sweep of the space something in the otherwise barren closet catches your eye. The knot in your stomach that had almost disappeared was back and it brought friends. Your shirt. His shirt. The big one that said BROOKLYN across the front, what you didn't know was your "going away gift." The one you balled up and shoved in the top corner of his closet, at the time hoping you'd never look at it again. You're amazed that it's still here, that Bucky hadn't tossed it out or tried to give it back to you when he moved in.

So you put it on. You're still not sure why but you needed to wear it. To feel it drape over your skin, enveloping you in warmth and that beautiful clean familiar scent you... loved once. It sent a shiver down your spine. The knots in your stomach were gone but now there's one in your throat. You can feel the tears seated right behind your eyes. You sit on the bed holding your face pleading with the water to stay put but it's too late. You miss him. You hate to admit it, but it's true and it always has been. You're angry and you should be, you loved him- you thought he might've loved you. Pulling the hem of the shirt up you wipe the tears off your face and fall into a pillow, trying to calm yourself out of your rage unintentionally drifting into sleep.

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

You wake up to the sound of music in the kitchen.

...Ah, now I don't hardly know her, but I think I could love her...

You sit up quickly checking your phone: 11:34am. You'd fallen asleep in Bucky's room, in his bed. A blanket had been placed over you and a short scan of the room returned a brown leather duffel bag and set of black boots that weren't present last night. He'd come back early this morning and found you here. You can feel your heart fall straight out of your ass, the void that was left being filled with pure embarrassment. Is he angry? He did tuck you in...

As slowly and quietly as possible you make your way towards the door, poking your head out just enough to assess the situation. You can see his back in the kitchen, he's hovering over the sink. You notice the couch, the spare blanket and pillow from the bathroom closet folded neatly on one of the arm rests, he had to sleep there. The void gets deeper. You pull the door open just enough to slip out of and there's a quiet creak. Steve never did fix that, and you just figured out why.

Bucky didn't turn around but definitely noticed. He steps to the side, now in front of the stove and you here something crack and sizzle. You're not sure what to do here. You can try to apologies and explain but there's no un-embarrassing way out of this one. You fold your arms over your stomach trying to hold all your very delicate pieces together while you attempt to speak up. Finally reaching the bar and fully prepared to say good morning when he quickly sets a hot bowl down in front of you. White rice and a fried egg- runny yolk. You'd make it for breakfast when you'd get up early or couldn't sleep, a friend from school put you on to it. Looks like he's been studying you too. You make eye contact but, just briefly. From what little of the expression you get on his face nothing indicates that he's mad. But he hasn't said anything to the contrary either.

How was your trip? Dangerous I bet-sorry you couldn't come home and sleep in your own goddamn bed! Oh?! AND you made me breakfast!

You feel like a crazy person.

"Comfy last night?"

He's pouring himself some coffee, not yet turning your way. There's no hostility in his voice.

You chuckle nervously.

"Yeah.. sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it."

He sets a small glass of juice down in front of you. Heavy eye contact this time, but his expression is soft. He didn't ask for an explanation and you really didn't want to give him one. But you still feel guilt looming over you. You take the glass in both hands and nurse it.

He nods at you with a squint, taking a big sip of coffee.

"If I knew that was yours I would've given it back."

The shirt. You forgot you actually put it on. You hold your breath stroking the fabric gently. Contemplating your next words.

"It's not- well, not really."

He raises an eyebrow.

"It was a gift, so I guess it does belong to me..."

Glancing back down at it you can see him realize it says "Brooklyn." His expression changes to a knowing one and it reads like regret but he quickly tries to box it back up for you. This is a new move for him.

There's a much longer pause in conversation than either of you would like before he shifts his weight awkwardly.

"Sorry."

You push glass, now empty back across the bar towards him.

"Don't worry about it-"

You swivel in your seat quickly, taking your bowl and getting up to leave. He steps out from the kitchen after you.

"Thanks for breakfast."

The tears had been welling up and started to pour over as you left. You're still in no state to pretend to be a functioning person right now. Trying to save him from your ugly cry face by escaping but he grabs your shoulder gently suggesting you backwards.

You cover your mouth to hush a sob. You can see your chest start heave but there's nothing you can do to stop yourself. He grabs the bowl setting it down carefully, then you feel a warm metal sensation squeezing the back of your neck.

"You don't have to be over it."

He's been back a couple hours and already knows you're still a mess. You scoff, laughing at yourself really.

"What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing."

He whispered back quickly, exasperated, but tender.

You sniffle; pathetic.

"That's not how it feels."

"He fucked up. He just doesn't know it."

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders pulling you into his embrace.

It's nice to feel another person. A real solid human being; you can't remember the last time you hugged someone like this. You turn in his arms to face him. He looks tired. Not just 'had-to-sleep-on-an-old-couch' tired. Emotionally repressed. Maybe he has actually wanted to talk to you. He pulls you into him, it's just a hug but it almost hurt how sweet this was.

Then a thought came to you, not really sure how, you can't handle more rejection right now; but you kissed him anyway, hard. Like him being gone almost killed you- because it did. He pulls away from you, just a little, reading your face his own expressionless. You search his eyes for any kind of hint as to what's going on inside his mind. You're not ready to admit this was a mistake yet. There's no real way to know how long you stood there like that. You only dare to move after you hear the song change in the background.

Words... thought they just fade away

but hurt... gave them a place to stay

"Do something."

You were sure it was just in your head but it creaked out past your lips in less than a whisper, pleading with him.

He covered your mouth with his, smoothing both hands down your neck to your shoulders gripping them gently, intently. You cling to his waist almost afraid to explore anywhere else, then slowly drag nails along his back. He pulls you back into him, you want to fuse with the warmth radiating off of his body, he bends and you collide onto the floor with a muffled thud. He cradles your head quickly so you don't get hurt but you wouldn't care at this point.

The way you fit into each other is unnerving, like your bodies weren't meant for anybody else. You both scramble to undress him in between breathy wet kisses and he's... magnificent. He pulls off his shirt and you swiftly run fingers from his neck down each arm. The metal one is warm, this surprises you for some reason. You watch as each "muscle" dances at your touch and you catch a small glimpse of something on his face that resembles insecurity... or fear. He shelves it quickly in response to you bucking your hips up to dismiss your underwear.

He buries his face in your neck, warm breaths ghosting your skin. Hooking his hands behind your knees he hoists your legs up around his waist. He bites down gently and you gasp. It's too much. He's everywhere, all at once. The last person to touch you event remotely close to this was-

"...Steve."

It just came out, you almost didn't notice it. Bucky stops, pulling back and away. He scans you, a pitiful, panting mess on the floor. The most vulnerable you've probably ever been and definitely in front of him. He shakes his head slowly once, chest heaving.

"No."

Knots line your stomach once again. He grabs your wrist to hold your arms in place up above your head and presses his forehead against yours.

"Look at me."

You hold eye contact there for a solid minute, you're sure of it. He leans forward delicately dragging teeth against your ear.

"You're gonna keep saying it until you can't forget."

He drops his hips and lines up with your entrance. You feel a thick wash of euphoria from the pressure, throwing your head back as much as possible given the floor. You roll your hips along to his, cradling each other perfectly.

His eyes didn't leave your face until you both feel your legs begin to tremble.

"Oh Bucky."

The only words you can remember.

You feel every stroke hasten and all his muscles tighten each time his name falls from your lips. He pulls your shirt up to your neck looking to spatter kisses and bite marks across your torso. You futilely dig one set of nails into the floor and the other in his shoulder as he hungrily growls into your stomach, cursing, longing for mercy.

"Fuck."

You pull him back up to your face demanding his tongue. You hear the floorboard creek from the pressure of a metal hand, the flesh one surely bruising your hip by now. There's a deep enduring moan from the back of his throat as he finds his release inside you. You gasp at the sensation and you both pant into each other, nothing but a mess on the floor now.

He presses a long, firm kiss into the bridge of your nose then falls gently on his back beside you. You roll your head up to look at his face, whatever it is he's feeling isn't immediately obvious as he stares up at the ceiling. You shift onto your side placing a light, cautious hand on his chest and he glances over at you, reaching to squeeze your thigh reassuringly.

The sky is Navy Blue soon to be baby blue and baby you got nothing but time...

He looks over your face in a deep sigh before retiring his gaze to the ceiling.

"I don't know him... The guy that left you like that."

You watch intently has his jaw clenched, he's never been able to hide that bit very well.

"I don't know what kind of..."

He trails off, clearly upset.

You sigh deeply.

"I was gonna die that night."

He rolls his head back to look at you.

"The day I met him? I had pretty much made up my mind."

You start to fiddle with the hem of your shirt. Almost reminiscent.

"But he found me in the staircase..."

You hate how subtly he did some things. If you weren't lying next to him. There's no way you'd ever be able to tell his breathing had changed.

"Essentially-"

You pick your head up, chin on his sternum.

"He saved my life."

You state matter of factually. You watch his body relax in a short, bitter way.

He rolls his head over just enough to look you in the eyes. You kiss his chest once tenderly before moving to stand up. You extend a hand down for him to grab.

"That isn't good for your back."

"You really think I didn't know?" Part1

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colorfullfalls · 4 years

Text

Adore you

Summary: Sam and Emily finally get to their wedding day. The outside venue is beautiful and everything is in order except for the fact that Embry and you are fighting.

La Push, ah. What a wonderful- dare say mystical place to be. Waves roared violently against the beach, crashing roughly into the minuscule pieces of sand. Rain pelted among the ground, mixing with ocean, grass, sand, skin, and materials. Clothes stuck to russet toned flesh, sticking like a temporary tattoo for a child.

Panting hard, Embry Call's hands reached up his hands to pushed back Y/N's hair away from her neck, peeling the thick mop away to rest on the other side. Her eyes refused to meet his, wavering to look at the waves. She wished she was anywhere on Earth but in front of him. The way he looked at her hurt. His face held the upmost gaze of betrayal, beautiful brown orbs burning you from the inside out.

Behind her ear held the mark that would cause wretching heartache. A dainty black tattoo rested, rooting anger between the two. Tattoos were meant to be meant to have a deep meaning, and her's did. It was a sail boat. A symbol for the sea. Vast area of the unknown that humans did not get the privledge of ruining. Getting their hands and tainting the beauty it beheld. Embry did not mind her logic behind it, nor did he dislike her love for the sea. But the tattoo. He hated it. Disgust curled in his stomach, gripping his ribs like quicksand and pulling. He wanted to scream.

"You lied."

His words came off venomously. A snake's bite. Harsh syllables announciated with distrust. And pain. Mostly pain. You bit your lip to stop it from trembling. Crying would not solve the issue that was present because you betrayed him. Broke his heart a bit when you swore to guard it and protect the beautiful organ.

"I'm sorry, Embry. It was impulsive-"

He cut you off by shriveling back by your words. A cold laugh escaped his lips, "Damn right it was impulsive. Must've been if you couldn't have talked to me about it."

Fighting over a tattoo seemed dumb. But not in this situation. Embry was not mad that you got a tattoo. It was that the sailboat was your first tattoo. Years ago you promised Embry at the ripe age of 13 that you two would get your first one together. You a small sun and him a small moon. Both on your hips so that it would be a private thing. The ultimate proclamation of love. It was obvious as kids that you two were meant to be, even before you were his imprint. You were raised as best friends. Learned together. Aged together. Grew as individuals together. When the promise was made and 13 you had not yet been lovers, but it was a promise as two beings connected molecularly as best friends.

Even dating you two were still best friends. No one understood you like Embry, and no one ever would. His corny jokes made you laugh so hard that snorts would skip out of your nose. His hugs melted you to the bones. He made you feel complete. Best friends turned lovers, but best friends still for eternity.

"I didn't tell you to avoid this! I knew a fight would ensue." You cried out helplessly, feeling incredibly guilty but defensive at the same time.

"Why do it then? Or maybe consider taking to me about it, telling me at the least. You hid this for, well, it has to have been a while. Clearly healed." He deadpanned, pointing to it like it cut his foot off.

"It's been three weeks, Em."

His eyes lit up in realization, "You wouldn't have sex with me in the daylight. I figured it was just odd timing but no. Just blatantly lying to me to cover this up."

Tears welled in your eyes at how removed your gentle boyfriend was. You didn't recognize the person in front of you. Not that you didn't fully deserve it, but it still stung to see the love of your life so repulsed by your actions. Your female best friend convinced you to get one with her when her long time girlfriend broke her heart. She said she needed it to heal. And you. Against your better judgement, your ass was in a leather chair while a needle plunged relentlessly into your skin. You loved her and wanted to be there for her. Your mind was foggy when it happened due to a few drinks in you too.

Your best friend knew that you and Em talked about getting tattoos together, but she didn't know it was such a sacred vowel or else she never would have helped you break it. She got an eye that had a ring around it like a planet on her forearm. She was an artist and drew it up herself. It meant a lot to her. You loved her, but now you were paying for the actions.

"Y/bff/n made you get this?"

"What?! No! Of course not. I willingly did it, but a few drinks were in me. Which doesn't excuse it, but she got one too. Not like marching or anything..."

Embry stared.

You scrambled to get in as much as you could without interruption, "Wholeheartedly my heart is pounding with guilt that I broke our pact to get our first tattoo together. But to be fair you already have yours."

Embry shook his head in disbelief, "Are you fucking me right now? It wasn't my choice to get this. It's membership into the pack, Y/N. My culture."

You sighed, "I know that Embry, and I'm not trying to disrespect that. I love you and the pack. I love your culture. Undoubtedly it's your first tattoo though. We can get our second together."

You tried to grab his hand but he pulled it away, searing a burn mark right into your heart. Rain pelted down even harder. What had been a nice beach date went to hell when Embry went to move your hair back to kiss your neck when he saw it. Usually you could dodge his attempts to get close to there, but you were so blissed out by his intoxicating kisses that your mind wasn't all there. Ironically the weather went to shit as soon as fighting began.

"Don't touch me. I don't want to hurt you." What you failed to notice earlier was that his hands were shaking. Typically you could caress his bicep or face and he would melt into you. Today the same touches would have the opposite effect. No matter how angry he was, he was terrified to harm you. Any wound inflicted by him would drive him crazy. He loved you. Forever. Even when he was furious he was cautious to keep you safe. This only made you feel worse.

"I think I rather have you physically hurt me than you be angry with me." You mumbled, sniffling at how bad you just wanted to touch him.

He snarled. His veins bulged as he pointed at you, "Shut up! How dare you wish for something like that?"

"I don't wish for that. I'm just saying us fighting is unbearable!"

"You just said you rather me hurt you physically! You want scars like Emily? You want me to be in withering pain and agony as you bleed on the floor?!" He bellowed, shaking even worse.

You let out a sob at his words. This all escalated too quickly. His eyes softened momentarily at your cry but his anger got the best of him as he reminded himself why you were crying. He scrambled to throw his clothes off. His body contorted until his grey wolf stood tall in front of you.

It whimpered, but turned and booked it for the woods. Leaving you alone with his clothes, the rain, guilt, heartache, and the beach. You slid down to your knees, clutching his shirt to your chest.

Emily's wedding was tomorrow. She would look gorgeous in her wedding dress, smile beaming with every step down the aisle towards her wolf. Laughs, happy tears, and hugs would be shared between the wedding and reception. Of course dancing would be a necessity. You were unsure if you were going to be involved in their experience anymore. The pack loved you. You were one of them. But with Embry so upset and not knowing when you two would makeup, maybe it was for the best if you stayed home.

Half an hour later you were still on the beach crying. Jacob ran next to you, scooping you up in his strong arms. You snuggled into his warmth, wishing that it was Embry instead. After everything you still wanted him to be with you. Jacob took you home and helped you dry off before leading you into the shower to encourage you to take a hot shower. If you got sick Embry wouldn't be happy with his packmate.

He sat in the livingroom as you got dressed in the bathroom. You sheepishly walked out, embarrassed of the state he had found you in. His large frame took up the lounge chair. Two cups of hot tea sat on the coffee table.

"For me?" You asked, gesturing to the cup. He picked one up and handed it to you before taking his own. It felt good going down your throat. Warm and reassuring.

"Embry should not have phased like that. He feels like an ass for losing control like that." Jake began.

"He had enough control to strip first. I wasn't in danger." You assured.

Jake nodded, "I saw the whole fight go down. I was on patrol."

You laughed sadly. Poor Jacob had to relive Embry's anger and pain through the shared pack bond. He seemed to not be effected by it. You wondered how Embry was doing now. Texting him seemed like a bad idea. Especially with how things were left.

"It was an ugly fight. Worst one to date. His eyes held repulsion, Jake. Like he could barely look at me. This tattoo is giving me hell."

Jake sighed, motioning for you to come sit next to him. You squeezed into the chair with him, resting on his lap. Jake was like your brother that would help you through anything. His warm hand rubbed your back lightly to assure you that he was there. He would always be there.

"Life is weird and there's a lot that I don't know. What I do know is that if anyone is meant to be together, it's you two. Bonded and meant to be before he even shifted. Imprints are strong but you two are even more. This fight is a pebble that will chip away, I promise."

"Thanks but I don't know. He looked crushed. Phasing like that.. showing up to the wedding tomorrow might not be good. I'm not going."

Jake recoiled, "What? Of course you have to attend! Emily wants you there. Screw Embry. Tomorrow is about Sam and Emily and they certainly need you there. You're family."

"Don't say screw him." You mumbled. Feeling defensive was part of the bond, "I will think about it."

Jake ignored you scolding him because he understood the loyalty you felt for Embry. He felt the same exact way towards Reneesme. Rough times caused fighting like any other couple, but the bond required unconditional love and affection. Some portrayed it as toxic, but you didn't. Relationships typically didn't happen like this but you couldn't stay mad at Embry while growing up. It was an impossible defeat.

"You're a bridesmaid, not going would be terrible. Embry wants you there whether he admits it right now or not. I'll come pick you up, make sure you go."

You sighed, nodding. Lack of your presence would only cause a bigger rift between you two. On top of that, Emily would be crushed and that would make Sam frustrated towards you too. And that would lead to arguing between Sam and Embry because another wolf cannot be rude to an imprint. You helped plan this wedding and you deserved to be there. Jake was giving you big puppy dog eyes. Begging like Embry did. Begging that you could not deny.

"Fine."

Jake stood up, "I will see your pretty face tomorrow."

***

Hours later you laid in bed. Ceiling fan high blast cooling the room. Goosebumps danced across your skin, chilling you more than it should. Embry's warm embrace should've sheltered you from the breeze, making the ceiling fan actually necessary compared to his radiating heat. He wasn't with you tonight. You were alone. Restless. Where did he go if he didn't come home to you? Was he on Jared's couch? Sharing Quil's bed like he did when they were kids? Back home with his mom?

Phone screen said 2:41. Four hours after you laid down. Sleep was battling you, heart beating too fast with each memory of the argument. His hurt tone rang through your ears. Past text messages assured you that things would get better between you two. His corny jokes and memes made joy fill you.

This fight was dumb.

Your thumbs typed out all the words you wanted to say and you were about to send it you saw three dots meaning that he was typing too. He was reaching out too! The three dots dissapeared with a lack of text. Mood officially dampened. Who knew texting could be an emotional roller coaster.

Hours later your ass was seated in an uncomfortable chair while your hair was being done. Makeup had been applied an hour ago and you already wanted it off. Your upset hands liked to rest on your face and makeup didn't allow that. Emily and the other girls were chirpy. Gorgeous teeth on show from beaming. You did your best to match their mood. Key word, tried.

"Okay, you're hair is done. Go get in your dress!" Emily cooed, hands on either side of your shoulder. You offered a smile.

Putting on the dress took help from Leah. She was in a sour mood. Her first love getting married to her cousin and all. It was reasonable and truly expected. She may be a shape shifter, but human she still was. Her warm hands zipped up the back of the dress. Leah sensed your bad vibe like second nature.

"Go find Embry, makeout for a minute and get over with whatever the hell this is. It's ridiculous. You two are disgustingly in love. Fix it because it's dragging us all down." Her words were honest. Leah was always honest. Basically in her DNA.

You snorted, "We are not making out here. Im sorry that this is impacting you guys too, but this is not getting dealt with today. Emily and Sam are getting married."

"Won't be perfect if our favorite couple is on the outs."

"Favorite couple?" You questioned.

She nodded as if her sentence was as obvious as stating that the vast sky was blue. You rolled your eyes and moved the bottom of the dress so that it was in place. The light pink silk dress suited you. It suited all of the bridesmaids. Nice dress. Emily had great taste. Speaking of the devil, Emily walked around the corner. Her brown eyes widened at the sight of you and Leah. As if it wasnt her wedding day. As if she wasn't the most stunning looking woman for the day.

"Gorgeous! Oh my goodness, you both look amazing. Thank you for sharing this day with me," her eyes shifted to her Leah, "Especially you, Leah. I know I don't deserve your support considering what happened on your wedding day, but it means the world to me that you are here."

"Yep." Leah gave a tight smile. Emily's face fell at the lack of words from her cousin. You sighed and nudged Leah. She rolled her eyes but tried, "This isn't easy but I'm doing it. For you."

Emily closed the distance between them and pulled her cousin in for a hug. Tension resides and still would for a while, but the bond was slowly mending. Cousin like sisters trying to reconnect. It was hard when Leah was the one who lost everything and Emily gained what she had. Leah still did have one thing. Seth. And you. Seth was her brother and best friend. He always had her back. But you did too. Days after Embry introduced you to the pack you befriended her.

You felt intrusive of the moment so you walked out into the hall. A few doors down led to the outside. Some fresh air would be lovely. Sunshine fluttered through the glass door when you arrived. Glancing outside you halted.

Embry.

Black material covered his toned body, rose sitting perfectly on his left peck. His brown floppy hair was styled perfectly. Your fingers longed to run through the thick locks. You should've been the one to help him do his hair rather than peaking at him behind a door like a child that is supposed to be in time out. He was standing with Jake and Quil. His two friends were laughing as Embry leaned against the wall. Not laughing. Although his face didn't look miserable like yours did.

Jake's eye caught yours and you froze, terrified of what would happen next. Talking to Embry in front of them would most likely cause more issues. You knew Jake would side with you and Quil would side with Embry. Quil was forever Embry's best friend. Jake could see past that.

"There's Y/N." Jake spoke. Embry leaned off the wall and looked around for you. And there you were. Looking gorgeous as ever on the other side of the door. His face faltered into vulnerability as he realized how sad you looked. He did that. He made you sad. Before he could do anything you walked away. He grunted in annoyance, hitting the brick wall behind him.

"Fuck!"

Line up for walking down the isle was what you dreaded because obviously Embry was your match. Room silent as you grudgingly came to stand beside him. His eyes scanned over your beautiful face in sorrow. You busied yourself by picking at your nails. A tick that you did when you avoided confrontation.

Walking down the isle, an arm intertwined in his was mandatory. You did it. Sparks flew up your arm at touching him after so long. His warm skin blazed against yours pleasantly. During the wedding Embry kept stealing glances at you. You noticed and held his gaze when you could.

Sam and Emily's vowels were beautiful. Raw and true words about their unconditional love. Hell Emily has scars on her face from his anger and they got past that. Certainly you could get over Embry shifting yesterday. He did look incredibly handsome across from you.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The crowd cheered as Sam and Emily kissed. He dipped her back like a princess and the cheers only got louder. Kim nudged your shoulder and you two shared a smile when they road off to the reception hall in their decorated car.

You contemplated how you would get to the reception yourself. You arrived with Jake but your body was buzzing with anticipation to touch your boyfriend. Fighting seemed pointless. Today was about love. And you loved eachother. This tattoo was permanent but so were you guys.

Embry was leaning against his truck when your knuckles tapped on the door. He jumped at the surprise but he calmed down when he saw it was you. Looking beautiful as ever. Your hair blew in the wind, giving him a nervous smile.

"You look gorgeous, baby." He lowly said, gesturing to you.

You blushed, "Thanks. Not so shabby yourself, mister."

"I love you." He blurted, "I love you so much. I'm sorry for yesterday. I'm sorry for yelling at you. I'm especially fucking sorry for phasing."

Your eyes watered as you walked straight into his blazing embrace. He scrambled to pull you as close as possible. Your hands clutched the fabric of his tux as his hands gently rubbed up and down your back. Your mind was flooding with euphoria at how close he was to you. Intoxicating. You hadn't been this far away from Embry for so long since you were fifteen.

"I'm sorry for my tattoo. It was shitty of me not to talk to you about it."

"I was just hurt that you got one without me. I wanted your first tattoo to be shared with me. It was selfish. You may be my imprint, but it's still your body." He confessed.

You pulled away so that you could look up at him, "Yes. My body is mine. But my soul is undoubtedly mixed with yours, belongs to you. Getting a tattoo doesn't make that any less."

An infectious smile broke out on his face. His hands cupped your face as he brought you closer, noses rubbing affectionately. His hand moved to your chain to raise it up, lips slotting quickly against yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth, eliciting a moan. You pulled back when you heard someone behind you two.

Jake stood there with a shit eating grin, "Was gonna ask if you needed a ride but you two clearly made up."

"Shut up dude." Embry groaned, pressing a few kisses to your cheek, "I missed her."

"Yeah, as if the whole pack didn't know that. See you guys at the reception." Jake retorted.

"See ya Jake!" You called out.

"Think we can manage a quickie before the reception?" Embry asked, hands dangerously roaming your body as he lifted you into the truck. You laughed as you were put on your back in the backseat. Your head lifted to see that no other cars were in the parking lot. You hummed as he shut the door and climbed on top of you. His hands pushed the dress off from your shoulders, head dipping down to appreciate what was his.

"This is a church parking lot." You teased as his tongue ran along your collar bone, hot saliva trailing behind. You grabbed his head and pulled it back up so that he could look at you.

"Yeah and? Everything about you is holy."

You snorted, pulling him down for another kiss. His warm hands slipped under your dress and grabbed your thighs, soft flesh melting against his. He pulled your hips up closer to him, grinding into you. You moaned at how his body moved against yours, two bodys and basically one soul. His lips moved to press hot kisses to your neck until they sucked on your tattoo.

"I think I actually like this spotch of ink." He murmured, running his tongue over it as he bunched up your dress to rest around your torso.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. It's hot."

Twenty minutes later you two walked into the reception hall hand in hand. Embry was especially lovey after the ten minutes spent in his truck. You both made sure that no evidence of your quickie was present. Emily and Sam were sharing their first dance in the middle of the dance floor. You led him to your table where Jake, Quil, Jared, Kim, Paul, and Rachel sat. Seth and Leah sat with Sue and Charlie a table over.

"Hot make up sex?" Paul teased as Embry pulled your chair out for you.

You shook your head at his blunt question. It wasn't like your sex life was a secret. Embry could not keep those thoughts to himself when he was shifted. Actually none of the boys could. It was how it went. Over time you got used to it. It wasn't Embry's fault.

"The best." Embry said intertwining your hands, "But not that that's any of your concern."

Paul raised his hands in surrender. The hothead knew better than to overstep and disrespect a fellow wolf and imprint. That would lead to a fight and Sam would murder them.

"Don't listen to Paul. We're glad that you two fixed things." Kim sweetly said. Her eyes were always so wide and kind.

"Yeah, bunch'a miserable kids in love. Embry was mopey all morning." Jared added.

Embry rolled his eyes, thumb rubbing affectionately across the top of your soft hand, "Beg to differ.."

"Oh wanna bet, Call?! You leaned against walls and didn't talk. Like uh," Paul snapped his fingers as he tried to think of the word, "like a mute."

"Love you man, but he's right." Quil spoke. Embry snapped his head to glare at his best friend. In return Quil sheepishly shrugged and sipped his water.

Embry then shifted towards you again, "Do you think any other wolf packs are around that I can join?"

You laughed at his deadpanned tone and lightly slapped his bicep, "You love them and you know it, bub."

"Yeah, bub." Rachel teased, a beautiful smile gracing her lips. Paul smirked with a profound proud feeling bubbling in his chest as he listened to his imprint.

Sam and Emily's dance ended and the dance floor was opened up. Embry took this chance to escape the ragging from his friends to share a slow dance with you instead. His hands rested on the curve of your back while yours intertwined around his neck. His face bend down to be close to yours.

"So I was thinking about our tattoos..." Embry started.

You cocked a curious eyebrow, "Oh? And what conclusion did you arrive at?"

"Let's get them tomorrow. Quil knows a guy who does some wicked cool ones and I just know he will make them exactly how we want. And why wait? Why did we not do it a year a or two ago?" He rambled, twirling you around and bringing you back into his arms.

"No clue why we waited. But.. I am so down for tomorrow. Sooner the better."

He hummed happily, "Great. Tomorrow it is."

Harry Style's Adore You came on and you grinned, "You may be an ass at times Embry Call, but I adore you."

"Thank you baby, but hey." You looked into his loving brown eyes and waited for him to go on, "I'd walk through fire for you."

Song lyrics or not, Embry Call would legit do anything for you, "Just let me adore you." You responded.

He leant down to peck your lips, "That's the only thing I'd ever do."

#twilight imagine #embry call #embry call imagine

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winchester-fantasies · 5 years

Text

Wallflower

Summary: Being in an abusive relationship with an alpha you thought you could trust leaves you feeling trapped and wondering if your life is over. But when you meet the alpha, Sam Winchester, you realize it’s only just beginning.

Word Count: 4264

Warnings: smut, knotting, claiming, bit of fluff, angst, shy reader, mentions of an abusive relationship, protective Sam, possessive Sam, some swearing

Pairing: Alpha!Sam x Omega!PlusSize!Reader

A/N: This was written for an anonymous request: Hey beautiful! I love you’re writing so much it gets me through some hard times and helps with my confidence so much as weird as it sound haha! Can I request a alpha Sam Winchester x omega plus size reader where she super shy and meek and he saves her from her abusive alpha and finds out it’s his true mate and he claims her ?? Angst, fluff and smut? 💕💕💕 Thank you so much for your request! You are so sweet, and it warms my heart so much to know that it’s helped you so much!! I hope this one is no different. ❤❤

Winchester Fantasies’ Masterlist

You stared at your face in the mirror as a tear slipped down your cheek. Your cheekbone was bruising and the side of your lip was swollen where blood was crusted over. How you’d gotten and allowed yourself to stay in this situation for so long you didn’t know.

Part of you was desperate to get out; put as much distance between you and...the alpha you called yours. But the other part of you, the fearful part, couldn’t bring yourself to do so. People knew you two were together, but they didn’t know what went on behind closed doors. You were a hunter. You were supposed to be strong, confident, a badass. You weren’t supposed to cower every time he walked into the room; you weren’t supposed to feel afraid to be alive.

But you were.

You were eighteen when you first met him, freshly presented and still getting used to being an omega. So young. So naive. So stupid.

You’d believed every word that fell from his tongue like honey. All those sweet nothings and empty promises. You’d fallen for it all.

It wasn’t until it came time for you to take the next step in your relationship did things begin to change. Although you felt some sort of connection to him, it never felt exactly…right. There was always something holding you back from letting him claim you.

At first he was understanding, gentle even, assuring you he was in this for the long haul and that he’d wait as long as it took for you to be comfortable. But after the fifth time of him broaching the subject, his demeanor had changed. His language towards you had changed, too. Instead of telling you you were beautiful like he had in the beginning, he started telling you were fat, ugly, undesirable. And being on the heavier side, already dealing with insecurities, you believed him.

He’d also become angry, cold, and demanding. And on one particular occasion he’d tried, unsuccessfully, to force his mark on you. Thankfully the betas next door had called the police just in time. After that it only grew worse. More often than not you were sporting some kind of injury. He was always careful to not leave signs of his abuse, making sure they were hidden under your layers of clothing.

On the one or two times your friends did see the bruises, you were always quick to play them off as hunting injuries. And like the trusting friends they were, they believed you without a second thought.

But somehow things had gotten even worse. Now there was no way you could hide what he did. Not even the fullest face of makeup could hide the abuse. Another tear escaped, but you were quick to swipe it away. Now wasn’t the time to cry, you told yourself.

You had promised Jody you’d come to the memorial service being held for a hunter that fellow hunters knew and highly esteemed. Briana McKinnon’s name was on par with the famous Winchester brothers. She was considered the greatest female hunter in the past twenty years, so when word got out that she had died at the hands of a werewolf everyone was shocked. You never knew her personally, but you’d heard the stories, just like the ones about Sam and Dean Winchester. She was your role model, the one that inspired you to try harder, to keep going. If there was ever a hunter you wanted to be like, it was her.

You took a deep breath before taking out your barely used makeup sponge and concealer, dabbing a bit over the purple on your cheek. It didn’t do much, just as you’d expected, but you hoped it’d be enough. The last thing you needed were questions you didn’t want to answer.

You scanned yourself in the mirror before deeming yourself ready. You stepped out of the bathroom quietly, finding him passed out on the bed, the half-finished bottle of bourbon sitting on the side table. You paused for a moment, biting the inside of your cheek. He’d told you to wake him. He was a hunter and he’d known Briana personally - in more than one way you suspected. It wouldn’t have been the first time you’d smelled another omega on him.

You should’ve woken him. You knew he’d be livid when he found out you’d gone without him. But you couldn’t. Not this time.

So instead, you crossed to the door, taking your coat from the hook by it and throwing it on. One final look at him, and you walked out the door.

**********

The road and driveway leading up to Jody’s house was packed, vehicles lining both sides of the street. You could voices and laughter as you neared the front door. Your stomach was in knots as you rang the doorbell, and you wrung your hands in front of you as you stepped back, waiting for the door to open. You contemplated just leaving. You didn’t do parties.

You never got the chance to decide as the door opened, Jody’s face lighting up when she saw you. “(Y/N)!” she exclaimed, dragging you inside and wrapping you in her arms. You melted into her embrace. Maybe it was the nurturing omega in her, but somehow her hugs always made you feel safe. Like nothing could ever touch you.

“Where is...?” she asked, glancing behind you, but you cut her off before she could continue.

“He got wrapped up in something,” you lied, shooting her a smile you hoped was placating.

She seemed to buy it because she smiled and nodded in understanding. “I get it,” she said. “The life of a hunter is never-ending. But he’ll be missed.”

Bile rose in your throat, but you shoved it down and chuckled, trying to mask the cynicism bubbling below the surface. Everyone loved him.... If they only knew.

“Well, come on in!” Jody said, ushering you into the living room where other hunters milled and conversed. Some of them you knew and had worked with; most of them you didn’t. You weren’t one for socializing. You were more of a nomad, hunting alone unless you absolutely needed help.

“There’re drinks and a few snacks,” Jody said, gesturing to a table that had been set up against the far wall. “And I know I don’t have to say this,” she added good-naturedly. “But make yourself at home.”

“Thanks, Jody,” you said, giving her hand a squeeze.

With that she left, leaving you feeling alone and like a fish out of water. You glanced around the room, snippets of conversations reaching your ears, none of which caught your attention enough to join in.

You walked over to the refreshment table, popping open a beer before grabbing a paper plate and filling it with a few of the snacks. You made your way to the love seat situated in the corner, lowering yourself on the almost too comfy cushion and watching the people around you.

“(Y/N)!” You looked up, finding Garth standing in front of you, a wide and welcoming grin spread across his face. You’d worked several cases with him and although he wasn’t every hunter’s cup of tea, you’d grown to love and appreciate him as a friend. Plus despite him being a beta, he was one badass motherfucker.

“Hey, Garth,” you greeted, smiling as he joined you on the couch, immediately wrapping his long arm around you and pulling you into his side.

“How’re you doing?” he asked.

“Good,” you said, the lie falling from your lips easier than you cared to admit.

He smiled, but the next second it faded into a frown. “Gnarly bruise you’re sporting there,” Garth commented, gesturing to your cheek.

You blanched. You should’ve known it would be too good to wish for it to not be brought up.

“Oh, this?” you asked, bringing your fingers up to the still painful wound, chuckling lightly when Garth nodded. “Got this one when a demon decided to clock me.”

“Nasty sons ‘o bitches,” Garth said, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” you huffed out.

Garth continued to speak, but without warning your hearing muffled as if you’d just been submerged in water. And that’s when you felt it - that shift in the air. Like electricity crackling in the atmosphere or lightning when it was just about to strike. Your hair stood on end and a shiver ran down your spine.

You turned your head, and your breath caught in your throat as you met the most beautiful pair of eyes you’d ever seen. They were kaleidoscopic, like prisms in a ray of sunlight.

And those opalescent orbs belonged to the most beautiful specimen of a man you’d ever seen - or an alpha to be more accurate. He was tall and broad-shouldered with a chiseled jaw and umber locks that dusted the top of his coat collar. And his scent. You could smell it from across the room. Cherries...and pine needles.

The connection was abruptly cut off by Garth’s voice. “Sam, Dean!” he hollered, standing and waving enthusiastically.

Your eyes widened in shock and your stomach clenched as the two alphas made their way over. “Wait...the Sam and Dean?” you hissed to Garth, the lanky man nodding.

You swallowed hard as they approached. “Hey, guys,” Garth greeted them both with a wide grin, opening up his arms and ushering them into his signature hug. They both appeared slightly uncomfortable, but you could tell they held a fondness for the quirky man.

“Didn’t know you guys were coming today,” Garth said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and glancing between the brothers.

“Yeah, well, we worked a few cases with Briana,” the tall one said, casting a quick side-eye to his brother. “Dean had more of a...connection with her, though,” he added with a playful smirk.

Dean rolled his eyes, a disgruntled frown creasing his forehead. “Yeah, yeah, yeah....” he grumbled.

You cleared your throat, feeling for all the world like a wallflower. As if Garth had only just remembered you were still there he turned, helping you stand. “Guys, this is (Y/N),” he said, throwing his arm over your shoulder. “(Y/N), Sam and Dean Winchester.”

Both Winchesters greeted you and you smiled your acknowledgement, awkwardly clasping your hands in front of you. After a few minutes of light conversation Dean sauntered over to the food table, his green eyes lit up in interest while Garth made his way to the other side of the room, seeing another hunter he knew. Which left you and Sam alone.

“So…” Sam said, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets and sending you a thin-lipped smile.

You chuckled nervously, moving to sit back down. Sam joined you, his body radiating heat even with him sitting with a good amount of distance between you.

“How long have you been hunting?” he finally asked after a few moments of additional awkward silence.

“Since I was about sixteen,” you said.

“Oh, wow,” he said, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “You were young.”

“Yeah,” you said simply. “My parents died hunting demons. And...I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I kinda just picked up where they left off.”

Sam nodded. “I get that,” he said. “It was kinda the same thing with me and Dean. A demon killed our mom.... And our dad, too, actually,” he added as if he’d almost forgotten. “Hunting is pretty much all we’ve ever known.”

“I know. I’ve heard the stories,” you said with a slight smile. “How you defied the angels, beat the Leviathans, died and came back more times than one would deem possible. You’re famous.”

Sam chuckled at that, the boyish dimples you’d heard everyone talk about coming into view. “I wouldn’t necessarily call us that….” he said almost shyly. “Me and my brother…. We’re just doing our job and trying to make the world a better place, even if it’s just a little bit at a time.”

“Just a little bit?” you asked incredulously. “You stopped the apocalypse - maybe even more than one!”

“Started it, too,” Sam said, looking ashamed.

You paused for a moment, studying his face. He looked so tired and worn. He had done so much good in the world, and yet all he could see was the heartache he’d caused. Your heart swelled with something you couldn’t quite place and without thinking, you reached over, placing your hand on his. It was fire and ice the moment your skin touched his, and he flinched, his head jerking up to meet your gaze.

“We’re not defined by the mistakes we make,” you said softly. “It’s what we do after that really matters.”

Sam continued to look at you, his eyes locked onto yours so intensely it felt as if he were staring into your very soul. The emotions and feelings swirling in your chest were almost too much, and you finally removed your hand from his, breaking the connection.

Sam blinked as if coming out of a trance, sending you a curious glance before he cleared his throat. “What happened, uh…” he asked, motioning to his cheek, indicating your injury.

Your stomach dropped. You’d almost completely forgotten about it. “Oh, uh, got this when a demon decided to clock me,” you said nonchalantly, trying to play it off as you’d done with Garth but finding it more difficult than any lie you’d told before.

Sam frowned before slowly shaking his head. “No,” he said bluntly. “That’s no hunting injury.... Who hurt you?” he asked softly.

You were shocked at his seemingly supernatural perceptiveness, and you found yourself wringing your hands once again as your gaze fell to your lap. “My boyfriend,” you whispered, finding it nearly impossible to lie to the alpha beside you.

Sam bristled at your revelation, his eyes darkening as he scanned the crowd around you. “Where is he?” he growled.

“Not here,” you were quick to reassure.

Sam seemed to relax a bit at that, but you could feel the tension coming off him as he scooted a little closer to you, his thigh pressed against yours.

Without warning, the front door flew open, the top literally flying off its hinges. The whole house fell silent as everyone turned to see what had happened.

The moment his scent met your nostrils fear and panic took over. You cowered back into the couch, trying to make yourself as small as possible. His eyes roamed the entire place, his expression contorting into an almost animalistic and feral snarl as they settled on you.

“Where the fuck were you?” he spat as he stalked over to where you sat, the smell of anger, booze, and rut oozing off of him. “I fucking told you to wake me up!”

He reached out for you, but before he could even touch you, Sam was in front of you, shielding you behind his stout body. “Don’t you fucking touch her,” Sam growled lowly.

“Back off!” the other alpha commanded. “She’s my omega!”

Sam’s chest puffed out as he got up from the couch slowly, rising up to his full height and dwarfing the man in front of him. Dean came to stand beside his brother, backup in case Sam needed it.

You could see the alpha physically swallow as he stared up at Sam, a flicker of uncertainty and…fear in his eyes?

“She...she’s my…” he started, but never got the chance to finish.

“No,” Sam snapped. “She’s not. She’s. Mine. Now leave,” he growled, motioning to the door.

The other alpha paused as if debating whether to comply or not. He must have decided Sam wasn’t much of a threat because he suddenly darted forward, his hand reaching out for you, his fingernails scraping against the skin of your arm, causing you to cry out as blood dotted your flesh.

Sam snarled, lunging at the alpha, his fist making contact with the other’s jaw with a sickening crack. The alpha fell to the floor in a heap, a whimper falling from his mouth before he struggled to his feet, spitting blood on the floor. He bared his bloody teeth, a challenge in his eyes.

Sam seemed unfazed, however, the fight already over and having come out on top. “You touch her again...you ever so much as look at her, I will end you,” Sam growled.

“That a threat?” the alpha asked.

“It’s a promise,” Sam said sharply, his staunch demeanor never wavering.

Without another word Dean, Garth, and a few other hunters seized the alpha, ushering him outside despite his threats that he’d kill every last one of them.

Sam turned to you, his eyes softening. “Are you okay?” he asked, sitting back down, his fingers ghosting over the scrapes on your arm.

You nodded, tears in your eyes. “Wh...what did you mean that I’m...yours?” you asked timidly.

“You’re my true mate,” Sam said matter-of-factly. “Knew it as soon as I smelled you. And when we touched....”

You swallowed and nodded, realizing all those feelings, the atmosphere shifting was because he’d finally arrived. Your true mate. Your real alpha.

A feeling of desire stronger than you’d ever experienced before coursed through your veins and all you could think about was Sam. You wanted him. Needed him.

“Take me away,” you whispered. “Please, Alpha.”

At the sound of his presentation falling from your lips a groan rumbled in his chest and his eyes grew dark with lust. He reached for your hand, pulling you up and into his side before leading you out the back door.

He led you through the shrubs behind Jody’s house, through the line of trees behind them, and finally to an open yet secluded field. The long, dry grass swayed in the light breeze and the light from the setting sun cast everything in a golden glow. It was dazzling, and for a moment you forgot just why Sam had brought you there.

Sam abruptly stopped, spinning you around and pulling you close to him. He stared down at you for a moment before crashing his lips into yours - needy and wanting.

Everything around you seemed to fade...to slow down. Your mind was buzzing and your skin was alight with fire. You could taste him, smell him, feel him all around you. He permeated the very air you breathed and in that moment there was not even a sliver of doubt that Sam Winchester was your alpha.

You moaned into his mouth, his hands running up and down your sides before finally settling on your hips and pulling back. “I never thought I’d be here,” Sam whispered. “I thought I was too old and that I’d lost my chance to ever have my true mate.” You smiled up at him, reaching your hand out and stroking his cheek.

“I want you,” Sam breathed, his fingers running along the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “I want to make you mine...my omega.”

“Then do it,” you whispered.

Sam searched your face uncertainly. “Are you sure?” he asked. “We just met and that...that fucking bastard...” he growled, his teeth baring into a snarl at the memory.

Your hand coming to rest on his arm calmed him, and he turned back to you, his eyes hopeful. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my entire life,” you reassured with a soft grin.

Sam returned it before capturing your lips once again and lowering you to the ground, the long grass rustling beneath you. Sam didn’t break the connection until you were laid out underneath him, his hips nestled between your thighs. You could feel his arousal on your most sensitive parts, and you couldn’t help the desire that washed over you, slick pooling in your panties.

He sat back on his haunches, fingers fumbling for the button on your jeans and slipping them off. His pupils were blown as his eyes met the soaked cloth of your panties, and you whimpered at the lewd grin that spread across his lips.

You were so turned on it was unfathomable, but it quickly faded to fear when he reached for the hem of your shirt. All those lies...he had told you came rushing back in a wave of insecurity, and your hands flew to the bottom of your shirt, jerking it down so hard you heard a rip.

Sam sat back, startled and with eyes wide. “Wh...what’s wrong?” he asked, seeming almost hurt you wouldn’t allow him to see you.

“Sam…” you said slowly, your voice quivering. “I’m...I’m not pretty.... I’m undesirable.”

Sam frowned. “That fucking excuse for an alpha,” he growled under his breath. “(Y/N),” he said, a shudder running through you at the authority in his voice. “You are not undesirable at all. None of what he said was true. None of it! You see this?” he asked, pointing down to the very considerable and very prominent bulge in his jeans. “This is all you, baby. In fact,” he added, desire swimming in his eyes as he leaned over you, resting his forearms on either side of your head. “A very beautiful...very sexy woman is to blame,” he finished, his voice low and seductive.

Warmth filled your belly when his lips touched yours again, and you moaned into his mouth as he rutted against you, the roughness of his jeans rubbing deliciously against your core. He continued to kiss you, his tongue finding yours, as he slowly slipped a hand under your shirt, his calloused fingertips ghosting the sensitive skin of your lower abdomen.

You were so lost in him that you barely even registered him dragging your shirt up until he broke away to pull it over your head. Even though there was a slight hesitation on your part, you were so enraptured with him, you didn’t even care. You just wanted your alpha.

You unfastened your bra without resistance, his breath hitching as his eyes landed on your full and supple breasts. He reached out, his thumb running over your taut nipple gently, almost as if afraid to touch. You gasped at the sensation, your reaction seeming to snap him out of his trance as he leaned forward, capturing the bud in his mouth and alternately laving at each breast.

By the time he was done, your breasts were swollen and red and arousal coursed through your body, slick leaking out and coating your inner thighs. “Sam,” you whined, the need for him almost unbearable.

He seemed to understand as he made quick work of removing your panties, practically ripping them from your body before standing and shedding his clothes in a matter of mere seconds. His cock was at full attention, plastered to his stomach, tip red and leaking pre-cum.

He lowered himself back down, his hand sliding up and down his shaft slowly until he hovered over you. You could feel his tip nudging your folds before he slid into you, groans leaving both of your mouths at the feeling.

Although you’d taken an alpha before, this time seemed so much different. You felt full, but not uncomfortably. Not like before. This time you felt full in all the right places, like a piece of you had been missing and you had finally found it.

He started moving soon after, his thrusts slow as he warmed you up to him. The soft moan that left your lips told him you were ready for more, his pace picking up as he snapped his hips into yours relentlessly.

His hand found your leg, hooking his fingers behind your knee and angling it up against his side, allowing him to sink even deeper into you. You mewled as he hit your sweet spot, the pleasure building quickly. Your walls began to flutter, and he seemed to realize you were close as his hand snaked between your bodies, finding your swollen clit and rubbing quick, hard circles.

You cried out at the feeling, your arms clasping around his muscular back, fingers digging into his sweaty flesh. He grunted as you began to tighten around him, and he buried his face into your neck, lapping at your salty skin.

Goosebumps rolled across your skin as you realized what he was getting ready to do, and you turned your head, giving him better access. His cock twitched, and you could feel his knot growing as his thrusts began to grow sloppy, nearing his release.

He came with a low grunt and whisper of your name, teeth sinking into your flesh just as his knot hooked inside you and he spilled his seed deep with your channel. His orgasm triggered your own, your mouth falling open in a cry of praise as your walls clamped down, milking him for all he was worth.

You were both a pile of exhausted and sweaty limbs as you came down from your highs, Sam gently licking the claiming mark on your skin. Your hands ran over his shoulders and up and down his back, stroking every rise and dip of his muscles.

“I’m glad I found you,” Sam whispered in your ear, his face still nestled in your neck.

You smiled and hummed, holding him all the tighter. “I’m glad I found you, too,” you said back, hand massaging the back of his neck and fingers weaving into his thick hair.

And as you reveled at the feeling of finally being claimed, you understood why you’d never been able to give yourself to another alpha…. None of them had been Sam Winchester.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! If you liked what you read, let me know!! ❤❤

***Please do not share my content on any other platform without my consent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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chasing-classics · 4 years

Text

Welcome to the Slaughterhouse (2/3) Miguel x Reader x Angel

Warnings: violence, mentions of abuse and non-consensual sex

Pairing(s): Angel Reyes x Reader, Miguel Galindo x Reader

A/N: I don’t plan on this becoming a series, more like a three-part mini story. I received a few messages asking if there would be a second part to ‘Welcome to the Slaughterhouse’ and instantly the idea of where I wanted the story to go and how it would end started formulating in my head. There will be one more installment of this mini-series and I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Your past with Miguel is explained in further detail along with how you reunited with Angel. Later, the dinner table becomes the lion’s den as certain truths are brought to light.

PART 1 , PART 3

Can you turn the page into something new The fantasies of burdened beasts But kings and queens won't even dream of peace

You had known fear throughout your entire life. The fear of whether it would be a ‘’good day’’ in the sense that your mother would be passed out on the couch from how much liquor was in her system or if it would be a ‘’bad day’’ and she’d throw the glass at your head while screaming incoherently. Most of the time it was the latter. You had known fear for Angel when was mourning the loss of his mother and Ezekiel was locked up and that fear increased little by little for every beer he drank to cope with his own pain. The fear that he’d end up like your mother, or worse; that you’d lose him to the in an accident due to drinking. When he joined the club, fear lingered at the possibilities of him getting hurt or getting locked up like his brother. Fear was present when you two slowly began drifting away from each other, life taking the both of you down different paths. And fear was most definitely present throughout your entire marriage to Miguel.

When you and Miguel had first started dating, he kept his family business very much hidden from you, only talking about his father and mother and the brother he never had a chance to meet. It wasn’t until after you walked down the aisle and he put that extravagant block of a diamond ring on your finger that he revealed the dark truths about the cartel. It was absolutely a power play, and Miguel craved power. He knew you had no family, no one to really turn to when things would go bad in the marriage. And, like how it was when your mother was alive, most of the days were bad.

You loved Miguel in the beginning. You craved stability and here was this beautiful, charming man ready to provide that and more. You fell for him, going into the relationship with all of these hopes and dreams for the future. Once upon a time he truly loved you too. You were beautiful and pure and so intelligent. You were damaged in similar ways he was given your family history, and he craved you all the more for it. But somewhere along the line that love transformed and manifested into something ugly; possession. He craved control. Control over his money, over the cartel, the MC, and control over you. After the first time he put his hands on you, he had burst into tears and cradled you like you were the most fragile thing in the universe. He swore it he would never do it again, and he seemed so sincere and you loved him so much you believed him. You didn’t want to end up like your parents, you wanted a happy home with a loving husbands and a couple of kids running around. So, you stayed.

The second time it happened you dashed to your room and began packing your bags. You remember your body shaking in absolute anger. You loved Miguel, but you would never tolerate him laying hands on you. ‘It’s over Miguel,’ you seethed, throwing your wedding ring across the bedroom floor. You remembered stumbling onto the tiled floor, clutching your cheek and in pure shock that he had actually punched you. He bent down to your level, scoffing at your words and completely filled with this rage you did not believe possible for a human being to possess. ‘Where are you going to go? You have nowhere, nothing, no one waiting for you outside this house. I own you, querida, and if you want to challenge that notion I’ll put a bullet in your skull to get the point across,’ you vividly recall him telling you as he held your jaw in his iron grip. At that point it was no longer empty threats or hurtful words being thrown at you; that was a promise. That was the first night he forced himself on you and you were never more grateful that Nestor took pity on you and drove you to get a plan b pill and renew your birth control the next morning. When you emerged from the clinic you were filled with the sudden instinct to turn to your left. Maybe it was fate, maybe it was pure coincidence, but as you waited for Nestor to pull the car around you froze when your e/c eyes locked with familiar brown ones.

The sound of Angel saying your name after years of no contact instantly filled you with millions of memories that had been suppressed and buried under the nightmare you lived in with Miguel. Nostalgia fluttered through your entire being like a swarm of butterflies. You could still remember how it felt embracing him on the sidewalk, the smell of cigarettes and his cologne comforting you. Coco and Gilly having the decency to give you both the privacy you clearly needed. Angel took one look at you and knew life had not been kind. Under your pearl necklace, huge wedding ring and designer dress Angel knew you weren’t ok. He knew you were living in constant fear based off the dark circle under your eyes and the fact that you were wearing a coat over your dress despite the blazing Santo Padre sun in the middle of summer. He knew someone was doing horrible things to you, he just didn’t know it was Miguel-fucking-Galindo who now had the Mayans under his control as well.

From that day forward, every chance you got you took it to meet with Angel in secret. At first it had been purely innocent, just two former lovers meeting up and catching up. Life had not been kind to you, but you were relieved that Angel’s had somewhat approved. You learned that EZ was going to be released soon, you were slowly introduced to Gilly and Coco when Angel knew he could trust them. You had learned that he had a fling with Adelita, the woman who was hellbent on bringing Miguel down. The look of jealousy on your face validated what Angel had secretly been hoping for since the moment you two reunited; you still loved him. Neither of you expected to wind up in bed, Angel holding you to his chest as his release flowed out of you. Neither of you expected to fall back into love after fate had brought you back together. Neither of you knew this was going to be the night you’d die.

Everything happened so fast. One minute you were sitting at the dinner table, gaping in and out like a fish out of water at the double realization that not only did your husband know you were seeing Angel, but the two were related by blood. Nestor handed Miguel a manila folder, to which Miguel threw in yours’ and Angel’s direction. You briefly glanced at the spilled documents, noticing the highlighted portions. A 99% match that the Reyes brothers and Miguel were half-siblings. Photos of you and Angel in intimate embraces. You felt Angel freeze next to you and saw out of the corner of your eye that EZ gripping his steak knife. Bishop opened his mouth to speak, and suddenly the rabid wolf awoken in your husband. Miguel leapt over the table, pressing your face against the dinner table, gun pressed against your temple.

Angel snarled and stood instantly, Nestor appearing behind him and holding his gun to the back of Angel’s head. You heard the Mayans shouting profanities and Bishop trying to diffuse the situation.

‘’Let’s just calm the fuck down-,’’ Bish tried, sweat forming on his forehead due to the tension in the room.

‘’Calm down? This disgusting slut, MY WIFE, has been spreading her legs for this lowlife vermin scum,’’ you flinched as the cool barrel of the gun dug into your skin, crying out when Miguel yanked you up by your neck, holding you against his chest as you claws at his hand in a futile attempt to gain some air.

Your eyes fell upon Angel, tears blurring your vision as his jaw was clenched, struggling to control his temper as he glared daggers at your husband. He was shaking in rage and you never thought you’d see Angel so angry.

‘’I wonder, mi amor, have you fucked every man here? Hm? Are you wet at the thought of them running a train on you?’’ Miguel hissed in your ear, the hand that was wrapped around your neck violently cupped your sex through your dress, a sob escaping your lips.

‘’Hey, hey there’s no need for this. We can talk. Just put the gun down,’’ Bishop struggled with his words, trying to maintain some sort of control so that yours’ and Angel’s brains didn’t end up spread along the table. EZ’s breathing was labored, the knife still in his hand as he mentally weighed his options. Coco’s hawkish eyes were looking at Nestor’s gun.

‘’Talk? Oh no, we’re past talking,’’ Miguel laughed humorlessly, cocking the pistol.

The gun pressed against your head was removed as Miguel stretched his arm out to aim at Angel.

‘’I’m going to make you watch me kill him and when I’m done dealing with you, you’ll be begging me for death,’’ Miguel whispered. He then turned his attention to Angel.

‘’Any words, little brother?’’

‘’I love you,’’ Angel declared. You nodded your head as your heart was pounding through your chest. ‘’I love you too.’’

BOOM!

You screamed as blood splattered across your face, the thud of the body crashing into the table, taking the silverware and tablecloth along with it. You jumped at the noise it had made. You shakily turned around, standing on wobbly legs as you stared at the body of your husband. Instantly, you knew the lifeless look in his eyes would never be erased from your memory for as long as you lived. You turned your attention behind you, panting from the excruciating fear.

‘’Took you long enough,’’ you sighed, running a trembling hand down your face.

‘’My apologies, we needed to wait for the right moment,’’ the figure sighed, emerging from one of the columns in your dining room, her footsteps echoing throughout the grand dining room.

Adelita’s eyes surveyed the scene as a couple of members of Los Olvidados entered the room, guns in hand and ready for anything.

You then both turned to Nestor, who withdrew his gun, eyes not leaving Miguel’s lifeless body as he struggled to process his emotions. He nodded his head, finally turning to you.

‘’We’re even.’’

You nodded your head in agreement.

‘’What the FUCK just happened?!’’ you sighed as EZ’s shouts echoed throughout the otherwise silent mansion.

And someday he might lose his crown In time these chains that hold me down would set me free

#angel reyes #mayans mc #miguel galindo x reader #angel reyes x reader #violence #mayans fic #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes #mayans #miguel galindo

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op-peccatori · 5 years

Text

shake my heart and let love fall out| MLQC Victor | Kinktober: October 23rd

Prompts: Lingerie || Hate-fucking/Angry sex || Forced orgasm

Here’s entry number 6 for @alloveroliver’s Kinktober 2019!! Hope you like it.

Fandom: Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Reader/Victor

Rating: 18+ (nsfw)

Word count: 7500

Warnings: explicit sex and language, angst porn??, angry sex, overstimulation, hickeys, mild spanking, kinda forced orgasm, possessive Victor, marriage, idiotic decisions made for the sake of angst, the sense of flight is stronger than the fight, I have proven yet again that I'm incapable of writing angst

When I write, I like to play a little game: how many synonyms can I use? ha...hahaha...smut is in the second half! There’s a mood board too, my first one ever!

Will I ever stop getting carried away when it comes to writing for Victor? ...probably not

High heels clack down the long hall, the sound echoing off the marble floor.

The sight of a familiar broad back has your throat tightening, steel grey eyes that seemingly look beyond you making your heart race as you reach the top of the sprawling staircase. Victor’s face is beauty carved from the smoothest stone, and his gaze is cooler than December rains.

Your fingers twitch with the urge to cup his face, to coax out some form of emotion.

You know you look good, but that never seemed to stop him from complimenting you in the past. Your dress is soft, cream satin on your body, your hair curled to perfection. Your neck is bound by thin lines of glimmering gemstones, a gift you found waiting for you when you stepped out of the shower. To have him barely glance your way now – it hurts you more than you’d like to admit. But you can admit that you had it coming.

“I see you’ve decided to end your vacation,” he’d asked you, hours after your return, his tone frigid enough to freeze your breath in your lungs. The deep bags under his eyes struck you harder than his words. “Did you finally remember you’re married?”

You never forgot. You have been a coward, tormented by thoughts of confrontation and rejection. You ran away. It was a mistake, you know that now. A split-second decision you can't take back, resulting in a whole year away from the man you still love but don't know how to be with.

The wedding band on your finger still burns with the weight of your decision.

Your hand in the crook of his arm feels natural, the heat of his body comforting; you have to refrain from leaning into him As you descend the steps together, you can’t help but glance at the people waiting at the bottom. At the woman who had called you exactly two weeks ago, crying and pleading with you to come back. Aunt Grace smiles back at you, the look of worry in her eyes fading. You don’t know why she thinks you can fix anything, to be honest. All you do is run. You hadn’t expected anything less than the frosty welcome you got from your husband and it has only gotten worse since then.

“You both look lovely,” she says with a wobbly smile in place, as Victor’s father smiles like he thinks everything will be okay now. You can feel the guilt threatening to burst forth, with the knowledge of what you’re hiding. For now. “Have fun at the party!”

You met Victor in your last year of college, at a farmer's market of all places. It took one impromptu lesson in how to select fresh produce, one cooking class, and a heart-melting kiss under the stars for you to fall in love. You both got married right after you graduated – it was the perfect fairy tale romance. You had been utterly consumed by how much you loved him, to the point where you just...lost yourself, somewhere along the way. You wanted to be with the love of your life. You didn’t know who you were without him.

And then, a year into marriage – the fights started. It was normal, everyone said. Fighting makes you stronger. It didn’t seem that way, it only seemed to weaken you. You two were barely talking. Eventually, you only saw him about twice or thrice a week. He came home later and later, and you stopped waiting up for him. There were no apologies, just expensive gifts. His company was doing so well, deal after deal cementing him as the entrepreneur everyone wanted to do business with. Rumours of his supposed affairs were making rounds in the gossip rags and even though you didn’t really believe them, it fueled the ugly parts of you. The resentment, the jealousy, the insecurity. You were suffocating, under your unwillingness to step out of your little bubble.

But you still didn’t have the courage to confront him.

You don’t even want to think about what your sex life had devolved into.

And then you reconnected with your childhood friend Gavin. He knew you beyond what most people now knew you as- the wife of a successful man. It was refreshing, and it gave you the courage to be more adventurous. You knew he used to have a major crush on you, but it was just something to laugh about after all those years. But Victor had never liked him in the past, and he didn’t like him when he flew back into your life, the perfect distraction from your dull life. You started spending more time with him, handsome and kind Gavin, always there to lend you a shoulder, always there to accompany you wherever you wanted to go.

You think that was when you saw Victor at his ugliest, when you were out with Gavin at your favourite restaurant and he came home early for once, to watch Gavin walk you to the front door. Except, then he tried to kiss you. You rebuffed him as politely as you could, he apologized for overstepping and both of you were mortified. And then there was only dread when you walked in to see Victor. Accusations were hurled, each comment more biting than the previous, and things that could never be taken back were thrown out in the open.

Did you fuck him?

You hurt each other.

We were a mistake.

You made it very clear things were platonic between you and Gavin, but the naked pain on his face still haunts you. The wounds were raw and bleeding after that, and neither of you knew how to patch them up. You couldn't stand the sight of each other for a while. He shut you out, so you left. You took a break. You went to your father’s hometown, where he had established his production company. His protégé, Anna, welcomed you with open arms and encouraging words. You needed a break, you needed to rebuild. And Victor needed time to get things in order, but you secretly hoped he would figure out how to give enough time to your relationship.

There was no more word from Victor though, he just sent over the luggage you had packed but left behind, with a message from Goldman to let him know if you needed anything 'while you were away', and when you planned to go back. You left the more expensive gowns and jewellery he had bought you in your closet and thankfully, he respected it and the distance you chose to put between them.

Taking over your father’s company had been terrifying when you had only worked with them briefly in the past, but it felt right. It’s one of the best decisions you’ve ever made for yourself, and you could finally begin discovering you were without the man who completed you.

You still cried yourself to sleep more often than not, but that was something you kept to yourself. This was something you needed to do.

It was the first time you made a big decision without Victor’s steadiness to take comfort in. Releasing that you are capable of making decisions without him was thrilling, yet devastating. Because he wasn’t an option at the time. It was only a matter of time until you received the divorce papers or a demand from him to return.

Sometimes, you thought of just going back. You knew you could. But something stopped you. Just a little more time, you told yourself. Your company was growing by leaps and bounds. And before you knew it, a year had passed. You were so different from the woman Victor married, yet your feelings for him still ran deep. You kept a close eye on any news you could find on him – the media had a blast speculating about the lives of the young couple. You had managed to survive without him, despite the loneliness. You didn't want to be alone, you wanted him. But you just didn't know how to fit the new pieces of you with his and you didn't know if he even wanted you to.

But he never asked you to return or leave him, and here you are, walking arm-in-arm into the party to announce your return. People whisper excitedly, but most seem to have believed you had just been busy being a successful producer and running your company. Not entirely untrue, but you aren’t going to comment either way, and it seems like Victor agrees.

Not until you talk to him about your future, with or without him.

You accept two flutes of champagne with a dazzling smile, passing one over to Victor with familiar ease. Clinking the glasses together, your eyes meet over the glasses and flick away, your masks in place, ready to meet the world. You hesitate before you leave his side, brushing a hand across his forearm willfully, squeezing once before you’re off to socialize. You know he watches you go, held in place by the sway of your hips.

You greet old friends and new, longtime enemies and people who aren't too excited to have you back. You deflect catty remarks, accept envious compliments aimed at the new jewellery your husband has so lovingly gifted you, field questions about your work. Your smile is flawless regardless of who you speak with, your gaze never too far from Victor as you watch people fall all over themselves trying to impress him.

It’s hard to hold a smirk back at the sight – some things will never change.

Goldman pulls you aside to stare at you for a few seconds before telling you that you're despicable, a coward for doing what you did. “But, I’m so glad you’re home. It was getting...difficult.”

That’s the problem, something that really bothers you. Aunt Grace, Victor’s father, Goldman – everything they’ve said implies that Victor’s been in unending agony in your absence. You shouldn’t have given up, you knew that. But after the big fight, you had tried. Not often, but you tried to talk to him. Victor, he barely came home and you just...couldn’t do it anymore.

Victor seems to have forgotten you were ever in love. It doesn’t help.

Kiro greets you with a brilliant smile and then Victor’s eyes feel like hot coals on the back of your head. You should feel a little more shame at the vindictive satisfaction that curls in your heart.

“I heard your new album,” you tell Kiro excitedly. “You’ve outdone yourself yet again. You must make an appearance on our show!”

“Aw, thanks, ___! I’ve been keeping up with your adventures as a producer too.” Kiro’s smile is warm and knowing – you feel strangely touched. “I’m glad. You seem so different. In the very best way, of course.” He squeezes your hand in support and your eyes meet stormy greys narrowed in a glare.

Whatever. If he has a problem with people talking to you, he can try doing it himself.

Chik is the next to step up to you, with her pin straight hair and dramatic falsies, expression peeved as she curls her arm around yours, leading you to the long table with a mountain of appetizers. You eye each other warily, nibbling on what seems to be a fancy mozzarella stick. "It's nice to see you, Chik."

She glances around to ensure your privacy before she snorts. "Took you long enough. I'm all for extended vacations, but this was too long ___. " You glare in silence, and she meets your narrowed gaze with her own. "You're starting with the fried stuff. Must be pretty bad."

Your expression is enough to make her wince.

"Ah, well. He's still sickeningly in love with you, so I'm sure it won't be too bad. Just, I don't know, fuck his brains out till he forgets you were gone for a year."

"Chik!" you hiss, but you can't hold back a grin at the scandalized looks you both get from the old couple hovering nearby.

But her words throw you for a loop; your plans jumble up by the second and you feel less certain of yourself. You don’t see him watching you from across the room until you're desperate for a distraction, and then it cuts into your path smoothly, with the lethal grace of a panther.

Victor is excellent at feigning disinterest in what you're doing. But it’s when you’re talking to Professor Lucien that he finally seems to have had enough, cutting in stiffly. The Professor’s sultry gaze has produced far better results than you could’ve predicted. Fingers clench at your waist reflexively before stroking your side, a sign of his agitation. He could never resist the feel of satin on your skin, something you’ve taken advantage of far too many times to count.

“We should be getting home, it’s been a while since I had my lovely wife all to myself,” he says with a tight-lipped smile, his eyes brewing with the beginnings of a hurricane. Lucien inclines his head, drawing out a promise from you to catch up soon. At that, Victor’s fingers dig into your flesh, Lucien smirks wittingly and your heart flutters with expectation.

You leave the ballroom in silence, not looking at each other, almost strangers – almost, but for the strange, buzzing tension between you both. The long hallway is nearly deserted, but you spot lovers whispering to each other in a corner, giggling and touching and blushing. You’re distracted by the sight, the sting it brings, the memories it digs up, and so you’re caught off guard when Victor pulls you into a shadowed corner of your own.

It's like stepping into a muted space, one that is cut off from the rest of the world. You’re stuck between the wall and him as he presses closer, breathing in the fresh scent you like to wear, his expression mostly hidden in the dark. It is here that he loosens the reigns, just a little; his hands glide up your sides, just barely brushing the sides of your breasts and it’s enough to tug at your own tightly wound strings. His mouth skims along your jaw, your mouth, tempted and tempting, not quite a kiss – and he’s straining, you feel it when you touch his shoulders, his chest, the iron of his control tight in his muscle.

“___,” he breathes, your name a prayer and a curse in the way it falls from his mouth. His hand splays against the curve of your hip, his tongue traces the shell of your ear, and your breath catches on a moan. And then he rips himself away from you, leaving you bereft and gasping, struggling to process his actions and the depth of your craving.

The ride home is silent. You feel a bit drunk on his achingly familiar scent, the perfume you’ve always loved; your eyes are unable to keep from peeking at the sharp angles of his face. His suit jacket is draped over the top of his seat, the cuffs of his sleeves rolled up to his thick forearms, his shirt straining across his broad chest. His knuckles are white from how tight his grip on the steering wheel is.

You get home, and you think it’s finally time to talk.

He opens the door for you, but in your haste to step out and talk to him, your heel gets wedged between the cobblestone lining the pathway. It breaks in half, the snap of it damning and you flail as you go down, your embarrassing dive on the walkway stopped by steady arms winding around your waist.

It's a terribly romantic moment, one where you're close enough to count his lashes, close enough to see the sudden spill of warm yearning in his eyes. He squeezes you closer for a second as if he can’t help it, before he, quite literally, sweeps you off your feet and walks to the entrance. Your face flushes deeper when you catch sight of the grin on his staff's faces. The walk through the door, with you in his arms – you can't help but remember the day of your wedding, when you made a similar entrance. This time, he pauses in the living room, gently placing you down on the couch and your heart swells with hope.

“Victor–“ He walks away before you can continue, without even a hint of acknowledgement, and you freeze at the sight of his back to you. It’s not the first time, but you’re left staring into nothing as you remember all the times he’d walked away when you tried to talk to him. It still stings and you’re unable to say a word.

You miss his glance back at you, the furrow of his brow. You slip off your heels and slink off to your room, something heavy settling in your stomach.

‘There’s no point.’

The divorce papers, empty of any signatures, sit in your bedside drawer.

Victor could never put aside his pride and talk to you. He’s left vulnerability behind in the past. You squeeze your eyes shut as more flashes of your wedding day pass through your mind, of soft eyes and softer smiles. Of twirling on the dance floor, high on your joy at marrying the man of your dreams.

It’s alright. You’ll have to resort to more drastic measures, but perhaps that’s what is needed. You don't know what he wants, all you can give him are options.

You look at your reflection, at your teary eyes and defeated expression. You wonder how, after all this time, you’re back here in the very same position. Focus. You need to get dressed for bed before you can give in to the urge to barge into Victor's bedroom and throttle him. The necklace is the first thing to come off, followed by the pins keeping your hair in place, and a wince when your scalp aches. You almost don't want to take the dress off, but it's too pretty to be ruined by sleep.

Your zipper is stuck, and it feels like the thread you were so determined to hang onto finally snaps. A surge of helplessness takes over, you're left with few options. Your despair mounts, and your fingers itch to break something. It’s not a good thing. You’ve already proven yourself capable of breaking your own heart.

You hurl the broken stiletto at the wall instead, letting it bear the brunt of your displeasure.

“I see you’re still unable to manage your emotions like an adult.” You whirl around and see Victor standing in the doorway, a glass of whiskey in hand paired perfectly with an eye roll. You observe him as he steps in and closes the door behind him; he's exchanged the sleek suit for an old grey sweatshirt and dark pants, both hugging his body in ways that seem unfair. Your old room, usually unreasonably spacious, feels small with him in it.

Your mouth dries up, and you feel the regret sharply in your throat, cutting you. “And you’d know all about that, of course.” He remains silent, and you’re so sick of his silence. “Oh wait, that would imply you actually have any.”

He simply rolls his eyes again. It’s still annoying and draws out indecent reactions from your body. You want to sink your teeth into his thighs and see if he still rolls his eyes like that. “I didn’t come here to trade insults, ___.”

Ignoring the jolt in your belly in response to him saying your name, you keep tugging at your zipper to no avail, staring at his reflection in the ornate mirror warily. The things you had left behind are still here, dusted and in place; the whisper of your name in a dark corner is still fresh – you don’t know what to feel.

“Then what do you want?” He sighs and walks over to you, placing the glass down on your vanity and slipping his other hand out of his pocket to help you. It cooperates with him right away, the traitorous thing, and you’re left melting at the feeling of his warm breath in your hair, the stroke of his knuckle on your skin.

“I...think we need to clear a few things up.”

“Thank you.” But his hands haven’t fallen away, and you can see his eyes glued to the bare expanse of your back, his finger tracing the edge of your bra. You’re wearing one of his favourite sets, you realise belatedly. The one you’d bought for one of his birthdays, with pebbled peaks clearly visible through the sheer material. The delicate one he’d refused to let you take off until he’d fucked you twice already, that he’d then unclasped and peeled off with such care you had giggled until he stuffed his fingers in your mouth.

‘I have to tell him. I have to tell him. I have to tell him.’

Your heart pounds in your ears as he slips the straps of your dress off your shoulders, one at a time, fingers stroking down your arms leaving goosebumps in their wake, letting the dress pool at your feet. His eyes lift to join yours in the mirror, his pupils dilating until his eyes are nearly black with desire at the sight of you, exposed and trembling with your own want. His fingers dance along the waistband of the material adorning your hips, that hides nothing. The calloused digits trace a teasing path along your spine, tangling with the hair at the nape of your neck.

You can’t quite breathe, torn between saying something and arching into his touch. True to form, you’re quick to step away, slipping over to the window to put some distance between the two of you. To escape whatever seems to be building between you two, the desire in his eyes that mirrors your own.

“Yes, I have some things I need to tell you.” You need to get this out before you end up doing something you...probably won’t regret.

Clearly, Victor has other ideas. He strikes fast, your wrist trapped within the confines of his hand before you can stop him. You try to back up and he lets you, but follows along, prowling after you with dark desire clear in his stare.

Outside, the sky is darkening with impending rain, and all you hear is the beating of your heart, all you sense is the longing for his warmth, his touch a balm on your starved skin.

“No more running away,” he says quietly. You’re still trying to free your wrist from his grip when his eyes fall to your wedding ring. “Did you ever take that off?”

You still, knowing the various questions hidden within those few words. And they all had one answer. “No. Of course not. But I...”

He doesn’t reply, just steps closer, pushing your wrists up until they’re pinned above your head, your back flush against the cold glass of the windows. His fingers come up to trace the soft curve of your mouth, smearing the lipstick with an electrifying intensity in his eyes. “Victor...”

“You made me wait for so long.” You try to reply but he doesn’t let you, slipping his index finger into your rapidly drying mouth. “You left, ___.” You left me is left unspoken, but you hear it clearly enough. His leg slides between your thighs, firm against your mound.

You whimper and his slips his middle finger through your lips. “I never knew you could be so resolute. I have to admit, I’m almost impressed.” He towers over you and you’re struck silent by how furious he looks now, the devastating rage in his eyes robbing you of words. Your tongue licks soothingly along his fingers reflexively, and you hear him suck in a breath. Then you’re gagging on his fingers with wet eyes, his lips warm against your temple. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I have you now. You’re not going anywhere again, not anytime soon.”

The words sound ominous, his expression slipping into something unhinged but you’re too distracted by the fingers pulling out of your mouth to slip down your body, shoving your panties aside to tease your wet slit. Your breath stutters and his lips brush yours, featherlight.

You breathe each other in, eyes fixed on the others. You lick your drying lips and then his other hand is around the back of your head, tugging at your hair as he releases your wrists. The sound he makes when you mewl at the sensation is guttural, painfully raw. Like a man possessed, he yanks your head back and then his mouth is on yours, kissing you like he’s desperate to love you and hurt you with this one action.

You feel like you’ve been struck by lightning, and your heart feels unbearably full. His lips are hard and bruising, tongue intertwining insistently with yours, moving with a ferocious hunger that threatens to steal the very breath from your lungs. You respond with the strength of a thousand fevered thoughts behind you, every bit of longing you’ve tried to suppress in your heart, every filthy dream you’ve had to try and forget.

He nips at your mouth, hands moving down your body with intent, tugging your panties down your thighs. “You won’t be needing these.” You step out of them without protest, quivering at the way Victor caresses your sides, your abdomen clenching when his hand slips between your legs again. “Stay quiet, I don’t want to hear a sound from you.”

His fingers push their way into your sex, and you yelp into his mouth. The sudden stretch is painful but there is pleasure etched in the pain, his fingers knowing how to curl and where to rub, to make you writhe. Your hips grind into his hand, but he pulls it away, leaving you moaning and chasing after his touch as he sticks the glistening fingers in his mouth.

“Tch. You just can’t listen, can you?” But you know he’s pleased with your inability to stay quiet when he touches you. Victor’s always easier to read when he gets riled up. Stripping you of all sense and control never failed to do so, and you’re satisfied to see it still holds. “And you’re so wet already.”

It feels like there has been no time away at all, in this moment. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted him this badly before, your need for him raging through your veins and threatening to drown you. Victor can’t seem to step away, his tongue tracing along the edge of the cloth hugging your breasts, his teeth tugging at your skin. He takes special pleasure in giving you a new necklace, this one made of bruises, crafted by his teeth.

His hands squeeze your plump rear, kneading the flesh as he works your mouth open again, tongue slipping in and out of your pliant mouth, intent on devouring you like a starved beast. His lips trace a wet path down your jaw to your neck, and you moan, hands slipping into his hair, down his back; his throat vibrates with a rumble when you leave scratches on pale skin. Your eyes slide in and out of focus and, like gravity bringing you back down, fall on your bedside drawer. You freeze at the reminder of what sits there and Victor does the same. His chest heaves as he pulls away, staring at you questioningly.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” You can almost choke on the guilt you feel. Should you just forget about the papers and burn them later?

“And why not?” God, his voice. It was rough with need and so fucking deep, you could probably come just listening to it. But you can’t. Because you’re here for one reason only-to do what’s best for Victor. Well, what you thought was best for Victor. In the long run. It’s probably not great for his blood pressure.

“We need to talk.”

“We can talk later.” You want to cry at the way he half-bites his lip, caressing your hips meaningfully.

“No. Look, I...this is such a bad time to do this but you need to know something.” Victor raises a brow, nearly unable to keep his eyes from falling to your body. There’s not much that can keep him from fucking you right now. “I didn’t come back to be a burden. And to avoid doing that I...” You’re done holding him back. You’re doing the right thing. Right?

“What did you do?” he asks quietly, eyes suddenly even more intent on you. You take a deep breath. “I thought you came back because you were ready.”

‘Just rip the bandaid off.’

“I wanted to resolve things and I wanted to, I don’t know. To free you.”

Oh God, why did I say it like that?

There’s complete silence in the room now that you’re not panting like you’re in heat. The sky is rolling with thunder, flashing violently. It’s akin to the look in Victor’s eyes before he speaks, hands falling away from you.

“To free me?” he repeats, his fists clenching at his side. You bite back a whimper at the ice in his voice, but keep going. You’re half-certain you’ve got this completely wrong now because Victor did not touch you like a man who wants to be freed.

“Okay, that didn’t come out right. But, yes. It’s not fair to you. None of this is. I couldn't just, waltz back in. And you never said anything. I didn’t know what you wanted. So I, I got divorce papers drawn up before I came back. In case that’s what you wanted. I just...want you to be happy–“ Victor doesn't even let you finish, a vein threatening to burst on his forehead before he turns around and storms away, his fury coiled around him like a venomous snake. You slump against the glass, dread pooling in your stomach at this new blunder.

You should’ve just kept your mouth shut.

The room spins violently, and then your front is pressed up against the cool window – for a moment, you’re not sure what happened. The entire length of Victor’s body presses firmly against the back of yours, a sense of danger so very alluring settling in the air. You flinch when his palm strikes against the window, fear and anticipation coursing through you in equal measure. The aggression is rolling off of him in waves and then he’s crushing you to him.

“To free me?” he laughs, low and disbelieving at your ear. He struggles to speak through the outrage, you can feel it. He kisses your neck so softly, a tendril of fear curls around your spine; you feel like prey caught under the enraged lion’s paw. “You want me to be happy?” His words are a snarl and you do whimper now. “You think you know what’s best for everyone, don’t you? You think we shouldn’t be around each other, so you leave. You decide that wasn’t enough punishment so you come back, to tell me you want a fucking divorce?” His hand comes down on your ass hard, making you cry out before he presses you more firmly against the window, his throbbing cock pressing against the curve of your rear insistently. Your breath fogs up the glass. “Well, fuck that.”

Your heart seizes in your chest. “I didn’t-that’s not what I-I don't want-“

His hand is heavy on your back, pressing down and you’re unable to get any more words out when you realize what he intends to do.

“We do have important things to clear up. I see you’ve gotten more idiotic in your time away. Did you really delude yourself into believing I would want that? Or did you just want a reaction?” His voice edges on dark amusement now, as if you’ve done something extremely stupid. “You’ve got it. Is that what you wanted to hear? To see proof of your place in my heart? Silly girl.” He strokes your slick sex avidly. “It doesn’t matter where you go, this cunt will always be mine. You will always be mine.”

Relief mixes with shame at his words. You’d told yourself over and over that he would want nothing to do with you. But in the deepest parts of your mind, you could admit that this was also a provocation. Something that would make him react for sure, that would shatter the ice. That would make him so angry he would act with only honesty.

Well, here you are. Burning inside out, getting what you wanted. His honesty and his wrath.

You hear him unzip the fly of his pants, your entire being aching with the need to see him. But he doesn’t want you to. This is not two lovers reuniting, this is him punishing you for your idiocy, your cruelty. This is his response to your actions and your words. As if on cue, he finally speaks.

“You’re not to come until I tell you to. You’re going to be a good girl and let me use your pussy for as long as I want. And I’m going to fuck you until I think you’ve learned your lesson.” They’re simple statements. A command you’re expected to follow. You feel the tip of his cock hitting your ass and your walls quiver at the knowledge that he’s pumping himself in preparation. “Is that clear?”

“Y-yes sir,” you rasp. He lines himself up with your entrance, and you brace yourself. But nothing could prepare you for the way his thick cock pushes past your folds, hot and hard, in one swift movement. He doesn’t stop to ease you into it. It hurts, it burns, your brain short circuits. Your hand smacks the window in a bid for something to hold on to as a scream tears out your throat.

“Fuck,” he hisses, and as your eyes roll back at the feel of him hot and hard in you – you can relate. God, you’ve been dreaming of this for so long. Of being so full of him that you can feel him everywhere. He pulls out halfway and slams his hips into you so hard a vague part of you is surprised you didn’t go flying out the window even as tears pool in the corner of your eyes. Each thrust is punishing, aiming to drive a lesson home. “Fuck, I lo-I missed this. I’m never letting you go again.” He’s relentless as he fucks you against the window, his pace charged by the depraved cries crawling out your throat and the anger burning him inside out. Your hips will soon be mottled by bruises with how hard he’s gripping them. But the feeling of having his cock in you, pounding your pussy, filling it up after so long is too much to bear. “Mine. My wife. My cunt. This is mine.”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Your cheeks are wet, and you feel him growl when your walls clamp down around him tight. He stops his thrusts right away and you cry out in earnest.

“Victor, no no no, please. Please, please please.” His palm comes down hard on your asscheek. He spanks you again and you whine, trembling with arousal and desperation.

“Shut up.” His tone is unforgiving but it’s said with a groan, his hand roaming the skin available to him fervently. He cups your breasts, his touch greedy, and pulls you up against him. His dick slips out of you and you whine out loud again at the loss but you’re immediately cut off by his teeth sinking into the side of your neck again. Victor studies the blossoming bruise with carnal satisfaction. “I said, shut up. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? So take it. Take it all - but only when I want you to.”

He turns you around again and, unbalanced, you fall into his arms, a hand on your jaw forcing you to meet his fervid gaze. Your makeup is a complete mess, your hair is in disarray, and you pant wantonly against his collarbone. You’re completely exposed save for your sheer bra, and Victor still has all his clothes on; there’s something deeply sensual about the kind of vulnerability you feel as your bare skin meets soft cloth. He looks like he wants to kiss you and strangle you simultaneously, his chest heaving and flushed pink.

He sweeps your loose curls away from your face. “Did you let anyone touch you in my absence?”

“No!”

“No? Not even once?” His hands are still squeezing every inch of flesh they can reach on your body. His touch is frenzied and ardent, amped up by your tongue flicking his nipple, grazing it with your teeth. “I find that hard to believe. Look at you, you’re such a little slut.” Only for you, you want to say. You know what he wants to hear.

“Not even once.” Your voice is hoarse and your throat feels raw. “I’m still–still yours. Your wife. Your slut.”

Victor tugs at your hair again, but you can tell he’s pleased. “Mine? You chose to refute that claim when you ran away.” His hands are on the back of your thighs, lifting you, still pressed against the window. Your legs wrap around his waist, your mouths close. “And now you want to do it again.”

“No. I’m sorry. I’ve always been yours.” Your words are a sincere whisper on his lips. “Always will be.”

He nuzzles the soft spot behind your ear. “Did you think about me?” he whispers, darkly.

“Every day. Every night.”

“Did you touch yourself?” Your fingers can’t compare to the lazy glide of his length along your slit.

“Yes. But it wasn’t enough,” you breathe. You have your reasons for leaving, for staying away and he will hear them. For now, his cock is entering you again and you’re helpless in his hands, unable to do anything but let him fuck you senseless. His pelvis grinds against you and you try to throw your thoughts elsewhere, anywhere, to keep from coming. “I’m – yours.” Your head falls back, your eyes glued to his face. His hair is wild and sweaty, his muscles flexed as he holds you up against the window.

“Don’t come.” His voice is rough and he knows you won’t be able to follow his demands. You can hear the anticipation hidden in his voice. You try, though. You sink your claws into the figurative cliff edge, holding on for life. He’s merciless, driving into you with the sole purpose of seeing you break. He wants to see you in pieces. “Don’t you dare fucking come.”

And break you do – by the quick drag of his skin on your swollen nub. You’re driven over the edge, the wave of mind-shattering pleasure sweeping over you and you barely hear yourself wail over the growl of thunder. Your walls grip him possessively, massaging his cock and pulling him in with you, robbing him of all control. He chokes out your name as his cum fills you in hot, throbbing spurts –you’re still convinced nothing feels better, your silky walls milking him avariciously. He groans into your hair, his shallow thrusts into your sensitive flesh making you sob.

“I told you not to come,” he murmurs.

You can’t bring yourself to regret it when he pushes you facedown onto the plush rug, half climbing over you, kissing you until you can feel him swell against your ass once more. Arching your back and, looking at him with a hooded gaze over your shoulder, you part your knees invitingly, obedient in a way you know drives him crazy.

You’re left incapable of even standing by the time he deposits you on the bed, primal satisfaction curling along his mouth. Your neck is littered with teeth and finger marks, matching your hips and thighs that still quake and have trails of drying semen courtesy of how many times he came inside you, like an animal reinforcing his claim on his territory. You enjoyed every minute of it, even the bit where he coerced orgasm after orgasm from you, determined to make you forget your own name, to make sure you associate pleasure with only his name. You’re sore from your throat to your toes, not entirely sure you’ll get out of bed tomorrow.

Victor helps you pull on a pair of panties, refusing to allow any ideas of cleaning up. “You’re going to keep all of it inside. It should help keep any more absurd thoughts at bay.” You just know he’s going to want to shower together.

Your husband looks spent, his clothes having come off some time into the second round, his bangs slicked back, eyes more sleepy and satiated than angry.

You want nothing more than to fall into blissful sleep, a feeling that’s encouraged by the way Victor pulls you into his arms, caging you against his trembling body. You pull the blanket over your bodies, both of you pausing to watch the rain for a moment. You swallow a few times to soften your throat, trying to think of something to say but he beats you to it.

“Where are the papers?” His question is asked quietly but it feels like ice shoved down your shirt. You pull out of his arms slowly, tears held back and knees shaking all over again, and you reach into your drawer to pull them out. He takes them from you, studying them silently as you try to regain the ability to breathe, and then looks up at you.

He tears them in half.

“I meant what I said.” He pauses and you wait with bated breath. The anger finally falls away, leaving pain in its wake. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes shut against the vulnerability. “I can’t let you go again.” You burst into tears and he rolls you both over to hover over you. “You need to understand something. It doesn’t matter how long you were away. It doesn’t matter where you were or are on this bloody planet – you’re mine.” He punctuates the words with a hard kiss. “And I’m yours. That will never change. We have to work on us. I won’t just...let you leave without even trying.” You cry and cry and he just kisses you softly, his own eyes wet with pain.

“I just want you. Just you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you blubber and he shushes you, sighing into your hair. “I love you. I love you. I don’t even want a stupid divorce. I thought you might. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Idiot. You weren’t.”

You’re half afraid you won’t get another chance like this, so you try to pull yourself together. “I guess I have a lot of explaining to do.” He hands you a glass of water, having switched to watching you. You know, somehow, that he’s cataloguing all the changes, all the ways you’ve grown. Without him. You had done the same while he was pretending to ignore your return, the longer bangs and tired eyes at odds with the memories you had of him.

“That’s putting it lightly,” he replies, wrapping you up in his shirt and stretching out on his back as he waits for you to start talking. And you talk. You tell him everything, every part of ‘your side of the story.’ The impulsive decisions, the terror, the growth. The hardest to admit to are the insecurities. He listens, with agony in his eyes and his mouth pursed.

But he listens.

“And none of this excuses what I did,” you tell him. “It doesn’t justify it but...”

“I get it.” His voice is gentle. “You needed space. But...the day you came back, you looked at me with so much caution, so much fear that I didn’t know how to react. So I just didn’t. And the anger kept building, you kept treating me like a stranger. I felt so...angry. ‘You’re my wife,’ I wanted to say. Does that mean nothing to you anymore?”

You let how a shuddering breath. “I feel like I’ve changed so much. I didn’t-I’m not who I was when I left.”

“Neither am I. I do wish you’d given me the chance to be there with you. But...at least something good came out of it. ___, you shouldn’t have run away and I...I should’ve tried harder to stop you. I took you for granted. I thought...there will be time for us later, building us an empire took priority. And then you just left, and you didn’t come back. I knew you needed time but then you just. Didn’t come back. I’m still so angry with you, you idiot girl.” He lets you hug him again, lets you cry into his shoulder. He kisses you again and again, with anger and with more love. “But ___, you should know how proud I am of you. I’ve seen your work. I’m so, so proud of you sweetheart. It’s changed you for the better. And the pain of your absence has changed me.”

Your arms tighten around him when he sinks into your embrace, his breath a shudder against your neck. “And I know I can’t live without you. So we’ll try harder. I refuse to entertain any other ideas. And you need to come up with less extreme methods for dealing with problems.”

“I thought you wouldn’t want me anymore,” you admit quietly. He scoffs at your words, pulling you even closer to soothe the sting.

“If I ever stop wanting you, you can safely assume it’s an imposter.” You giggle weakly, struggling with the insecurity and hope warring in your heart. “___, l will spend the rest of our lives showing you how I feel about you. Nothing can change that. Not distance, not time, not even your extremely moronic tendencies. So, I’ll try. I’ll listen.”

“And I won’t make any more stupid decisions. At least not without consulting you,” you promise him, laughing when he pinches your cheek. “No more running away. You're it for me, you always have been. I've done a terrible job of showing it, but...we've got time. I'll work hard.”

Nothing is fixed, but it’s a step in that direction. You’ve both got a lot of work to do. You’ve got a lot to make up for. But the way his body curls around you drives away most of your fear. And the soft kiss he presses to the band around your finger tells you that this time, he won’t stop you from trying.

#alloverkinktober #mlqc victor #mlqc #mlqc fanfic #smut #mr love queen's choice #mr love: queen's choice #love and producer #mlqc li zeyan

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crossbows-and-moonshine · 4 years

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Screaming Salvation (Part two)

Was supposed to upload one a day of these until I run out and totally forgot lmaoooo

Let me know what you guys are thinking of this so far. This story may be somewhat darker than my usual. I don't know if dark is the right word for it but there is a lot of hurt and healing and shit involved.

Fun fact! The name of the fic was originally ‘The Hurt, The Hope’. Which is another As It Is song from the same album. I think it's self-explanatory why. The hurt is all they've been through, the hope is the kids. Carl, Judith and the new baby are the future of this new world. But I thought the other song fit it better so I changed it.

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It had been a few hours since they’d found Rosalie, and they'd done nothing but walk. Her already tired body and sore feet were screaming at her, and the cut on her arm was throbbing. Rick had said once they found shelter someone would stitch it for her. They didn't have time to stop and do it out in the open, it was too dangerous and it was getting dark. Some people had tried to introduce themselves. A woman named Maggie and her husband Glenn finding it their job to be the welcome party. Maggie pointed to everyone in the group and told her their names but she found it hard to care. She doubted she would be staying long. Once the woman realised the new girl didn't want to speak, only nodding or shaking her head and staring off at nothing, she decided it was best to leave her be. Maggie wondered if she was always like this or if it was the trauma of the day.

Rosalie noticed the crossbow guy, Daryl apparently, walking next to her the whole time. He seemed to do this thing where it felt like he projected outwards, like a protective shell that encompassed her and the baby. She wasn't sure if she was imagining it or just delirious from lack of blood and food. He never strayed far from her, and when they had to stop for a small break if someone got too tired, he seemed to hover close to her. Always alert and tense as he watched out for threats. He never seemed to let his guard down, and Rosalie knew that feeling. She had to be that way surviving on her own. If it wasn't for the fact she was injured and stupidly fucking tired, she would be the same way in that moment. The only reason she had some semblance of not being wound so tightly was the fact that she was with people, strength in numbers. She felt his gaze on her every so often but didn't care, keeping her eyes ahead. She had felt from the get-go that Daryl could easily suss people out. She just figured maybe that's what he was doing. She couldn't bring herself to care if he was. She wasn't a threat to his people, not unless they were a threat to her.

When they finally found shelter, she almost fell to the floor and kissed it out of desperation. She was beyond tired and she really didn't want to be out late in the dark with the baby. It was a run-down cabin in the woods, and after clearing it, they all filled in. They sat in the living space, a fire going to keep them warm, and the red-headed man and Latina woman took watch at the windows. When Rick handed her a bottle of formula like he promised, Rosalie felt like someone had cracked open all of her ribs. The pain and guilt were eating her alive. Even though she wasn't thrilled to be hanging with a group, she was grateful and she wanted to thank him. The words wouldn't come out though but Rick could see it in her eyes, how touched she was. He just gave her a warm smile and a pat to the shoulder. It was strange to her, ever since she relented to his request to join them, he’d acted like she was one of them. Part of the group. His words from earlier echoed in her mind. We look out for our own. She didn't feel like part of the group though. She didn't feel like one of them, and she didn’t want to. She felt like an outsider. A mere travel companion until she got her shit together enough to trust that she could look after the baby outside, or leave the baby with them. She was sitting near the fire for warmth, near the group but not directly next to anyone, clearly keeping her distance. And as soon as the boy greedily drank the formula, he happily nuzzled into her and fell asleep in her arms in his dirty blue onesie.

“How old is he?” Maggie asked from across the fire, her eyes on the sleeping boy with a caring smile. Rosalie nibbled her lip a little, avoiding all the eyes that seemed to fall on her. She never liked being the centre of attention. It felt like being the new girl in school all over again.

“I don't know,” was her blunt reply, causing a few raised eyebrows and some frowns.

“You don’t know?” Carol asked her, looking almost incredulously at her. Like how can someone not know how old their baby was, the idea was absurd.

“He’s not mine, I found him two months ago,” she said tensely, her hands protectively tightening around the boy as she glanced up, shooting a glare to the older woman. She noticed Carol's eyes widen a little, and something akin to pity or sadness crossing her features. She presumed most of the others did the same.

“You found him?” Rick asked her curiously. He was sitting off to her right, next to his son Carl and Daryl. Judith on Carl's lap. Rosalie chewed the inside of her cheek trying not to get agitated by the people that had helped her. It was natural they were curious, but she didn't want to talk about it. When she talked about it, it meant it was real and that she was in fact the sole carer of a baby that wasn't hers. She felt that crushing weight of pressure in her chest again.

“He was in the woods alone outside. I heard him crying and went to look… His mom wasn't too far away getting made into a snack,” she muttered with a dark glare at Rick, making it obvious this wasn't something she wanted to talk about. She saw the man swallow thickly and glance to the sleeping boy. She knew too well what he was thinking. How if she hadn't turned up the baby would have been next, and that was a dark thought indeed. But to the group, it also spoke volumes about what kind of person she was. To save the baby, to raise him as her own. A baby in this world was no easy feat. It was like an alarm bell for dinner for the dead, and it made it so much harder to survive. Yet she had done it, no hesitation.

A dark silence took over the group, grim thoughts swirling around their mind. Most of them thinking about baby Judith and how lucky she was not to be in that situation.

“Have you named him?” Carl spoke up, his eyes looked upon her kindly. She didn't know how she felt about that. She tensed a little, the archer next to Rick noticing. He’d noticed everything about her, observant as ever.

“I just call him Tiny,” she shrugged, making Carl snort a little. The adults didn’t find it amusing though because they knew. They knew why the boy had no name. Rosalie was terrified of naming the boy, terrified of forming an attachment other than keeping him alive for fear that something would happen. To her or the baby, none of which mattered. But ultimately the girl knew deep in her bones that one way or another, they would be separated, and she was scared to become attached to him.

Her eyes drifted to the little boy sleeping soundly curled into her. Despite every effort to not get attached to him, the girl who held no hope long before the turn had gotten very attached to him. She fucking hated herself for it, for making herself so weak and vulnerable.

“I think he looks like a Jacob,” Carol mused softly, a smile directed at the baby in Rosalie's arms.

“I like that name for him, suits him,” Maggie grinned, making Rosalie clench her jaw at people trying to name the baby that was her responsibility and hers alone. Again that conflicting feeling. She had thought about leaving the boy with them, she shouldn't be getting angry at them for naming him. What the fuck did she care? But she did, she fucking cared and it made her mad.

Much to her relief the focus soon turned from her and the boy, to people just talking to each other. She kept feeling eyes on her and when she glanced up, she noticed Daryl looking right at her through his hair as he chewed his thumb. He didn't look away, the both of them just looking at each other for a moment before Rosalie looked down at the baby. She wasn't sure what was going on with the man. She couldn't figure out if he wanted to protect her or put a bolt through her heart at the first chance he’d get. She was struggling to get a read on him now with his stoic gaze.

She felt her stomach grumble and she couldn't remember the last time she ate. She grabbed her pack and looked around, finding what she was looking for; squirrel meat wrapped in cloth. She’d caught it herself with the bow the ugly assholes from earlier had taken from her. Lucky for her, it was the only thing they had taken. But it was still a big blow as she didn't know how else to hunt for food. She had prepped it, rationing it and storing it in her bag. She didn't have much, yet for just her and the baby, it would have lasted about a week. Her eyes looked around at the others, noticing they too hadn’t eaten since they found her. She growled inwardly at the niggling feeling inside of her, telling her to share her food, to do the right thing. She wouldn't have to deal with this shit if she was alone. But they had helped her, and Rick had given her formula for the baby without any fuss or hesitation. She couldn't ignore that. She sighed a little as she took the meat wrapped in cloth, reaching over to Rick next to her and silently handing it to him. She heard the soft murmur of conversion stop around her, once more being the focus of attention she’d rather not have.

Rick looked at her confused before he unwrapped it, his stomach partially growling when he saw the meat. He knew it wasn't much for their group, but it was more than enough. More than what they currently had, which was nothing. And what's more, it was obvious this was precious to her. This was hers and would have kept her going for quite a bit. He looked a little surprised at the gesture and looked at her. She felt the heat creeping its way up her chest to her cheeks. She really hated people noticing her existence. She wasn't used to it. To Rick, although the gesture was a simple one, it carried a lot of weight to him. She could have easily not told them about it, or even just cooked it for herself. But she chose to share it with him, with his group. It was yet another thing that spoke volumes to him of what kind of person she was.

“Are you sure?” he asked hesitantly. Of course he fucking wanted the food, he needed it, they all did. Daryl had not been able to find anything when he’d gone hunting earlier that day and they were all starved. But he also didn't want her to feel like she had no choice but to hand it over to them. She just gave him a nod before looking back at the boy, stroking his dark hair a little as if to ground her. She felt uncomfortable being around this many people. All these eyes watching her and judging her. It made her skin crawl.

“Thank you,” Rick smiled. A real genuine smile that he couldn't remember the last time was on his face. The others murmured the same as they looked at her, grateful for her help, but she didn't want any of it. She wanted them to stop looking at her. Carol took the meat and started cooking it as everyone fell into conversation again, making her relax just slightly. She chanced a glance up again only to see Daryl's eyes once again on hers. But this time he gave her a little nod of thanks, seeming to take note of how uncomfortable she was with everyone looking at her and making it into a big deal. He knew that feeling all too well, he was the same. He remembered back in the prison, how people acted like he was some sort of hero for going out hunting and he hated that shit. She returned the nod and glanced back down. She really didn't know how she felt about this group yet. It wasn't long after that the meat was cooked due to how small she had cut it up, and they all ate in companionable silence. Grateful for the food in their bellies, even if it wasn't that much.

She sighed and tried to get comfortable and winced at her arm again. It hadn't been stitched. She had been adamant the baby needed food first and then he’d fallen asleep. It had stopped bleeding, the blood coagulating and starting to form a scab, but it was still hurting and pulled every time she moved it.

“Let's get you stitched up,” Rick said softly, noticing her reaction to moving her arm. He didn't want the girl's arm to get infected and it didn't take a genius to see how little she seemed to care for her own well being over the boy’s. Rather letting him sleep comfortably than get her arm seen to. Daryl got up without prompting and rummaged through a duffel, getting out a first aid kit and walking over to her. He sat beside her, glancing at the baby. He couldn't do this when she was holding him, but he wasn’t sure just how to voice it. Not when he’d observed how protective she was over him. She looked at the man, knowing what he was thinking, and Maggie picked up on it too.

“I can take him for you,” she offered with a warm smile. Rosalie tensed a little, her arm holding the boy tighter, something else that Daryl observed. He could see the war inside of herself. To trust a stranger to hold the boy, and he watched her carefully as she finally relented. He knew it was a hard decision for her to make, and he knew if the shoe was on the other foot and it was Judith, he would have been the same. Maggie gently took the sleeping baby, grinning as she looked down upon him as she held him close. Rosalie looked at her, Maggie looked like a doting mother. It made her heart hurt and she swallowed thickly. Maybe Maggie would be a good person to trust the boy with. She felt eyes on her and glanced to see Daryl, still sat next to her watching her with careful eyes. It was almost like he knew just what she was thinking. That she was going to leave the baby with them because she felt useless and inadequate to do the job herself. She looked down from his gaze, it made her feel stripped bare.

“Let me see it,” his voice was gruff but his tone was soft. It was a strange combination but she gave in anyway, lifting her arm to him with a wince. He took it in his large hands, examining it, furrowing his brow a little as he did and sucking through his teeth. It was bad, she was already aware of that. The man didn't know how she was acting so put together about it, like it was a tiny scratch. He grabbed a cloth and some alcohol to clean the wound before glancing at her through his long hair.

“S’gon’ hurt like a bitch,” he warned, his tone apologetic. He felt like the poor girl had already been through enough for one day, but if he didn't stitch her up it wouldn't end well for her. She looked at him and just gave a curt nod. She was well aware it would hurt, it wasn't the first time she’d been through this.

He looked at her a little apprehensive for a moment, almost like he didn't want to do it. Up close like this he could see her very clearly. She was pretty and looked young, no older than 25. It was an odd combination with her fierce nature he had seen when she almost chopped off that pricks head right off his skinny ass shoulders. He saw the rage that took over her, he fucking felt the same rage when the asshole had muttered those vile fucking words that made him feel like he was going to throw up everywhere. He’d heard her growl and snarl like a wild wolf protecting her pup. And now seeing her up close, he was almost startled by how soft her face was. Her dark brown hair was matted and caked in blood and grime. He noticed it was chopped crudely to just above her shoulders, almost like she had taken a knife to it and hacked at it herself. Her eyes were wide, a light blue. Yet despite their colour, they looked dull, jaded at the things she had endured. Even through the layers of dirt and blood that covered her skin, he could see she was pale as can be, but it suited her. He could also see just how tired she was, and he wondered how the fuck this tiny little thing had not only managed to keep herself alive for so long, but the boy too.

He was shocked when she had said the baby wasn't hers, that she had found him. From how protective she was of the boy, he never would have guessed she had been with him for only two months. That she wasn't his blood. He found himself grateful. Not only for the fact the baby was found at all before he endured something so horrific, but that it was Rosalie who had found him. How she had taken it upon herself to keep him alive no matter the cost. He was glad when Rick had made the decision to invite her to join them. He knew some others were a little apprehensive at first, but he knew why Rick had done so. And the reason was Judith. Daryl felt the same ache deep in his chest the second he heard the baby who was strapped to the scared girl. He felt like his stomach dropped right out of his ass and he couldn't possibly harm the girl when she was with a baby. Not unless she was a complete threat to them, which he knew she wasn't. He was ready to shoot if needed, but he could tell straight off the bat she wasn't a threat to him or the group unless they struck first. She had been desperate and wild-looking. He dreaded to think the hell she had been through to have that jaded look in her eyes, and he found an intense need to protect her and the boy. Gravitating towards them as they walked and keeping alert. He could see when she walked how tired she was. How she winced and limped a little and he knew her feet were hurting her. He couldn't imagine how she ever got any damn rest when it was just her and the boy. No one to take watch shifts with, to ever feel somewhat safe to sleep or stop for a rest. So he’d found himself by her side, protective and guarding, hoping she could sense that she could at least not be so alert and have some kind of rest. To know someone had her back for once.

He realised he’d been staring at her arm for a moment deep in thought, and as much as he didn't want to hurt her, feeling the guilt bubbling inside of his chest. He knew he’d feel a fuck tonne more guilty if she died from infection and left the baby without his guardian. He’d noticed the look Rosalie gave Maggie, and he hoped he was fucking wrong about it. He couldn't shake the feeling the girl might up and leave, leaving the boy with them. He wasn't even angry about it. He knew why she would do such a thing, he saw it as clear as day in her eyes the moment she watched the boy with Maggie. She felt like she wasn't good enough, wasn't able to keep him alive. Guilty for not being able to look after him on her own as well as a group could have. But he didn't want her to leave. He wanted her to stay, for her and the baby to become part of the group. And he really hoped he was fucking wrong about what he thought.

He got the thread ready with a needle, dowsing the needle in the alcohol to sterilize it. With one hand firmly gripping her arm, the other deftly started sewing the awful wound closed. She clenched her jaw, exhaling hard through her nose as she breathed through the pain without making a peep. It unsettled Daryl. It was almost like she'd experienced pain all too much in her life that she was used to it. No one else would have been able to act like that under the circumstances. He tried to work quickly and when he was done, he gave it another wipe with alcohol. He looked down at his work as did she, it wasn't perfect by any means but it was closed and that's what mattered. It would scar though, and the thought made Daryl angry. Angry that she would have a permanent reminder of those assholes and the things they said. The things they could have done to her and the boy before they even came across them. He wrapped her arm in a bandage, his rough hands surprisingly delicate as he undertook his task.

“Thanks,” she muttered, her voice quiet and raw sounding. He’d noticed the only few times she had spoken that her voice was quiet, and sounded so tired he wondered how she hadn’t just lay down and conked right out. He gave her a little nod and put the stuff back in the first aid kit, but he didn’t move back to his spot beside Rick. Instead he stayed next to her, leaning against the wall. She felt it again, the weird projection thing he seemed to do, and she wondered if he even knew he was doing it. She grabbed her pack and took out some dirty clothes, laying them on the floor next to her. She looked at Maggie expectantly, and Maggie gave her a sheepish smile as she handed the baby back over. Rosalie lay the baby down on the pile of clothes like a tiny makeshift mattress, before draping the blanket she used to carry him over him gently. Then she curled up next to him, protectively, her back to Daryl and the rest of them. She needed sleep so she felt better in the morning when they would head out again.

Despite the fact she was still slightly wary of the group, they'd done nothing but help her and the baby, and she was grateful. She was grateful to have a roof over their heads, for the baby to have food in his belly that he needed so desperately. To have some respite from being alone. For the fact she would be able to sleep for once. The strange projection that Daryl omitted made her feel safe. Like somehow without words, by staying next to her, giving off that vibe, he was saying to her to get some rest and she didn't need to worry. That her and the baby were safe and he wouldn't let anything happen to them. And she didn't need telling twice. Her exhausted body fell asleep instantly, her hand on the infant's tummy like she needed reassurance he was still there with her.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #twd #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfic

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1193

Have you ever been cheated on? Nope.

Whose car were you last in? Other than my own? Hans’s, but that was over two months ago.

Have you ever thought about getting your nose pierced? How timely is this, Andi literally randomly asked me how I feel about septum piercings this afternoon haha. Anyway, I have no problem with it on other people but I personally wouldn’t pick my nose as a spot for piercings.

Have your parents ever smoked pot? I don’t know, they may have but there’s a big chance they haven’t. They don’t really share much about their youth so I would never know.

Do you tend to make relationships complicated? That’s definitely not me.

Are you good at giving directions? Not at all; if anyone asks me directly I usually immediately refer them to whoever I’m with at the time. Or I tell them to check Waze.

Would your mom care if she found condoms in your room? She would and she’d definitely be pissed about it. Not that I have to worry about this ever happening, though.

Did you speak to your father today? Yessssssss, I literally just caught a glimpse of him like two minutes ago.

Did you kiss someone before you were sixteen? No, I was 16 turning 17 when I had my first.

Could you go a day without eating? Yeah, but I wouldn’t feel well by the end of it. I’ve formed a habit of skipping breakfast and lunch on weekdays now, and I always feel like complete shit once I clock out. Considering I only eat dinner these days, I guess I can say I do regularly go entire days without eating.

Are your nails always painted? I never paint them/have them painted.

Have you ever met any bands/band members before? Just local ones.

What color is your hair? Black.

Your best friend needed somewhere to stay, could they live with you? Yes.

Have you danced in the rain? Maybe? I don’t know. Doesn’t sound like something I would do, though.

When you said something naughty when you were little, did your parents wash out your tongue with soap? Nope. I never liked getting in trouble, even as a kid, so I stayed out of it.

What do you think of spanking little children when they do something wrong? Okay or not? That’s a common practice where I live, at least it was during my time. My mom didn’t believe in spanking her kids, which I’ll always be thankful for; but the cousins I lived with didn’t have the same fate so I regularly had to watch them get spanked - with sticks, slippers, belts, etc basically anything that was within reach. I think today’s generation of parents are different; I hope they are.

Who was the last male you hung out with? Gab, Kyelle, Al, and Hans.

Who is your favorite person to text? I don’t text anymore, but I do chat with Angela on Messenger everyday.

Who did you last take a picture with? Does an online photo count? We had an event held through Zoom last Wednesday and we had a photo op by the end of it.

What’s your favorite brand of jeans? I don’t have any. I just wear whichever pair I’d feel good and confident wearing.

Which show is better: Spongebob or The Fairly Odd Parents? Nooooooooo you’re making me pick between my two absolute favorites. I might have to go with Spongebob, but it barely barely barely won. Fairly OddParents is great too, at least until they added the baby fairy.

Has anyone ever told you that you looked like someone else? Many times. Idk if I’m happy about it because something tells me it just means I have quite the common face. Idk. I don’t think too much about it and as long as I’m compared to someone I personally find pretty, it’s fine lol.

Do you enjoy the sound of crickets at night and birds in the morning? Not so much. I find them too loud, especially the crickets.

Who is the most overrated singer? Taylor Swift.

What is your favourite planet? I don’t have one, but let’s go with Saturn.

Do you have any pets that you had since you were born? Wow no. 23 years is a very long time.

Do you own anything that you had when you were a baby? Yep, my mom kept all our umbilical cord stumps. It’s in our baby albums.

Do you enjoy Mario games? Very much so. It’s the only franchise I can play HAHAHA

What’s your favorite online game? I don’t play online games.

Have you ever been hit with a ball in gym class? I probably have been.

Do you ever turn your cell phone off? I used to sometimes shut it off whenever I’d fight with my ex and I didn’t want to deal with the world for a while. Now with the toxicity out of my life I never turn it off lol.

Who was last to cook for you? My mom made pasta for dinner tonight. Then after that I asked her to make me coffee mixed with Milo.

Do you check your texts right away when you receive them? Depends on who texts. I get anxious when it’s media texting, so I tend to ignore those for a few hours unless they ask something urgent. If it’s someone from my inner circle, like a friend or one of my parents, I would check and reply immediately, or at least as soon as I see the text.

Who is your most trusted person? Mmm, probably Angela. I literally reached out last night to ask her to log on to my Facebook so she can unfriend Gab and her family on my behalf. I don’t think I would’ve asked that from anyone else.

How late did you stay up last night? A little earlier than my usual, around midnight or so. I knew my load was going to be packed today since my manager had filed a leave which meant I had to cover for her tasks as well, so I wanted to get enough rest so that I didn’t wake up sleepy and cranky.

When/where are you most likely to sing? As long as I’m alone, I’ll sing. I like to do it, just not in front of other people.

Would you ever wish to explore a cave? That would be soooooooo nice. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a cave. :(

You see the person you fell hardest for. What do you do? I imagine giving her an awkward smile and probably being the first to approach. Then I would ask how she’s been. I’m in a place in my life where I’m sure I’ll be able to do that.

Have you been/are you depressed? I’ve been there many times.

Are your pop-ups blocked on your computer? Yes.

Have you ever ridden in a car with someone who was high? No. I would hate to be in that situation.

Who is the best hugger you know? Laurice.

Have you ever had to be put to sleep for an operation? Nopes.

Does anybody have any proof of stupid things you have done? I know Angela has a few. Gabie took a few as well; whether she still has them or not I’m not updated on anymore, nor do I care.

Why did you text the last person in your inbox? I was just reminding Angela there was a BTS video coming out tonight.

Have you ever been able to do a split? No but I’ve attemped to do it many times.

Did you ever date the last person you kissed? Yes.

Are you intimidated by the last person you know talked badly about you? I never keep track of things like that. I know it would bring nothing but unnecessary stress, so I never snoop or ask around to check if anyone’s been talking not-so-nicely about me behind my back.

Have you ever cried in school? Maybe only about once or twice in the 18 years I was in school. I absolutely hate crying in front of people, and I mainly do it when I’m alone. I don’t think I’ve even ever cried in front of Angela; that’s how much I hate it.

Last person of the opposite sex you screamed at? I don’t remember ever screaming at a guy.

Do you have any weird sleep habits? I...wouldn’t know, since I’m asleep when I do them. I always sleep alone too, so no one would be able to tell me how I sleep. All I know is I’m not much of a mover and I usually wake up in the same position (or almost the same position) I fell asleep in.

Do you consider yourself an emotional person? Yes, I’m sensitive in every sense of the word.

When was the last time you had a headache? Last Wednesday when not eating for the entire day finally hit me like a truck by the end of my shift. :/

When was the last time you encountered a puppy? Cooper circa September.

Is there anything that happened a long time ago that you still laugh about? Yes, many instances.

Do you ever try to interpret your dreams? No, I don’t think anything of them beyond “just weird scenarios of people I know doing weird things.”

What was the last thing you bought impulsively? Three orders of sushi, 24 pieces in total.

How do you feel about singing songs out loud in front of other people? No amount of money would make me do it.

When was the last time you were feeling really, really nervous? This afternoon when a supplier we’re currently working with asked to call. Normally my manager would be the one mainly in touch with people like them, but since she was out today I was next in line.

If you’re no longer in school, what is something you miss about it? If you’re still in school, what’s something you think you’re going to miss about it? I miss seeing my friends everyday and being able to hang out after our classes, even if it just means sitting at a table doing nothing together.

Do you use your turn signals when you’re driving? Excessively. I use it even in the subdivision lmao, or on one-way roads.

How exactly are you feeling right now? Content. It’s a little hot and mosquitoes keep flying around me, but I’m not letting these affect my mood. Just focusing on the fact that it’s a Friday night and I can let go of work for a couple of days.

Have you ever had to board up your windows because of a hurricane? Never happened before. I just close up my windows completely so that they don’t slam if ever the wind gets too strong.

Do you tell anyone to chew with their mouths closed? I don’t recall ever feeling the need to do this. The sound doesn’t bother me much anyway; definitely not as much as it annoys most people.

Have you ever ordered pizza and sent it to someone else’s house? Yup I did that for Angela and Kata recently, for my birthday, along with truffle mac and cheese. Basically my favorite orders from Mama Lou’s, haha.

What was the first thing you drank when you woke up this morning? I believe it was water.

Do you think stretch marks from having a baby are ugly or badges of honor? Ugh this question is so outdated I don’t even want to take the time to answer it.

Ever done a keg stand? No.

Who is the last person you lent money to? I don’t lend my money.

Do you share clothing with anyone? Mmm, sometimes. It’s usually me borrowing clothes from my sister, though.

Have you ever visited anyone in a rehab? Nope.

Was the last thing you drank a Coke or Pepsi product? No, it was just water. I’d never be caught craving for soda.

Honestly, do you think that you’re going to be an overprotective parent? No. I experienced having strict parents, so I know it’s not something I would want to pass on to my kids. I want my kids to be able to go out with friends and attend parties and get tattoos (when they’re older) and express their identity without being scared of me.

What was the last kind of chips you ate? Piattos cheddar chips.

What is one thing that you really wish you could understand, but don’t? Investing and stocks.

What is the last thing you charged? My laptop.

Have you ever held a snake? Yes. I’m always the only one in the family willing to do things like this when we go on vacations haha.

#survey #surveys

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