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totalfanfreak · 7 years

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Ain’t No Angel [Red Canyon]

Ain’t No Angel

[So I’m diverting a little bit, I need to quit going through Wikipedia at Reedus’ filmography. I decided to skim off of Boondock’s to give something different, this is for Red Canyon. And I feel like I should put a warning here, you know, for violence, rough stuff, language…etc. Will it be OoC, probably, but do I care? Sadly, I have no answer.]

Mac believed you to be a lot of things, but an angel sure as hell wasn’t one of them.

SAINT:

He had spotted you right away, huddled up against the bar and looking at your drink like you had no idea what to do with it. From that look you had you probably didn’t. Dolled up like a little girl on her way to Sunday school – yellow sundress that frilled at the knees, hair curled to waves around your face, strappy sandals with an ankle bracelet to top it off. You certainly didn’t look like you belonged at the fucking Luna Mesa. He bellied up next to you, slamming his hand down demanding a drink, you hadn’t moved, didn’t even flinch from the sudden intrusion, little hands still flexing around the glass like you were psyching yourself up to down it.

“Ain’t from around here are ya, girl?”

You did startle then, and Mac couldn’t help but smirk. Turning to him, you stared up with doe eyes before smiling. Wasn’t hard to get girls to smile at him, there were shit pickings in Caineville, and with his build and blue eyes it wasn’t hard to get a girl to spread her legs. It was the other shit that had them turning tail and running. One of them being his teeth, letting his lips pull apart to grin at you, the blackened rot flashing as he proceeded to pick an imaginary fragment from them. His teeth were the first put off, disgusting them. Bitches like that thinking they were better than him, not only them, too many people thought they were higher up than him, but every one of them were the fucking same. Still cried, still bled.

He waited for you to shirk away, drawing the conclusion that he was trash, nothing but a filthy drug addicted redneck and blow him off. Then the fun could begin. Yet you didn’t, your eyes still holding the deer in headlights expression but smile remaining.

“You would be correct. Sort of passing through, you could say…would you be the welcoming committee Mr. – “

“Mac, everyone around here calls me Mac.”

Your smile grew, perfect polished teeth shining while you stretched out your hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mac. I’m Y/N.”

He looked down at your hand, trailing up to look at your unblemished arms, he could imagine the things he could do to them. The bites, rope burns, knife marks – his, and his alone. Grasping your hand in his, he let he own smile grow, feeling your pulse leap under his touch. Perhaps not like a deer at all, but a little rabbit about to be caught in a snare trap.

“Pleasure’s all mine. Think you’ll like it here, might enjoy it so much you’ll never want to leave.”

He hadn’t taken you that day, a big mistake if he thought about it. For someone just passing through you ran your mouth off to a lot of fucking people. He’d watch you, dropping everything to help an old lady with her groceries, tending to another one’s garden, even getting down a kite that was hung in a tree for the kids at the park. During his observations you had caught him a few times, bounding towards him like the two of you were old friends, going as far as to hug him goodbye. That surprised him, enough so he didn’t think to push you off him. Mac wasn’t a hugger, never had one, didn’t need one, especially a pity hug from some dumb bitch. He didn’t allow people that right, but for that moment feeling your pert body pressed against his, that heart still going like a jackhammer, he faltered. He didn’t like the weakness from that, and though he had most people around here in his pocket, he didn’t like you bustling around town helping everyone, and he sure as hell didn’t like that you thought you could touch him. He knew it was an act, all of it was, acting like you were some kind of fucking saint, he knew better. And he’d teach you to try and fool him. Like all women, deep down you were nothing but a whore, and he’d be glad to help put you in your place.

It hadn’t been hard to get you in the truck, car broken down due to a few missing plugs, he almost sneered at how you smiled at him pulling up. Like he was some kind of hero or something, Mac already knew he was anything but. He had driven up to the canyons, and you hadn’t questioned anything until he put the truck in park. He watched as your eyebrows knitted in confusion, a question on your lips as they pursed. Before you could get out a word, he grabbed you by the back of the head, pulling you by the hair out the driver’s side, letting you fall in the dirt.

“Come on then, girlie, let’s have us some fun.”

You glanced up, panting from the struggle, before lurching up and head-butting him in the stomach. He doubled over, giving you time to run, you weren’t screaming, and he gave you some credit on that. They always screamed, though there wasn’t a soul out here for miles, the sound echoing off the canyon walls alerting him on where to go. Too bad you were too slow, making it easy for him to catch up and tackle you. On your stomach you let your arm draw back, hitting him square in the nose, he felt warmth rush in his mouth, tasting the copper of his blood.

“That’s right ya little bitch! Keep it up! All you’re doing is makin’ me love you!”

You grunted, trying to get on your back, he leaned up feeling you tense and relax as you rolled over. Your eyes were wide as plates, mouth gasping for air, red dirt splayed over you like dried blood. He narrowed his eyes as you began to nod.

“You’re doing the same to me.”

He was about to grab you again, demand what kind of shit you were talking about, when you grabbed him first, kissing him. Kiss being the operative words, your mouths were touching, but that was all. From the looks of you, he thought you’d be the kind to daydream of those sweet touches, kisses on the face when your lips barely touched each other. He felt everything now, your teeth clacking against his, nicking gums, making them bleed. Your incisor grabbing his bottom lip biting down hard enough to draw blood, he held back a groan as you lapped at it your tongue prodding at his rotted teeth when he finally snapped back to earth and pushed you off him, your skull ricocheting on the ground.

“Stupid little whore!”

His anger intensified at the sound of your laughter. “Can’t say I’m much of one yet, but I wouldn’t mind it – being your whore. You’re the first…you want to break things, don’t you Mac? I want to be broken. I knew it as soon as you looked at me at the bar, that you wanted me to hurt as much as you, that you wanted to eat me alive. So are you, Mac?”

He breathed in deep, feeling her body trembling under his hands, now realizing not in fear but anticipation. He gnashed his teeth, blood still trickling over his lips, letting the corner of his tongue lick it up. This was new, and he wasn’t sure how to proceed though he knew what was going to happen. He’d eat you up all right; devour you til there was nothing left but your bones bleaching in the desert sun.

MARTYR:

A virgin. A fucking virgin? Mac wanted to tilt his head back and cackle at the sky upon hearing that. But finding out the fact firsthand shut him up real quick. Girls usually saved themselves for their true loves and shit, then there was you, saving it until you found someone as fucked up as you were.

“Not that hard to find a guy that’ll smack a woman around. It is hard to find one that doesn’t blubber out an apology the next day, one that pays attention and sees she likes it, and finds a way to use it to his advantage.”

Oh, he could do that, had begun to over the next few weeks. Doing everything and anything that came into his twisted head, throwing him off each time when you took it with a smile. You’d scream, but then there was always that underlying moan that followed, the one that made him stop for a second and blink in disbelief. After a while he moved you in with him, telling himself that it’d be quicker access for him. He had pulled out your drawers, dumping everything out, while telling you to grab as much you could in three minutes or he was lighting the place on fire with you in it. You were quick getting four suitcases out with twenty seconds to spare. The first night you were made to sleep in the corner of the room on the floor, no blanket or pillow to comfort you. He’d break you, then he remembered you wanted to be broken. The next day you had begun cleaning everything, and though he didn’t mind it, would’ve told you to do it; he choked you for not asking him first. His hands tightened so hard your face turned purple, eyes rolling back before going limp. And for a split second he panicked. He hadn’t meant to…

Don’t go.

But seeing the rise and fall of your chest, he realized you only passed out. Waking a few hours later with a smile on asking if he wanted some dinner. No, he didn’t want any fucking dinner, he wanted to backhand you, wanted you to curse him, and instead grabbed his coat going out the door to get a fix. He took more than he usually did, bounding up the steps, falling through the door. You went to help him, and he snarled.

“Did I say you could fucking touch me, bitch!”

Shaking your head, you sat down beside him. Waiting.

You always waited, and for a while it drove him crazy. Now he expected it. Coming home from the shop or, like now, the caves. Spreading the red dust on the floors you cleaned as he came in to find you cooking his supper. You looked up from the pot you were stirring, a warm smile spreading on your face as you looked at him. He never did it back, but he didn’t hit you for it anymore, his hands twitched and some part in the back of his mind told him to pummel your face in until it cracked open and spilt like an egg but some other part had begun to override it. You looked at his dirty boots, turning back to the pot as the smile slipped.

He smirked, you knew what was up there, and not just the drugs they cooked. “Jealous?”

You shook your head, and he almost chewed his thumb, a habit he hadn’t done since high school.

“What is it then? Ya think you’re gonna bitch at me for dirtying the floors?”

Shaking your head again, you turned the stove off. “Feel bad, I guess.”

He snorted. “What the fuck ya feel bad about?”

“Those girls aren’t like us…If – if you wanted, I could switch with them.”

His eyes narrowed slits of cerulean peeking through. “The fuck you on about, girl?”

“They’d be fine, cooking and cleaning for you, but the chains – I could do the chains.”

He pressed his fingers into his eyes, if anything you were batshit crazy. He knew that when he went in dry and you called out his name like a god. He laughed; there was no god out here.

“Mac?”

He was still buzzing, the high from earlier calming down and stuttering him.

“Shut up.”

You turned away to the cupboards and he jerked you back, letting the plates crash to the floor.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?”

The fuck’s wrong with me?

You shook your head looking down, his nostrils flared, he had vowed to not fuck up your face. The bruises and the swelling getting to him with those fucking eyes, but you were pissing him off. Grabbing your chin hard, he made you look at him.

“You want away from me, huh? Want some other girl here sucking me off while every other meth head fucks you on the cave wall?”

Your mouth gaped open. “I thought it was only you…that, you know…had them.”

You were right, many times in his life Mac was given nothing, and now that he had the power to he took all he could only giving scraps back. But not you.

“Don’t fucking matter who had ‘em, you’re staying here til I say otherwise. You got me!”

You nodded, dropping down to pick up the shards of glass. Eyes flashing, he took you by the nape of your neck and dragged you until you were in the broken pieces, flesh cutting, as he saw blood skimming the floor. With his free hand he began to undo his coveralls.

“Want to be a martyr, princess, you stay on those knees and suck my cock while you bleed.”

Your cheeks pinked, more so when his girth was exposed.

“Mac…please.”

Any other girl would be pleading him to stop, but he knew your looks and cues now, and knew what you wanted.

“You crazy slut, take your clothes off and spread that little pussy for me. Bet your wetter than a river right now.”

“Can I – “

“You don’t get off, not until I say, and right now you got a few sacrifices to make.”

You did as told, mouth and hand on him, while the other kept yourself displayed for him, folds glistening as you worked.

“You slut…my sweet slut. All mine, you dirty bitch.”

SAVIOR:

“What the fuck you tryin’ to say, princess?”

It was the first time he ever saw fear in your eyes. It unnerved him. You threw the stick on the coffee table, getting up to go to the kitchen. He stayed seated though his body roared at him to move. Feeling something cold hit his cheek, he glanced up to see you handing him a glass of whiskey before sitting down with your own. You were not his equal, he made sure you knew that, but you were his, and that fact had embedded itself enough that you were comfortable around him now. He gulped the contents down, wincing as the flame embalmed his belly.

“How the fuck did this happen?”

You snickered. “If you don’t know the mechanics –“

“Shut that smart mouth now.”

The humor was still in your eyes, but did as you were told. The look quickly faded into anxiety.

“What do you want me to do Mac?”

How the fuck was he to know, hell, he might’ve produced spawn from here to Oregon wasn’t one bitch going to admit it was his. He didn’t know what to do.

“I don’t think I could use a hanger, but if you – if you put those boots on and kicked hard enough –“

“Jesus, are you out of your mind?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to go to a clinic.”

“Maybe I want to fuckin’ keep it, you think of that?”

From the look on your face, he knew you hadn’t.

“We’re not meant to be parents, Mac. Look what ours did to us, broken into so many pieces the two of us are still shifting through them to get whole. We’d warp the kid. You know I don’t care what you do to me when you get high, but a baby, God, we can’t –“

“I could quit, cut down a little at a time and quit.”

Your eyes looked at him, not perceiving what he was saying.

“We’d do better than our parents.”

You scoffed, making him get up and sinking in front of you, a warning in his eyes.

“You think you’re gonna start calling the shots now? That’s my kid in you and you’ll do as I fucking say.”

It was a whisper, the fear creeping more heavily into you.

“I don’t want to kill it.”

“Then fuckin’ don’t!”

“No, I don’t know how – I don’t even think I’d know how to love it…could you? Do either of us even know how to do that?”

He stood up, pacing, before his eyes traveled back to you. He didn’t want to, didn’t think he’d ever would, but God be damned, he did. Looking at you, no matter how fucked up it all was he did know how.

#red canyon #mac #mac red canyon #mac x reader #reader imagine #red canyon drabble #norman reedus

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