#Look What's Happened to Rosemary's Baby | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonchildstyles · 9 months

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thyme

rosemary part five: harry's tired of hiding. y/n is there to listen

wordcount: 11.4k+

—————

The next time Harry saw morning light, he knew it was real with the way he could actually breathe under the rays. His eyes ached from the amount he had cried the night before, the memory of his nightmare having drained out along with every tear.

Only a slice of light made it through the tightly drawn shades over the window, the sun bright enough Harry could only begin to assume how long they'd slept in. But, he wasn't going to argue with the hours; after his nightmare had cleared, that was the best sleep he'd had in years. With every blink of his heavy eyes, he gained more and more clarity.

There was a part of him that wanted to be embarrassed about the way he had acted. The other night when she had tried to comfort him before was nothing compared to the way he had reacted last night. With her tucked carefully under his arm, her breathing even and eyes shuttered, he figured he could quell that awaiting shame for a little while longer. He didn't need to don his facade when she wasn't even awake to witness it.

Moving cautiously, their shared pillow under his head shifted as he looked to her. That crack in the curtains allowed a splash of light to spill over his chest, leading the ray to fall over her eyes. The divine ribbon of light highlighted the curl of her lashes, the slope of her nose, and the delicate skin of her eyelids. The shadows he had seen under her eyes were now replaced with the reaching lengths of her lashes over her cheekbones. Baby hairs were wild around her face, messed from the way he had reached and grabbed for her the night before. Her hands were still tightly clutching his shirt in her palms, the fabric wrinkled and stretched in her direction.

Looking at her like this, Harry realized he hadn't ever stood a chance, had he?

This whole thing—his facade, his over-nurtured walls, his control—all turned to dust the second she tapped his shoulder and asked about cookies. He should have known then that things were going to shift, even if he never thought it would turn out like this.

All because of a gorgeous girl with a ribbon in her hair.

Seeing her at peace for the first time in days, Harry knew that girl didn't deserve this—this dusty motel, this impromptu road trip, this much deception.

He couldn't keep doing this to her. She had a life that he'd torn her from, all so he could drag her to different diners and gas stations, dank motels, and a cramped car for hours on end. She had friends who loved her, a job she woke up every morning happy to do, and a sweet little home that deserved to have someone like her live in it.

It was Harry's mistakes that had caught up with them, and (Y/N) was the one being truly punished by them. She had to sleep in strange places, shower in less than five minutes if she wanted warm water, with questionable food waiting for her at every stop. Her nails even had chips in the paint, something he'd never seen before he tugged her into his mess.

She didn't deserve this motel or his hands all over her when she didn't even know who she was sharing a bed with.

He couldn't keep doing this to her. He was running out of money, and (Y/N) deserved to sleep in her own bed and be safe while she did.

This all had to stop. Today.

Yesterday's close call told him he wouldn't have to wait around very long for them to find him again. He didn't want (Y/N) to be in the middle of it when that happened.

There was a plan to be made. Today was the day his past would have to catch his present if he wanted any kind of future.

—————

"Are we leaving now?"

(Y/N)'s tired eyes watched as Harry cleaned up the morning's breakfast (it was closer to lunch by the time she woke up, but it was still breakfast in his eyes). While she seemed to actually gain some real rest, her gaze was still tired and a little glassy as she followed him about the motel.

She hadn't said a single word pertaining to what she had seen the night before, even though he could see those soft bits floating in her irises every time she matched his gaze.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw her packing up her bag like she did every morning, ready and willing to follow him anywhere. Harry knew he was making the right decision.

He couldn't be scared anymore. Not for her.

"We're not leaving today."

Her hands paused, buried in the bundle of clothes she had packed in her duffle, eyes wide as she looked at him. "What?"

Taking in a deep breath, Harry sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. He dropped his chin into his hands, his elbows propped up on his knees. "We're not running anymore."

(Y/N) stood to the full of her height, awkwardly fiddling with her fingers. A pinch creased the space between her brows. "I-I don't think I understand."

That lance of guilt found its way to a soft spot inside him, stabbing through every layer. He had kept her so far in the dark, and she still trusted him as if he deserved it.

She didn't look away when he matched her eye contact, his own gaze unwavering as he spoke, "I don't want to run anymore, (Y/N)."

"Okay," she drawled, gaze darting down as she tried to process what he was saying, "Um, are we going home then?"

Harry's throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly around his tongue. He had to tell her. He almost wanted to tell her, even. This was the first time the story had ever banged against his chest, fighting to be let out.

She deserved to know who she slept beside last night.

"Can I tell you something?"

(Y/N) stepped towards him on cautious feet, as if she were approaching a wounded animal. She took the spot on the bed beside him, looking at him through furrowed brows and worried eyes.

"You're scaring me," was her whispered response, hands a nervous knot in her lap.

A tick appeared in his jaw then. That was what burned him the most; he dreaded the fact that he was more than likely going to hear that from her again soon.

Nonetheless, he wet his lips before taking in a deep breath, the story unraveling from his tongue.

"When I was twenty, m'sister started her master's program at a new university, so we moved to the city—me, my mum, and m'sister. My mum wanted to stay close to her, and I didn't really care. I was willing to go wherever they were. But, a few months into her classes, m'sister got this boyfriend." He tried his best not to spit out the title through gritted teeth. Keeping himself in check, Harry settled enough to sit with his eyes on his fisted hands with knitted brows.

"I...He wasn't a good guy, I knew that jus' from the couple of friends I'd made even before he and m'sister got together. It wasn't like I hadn't believed it, but when I saw how he treated m'sister and the way she tried to hide it, I knew it was all true—everything I'd heard." He steeled himself as he felt his throat grow thick. He'd never said any of these things out loud. He was hearing the story for the first time just like she was. "He was... hurting her. Me and my mum didn't know what to do; any time we brought it up to Gemma she'd get really angry, or ignore us. We didn't know how to help. It was really hard for a while.

"But, she had stayed the weekend at his one time, and she came home with these bruises all over her neck. She tried to cover them and hide them with her sweater, but I saw them. I lost it." His hands pulsed in his lap, remembering the way the rage had bubbled in him like it was yesterday. "I had never been so angry in m'life, and Gemma was trying to calm me down but I was too far past any of that. I ended up going to her boyfriend's house that night, telling her and my mum I was seeing a friend. I don't think Gemma believed me but she didn't stop me.

"I don't even know what I thought I was going to do when I got there, honestly. I just wanted him to stop hurting my sister. He answered the door when I got there, and I jus' barged in and started yelling at him. I was telling him that he was going to stop hurting my sister or I was going to do something about it." He shook his head with a humorless laugh spilling from his lips, curls spilling across his forehead. How silly he had been; if only he'd known then what he knew now. "This guy—Trevor—, he laughed at me. I don't blame him now—I was some random kid running into his house threatening him as if I could actually follow through with any of it. But back then, I remember just getting so pissed. I couldn't believe he was going to laugh at me when I was telling him to stop beating m'sister. So, I tried to hit him."

(Y/N), who had sat silently with her gaze stitched to Harry's face, had let out a soft gasp at his words. Harry's knee began to bounce, his sightless eyes never straying from the outlet in the wall he'd chosen as his focal point. "'S almost funny to think about how quickly he'd knocked me on my ass after that. It was then that I saw that there were a few other guys in the room with us, jus' watching the whole thing. I'd been too mad to see anything other than him when I got there, but now they were all sitting around laughing at me like this whole thing was a joke. I was so embarrassed, I didn't know what to do. I just sat there.

"I remember he got in my face after that. He told me that if I ever tried to have a problem with him again, it would be very easy for something to happen to m'sister and my mum. I don't even know what I said back, but apparently it was funny enough to get everyone laughing again. I remember him looking around at all his friends, he said he liked me—even if I was a little stupid. The next time he looked at me, he told me that he did have something I could do for him if I really wanted him to leave Gemma alone.

"I had jumped at the idea. I thought whatever it took, right? I jus' wanted to have m'sister back and my mum to have her daughter. I'd do anything. I must have been especially funny that day, because when I told them that, they all laughed again. He started walking around then, like he was looking for something but didn't really care if he found it or not. He was telling me that he liked me; I had to be brave if I jus' walked into his house and started yelling at him and tried to punch him. Trevor said he had the perfect job for me—if I really wanted to help m'sister anyway."

Harry's mind lingered on the next images the story conjured up. This was the moment everything changed for him. "I don't even know if I said anything to him after that, but I remember him pulling out a gun then, and handing it to me," Harry's throat felt too thick as he tried to swallow, "There was someone that needed to be dealt with, and if I did it for him, he'd stop calling m'sister. I don't think I said anything, but I remember I didn't take it from him right away, just sitting there staring at his hand. I guess I wasn't fast enough because he said if I didn't want to kill for him, he'd jus' get Gemma instead. It didn't make any difference to him."

From the corner of his eye, he saw (Y/N) go still. "Harry," she whispered, her voice thin and wavering.

Keeping his eyes forward, Harry shook his head. He couldn't look at her if he wanted to finish this story. He'd crumble if he saw her.

"I don't really remember what happened after all that well. I think I told him okay, and he showed me how to use the gun, but that was it. They gave me an address and told me to get everything cleaned up by tomorrow morning." Harry's lungs felt heavy as he tried to find enough breath for the words he knew were coming next. That night turned into the first nightmare that followed him for years. He closed his eyes, squeezing his lids shut. "I waited until my mum and Gemma were asleep before I went to the address with the gun. This... The guy, he—uh—he owed m'sister's boyfriend a lot of money, apparently, and he wasn't planning on paying it back anytime soon. They wanted me to kill him because of that. And, I did."

Behind his closed eyes, Harry saw in too great detail every moment in that dark apartment. His hands shook now just as badly as they did then. His stomach turned at the memory of blood splattering back on his face from the force of the bullet through his skull. He had been standing too close, he knew that now, but he wasn't as good of a shot back then to be much farther away. He forced himself out of that memory, his reality shifting the longer he lingered there.

"The whole thing was a mess. I don't know how I didn't get caught. The whole time I was jus' thinking about my mum and m'sister, and how I wanted to keep them safe. That was all I was doing; I wasn't brave like Trevor had said. I was jus' stupid, but I didn't have a choice, right?" Shaking his head, Harry moved on. "I went back to Trevor's right after, and I threw up on his lawn twice before anyone realized I was there. When they did, I remember them laughing and asking me if I really did it. I jus' threw up again. By the time I had it together, I remember him telling me that I did a good job—that he was proud of me. He had sent someone after me to make sure everything was taken care of and I didn't tell anyone I shouldn't, and he said I couldn't have done a better job. I think I stopped listening then; I didn't want to be there when he said things like that after I knew what I'd done.

"I had thought then that that was it. That I would always remember that night and would have to learn to be okay with it, but it was done and now my family was safe. I started thinking about whether or not I could convince them to move away, and that I'd probably need to start looking for a therapist. But," he choked out, feeling far away as he remembered those early plans, "I couldn't leave after that. He said he liked me."

The heat of (Y/N)'s gaze never wavered from where it was stuck to his profile. He felt sick thinking about what could be hiding in her pupils as she listened to him. He feared to think she saw him for who he really was now: a rotten, disgusting, awful murderer.

Forging on, Harry swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat. "He wanted me to keep working for him. He said that no one would suspect someone like me to be working those nights like that. He wanted to take advantage of that—even if I was messy and still a little stupid, he said. I couldn't leave even if I wanted to, anyway; they had too much on me. Jus' the one job would get me locked up if they wanted—or worse if they didn't want to wait that long to deal with me trying to get away.

"It wasn't until the second job was done that m'sister stopped coming home with bruises. She started smiling more and talking to my mum again. She said that she broke up with her boyfriend and wanted to be serious about school again. It was like everything was almost normal, again." These were easy times for Harry to recall. He liked to remember his family like that. "There were times I had to get... closer to m'jobs than jus' with a gun. Those days were hard, but I'd come home and they'd be watching a movie or drinking wine together, and I'd tell myself it was worth it. It had to be. That's why I kept doing what Trevor wanted.

"They had to know there was something going on, but they never asked any questions. Even if they did, it wasn't like I ever gave them anything clear. I jus' told them I was tired and working too much. It was like that for a really long time. I blocked a lot of it out, but it wasn't anything I ever saw a way out of; every plan ended with m'family or me dying, or otherwise getting really hurt. I did what I had to do and... got over it as best I could."

Looking down at his hands, he flexed the stiff joints. Thin scars marred his skin, creases from years of work that took a toll on him. The inked cross in the pocket between his thumb and forefinger was fading. Harry cataloged every detail of his own hands as he fought to stay focused amid the sickening pit forming in his stomach.

"A few years ago, there had been a rumor going around that someone had plans to take out the head—Trevor's dad. I had heard that it was a rival, but a few of the guys had said it was coming from someone on the inside—someone who thought they could run the whole thing better. I didn't really believe it, but it was the first time anything like that had gotten any of them talking. There'd been threats before, but this one felt more real than any of them with the way a couple of the guys were even planning on what to do if something changed.

"It gave me hope, honestly. If it really was true, then there was going to be a night that was so chaotic and everyone's attention would be focused elsewhere enough that no one would notice if I disappeared. So, I started making plans. I saved any kind of money I made, and made arrangements for my mum and sister and tried to get everything taken care of that I could get away with. By the time I heard something was actually happening, I had everything in place for us. Trevor's dad was in the hospital, and probably wasn't going to make it out.

"It was all chaos after that. Everyone was either trying to find whoever did it—planned it—and everyone else was with Trevor and his dad. No one was keeping track of anything or anyone. It was exactly what I'd hoped for. I went home that day and told my mum and sister that we needed to leave. Something bad had happened and to keep them safe we all needed to leave right then. I didn't have time to tell them what was going on, but I remember I told Gemma it had something to do with Trevor and I knew she knew. She helped me get my mum out after that; packing as much as they could carry and grabbing the essentials. I gave them the cash I'd saved, and they left."

This was a night Harry had never revisited. Previous jobs of his always showed up in nightmares or ran on a loop when he couldn't sleep, but the last time he saw his family was a place he never allowed his brain to go. He didn't even realized he was tearing up until he felt the pressure behind his eyes and the knot in his throat.

"My mum asked me if I was coming with them, and I had to tell her no," he murmured, "Her and m'sister would be going together, but I had to go somewhere else. It was the only way they'd be safe. I would be the one that Trevor would go after, so if I stayed away then they wouldn't get dragged into it if I was found. I had everything planned out for them: a different car, a place for them to stay, and enough money to last until they figured something else out. It was all taken care of. I—" Harry choked on the lump in his throat. "That was the last time I saw them. I don't know where they are.

"That was years ago, though. I've been going through different towns since then, jus' hiding. This is the first time I've ever been found."

Silence fell over the motel room as Harry took in a deep breath, his shoulders squaring as he tried to center himself. He felt distant from where he sat on the edge of the bed. It was surreal hearing his story in his own voice instead of living the worst parts of it in dreams every night. It was even worse this way.

A lull passed, the weight of his words a heavy third entity between them. The static of (Y/N)'s presence prickled at his side. His knee kept bouncing, his body restless the longer his story hung in the air. He hadn't considered the aftermath being so quiet; he had imagined shouting, screaming, (Y/N) running away from him. He didn't know what to do with this.

"Harry?"

He didn't make any move to acknowledge her.

"Harry? Will you please look at me?"

Her voice wavered as she pleaded with him. He couldn't ignore her like that, not when he could already picture the tears sparkling in her eyes.

His movements were stiff as he turned to look at her. He wasn't sure what he was going to find when he saw her (his predictions ranged from mortified, to terrified, to a punch to the face in hopes of incapacitating him long enough for her to run), but what he found wasn't on his list of ideas at all. She was looking at him with big, watery eyes, the irises glittering with softened edges. Her features were melted into sympathy-drawn lines, curving and gentle with a wobbly bottom lip and downturned brows.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," she whispered to him, matching his eye contact just as earnestly as he.

Listening to her, his brows pinched in the middle. "I-I don't—" His voice cut off, shaking his head as he floundered over his words.

With a soft touch of her hand grazing over his shoulder, (Y/N) didn't pay his half-hearted denial any mind. "I-I'm so sorry that happened to you," she murmured, her voice as soft and thin as the tears in her eyes, "I can't even imagine, I don't—"

Tears spilled over the rim of her eyes then, her voice breaking off. Her breathing came in shaky puffs, her hand on his arm tightening until her fingers were curled around his forearm. Sincerity filled her gaze as she looked at him, words failing her despite every soft sorrow in her eyes for him.

This wasn't the kind of reaction he had been anticipating, not even a little. This worried him more than any other bout of anger or fear he had initially expected.

"(Y/N)," he started, his voice low to match her own secretive tone despite the lack of others in their room, "I don't think I understand... I did really bad things, (Y/N), don't—I... Don't feel bad for me, yeah?"

He could see her retaliation form on her cry-swollen lips, but before a single word could broach the air between them, she was cut off by her own whimpering cry. In a moment she had crumpled into him, dismissing the boundaries between their bodies as he was wrapped in a hug with her arms around his neck.

Harry hesitated, his hands hovering over her back as his breathing stilled. She must really not understand the full breadth of the horrors he committed if she was still willing to touch him after learning his story. It was overwhelming in a lot of ways; this wasn't at all the kind of reaction he had ever thought anyone could have after finding out the kind of man he is, let alone someone like (Y/N). It was confusing.

After a moment, he settled, reciprocating her hug and being that anchor for her if only for a few more moments until realization dawned. She buried her face in the brunt of his chest, his shirt growing damp from her tears and the heavy puffs of air that fanned out from her lips. Harry held her, petting his hands down her back and brushing her hair from her face the longer she melted against him.

Soon enough, she pulled away from him, wet eyes glistening with a sniffly nose as she gazed up at him.

With gentle graze of a hand he hadn't trusted in years, Harry brushed baby hairs out of (Y/N)'s face. She looked at him like she really believed that she should feel sorry for him, console him as if he were one of the many families he tore apart through the many jobs he worked.

"(Y/N)," he started, voice more gentle than he thought he could manage with a lump in the back of his throat, "I don't think y'understand what I did."

A fresh batch of tears welled up in her eyes as she shook her head, the hairs he'd just brushed out of her face now returning. "N-No, Harry, I do," she insisted, gaze genuine between the fluttering of her lashes as she blinked the tears away, "I know you wouldn't have d-done any of that if you'd had a choice—I know that. I-I'm so sorry that they took ad-advantage of you, and that you've been so a-alone." Her voice cut off then, a harsh breath just a hair away from a sob exhaling from her in a shudder. She could only manage a whisper when she recovered, "You don't deserve that."

She broke down once more, falling into Harry's chest again. He was prepared this time, ready to hold her steady and snuggle her against him. He just hoped the hammering of his heart behind his ribs wouldn't disturb her.

Harry's breathing came in stiff pulls as he tried to process what she was telling him. While he knew he wouldn't have done the things he did had there been another option for him—had he had the knowledge he has now, he would have done many things differently back then. He knew that, but that wasn't something he ever expected another to understand. He never thought he would have the courage to share his story aloud, let alone earn this kind of response from a listener.

(Y/N) treated him as if he were the tragedy, not the villain.

His own eyes began to burn, gaze going watery with the walls of the motel going mushy and melting in with the carpet. He couldn't remember the last time he cried for himself; he'd cried from fear from his nightmares and missing his family, but nothing to mourn the kind of life he could have lead had he known himself better.

"I—" he started, the lump in his throat blocking his words before they had a chance. Harry's throat bobbed as he tried to swallow around the bundle, voice thick, "I hurt people, (Y/N). I killed them." His breathing caught around the harsh word. He just wanted (Y/N) to know, be clear with the kind of person she was snuggling against. "I ruined families jus' because I wanted to save mine."

(Y/N) only held him tighter. "I can't blame you," she whispered against his throat, the words melting into his skin, "You were in an impossible situation. It was either you or someone else, and there was never going to be a right choice. I-I can't imagine..."

Harry didn't say anything back, instead just holding her as she did the same for him. He wanted to listen to the things she was saying, make sense of them in the reality he had accepted as his for years now. But, it felt... unsettling.

In his own head, in his heart, Harry knew he was put in a situation that no one should ever be in—make a decision that was more than just unfair. But, the longer he sat with himself, especially after finishing those jobs, he couldn't imagine that anyone would ever see it that way. It was easier to believe he was a monster when he figured the rest of the world would agree. He never saw himself as the one to be consoled, that he was too selfish a creature to have earned that kind of experience.

"I'm a monster, (Y/N)," he murmured into the crown of her head, strands of hair muffling his words.

"No, you're not," she immediately argued, "You're Harry."

All those tears that had been funneling into his eyes from deep in his chest somewhere he never allowed to be free finally spilled over. Tracks were made down his cheeks, heating his skin and leaving sticky trails of salt. His breaths came out heavy and warm, uneven with he pulls through his nose. Squeezing his eyes shut, he cried silently into (Y/N)'s hair, allowing her to hold him while he took his turn crumbling.

There were still pounds of guilt and trauma sitting in the bars around his heart, but this was the first time those burdens hadn't felt so heavy.

Sunshine through the windows could be felt on his back, bleeding through the t-shirt (Y/N) had latched within her grip the longer she held him.

"Thank you," he sniffled into her hair.

(Y/N) planted a delicate kiss to the column of his throat in response.

The shadows in the motel room shifted the longer they sat bundled on the end of the bed, the sun journeying through the sky through the window. Harry didn't know how long they sat together with tangled limbs, leaking eyes, and sniffling noses, but he could have stayed there a lot longer had he been given the chance. He could barely remember the last time he'd had an actual hug before (Y/N) let alone a cuddle for at least an hour.

But, he couldn't stay there forever. He told her that story for a reason. He couldn't abandon his plan now.

Harry peeled away from her fist, her embrace around his neck staying firm enough to keep him from going too far as she gazed up at him. His eyes felt raw as he matched her contact.

"I have to go, (Y/N)," he crooned, voice crackling.

Her arms looped around his neck shifted with her hands settling firmly on the back of his shoulders. "What? Why?" she panicked some, clinging to him, "No, I don't want you to go, Harry."

Petting her hair back, he tried to soothe her as best he could despite his clumsy movements. "But, we're not running anymore, remember? I need to deal with this."

(Y/N)'s eyes rounded out as she gazed up at him. "I thought you meant we were going home."

Shaking his head, Harry stayed gentle with her, "We can't yet—not while they're still looking for us. They all know about home now, and we can't go back when I know they'd follow us. I have to take care of them here. Before we do anything else."

She looked uneasy now, gaze dropping down the planes of his face. "What do they want from you?"

"I don't know," he shrugged as much as he could with her still wrapped in his arms, "They might want me to come back, or"—Harry steeled himself at the second prospect—"I might know too much to be left running around everywhere."

Color drained from (Y/N)'s face as she listened to him. "Y-You think they might kill you?"

Harry only shushed her, a tender hand on the back of her head guiding her back to her hiding space in the cubby of his neck when he saw fresh tears glimmering in her eyes. He didn't know what to say to something like that; confirming the horror didn't seem like a good idea, but he didn't have it in him to start lying right after coming clean like he has. His fingers threaded through her hair, blunt nails scratching at her scalp in soothing runs as she whimpered in his neck.

As much as he might have wanted to stay just where he was, cuddling and hushing her as if her tears were the worst of his problems, but he couldn't push off the inevitable for much longer.

Using his grip on the back of her neck, Harry pulled her away from her hiding place. He was greeted with swollen lips and red eyes he worried he wouldn't ever see normal again. He hoped against it all that he'd get to see her smile at least once more.

"I need you to listen really well, okay, (Y/N)?" he asked her, thumb running a circuit of comforting circles on the side of her neck.

She hesitated before she nodded. "But, I don't want you to leave."

Despite it all, a genuine smile wriggled its way onto Harry's features. What a sweet thing she was, even in the face of everything he'd laid out for her. The first smile he'd made in days being offered to her.

Harry kept silent to her protest, instead untangling himself from her hold. He stood to the full of his height, offering her his hand. With her palm pressed against his, she followed suit to stand beside him, their fingers laced together.

He led them around the bed, inching towards the bedside table. With his free hand and (Y/N) behind him in the narrow channel between the bed and the wall, Harry pulled the drawer open. Inside, the black handgun he had stowed away rattling against the laminate.

Swallowing, he took the firearm and turned to face her. He schooled his features into something stern and stoic. He wanted to be strong like he knew she needed him to be, especially when she saw what he was offering.

"I need you to use this if someone comes looking for us," he told her, his voice even and low.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened when she realized what she was looking at, her immediate. reaction coming in the form of her shaking head. "I-I don't—I'm not—"

"I know," he cut her off, squeezing her hand in his, "I want this to be a last resort." Walking her back away from the side table, her brought her to the end of the bed, his back facing the window in case anyone decided to peek through the sliver between the curtains. "Hide first," he explained, "And, I don't want y'answering the door for anyone after I leave. Even if it's me, I have a key. Don't let me in even if I ask, I should be able to let myself in. Don't answer the door for anyone, especially if y'don't recognize the who's on the other side. Jus' hide, okay? Y'can hide in the bathroom if y'want, but if anyone gets in and tries to do anything to you, I need y'to use this and protect yourself."

(Y/N) could have gone cold the way she was frozen still in front of him; if not for the heat of her hand in his, he would have assumed as much. She stared at the gun he was offering towards her as if a gift, the weapon sitting in his hand between them.

"Can I show y'how to use it?" he asked her, gently trying to ease her into the non-option she had of protecting herself.

"Harry..."

"I know," he said, "Please, (Y/N). I jus' need to be able to know that I won't be leaving y'to get hurt without a chance to protect yourself."

Looking up at him through the fan of her lashes, he could see her resolve crumble away piece by piece. He hated to think about her having to use something like this as much as he was sure she did, but that didn't change the fact that someone was looking for her and wouldn't hesitate to hurt her if given the chance.

"Okay," she peeped out, her hand in his slowly loosening as she grabbed for the gun.

Her grip was loose and shaky as Harry tried to show her the basics. With the barrel aimed at the ground, he showed her how to switch the safety, something he only mimed as he didn't want to scare her more. He encouraged her to wrap both hands around the grip, finger curling around the trigger.

"It's heavy," she said, her voice a quiet whimper as her hands continued to shake.

"I know," he told her, adjusting her hold to ensure the recoil didn't harm her any more than a bone's rattle. If she had to use it, anyway.

Silence settled over them as he ensured she would be as safe as she could be while he was gone.

"Both hands, okay?" he told her once more, her grip steadying the longer he allowed her to get used to the weight. "Every time y'pick it up, the barrel needs to be facing away from you. Even if the safety's on, I don't want y'aiming it anywhere near yourself."

"Okay," she said, another repetition of the small word through his instructions. She swallowed, her features twisted into something too scared for Harry's heart to not break over. "This is a last resort right? I-In case of an emergency."

Harry's jaw ticked, hearing the waver in her voice. He hated knowing he was the reason she was preparing for an emergency like this. "Only in case of emergency, yeah."

Taking the firearm out of her hands, he left it on the bed to (Y/N)'s relief. She wiped her hands off on her pants as he rifled through his duffle bag, finding the wad of cash he'd been using to fund their run. Taking the bundle to her, he pushed it into her empty hands.

Before she could have a chance to shoot off a round of questions, Harry steeled himself. "(Y/N) look at me for a second."

That tremor of fear she'd gained after dealing with the gun remained as she looked up at him with watery eyes.

Shoving the cash into her hand, Harry ensured she was listening before he spoke. "If 'm not back by the morning, I need y'to leave. 'M going to leave the car for you, and you're going to take all of the money I have left, okay? Jus' get home. Don't wait for me or try to look for me, only worry about getting back home."

Before he could even finish speaking, (Y/N) was shaking her head, protests on the tip of her tongue. "I'm not—"

"Yes, you are," he insisted, unwilling to hear her argument, "I promised y'when we left that y'would make it home and be safe. This is the only way I can make sure I can keep that promise, even if 'm not the one taking y'home." When (Y/N) began to push against his hand with the money, he stayed solid where he stood, matching her eyes with unwavering contact. "I don't want to argue with you on this, (Y/N). This is final."

Her gaze softened, matching the refractions in the tears pearling on her waterline. "Okay," she peeped after a pause, her voice barely above a whisper.

With the bills wadded in her hand, Harry disregarded the space between them as he pulled her into a hug. She melted into his hold that was becoming familiar, burrowing her face into his neck with her hands around his middle. He curled himself around her, the tip of his nose buried in the hair on the top of her head, his eyes falling closed as he pulled in a deep breath. His arms around her pulsed, his heartbeat rattling in his chest.

"'M sorry, (Y/N)," he murmured, lips brushing the crown of her head, "'M sorry I got y'involved in this."

(Y/N) shook her head, "It's not your fault."

While Harry couldn't accept that answer, he gave his own in the form of a kiss pressed to the top of her head. "I need to go now, okay?" he told her, voice muffled in her hair.

"Where are you going?" she asked, voice small to match his.

"Not too far, I don't think, since I want to leave y'the car," he said, trying to stitch together the details of his plan after such a vulnerable start to his day.

Drawing away, she looked up at him with questioning eyes. "You think they'll find you? How?"

Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. "'M sure they already have an idea of where 'm hiding."

It was clear (Y/N) didn't enjoy his answer, but she didn't ask any more questions. Instead, she followed him quietly as he readied himself to meet his fate. While it wasn't a new feeling for him—accepting the fact that this outing might be his last—it was different knowing that someone would be waiting for him, knowing exactly what happened if he didn't make it back. It felt a lot more final this way. An omen—one he couldn't decide was good or bad.

With everything ready, and a plan to grab the gun he had packed in the car, Harry moved towards the door. (Y/N) stopped him with a soft hand on his biceps.

"I'll see you tonight, right?" Her eyes were pleading as she looked up at him.

"I'll try m'best." His gaze lingered on her. She still looked at him with softened eyes and wonderous gaze despite all the ugly secrets she now knew about him. His heart ached in his chest. "Thank you, (Y/N)."

He placed his hand on her's where it was resting on his arm. He curled his fingers around her own, giving her a small squeeze before he peeled her touch away.

All the way out the door, he could feel her eyes on him. He couldn't look back.

—————

(Y/N)'s legs felt cramped, the last six hours of having been curled up in the bathtub now showing in her aching muscles. Despite that, she didn't even think about stretching out, keeping herself bundled with her legs against her chest and arms looped around her shins.

The sun had gone down hours ago, wiping away the final slice of light that was draped through the main room. The gun Harry had given her laid untouched, safety clicked, at her feet. Her breathing was the only sound in the silent room.

Every time she could hear a set of feet trudging past the front door, her ears perked, trying to find any evidence that it might be Harry. Every time she came up with the opposite answer, her heart dropped an inch more.

As much as she wanted to hear someone familiar, for a pair of those heavy footsteps to stop in front of her door, a sense of panic filled her whenever they drew too close. But, she still felt hopeless every time they moved on without a lingering second. She didn't want to be alone, but she feared what having the opposite would mean if she wished a little too hard.

The otherwise silent room left her too much room to think about what Harry had told her today.

She knew he didn't think of his story as much of a tragedy as it was. She didn't think he even realized just how terribly he was taken advantage of and convinced he had no choice but the most evil one.

He was a victim, too.

(Y/N) knew Harry. Despite all the walls he presented and maintained, she'd gotten glimpses as to who he was at his core through these last months and especially this past week. There was always an assumption that he had a few secrets hiding behind his barricades, but she never would have guessed them to be something of this nature. She couldn't even imagine what it would feel like to carry something like that around, no one there to support him.

There was no way to comprehend what it would feel like to be in Harry's shoes. Doing everything on his own for so long before running into her, allowing a small smidge of himself to show to her, only for them to land in dirty motels with tear-stains on a floral bedspread.

Harry thought he was a monster, but (Y/N) could only consider him brave. He was the strongest person she knew.

There would be no way he wouldn't return to her, then, right? He was the strongest, smartest, most capable person she knew. Their teary cuddling couldn't be the last time she saw him. Right?

Another set of voices—three different ones, this time—interrupted (Y/N)'s spiraling. Her hands clenched around her knees, her breathing pausing as she tried to listen as best she could through both the cracked bathroom door and the bolted room door.

Soon enough, the volume peaks. They were right outside the door. (Y/N) could almost clearly make out the words through the thin walls.

A beat later, not a second of lag, the voices began to retreat, the volume lowering until nothing but muffles were heard. They'd walked past. It wasn't Harry, none of them.

Closing her eyes, (Y/N) knew she had to believe that Harry would come back. She couldn't see herself leaving here without him, even if time was something they were running out of.

But, he promised her. He promised her he'd make sure she was safe.

She knew Harry, and he wouldn't break his promises.

That was how she knew he would come back to her.

—————

Despite the sore in her muscles and the exhaustion tugging at her eyelids, (Y/N) went stiff when she heard the doorknob jiggle. Not once in the hours since Harry left had anyone even lingered outside the door, let alone try to breach the lock. Her breathing stuck in her throat when the incessant noise continued. In lethargic movements, her hands held a tremor as she reached for the gun at her feet.

She swore her heart stopped when the jiggling stopped, a muffled curse being heard from the other side of the door. The voice sounded familiar—the timbre, the tone, everything sounding like the one person she'd been waiting for. (Y/N) wanted to run to the door and let him in, her instincts pushing her to abandon post. But, she had to remember: Harry had a key, he'd let himself in.

Though, a creeping argument in the back of her mind started, what if he lost his key? What if he was hurt, bleeding and aching for her help? What if he couldn't use his key and she was going to leave him to die out there all because of a flimsy rule he'd made before walking into battle?

Her hands shook that much harder, her loose grip on the gun wavering.

Over the roar of her heartbeat in her ears, (Y/N) heard the jamb give away, the sticky lock finally opening. The door was pushed open, whiny hinges creaking. She heard the door be closed after a set of heavy footsteps made their way into the motel, the lock being bolted into place once more. Only the sound of labored breathing replaced the sudden racket in the silent room.

Please be Harry, please be Harry, please be Harry.

She tried to steady her hand on the firearm the longer the silence dragged on.

"(Y/N)? Are you still here, love?"

Tears sprung into (Y/N)'s eyes at that voice, relief flooding her system. She let go of the gun at her feet though her hands still shook as she stayed stuck in her pose in the bathtub.

"Harry?"

Those heavy footsteps that introduced him to the motel started again, the pace much faster as he crossed the room to her hiding spot.

The second he appeared in the doorway, (Y/N) knew she was supposed to be scared of him. She was supposed to be at least wary of the swelling bruises beginning to form on his face, fingerprints denting the skin of his neck. Stray scratches littered his arms, specks of blood marring his skin. His hair was a mess, strands sticking at odd angles. The worst of it was blood that was clearly not his, staining his shirt, splatters reaching as far as his cheeks. The red looked especially vivid beside the green of his wild eyes and the creamy tone of his skin. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, his shoulders seeming wider in the doorway with his fists clenched at his sides.

But, even with every cue telling her she should keep cowering away from him, her heart still lurched in her chest at the sight. Under all the mess and core, that was her Harry. She knew him, she trusted him, and he came back to her. How could she be scared of that?

Following the bruising beats of her heart, (Y/N) didn't hesitate before she was leaping out of her hiding place. Disregarding the stiff set of her muscles and the weapon left in the tub, she jumped through the bathroom before landing in his arms.

"Harry!" she bubbled, clinging to him in a tight hug. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, with her arms around his neck with her cheek pressed to his. "Oh my god, you're okay, you're okay, Harry."

Her tongue felt like mush in her mouth the way she could barely form a coherent thought before she was dissolving to babbles. She didn't even realize she was crying until she could taste the salt of her tears. At least that explained the sticky lump in the back of her throat, too heavy to talk around.

Harry held her just as tightly, a strong arm supporting her underneath her thighs while the other roped around her waist. She could feel every breath he made, every ripple of his muscles; she even thought she could feel the thump of his heart.

Pulling away from his neck, (Y/N) reared back just enough to see his face though she didn't go too far. Shifting her hold on him, she pushed his hair out of his face, his features watery and distorted through her tears. Smears of blood stained her palms, but (Y/N) didn't care; she could be grossed over the blood later, right now all she could see was Harry. Everything she had hoped for, for the last handful of hours had actually come true, how could she focus on anything else?

Eyes shining in the dim light of the bathroom, Harry looked up at her reverently. "'M here, (Y/N)," he murmured to her, voice broken. The longer he looked at her, that glimmer in his eyes rose until it was a shimmer of overfilled tears. "God, (Y/N)."

Holding his cheeks in her palm, she nodded her head, understanding the overwhelming feeling she was sure he felt bloom in his chest. "What happened?" she whispered, voice thin.

Shaking his head, those same curls she had brushed out of his face fell over his forehead once more. Some strands were darkened with blood. "'S over," he told her, his own tone small to match her own, "'M out. They aren't going to bother me anymore. 'S really over."

(Y/N) swallowed. "H-How?"

His jaw tensed under her hands. Another shake of his head was granted. "I-I don't want to—I can't talk about that." With the way his eyes darted from her own, falling down her features in a glazed trail, she knew this wasn't something to push him on. "B-But 's done—(Y/N), 's over."

Something in him snapped then, as if he heard himself for the first time. Harry crumbled then, his features twisting and flushing as rivers of tears fell from his eyes. He cried the way he did after his nightmares—heavy and nonstop.

Harry clutched her to his body as he sobbed into her neck, having shielded himself in her hair once his breath started shuddering in his lungs. He murmured over and over It's over, it's over, it's over, into her skin, the mantra slicking her skin like the tears that ran down his cheeks. (Y/N) held him even as his grip gave out, sliding down his body until she was planted flat on her feet, her fingers running a soothing circuit through his dirty hair.

Pressing her lips to the side of his head, (Y/N) felt her own voice thin as she spoke, "You did it, Harry. You're done."

His arms around her pulsed, her body flush against his with his fingertips denting into her back from how tightly he held her. Hesitantly peeling himself away from where he was cuddled into her neck, he gazed at her with bright green eyes, bloodshot and tired.

"I-I want to shower," he murmured to her, the first thing he managed to utter other than his disbelieved mantra.

A gentle smile touched at (Y/N)'s cheeks, a breathless laugh exhaling through her nose, "Yeah?" When Harry nodded his head, his tears slowing though he didn't share in her amusement, she brushed her hand through his curls once more before beginning to separate from his hold. "Okay, just let me... I left your gun in the tub, then I lea—"

The second she tried to shake off his grip and take her own touch away, Harry resisted with a shake of his head and his hold tightening. His arms were a rope around her waist, tying her to him. "No, no, no," he bubbled, desperation sinking into his eyes, "I-I don't want to be alone. Don't leave."

(Y/N) paused where she stood, her eyes matching his watery gaze. His irises swam, softened and scarred as if she left the room, he would never see her again. She couldn't say no to him.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. "I-I can stay, it's okay," she soothed him, "Did you—You want me to get in with you or stay in the bathroom?"

As much as it felt odd to ask if he wanted her to shower with him despite the fact they'd never been more intimate than a few kisses over a week ago, (Y/N) felt like there were no longer lines between them given their circumstances. The things Harry shared with her and the time she spent adhered to his side were more intimate than sex.

Nodding his head sent a few curls she had pushed back back over his forehead, some strands sticky and darker than the rest. "Get in with me," he rushed out, looking entirely too fragile for someone who just defended himself against any number of people out to get him, "Y'can say no, I-I jus' need you. Y-You make me feel okay, and-and—"

She cut him off with a nod of her own head, her hand landing on his shoulder with a light squeeze to the cuff. It hurt seeing him try to explain himself when he didn't even seem to have fully processed the last day. "Okay, okay, I'll get in with you," she told him, eyes wide and matching his so he stayed with her, "I just... I don't want anything else happening."

It was almost frantic the way he was quick to reject her thinking. His hands on her back pressed her closer to him. "Of course not. I jus'... I need you."

After Harry let her break away from him, he still stayed close to her as clothing began to be dropped on the floor. Despite the static of his presence behind her and spying his bloody clothing from the corner of her eye, she didn't feel the warmth of his gaze on her skin as more and more was revealed. Even in the small space, he kept his back to her, eyes kept to himself even as his hands shook, aching to have the comfort of her touch.

Down to her underwear, she saw Harry step into the bathtub first, the gun being plucked out of the basin and left on the countertop. From her peripheral, she saw him hesitate, as if he were afraid to both touch and let go of the firearm. Moments later, he stepped into the tub, twisting the temperature knobs with the kitschy mermaid curtain pulled closed.

Letting out a breath, (Y/N) dropped the remainder of her clothing to the floor. While she was sure Harry had too much on his mind to be worrying about the appearance of her body, there was still something that felt unsettled knowing that this would be the first time he saw her naked. Before they'd even shared a handful of kisses, he was going to see her bare. If not for the fragile air around them, (Y/N) would have thought it was funny.

Tugging back the curtain just enough, she stepped into the tub behind Harry. His back faced her as he wet his hair under the cold water, neither having the patience to wait for the stream to heat up like normal. More tattoos were revealed to her now that his arms were covered, along with scars that dotted his back she wished she didn't have to know about.

At the sound of her joining him, Harry looked over his shoulder at her, hair dripping wet with pink tinted drops hitting the tub. His gaze didn't stray from her face as his eyes softened that much more just before he turned around to reach for her. He didn't pay any attention to her bare skin, every curve and dip being forgotten in favor of the comfort her touch could offer.

His hands cupped the soft of her hips as he tugged her to his chest, fingertips denting the soft flesh. His skin was cold as he rested his forehead on hers, her body flush against his while the water showered from overhead. (Y/N)'s eyes fell to his chest, watching the way the water swirled the rusty drain in a cyclone of blood-stained water. Spots across his body showed more injuries than she previously noticed in the form of bruises and angry slashes.

Harry didn't pay any of the pain he may have felt any mind, instead letting his eyes fall closed as he breathed her in. His hands on her hips shifted to loop around her waist just the way they had been before they stepped into the shower. His muscles relaxed further when the water began to warm, the spray beginning to fill the bathroom with steam.

This felt more intimate than sex even to (Y/N). She had never just been held like this, with no implication of something more coming.

He held her under the warm water as his breathing evened into steady paces, (Y/N) running her hands through his hair and his shoulders. She couldn't reach much of him with the way Harry held her, but she washed him as gently as she could with the places she could reach, allowing him to calm in her hold. Every now and then, his features twisted into something painful, silent tears falling from his eyes. She worried that she might be hurting him, but when he only held her tighter, she figured he had other things on his mind in those moments.

Despite those moments when his fragility peeked out higher, this was the most calm she had ever seen him. Water ran down his body in cleaning rivers, taking away every bit of armor he had donned for the last however many years, leaving all of the soft bits behind. (Y/N) was used to see him stoic, clean from any kind of messy feeling or interaction, but that didn't mean she didn't still pick up on his restless hands, anxious gaze, or the constant need he seemed to have to be aware of everything at all times. She'd never seen him allow his brain to turn off like he was now. She hoped the only thing he felt now was relief.

She was sure he was going to find a way to make this all his fault, that he should never be forgiven for the things he was forced to do today, but, if even for the next twenty minutes, she hoped he'd take this relief and comfort; she hoped he'd realized just how much he deserved to be treated gently.

After the bathroom had sufficiently been filled with steam, the humidity clinging to every surface despite the still open bathroom door, (Y/N) asked, "Is it alright if I wash your hair?" Her fingers glided over his shoulders, touch as tender as her whispered voice.

Harry hummed a cracked confirmation, his features giving that tell-tale twist as a slew of tears dripped down his cheeks. "Thank you," he breathed.

Blinking his eyes open, Harry watched as she reached for one of the bottles he'd left on the ledge from his morning shower. It was an odd angle she had to work with, seeing as he didn't let her move very far away, out she'd work with it if this was all he wanted to feel more at ease.

Ducking his head, he allowed her to lather his strands in the off-brand apple scented shampoo he'd purchased on sale a month prior. Suds formed between the waves, bright and sparkling against the dark color. Some bubbles popped up a pink hue, but (Y/N) didn't try to focus on what tinted them.

Instead, she scratched her nails soothingly along his scalp, letting him sink into her that much more. "I love your hair, Harry," she murmured to him, words a secret only for him to hear.

A watery voice piped up over the beating of the shower, "Yeah?"

With a small smile touching the corner of her lips. He was cute like these, even if the circumstances were devastating. "Mhm," she hummed, "Your curls are perfect, especially since they've gotten longer. And, the color's very pretty with your eyes."

His breathing labored just that much more as he listened to her, his grip on her tightening with her chest flush against his. "Me and my mum have the same eyes," is all he shared with her, his voice delicate enough to be blown away with the steam.

"Really?" (Y/N) pushed, hoping he'd talk more about his family. She hoped the memory of them would comfort him.

"Mhm," his hum came out on the whinier side, "Me, her, and m'sister."

"I remember that picture you had" she told him, rinsing her hands of the suds before urging him towards the spray, "You're all very beautiful."

Harry fell silent, allowing the water to wash away the blood that had stuck in his strands. The hot water had pushed a deeper flush onto his cheeks, making his eyes that much more green even if they did look a bit broken.

(Y/N) didn't push him for more as she reached for his conditioner in a matching scent. He kept his grip tight on her as she massaged the cream through his curls, using this as more of an excuse to give him tender care as opposed to clean him.

"What did your sister get her degrees in?" (Y/N) asked, thinking of the graduation picture he had displayed in his home. The only piece of decor he had.

His gaze softened some as he thought about his family. "She did a lot with English and psychology," he started, "She wanted to be a writer at first, but before we left, I remember she had talked about wanting to do something to help people. She started looking into things for—um—mental health and people who had gone through trauma. I-I don't know what she's doing now, though."

Listening, (Y/N)'s lips thinned. She didn't bother trying to push anymore after his last statement. She didn't want him focusing on the fact he didn't know what his family was doing, or even where in the world they were.

Pushing him to rinse once more, Harry stepped out of the spray free of any blood on his body with his injuries clean and muscles softened under the warm water. His body didn't seem so heavy now, only tired.

"Feel clean?" she asked, her own hair dripping wet against her back though she had no plans to wash the locks.

He gave her a quiet nod, a sniffle scrunching his nose.

For the first time since stepping into the shower, Harry's gaze strayed from the decent area of her face and the wall behind her, dropping down her body. She wasn't sure what he saw that had him scrunching his brows and his eyes turning sad once more.

Before she could say much to distract him, Harry's hands began to shake on her back. "I don't deserve to touch you," he whispered, voice just small enough so it wouldn't break under the weight of his feelings, "Not after what I've done."

His expression shifted with watery eyes and downturned lips. A cinch appeared between his brows. His lungs rattled in his chest though he didn't make any move to keep his hands off of her.

Evening her breathing, (Y/N) did her best to keep a cap on her own feelings. She wanted Harry to feel like he could break down, be honest about his feelings, without worrying about her. She knew that if he cried any, he would take it as validation to his words, or push whatever he felt to the side in favor of doting over her.

"Don't say that, Harry," she argued gently, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. She used the leverage of her hold to pull him down, their gazes matching. "You did what you had to do to protect yourself. Today, and every other day."

Shaking his head, Harry's bottom lip wobbled with his tears mixing in with the water dripping down his face. "I-I—Don't—I...," he cut himself off with a deep breath being sucked in, his eyes squeezing closed as he continued, "'M disgusting—I don't deserve to touch you."

Sweeping in a deep breath (Y/N) did her best to stay composed as she pulled his arms from the loop they made around her body. Blinking his eyes open, he looked defeated as if he really believed he had convinced her of his delusion and this was the punishment. Instead, (Y/N) pulled his palms to her face, her own hands guiding him. She held him steady as she puckered her lips and pressed kisses to his palms, the tip of her nose skimming his fingers as she spied him through the gaps. Finishing, she pressed them flat against her cheeks, her guiding hands staying atop to keep him from leaving her.

"I love your hands," she told him, allowing him to catch the view of her willingly holding them to her skin, "They took care of me and kept me safe as much as you did. Be nice."

A fresh batch of tears began to flood out of his eyes. Harry didn't say anything as he rested his forehead on hers. His hands on her skin turned solid on their own accord as he clung to her.

They stayed under the spray long enough for the water to run cold, clinging to one another.

—————

thyme represents courage; facing the past

eeeeep only one part left and now you know all the things about him!!! thank you so much for sticking w me for this! so sorry fi theres any mistakes and if you have any ideas or requests or anything please send them in!

#writing #harry #harry styles #harry one shot #harry imagine #harry blurb #harry angst #harry x reader #harry au #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #love on tour #harrys house #pleasing #as it was #satellite

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hotvintagepoll · 1 month

Text

Propaganda

Ruth Gordon (Rosemary's Baby, Whatever Happened to Aunt Alice, Abe Lincoln in Illinois)—Maybe doesn't count because she mainly took off as a prominent movie actress in the 70s but she is a gilf and probably would have had a more successful movie career earlier if Hollywood wasn't against less conventionally beautiful ladies!

Linda Darnell (Hangover Square, Unfaithfully Yours, A Letter to Three Wives)— Her dick is ENORMOUS. She was Fox’s resident bad girl for a while, and she was goddamn sexy during it. She could also play sweeter, and she was still beautiful when she wasn’t crushing men beneath her heels, but also she sometimes crushed men beneath her heels and it was really hot

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Ruth Gordon:

Linda Darnell:

LOOK AT THOSE EYES. She redefines sultry and dreamy.

ok i have a lot of feelings about linda darnell. she was so complex and messy and talented and just such a tragic figure and deserved so much better. her mom basically ignored the rest of her kids in favor of pushing linda into hollywood, which led to her missing out on a lot of childhood experiences, prevented her from enrolling in college, and caused some mental health issues later in life. it’s especially heartbreaking that she met such a preventable end so early in life, and i always wonder what might’ve happened if she had been able to make more movies. she also disliked the hollywood social scene, which i think is totally valid of her. anyway, i loved her in a letter to three women and unfaithfully yours, and especially in no way out, which i think is one of her better roles, really showcasing her acting ability. and the fact that she never really got recognition keeps me up at night,, in my heart she has all the oscars

#linda darnell #ruth gordon #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 1

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moon-huny · 7 months

Text

Stole the Moon - Chapter Three

CW: My content is not for anyone under 18. Major language in this one ya'll. Also, smut towards the end. Some she/her pronouns used for reader in this one, and implied afab physicality. Oh, and masturbation. Kidnapping, coercion, imprisonment.

Word Count: 4.1K

Summary: After being treated to a day of R&R, you and Buggy sit down for dinner.

A/N: So, I am like 15 mins late with this one. But look at the word count, now that's content baby! I worked kinda hard on it, so I hope ya'll like. I have never written smut before and it was a challenge. Lmk how I did. I feel confident that ya'll will like it, but you never know. Constructive criticism is for bad bitches so have at it!

There are some OC characters in this chapter. I know OCs can be a bit hit or miss. Do ya'll like em? Should I continue to include them? Don't be afraid to tell me what you think. I am only married to a few ideas in this series that I know have to happen, otherwise I welcome ya'lls ideas.

Oh! and happy kinktober. Okay, that's all, enjoy.

masterlist ✧˖°

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The moment Buggy shut the door the two young women were circling you like vultures. They pulled at your dress and snickered to themselves. The red-haired girl tugged at the ends of your hair and giggled.

“What exactly does captain –” she said.

“Expect us to do with you?” the raven-haired girl finished.

They dressed alike, finished one another's sentences, the way they took up space in a room together read as though they had known each other for a long time.

“I take it your sisters?” You said, hoping to perhaps gain an understanding of their relationship.

They both laughed at your question.

“You hear that, Lettie?” questioned the fairer one.

“Marie, she thinks we’re sisters.” replied the other woman whose skin was steeped in golden tones.

Being in the same room as them felt like suffocation. As though they spoke a language you didn’t and breathed in air from an atmosphere you could only dream of.

“Come on,” they both said in unison and began to make their way out of Buggy’s quarters. If you thought that understanding them was a challenge, keeping pace with them was just as difficult.

Exiting through the ornate double doors, the sun had risen much further in the sky than you’d expected. Nearly at its peak, you enjoyed the warmth it provided and would have basked in it all day if given the chance. However, your escorts were making their way back down towards the lower decks of the ship at a quick pace.

As you hurried across the deck of the ship to follow, you took a moment to scan your surroundings. Looking around the deck of the ship, crew mates in various theatrical themed garb milled about. Looking up toward the starboard quarter, you noticed the captain with two other men – one of whom was the swordsman who freed you from your cage earlier that morning.

They seemed to be pouring over a map – the map. He could feel you staring at him. Buggy looked up from the paper he and the two others were arguing over. A slight smirk pulled across his red painted lips.

Deciding your eye contact lasted long enough, you turned back around to follow behind the strange duo, climbing down into the lower decks after them.

The two women walked hand in hand down the tight corridors. As you passed the turn that would have taken you back to your prison, you just nearly stopped, looked down through the unlit tunnel, and continued on your way.

Upon reaching the destination, the two stood on either side of a thick purple curtain along the tight hallway. The dark haired woman peeled back the heavy fabric and ushered you into the room. In the center was a beautiful, if not marginally damaged, claw foot tub. Glass bottles of every shade lined the walls, stained glass lanterns were the only light source.

“It’s getting cold,” they both said and gestured to the tub. The basin was full of steaming water that smelled of rosemary and mint. You gently pushed past them and floated into the room awestruck by the idea that such a place existed down the hall from your own personal hell.

“We’ll be back soon,” they said in a sing-song tone as they slowly closed the curtain behind you.

///

It is difficult to clock how long you spent pampering yourself in the bath. Even after the water went from scalding to cool, you couldn’t help but mindlessly float and get cozy in the water.

Your thoughts continually slipped back to your captor. His eyes had regarded you with such gentleness earlier but his smile told you he still wasn’t one to be trusted … but those eyes. The way they drank all of you in as though he could never get enough.

You reached up to wrap your hands around your neck feeling the necklace there. His touch could be bruising, painful, enough to make you squirm. But now, knowing he could be so light, and teasing. You closed your eyes attempting to recall the way he gently brushed your skin when he hooked the jewelry around you. You could imagine what that touch would be like lower, and lower, and … you caught yourself. You promptly removed your hands from your body and gripping each side of the tub.

These thoughts you had for him were nothing but frustrations. To act on them would send you down a rabbit hole you might never crawl back out of. Stopping now was for your own good.

Just as you were leaning back to submerge yourself in the water, an anxiety welled up in your chest, as though a weight were all of a sudden being slowly lowered onto you. A memory began creeping its way back into your mind.

Waves. Terror. Screaming. Fear.

Eleven years old and drowning. The unforgiving sea pulled your small body through its currents. You didn’t know which way was up or down. Your lack of direction caused you to flail about in the surf attempting to reach out a hand and touch the precious air instead of more water.

You couldn’t see anything but the physical memory was there. The feeling of the sandbars scraping your skin as you were unforgivingly cast against them. It was then you remembered reaching out your hand and feeling hair. Then a hand. An arm. A face. Someone was next to you in the water, but they weren’t moving.

All of a sudden you felt another person wrap their arms around you. A very strong and living presence carried you out of the churn and you remember feeling air hit your lungs as you –

Gasped out loud. Finally coming up for air from just underneath the waterline of the tub. The two women were pulling you up and out by your wrists.

“Oh my god, what –”

“In the east blue were –”

“You thinking!”

As you panted for air and cleared the water from your face, you couldn’t tell which one was speaking.

“We leave you alone for one hour –”

“And you try to drown yourself in a three foot tub!”

///

“So you aren’t related?” You said, feeling a bit embarrassed that you had to repeat the question.

You were wrapped in a satin robe provided to you by Marie from her “personal favorites” closet. A gesture that seemed kind at first only until you realized that Lettie had ripped a hole through her copy of the red lacy loungewear and now neither of the women could wear it for fear they wouldn’t match.

“You dress so similar, all the way down to makeup and hair,” you continue.

“We’re acrobats,” they said.

Lettie continued, “at first, it was all just a part of our act.”

“But we decided that we liked being as close as possible at all times,” finished Marie. Her ocean blue eyes shone into Lettie’s golden amber pair.

“Even if that means inhabiting the same dress to feel truly synced,” replied Lettie.

Marie was curled up in her lap. The two women couldn’t keep their hands off of one another now that they were seated in the close quarters of their cabin. The space was small yet, crammed with stuff they’d collected. The queen-sized hammock they let you lie on swung on one side of the room. They were sprawled out on a beautiful yellow loveseat across from you.

Clothing was tossed around the room in various locations. Corsets, garters, stockings and dresses all poked out from trunks and drawers. An ornate gold mirror adorned the wall, a sack full of makeup products was tossed to the side underneath it.

“You must really love each other,” you said, feeling a pang of loneliness in your chest. You had curled up with a pillow on the surprisingly comfortable suspended cotton.

“We didn’t at first,” said Marie. “In fact, we hated one another.”

“Marie!” cried Lettie.

So it seems they weren’t always on the same page. At least not enough to always know what the other one was thinking.

“We were … competitive,” said Lettie. “I simply could not stand the fact that she was so talented when she joined the circus. She was outstanding and I hated being upstaged by her.”

“And I couldn’t stand the meat head you had drooling over you all the time,” said Marie. “It really ticked me off. If I ever upstaged you, my love, it was because I knew I had to compete for your affections.”

“There was no competition,” said Lettie. “Once Xander caught on to that, and I realized that I loved you and only you, he was toast.”

Clearly reminiscing on their past was pulling them into their own orbit making them quickly forget your presence.

“So, what happened?” you asked, pulling them from whatever intimate moment they were about to share.

“I killed her fiance – who happened to be the ring leader's son,” said Marie.

“We agreed to live the rest of our lives as pirates on the run,” finished Lettie.

The way they held one another, the words they so sweetly exchanged made your heart ache. As they slowly added more details to their love story, it made you yearn for a partnership so full of passion and affection.

///

Marie and Lettie continued to share stories of their adventures far into the afternoon as they dug through trunks, barrels, drawers, suitcases and bags attempting to find something for you to wear.

Finally they found a suitable dress for the evening meal you were preparing to sit for. The fabric fell around you perfectly, a short and very lacy white dress with wide flowing sleeves. They threw you a pair of dark red suede boots that climbed up your legs to your mid thigh. The beautiful moonstone still sat proudly on your chest.

Maire took it upon herself to tend to your hair and Lettie made herself comfortable in front of you to do your makeup. Nothing too crazy, just enough to hide the exhaustion that couldn't be whipped away in the bath.

“Your hair is so pretty,” said Marie as she worked her way through the ornate hairdo. “Like a mermaid.”

Lettie’s eyes shot up toward her partner, a look of warning and one you certainly couldn’t ignore.

“I- I just mean that …” stuttered Marie under her lover's hardened gaze.

As if on cue, Lettie swooped in, “she means that you have very beautiful features, like those legendary beasts. But thank goodness those terrible despicable things have long since died out.”

“Yes! Yes. That is exactly right, my darling. Look! I’m all done!” Marie ran up to the table and grabbed a small vanity mirror to show you the brilliant job she did.

“And I’m done as well so it would be best if you start heading up towards the kitchen, yes?” said Lettie.

“You won’t come with me?”

“Sorry dear we –”

“Have a few things to attend to,” they said, ushering you out of the room.

They waved at you from their room as you made your way back down the hallway.

Once you were out of earshot, Lettie could feel that Marie had something to say.

“What is it?”

“I can't help but feel like we’re sending her into the mouth of a predator.”

Lettie sighed and made her way back into the cabin, “it’s just the way he wants it done, Marie, I am not going to interfere.”

“Really? We already touched her, we weren't supposed to do that, remember?”

Lettie sighed, she knew the red haired girl was right.

“I know, my love, I know,” said Lettie. “But telling her? Hinting? Leading in such a way as to help her remember her past? That’s too risky.”

Marie was shutting her out, crossing her arms and looking out the door after you. Lettie floated over to her partner, she cupped the other woman’s pale white hands in her own warm brown ones.

“I love you,” she continued. “We worked so hard to find this crew, to escape our old life.”

“I’ve killed for you,” replied Marie. “If I followed every rule, you would have been bed and wed to that loathsome strongman and I wouldn’t be holding you every night.”

“I think we’ve done enough, Marie.”

“And I know you don’t think that’s true.”

///

Entering the kitchen, a beautifully carved table was set with dozens of bronze candle holders each cradling a different colored stick of wax. The soft glow of all the tiny flames kept the center of the space well lit while the rest of the kitchen faded into darkness.

All of a sudden, you heard the door slam shut behind you. Jumping at the sound, you turned around to see a hand pushed flat against the heavy door.

“You kept me waiting.”

Turning back around you saw the pirate captain leaning back in his chair, his feet crossed and kicked up at one end of the table. He was studying a goblet of wine before taking a sip from the decorated cup. His disconnected appendage floated past you and connected itself back to its rightful location.

“Patience is a virtue,” you reply calmly.

You were starving, the food laid out on the table looked too good to be true. Fruits and fish and rice and all the things your empty stomach groaned for.

“Well, it isn’t all bad if it means my acrobats take the time to make you look like that,” he flirted back.

Clearly the dress was doing wonders for you. You caught him gazing at the length of your legs and the small expanse of your exposed thigh right were the lace of your dress and the tops of your boots left just enough to the imagination.

“Hungry?” he questioned. “Cause I’m starving.”

You made your way to stand by the smug man. His eyes drunk you in as you approached him. Placing both your hands on the table next to him, you began your line of questioning.

“I need to know what you want from me,” you demanded.

“Oh honey, what don’t I want?”

“Cut the shit, clown,” you bit back. “The map you showed me four days ago. What’s it to and why did you need me to recognize it?”

He sighed. “Why don’t you eat first? You must be so so hungry.”

“No thanks to you,” you said.

“I’ll tell you about the map, just eat something first, yea?” He nodded toward your seat at the other end of the table.

Finally deciding to relent, you followed his direction and sat at the other end of the table. The plate before you held some of the most delicious food you’d ever seen. A grilled tilapia, no, mahi mahi, you really didn’t care what it was, it was edible.

Hesitantly you took a first bite, then another, and soon you were devouring the food in front of you. You don’t think you’d ever eaten so fast in your life.

“Drink something, you’ll choke,” he commented, still maintaining his relaxed posture in the chair. He notably hadn’t eaten a thing. If you weren’t so consumed with stifling your hunger, you would have assumed everything on the table was poisoned.

Having him order you to do something with such cool confidence would typically make you enraged, but this command was more of an invitation, one you happily took. You picked up your matching vessel of wine and gulped it down. It was like nothing you’d ever tasted. Sweet and smooth and just rich enough to sit warmly in your stomach.

You quickly made work of what was in the cup. Then stood and reached for the rest of the bottle in the center of the place setting. Uncorking the top with your teeth, you threw your head back and chugged.

All the while he watched you. Gently lifting the cup to his lips to sip the very nectar you so intensely swallowed down. When you finished, you steadied yourself on the edge of the table and panted, hand still wrapped around the neck of the bottle, your eyes flicked upward to catch his green ones staring back at you.

“The map is to the Grand Line,” he said, holding eye contact. He placed his cup down and moved his body to fully face yours. “There is a river that travels up a mountain. In other words, it’s impossible to traverse it, unless you have a strong ship – or you know how to cheat it.”

You continued to watch him, eyes dark as he finally explained what the map was for. You knew about the Grand Line. Everyone did. There were monsters and pirates and some of the fiercest dangers you could think of.

“And why do you need me?”

He stood and made his way to you. In the candle light his features were so sharp. The shadow of his jaw, the hollows of his cheeks emphasizing gorgeous cheekbones, his deep set eyes darkened in their sockets despite their bright color. The red color of his nose matched that of his lips which looked so much softer the closer he got. He leaned into the side of your face.

“Oh baby, there are a lot of reasons I need you,” he said whispering in your ear.

He placed a gloved hand on top of your own on the table. It was so much larger than yours and he was so warm. The absence of his coat and hat made him look so much more relaxed, his muscular arms fully displayed. Maybe it was the alcohol in your stomach making its way through your bloodstream, but you began to feel lightheaded.

You slowly turned your head to face him and he followed suit. His seafoam eyes made contact with your own. His lustful gaze sped up your heartbeat. His lips were parted and you could feel his hot breath on your own, so painfully close but not close enough.

“My question for you, gorgeous,” he whispered into the space between you. “Do you need me?”

Your face shifted from a testing confidence to a pleading look of pure want. Your eyebrows pushed together and your eyes morphed from a darkened tease to a blown out lust.

“Oh good,” he purred. “Why don’t you say it, hmm?” His other hand came up to pet goose bumps on the skin of your arm. His fingers leading from your hand, up the back of your forearm, and softly drawing a line until he finally reached your shoulder, your neck, your cheek where he cupped your face.

Turning his head he went straight for the soft spot he knew would make you relent, nipping and pecking the soft skin there. His soft words and lips combined with the scratch of his stubble was enough to make you wet.

“Say it baby, just tell me how much you need your captain.” he growled into your ear.

Through the haze of lust and alcohol, you felt a defiance rise.

“You …” you gasped out.

“Yeeess?” he hissed.

“Are …” you continued.

Panting between words, his hand drifted down to caress your thigh and slowly pushed the lace of your skirt up so he could grip your bare hip.

“Not my captain,” you snarled.

Placing your hands on his chest you pushed, hard. The shock of the action was enough to send him staggering back.

“You fucking little witch!” he yelled.

“And what the fuck are you going to do about it?!” you shouted back. “You gonna fucking kill me?! Oh wait, you wouldn’t –”

Your rant was cut short by his forearms detaching from his body. One pulled you by the wrist back into your chair and the other grabbed a small rope from across the room. You kicked, screamed and fought but he was stronger than you. Once you were bound by your wrists behind the chair, he stalked back toward you. Crouching down in front of you to knee level.

He peered up at you from his position on the floor. If it weren’t for the white hot anger coursing through you, his new orientation could have easily filled you with need.

“You’re a difficult woman,” said Buggy. What he wouldn’t tell you was that, from this position, he could smell your desire, and it was intoxicating. He inhaled and sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth, biting down to hide the guttural moan he wanted so desperately to let out.

“Good thing I like a challenge,” he reached behind himself and pulled out a red smoke bomb. You immediately recognized it and began to fight against your confines yet again.

“No, no, no, Buggy no,” you warbled out.

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” and with that he squeezed the little round pouch. As it disintegrated in his hand, he made his way to the door.

Leaving the kitchen, Buggy caught the attention of Cabaji, the only other crew member walking on the deck of the ship this late at night.

“Watch her,” said the blue haired man, pulling his bandanna off his head and heading at a quick pace to his cabin.

Cabaji had questions, tons, but he could tell that now wasn’t the time. The green haired chief of staff walked into the kitchen and saw your sleeping form draped over yourself in the chair, bound and half your neck painted in red.

///

Buggy slammed the door to his quarters. His long hair fell all around his face in a disheveled curtain of electric blue.

“That little fucking whore!” He threw his papers across the room, wiping his desk clean of all that was on it.

“God what I wouldn’t give to just ruin that, fuck, to absolutely snuff the rebellious spirit outta her, god damn it!”

He was still hard and frustrated from teasing you. Recalling your little panting breaths – not yet moans – sent even more pulsing desire straight to his cock. The fire in your eyes when you defy him, what he would give to just crush it and force you under him.

The growling moans he bit back before now so casually fell from his lips. He let out a light chuckle and spread himself out on his throne.

He thought back to the softness of your skin where his lips grazed you. How he knew you’d feel like that all over the rest of your body. And god, your smell. The perfume you wore still lingered on his cotton glove. He pulled the white garment off his hand with his teeth while his other hand squeezed where his hardened member swelled beneath his belt.

“Oh, fuuck ~ ” he moaned.

Both of his hands made quick work of the metal buckle, he pulled his dick from the confines once he got the zipper down. Gripping the angry shaft, his tip already leaking precum, he knew he wouldn’t last long.

After swiping over the slit and collecting his slick with his ungloved hand he tugged quickly on his cock. He could only imagine your beautiful curves and the sweet little face you made when you wanted him.

“Oh shit, good fucking girl, yes, yes, pull on this dick, fucking make me cum.” he growled out. His eyes fell shut and his head rolled back. He imagined what it would be like to eat you out, to have you ride his face and rub your sensitive little clit on his nose.

He’d make you come again and again just to hear you, something he still hadn’t gotten the pleasure to discover. Would you be quiet, whimpering and whining like a little kitten and cumming with a sweet and soft little shudder around his cock? Would you be loud and vocal like his own personal whore, your tight pussy squeezing him like a vice when you came?

“Fuuuuck baby, when I get inside you, fuck, when I get inside you I won’t fucking stop god fucking damn it,” he rambled out, gripping his dick tighter. “Fuck. Fuck. I wanna, princess, fuck, baby your captain wants to cum. Make me cum. That’s right, yes, good girl, such a good girl f’ me make me cum.”

He was incoherent, completely drunk on his own pleasure and the thought of you. After a few more lewd tugs on his cock, he came with a groan that almost sounded painful. He sat back in his chair panting and coming down from the high you filled him with.

He slowly regained consciousness and raked his hands through his long hair. The makeup on his face long since smudged and sweated down his face. He cleaned up and tucked himself back into his pants.

The ship would be docked tomorrow, looking out the back window, Buggy could see land and, as if on cue, the crew mate in the crow’s nest shouted the all familiar phrase of land ho.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚

taglist: @tokoyamisstuff @mommymilkerfanclub @chaoticqueen33 @tootoomanycats

taglist is open.

#stole the moon #buggy the clown #buggy fanfic #buggy smut #buggy x reader #buggy x y/n #buggy x you #buggy opla #captain buggy #buggy d clown #kinktober

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icarus-star · 18 days

Note

how aboutttttttttttt danny x kappa x reader :33

just kappa and his two subby babies!!! i’m not sure if you’ve done this before but pls :333

rosemary. | kappa x reader x dan cooper 🥀

cw: this came out bad i genuinely dislike it. handcuffs, use of "daddy", kappa refers to danny as his bunny nd u as his puppy!! hehe :3 fem!reader, use of "y/n"

you and dan sat on the couch with one another, danny curled up next to you wearing one of kappa's shirts, the buttons undone. both of you missed him, but you knew what he did was important to him. but, he had been off doing "business" for a whole three days!! maybe it wasn't super long, but you and danny missed him.

danny let out a little sigh, squeezing his arms around you as he tried to nap. his eyes nearly fluttered shut, but he was disturbed by the sound of the front door. you and him both bounced up excitedly, running straight to the man you knew had arrived.

danny hopped right into kappa's arms as you clung onto one of his arms. kappa chuckled softly, "did my babies miss me, hm?" he cooed, squeezing danny tightly and giving you a quick kiss on the forehead.

dan nodded in response to kappa, nuzzling his face against the stronger mans chest. you rested your chin on kappa's shoulder, looking at him with your big eyes. "missed you so much, daddy." you pouted, hiding the bottom of your face behind his shoulder.

kappa smirked, his hand holding your hip lightly as he held onto dan with his other arm. "did you, now?" he questioned rhetorically. dan let out a soft whine, seeming over nothing. though you knew it was because he wanted kappa right now, and kappa knew it too. "bunny.. is something the matter?" he asked the young man, a mocking tone in his voice.

in response, dan looked up at him shyly. "..please, daddy?" he pleaded in barely a whisper. his legs were around one of kappa's, his dick getting hard from the small amount of friction. you giggled softly, it was cute when danny got needy. kappa thought so too, and he also thought the same about you.

"don't be a brat." kappa mumbled to you. his voice sounded so sweet, but you knew that he wasn't going to act that way.

you pouted at kappa's words, furrowing your brows. "i'm not the brat!! danny is!! he was the one humping your pillows when you were gone!!" you whined, pointing a finger at dan in attempts to divert kappa's anger away from you.

kappa titled his head. "oh?" he hummed, cruel eyes now looking at dan's meek figure. "you were bein' a naughty lil' bunny?"

dan quickly shook his head. "n-.. no!! i-i was good the whole time you were gone, i promise!!" he whimpered, upset by you ratting him out. "...y/n was touchin' herself too, anyways!!" he added on in defense of himself, and to drag you down with him.

kappa sighed, shaking his head as if he were disappointed, making a little 'tsk tsk tsk' sound. "what am i to do with you two?" he mumbled.

that's how you ended up here. it wasn't exactly a punishment, kappa said he was too tired from "work" to do all of that. maybe he was just trying to get you and danny to make up after the little spat that happened.

you and dan laid naked on the bed, waiting for kappa to arrive back into the bedroom. moments later, he did. with something in his hands. what was in his hands?... oh, handcuffs. "you're gonna get along so well by tonight, my sweet babies.." he murmured, locking one of the cuffs around dan's wrist, and then the other around yours.

he laid behind danny, almost spooning him. "now, were all gonna have.. a little bit of fun." he barely explains, pushing his dick into danny's tight hole, which made him squeak.

you on the other hand, pouted. why didn't kappa wanna fuck you? and why did he have you and dan handcuffed to one another!! kappa seemed to notice your pouted, as he quickly gathered some of his spit to circle your sensitive clit. when you moaned, he hushed you softly. "sshh, shh, be a good puppy. why don't you give danny a kiss?" he murmured softly as he began to slowly thrust in and out of danny's ass while he played with your clit.

you let out a little moan, fuck, your clit was sensitive right now. so, you simply complied, tongue kissing danny, whom immediately reciprocated. he gets fucked out so quickly, especially when it's by kappa. and in that state he would do nearly anything.

"good job, puppy, you're so kind for forgiving him." he praised, slipping his middle finger in your pussy. almost subconsciously, your hand slid down to play with dan's dick. it definitely wasn't big, you've fit the whole thing in your mouth without gagging on several occasions, but he liked how you jerked him off when kappa fucked him. he liked how your fingers would slide over the tip, and how you would fondle his balls.

danny sucked on your tongue, whimpering and whining at every thrust of kappa's. his own free hand went to your nipples, tweaking the left one and squeezing your breast. his free hand wandered down, away from your tit and down to your clit. he rubbed it mindlessly, turning you into a mess. kappa added another finger, stretching out your cunt with two rather than one.

dan was the first to cum. unraveling from kappa fucking into his ass deeper than ever and the feeling of you jerking him off, neither you or kappa stopped. kappa wanted a chance to cum, and your brain was too melted to stop doing anything. you continued kissing danny sloppily as kappa played with your pussy, which dan stopped doing once he came. he couldn't function enough to do a single thing.

you fell apart soon, when kappa hit that perfect spot deep inside of you. his fingers continued to fuck your gummy walls, sending desperate waves of pleasure through your body. you came around his fingers, leaving a milky ring of your arousal.

"awhh, you're both doin' such a good job f'me~" he said with a light chuckle, continuing to pound danny and play with your clit.

"t-too much! pleeeeeaaasee! p-plea- aahng~!!" dan moaned, unable to create any actual sentence. kappa didn't care, he kept fucking into danny, like some wild animal.

soon enough, kappa felt himself coming undone, filling danny up with cum like he were a pastry. after a moment of panting, "...i'll set up a bath for you two, catch your breath." kappa hummed, giving each of you a soft kiss on the cheek before going off to start the bath.

#i ❤ rory culkin #rory culkin #rory culkin x reader #rory culkin smut #danny cooper #intruders 2015 #dan cooper #intruders movie #kappa black mirror #kappa smut #kappa x reader #request

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paleprincessturtle · 7 months

Note

I saw your message about request for Harvey Specter. Can you one where Harvey is little nervous about Reader represents a case. Because she is shy and he thinks that she isn't ready. But she is Jessica's associate. And Jessica and Harvey having a bet about the case, Pro Bono cases. And Jessica suspect that there is a some kind of relationship between Reader and Harvey. You can decide what kind of relationship there is between them.

Hi anon! Thank you so much for the request and I'm so sorry for the delay. Was caught up in the hectic world of thesis. Hopefully, this can do your idea justice. Not gonna lie, I got a little carried away writing this.... Feel free to send me more requests! Enjoy!

Ready or Not

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Female Reader

"You want to see me?" Harvey asked as he entered Jessica's room. "I got a case for you. This might interest you." Jessica handed him the familiar blue file. "A pro bono case will interest me?" Hervey closed the file within seconds of opening it. "I can't remember the last time you handled any pro bono case. Do it for the people in need." Harvey scoffed, "You mean for the image of this firm?" A glint of seriousness flashed across her eyes. "The last time I checked, this firm also has your name on the door." Harvey sighed as he leaned back on the sofa then straightened himself. "As much as I want to do it, I'm swamped with Cahill hot on our tail. And the last time I checked, what I'm doing is also for the good of this firm." Harvey looked pointedly at Jessica. He broke the contact and took the blue file once again in his hands and opened it. "This is a weak case, Jessica. I bet you we can only settle for what? $300,000 top. Sexual assault by a medical staff that happened almost 6 months ago?" Harvey closed the file and placed it back on the table. "Just $300,000?" Jessica questioned and Harvey nodded. "How if I can get a settlement more than that?"

Harvey raised his eyebrow. "That means you have to find someone better than me, which is I don't know, impossible?" Harvey smirked and Jessica offered her hand for him to shake. "I can get them to settle more than $300,000 and I get to pick 5 records from your collection." Harvey stared in disbelief. "2" "4" "3" "4"

Harvey sighed, "fine, 4 it is." Harvey took Jessica's hand, about to shake it but Jessica held her hand in place. "Any records I want, no exceptions. And don't hide anything, I'll know." Harvey nodded. "I want the Fabergé egg in your home office," Harvey smirked, only to earn a firm shake from Jessica.

Harvey's day went as busy as it could get. He never really wanted to go home until tonight. He stole a look at his watch. A little over 9. Just a little over 9. He sighed. He definitely has stayed way longer, way too many times. But it felt like 3 am already. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. Donna just went home around 30 minutes ago. He swirled his chair and stared at the cityscape below. He decided to call it a night.

Harvey entered his place with a very tasty smell of chicken and rosemary. He smiled as he heard a cheery hum from the kitchen. "Harvey!" she squealed and wiped her hand on her apron before approaching the visibly tired Harvey. "I've missed you," she said, wrapping her hands around him. "I've missed you more than you've missed me." Harvey looked down at her and smiled playfully. She smacked his chest and turned to walk back to the kitchen. Harvey took off his suit coat and tie. Unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt and rolled both his sleeves. He sat across the kitchen island. She poured him a glass of red wine while Harvey looked at her adoringly. She's young, so many possibilities for her in the future. She'll make a good lawyer, he bet. But one thing, she lacks the confidence to be one. "Guess what?" Harvey hummed, encouraging him to continue. "Jessica, FINALLY, gave me my first ever case! The first hearing will be next Thursday." Harvey smiled widely, "Oh, congratulations baby! What case is it?" Harvey asked. "Well, it's a pro bono case. A woman was sexually assaulted by a medical staff. It's horrible." She said as she chopped down some veggies. On the other side of the island, Harvey choked on his wine. She's not ready for this. Not now. "Hey, be careful there." She quickly retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge and handed it to Harvey. Harvey took a generous gulp before setting the bottle down. "You okay?" she gave him a concerned yet amused look. "Do you think you can handle the case?" Harvey asked. All traces of happiness and excitement were erased from her face. In an instant, Harvey felt the lump of guilt in his chest. "You're right, maybe I'm not ready for the case." she bit her lip, looking down while toying with her apron. "I can't barely piped up when we talked about cases in public. Remember that one time Louis asked about the associates' opinions on a case and he called my name and I just stood there frozen out of embarrassment? Oh Harvey, what would I do when I have to do it in court? With someone depending on me? Jesus, the whole firm depends on me. How will it sound if Pearson Specter lost a pro bono?" she rambled, out of breath. Her eyes were glassy and her brows knitted together. "Hey hey," Harvey stood up and quickly came to her side. "Don't say something like that" Harvey held her in his embrace. "Look at me," Harvey said softly. "I'm not saying you shouldn't represent this case, not at all. You lacked confidence, yes. But this is your time to fix that. Okay? I'll help you. Please, don't ever doubt yourself, and stop crying, sweet angel." Harvey moved his thumbs across her cheeks, quickly wiped newly tears she shed. She nodded as she hugged Harvey. Harvey offered to finish cooking dinner for her but she refused and both of them cooked dinner quietly that night.

"You picked your associate to handle the pro bono case?" Harvey asked as the partners poured out of the room after the usual morning meeting. Jessica was surprised at Harvey's knowledge of this. "I don't think you should let her go alone, representing a case like this. This is a sexual assault case that looked weak. She needs to be confident to convince everyone." Jessica crossed her legs, and Harvey had her full attention. "And how come you can judge my associate better than me?" she cocked her head to one side. "Heard from Donna she got too embarrassed in front of Louis and the other associates." Harvey shrugged, seemed nonchalant. "And I've mentored her ever since. Don't worry, I'll win the bet." Jessica winked as she stood up to leave the room. Harvey stayed in the room alone for some time. Worried shit about the girl he happened to date for the past 6 months. He needed to calm down. No one can find out about their relationship. He doesn't want people to think that she got the place here because she's sleeping with him. But the thought of her girl, panicking in front of the court, worried him more than he cared to admit. Screw the bet, Harvey thought. He needed to prep her for her first hearing to settle more than what he predicted.

A week passed like a blur and here came the first hearing. Harvey told Donna not to tell anyone about his whereabouts, unless it's a life-and-death situation, he doesn't want to hear it. They were in the back seat of Harvey's car. Her hands were all sweaty, her face clad with worry. "We've rehearsed every single night, you won't mess this up. When you feel like you can't talk, remember why you stand there, defending your client. Remember that. I'll be watching from the gallery." She looked up at Harvey and nodded slowly. Harvey smiled and kissed her. "Don't worry, you can do this."

Not long after, Harvey found himself sitting in the front row of the gallery. The judge just entered the room and he could see how tense she suddenly got. She looked back to find her man. Harvey smiled and nodded at her, sending her encouragement. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and it started.

"I come here to collect my present" Jessica came to Harvey's office, announcing her own arrival. "Go ahead, pick 4 records. Anything you like." Harvey gestured at his collection with his hand. "You don't seem defeated," Jessica said, walking to the rack of collection. "That's what a man with balls do when they lose a bet, he owned it," Harvey said, almost smiling. He could buy another hundred of records of what Jessica will take. But the look of his girl when she won the case, he could never buy that. Jessica just hummed, hand rummaging through the records. "Harvey, love, I jus…" Harvey stood up so fast at the sight of his girl entering the room, with Jessica in it. She stopped dead in her tracks, she looked at Harvey, pleading for help. Before Harvey could react, Jessica turned and looked at the young associate. She fidgeted in her place. "I should umm, I should go." She said quietly, ready to run away for dear life. "Harvey, won't you invite my associate in?" Jessica asked, gracefully sitting herself on Harvey's black leather sofa. Harvey motioned her to come in and Jessica gestured for her to sit on the sofa near her. Harvey stood at his place and leaned back a bit on his desk. The room was so quiet. None of them spoke. She looked down, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. "How long?' Jessica asked, eyeing the couple. "A little over 6 months," Harvey answered while Jessica nodded. "Jessica, I'm sorry.." she started before Jessica stopped her. "People will spread gossip if they know. I won't. You dating Harvey doesn't affect your performance," Jessica paused and pointed at Harvey. "And you dating my associate doesn't affect your performance either." Jessica leaned back on the sofa, crossing her arms in front of her. "If this works for the two of you, I would not interfere. Just don't get too carried away that could lead to gossip." Harvey breathed a sigh of relief and he looked at her and smiled. Jessica stood up and she quickly followed. Jessica offered her hand and she shook it. "Cheer up, you just won your first case. Congratulation." Jessica smiled genuinely at her and she too, smiled. "Thank you, Jessica." Jessica was about to leave Harvey's office when he called out for her. "Won't you take your records?" Jessica looked back, "I got what I wanted. Now go home, and take your girlfriend to dinner. It's her first win." Jessica strode away, her red soles clacking loudly across the empty hallway, as she smiled to herself thinking that Harvey thought he could hide such things from her.

Meanwhile, in Harvey's office, the both of them looked at each other and laughed. Laughed out of relief. Harvey was scared that she would be punished for being in a relationship. Jessica wasn't necessarily hyped about it but she's not against it either. Harvey took 2 long strides to get to her girl and leaned down to kiss her. "Come on, the boss told me to take you out for dinner." She giggled and Harvey found himself grinning. "I love you," Harvey said, voice just above whisper. His hands cupped her face. She gasped, stood on her tiptoes, and gave him a gentle kiss, "I love you," she whispered against his lips.

MASTERLIST

#harvey specter #harvey specter imagine #harvey specter fan fiction #suits harvey specter #harvey specter imagines #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter fanfic #suits tv

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wildemaven · 11 months

Text

Sweet Creature: Chapter Three

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 3605

Summary: A washed up movie star with a failing career, fresh out of rehab and looking to turn his life around. He moves back to his small hometown to take a break from stardom and help his sister out with his niece- He's traded the high-life for school runs and crafting. What he doesn't except is to meet you, his niece's school teacher who couldn't care less about his extensive filmography or his dwindling fame.

Warnings: 18+ blog; swearing, mentioning of drugs, abandonment, arguing, food and alcohol, angst, feelings, mention of recovery/rehabilitating, absent parents, nail picking, Diem having to be a mother hen, one line from ‘The Bubble’— I think that’s it, as usual please let me know if I’ve forgotten anything.

A/N: This chapter totally became something I didn’t intend on, but in a good way. There’s a lot of feelings from everyone being thrown around and some hurt, but I think it was needed to be able to move forward— especially from that initial awareness in the kitchen. I’m excited to now get everyone in a somewhat good place with each other, so they can quit being knuckleheads. Thanks so much for all the love on the first two chapters, I am so excited to share more! Big thanks again to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for taking the time to beta for me— she’s been my wingwoman through this and I so appreciate her time and thoughts with each chapter!

Series Masterlist / Sweet Creature Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous / Next

“Diem’s not home.”

“Oh fuck—”

This is literally one of those worst case scenario situations, and you’re not sure if you’ll ever come back from it.

You feel sick, the pit in your stomach heavy with regret. A destructive aftershock hits your chest, rolling tremors of guilt crashing through every inch of you.

“Dieter, I— I’m s-so sorry.” Your voice cracks as you force yourself to break the agonizing silence.

“Sorry you said it or sorry you got caught?”

You’re not even sure which one is a better option, either way it doesn’t resolve the hurt you’ve caused him.

His eyes lack that sparkle you saw earlier in the day, dimple no longer visible—his expression now reserved and opaque.

“I-I didn’t mean for you to hear any of that— I.”

“Oh, so you meant it then?”

“No, I-“

“Like when we first met, a year ago. What was it you said? Ah, I think it was something to the effect of ‘a fucking deadbeat, washed up douchebag’. The memory is a bit hazy, but those words stuck with me this whole time, just didn’t have a face to put with them until now.”

“Dieter, I’m so—“

“Yeah, sorry. You mentioned that.”

Tears well up in your eyes, stinging as they threaten to burn trails of remorse down your face. You blink them away, keeping them at bay for the now. Right now is not their time, it’s not your moment to center yourself in misery— this catastrophe of a situation is at the fault of your own actions.

The click of the front door grabs your attention— Diem’s home.

Both you and Dieter are still standing in the kitchen, eyes locked onto each other, neither making the first move as you wait for Diem’s arrival into this botched run in.

“Hey! Sorry I’m late, Wren’s appointment ran later than expected.” Diem’s arms full with take out boxes, completely oblivious to the gloom looming around in her kitchen. “Oh shit! I forgot we were getting together tonight.”

“Mama said a bad word!” Wren already settling herself on a barstool at the counter.

“Sorry, baby. I should have text you! Wren had a doctors appointment and her booster was in Dieter’s car from this morning— it was a hot fuc— hot mess! But I’m glad you are getting to know each other without me!”

So much is happening around you, your body frozen as you watch Diem arrange the white foam containers about on the kitchen island, a small hand grabbing at the mound of salty rosemary seasoned fries. Dieter settling back against the nearest counter watching as his sister moves about with ease, something he hasn’t been witness to in a while.

“I grabbed tacos from The Nest downtown. Since I screwed up our night, stay and eat with us.” She says to you as she’s putting plates and silverware out.

“It’s okay, I can go. I don’t want to intrude on your time together.” Your throat dry, pulse racing, you need to leave immediately.

“Oh stop! You’re not intruding on us, I insist— the more the merrier, right Dieter.”

His name slices through you like a jagged knife, each syllable a tiny knick, the slow drag of its blade adding to your own downfall.

“As long as she’s comfortable with it, the more the merrier.” His gaze bores intensely at you, his voice laced with bitterness.

“Yeah— okay.” Your own words betraying you.

“Perfect! I was hoping for all of us to have dinner together at some point anyways— no better time than now I guess. Everyone grab a plate and we can sit at the table. Wren, go wash your hands baby.”

“‘Kay, mama!”

“I also played on the swings— I showed my friends that trick Uncle Dude taught me!”

“What trick?!” Diem, unaware of any ‘swing tricks’, glances at Dieter with furrowed brows in a panic at the thought of Wren sharing something dangerous with her friends— he seems to be equally confused, shrugging as he waits for Wren to explain further.

“I swing as higher and higher as I can, then jump so I can fly!” Her little arms stretched out in a flying motion and she continues to munch away at her fries.

“Oh! Well, let’s save that for when we’re together and not at school where we can get hurt if we fly too high.”

“Okay mama!”

You’ve barely touched the tacos in front of you, let alone heard much of the conversations being shared around the table. Your brain is so busy running through a list of excuses to leave, you don’t hear your name being called.

“Hmm?” Refocusing back to the present moment.

“I asked how things have been at school? We didn’t get our usual catch-up chat at drop off this morning since Dieter took Wren.”

“Oh— good! Things are g-good!” You force a fake and hopefully believable smile, keeping your response minimal and to the point.

“Have you made any progress on your upcoming art exhibition at the gallery?”

“Umm, yeah— I mean kind of. Still trying to nail down a theme right now. Then paint everything before it’s time to prep for the install. Just haven’t found any inspiration just yet, typical artist procrastination.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll figure something out and get it all done in time.” Diem ever the optimist. “And, if you need any ideas, Dieter is well knowledgeable in the field, I already told you he’s an artist. I’m sure he can help you with any questions you might have. Right, Dieter?”

“Yeah— sure.” His response is flat, not even making an attempt to look up from his plate.

“Thanks.” I think.

“You okay? You’ve barely eaten.” Diem’s motherly concern not reserved to only Wren tonight.

“Yeah— sorry, I’m good. Just been a long day, some— umm, things kind of came out of nowhere. A lot on my mind, that’s all.”

“Hmmph.” Dieter lets out a brief huff of annoyance at your response as he settles back into his chair, pursed lips and arms crossed on his chest— he wants this to be over just as much as you do.

“What was that Dieter?”

“Mama, I’m full.” Wren’s sweet little voice breaks through the awkward tension that made itself comfortable at the table for the evening.

“Wren, you barely ate your tacos— how can you be full?”

“I’m full of French fries mama! May I be excused?”

“Sure. Go wash up and brush your teeth. Then you can play for a bit before bath time.”

Wren doesn’t even wait for the end of Diem’s directions before she’s launching her body out of her chair and heading for the bathroom. Maybe you could borrow a page from her book, you’d rather be full of fries instead of the uneasiness that has settled in your gut.

Diem lets out a heavy sigh, face resting in her hands as her elbows support her on the table. “I swear, sometimes I feel like she’s testing me.”

“She’s a kid, it’s her job to keep you on your toes and not eat anything you want her to.” Dieter reaches over and gives Diem’s arm a light squeeze.

“Yeah, he’s right.” Sneaking a glance towards Dieter as you agree with him, there’s a quick flick of his eyes over to you then back to Diem. “It’s developmentally on track for her to be picky or hate something she once enjoyed. It’s nothing you’re doing wrong at all. And if it makes you feel better, she ate all her lunch today— said she loves when you make those special circle cut sandwiches.”

You catch the momentary smile on her face, hoping your words were enough to give her some relief. While you don’t know the weight that comes with being a parent, it’s your job to know the ins and outs of kid’s behaviors and how they react to a multitude of situations.

“Thank you. I’m so grateful— for both of you. This summer is going to be busy, but knowing I have the two of you in my life it seems less stressful. Speaking of which, I’m doing a re-grand opening for the Capri soon, it’s really a glorified pool party— music, drinks, hot guys, and a sweet little girl who might need some looking after while I make sure it all goes smoothly.”

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it.” You agree immediately, you love helping Diem whenever she needs it.

“Yeah. I already told you, any way I can help with Birdie, I’m there.”

Even with the prospect of being around Dieter regularly, you would rather see your friend happy and endure the already strained relationship you and Dieter have.

It seems like the awkwardness has dissipated and you’re hoping to ease into a peaceful parting for the evening.

“You both are the best! Gosh, to think it was roughly a year ago you were screaming at Dieter—“

So much for the peaceful part.

You see Dieter’s shoulders tense as Diem starts to recount the incident you’ve already re-lived earlier this evening.

“Diem, no—“ Your attempt to get her to stop talking goes unheeded.

“Calling him a washed up actor, or whatever it was you said—“

“Diem, please don’t—“ Your heart-rate quickening, if you didn’t already feel like shit from your foot-in-mouth event earlier, you definitely do now.

Dieter’s jaw ticking to the side, as Diem continues the retelling of the story.

“And then you tried to convince me to not have him stay with me— to think we wouldn’t be able to hang out like this if that were the case!”

There’s that proverbial bomb you were waiting to explode, a nuclear wave that was bound to destroy everything in its path.

“You what?! You told my sister to not allow me here?”

“Dieter, I just— I thought you were the type of guy who—“ The tears have made their way back, this time there’s nothing you can do to stop them from falling.

“What type is that? The annoying movie star whose ego has to be stroked on the regular so he can continue playing the role of ‘look how glamorous I am’? Or is it the washed up-deadbeat-douchebag type that you think so little of?”

“I’m sorry…” Your lungs are filled with the weight of his words, drowning in the thick air of your own words being thrown back at you.

“Listen— I'm sorry. I'm trying to care, but it's hard— Fuck! I need some goddamn air!”

“Dieter?!”

Dieter stands hastily, his chair scooting back with the force of his movements, not saying another word as he makes his way out the back door.

There’s a beat of silence, save for the occasional sound of Wren playing as she was told to do.

“Okay, what the fuck just happened?!” Diem looking back in the direction of where he had gone, then back to you.

“I fucked up Diem— I-I fucked up really bad.”

“What do you mean you fucked up? What did you do?”

Diem looking at you with desperation, eyes pleading to clue her in on the reason for Dieter’s agitation.

You let out a heavy sigh before you begin to recount the events that had unfolded between you and Dieter.

“I was heading over for our usual weekly get together, saw your car in the driveway and figured it was just you home— “ You can’t bear to look at Diem, your nervous tick of picking at your nails keeping your focus. “I let myself in, like I always do— started talking about Dieter and how I thought he was attractive and healthy looking— But then I just kept going and started talking about what I said when I found him in the bathroom at Wren’s party— I thought I was talking to you, until I realized it wasn’t you, it was Dieter.”

Your gaze slowly lifts to meet Diem’s, her expression solemn as she takes in everything you’ve shared.

“I’m so sorry, Diem. I know we chat and share things openly with each other, but I didn’t— I didn’t mean for him to ever hear that.”

She takes a deep breath. You don’t get the sense that she’s upset, she’s always been able to keep herself pretty calm even when she’s angry.

“Look, Dieter will get over it— It might take a minute, but I promise it will blow over in time. But you gotta stop with your constant need to prejudge and criticize people based on their past. Was your first impression of Dieter the greatest? No, it wasn’t ideal— but you can’t keep bashing him forever. He’s put in the work, you’ve got to give him a chance to at least prove it.”

She’s right. Hearing her call you out on your flaws stings more than you thought, but you know she’s right and you accept her unyielding words.

“You’re my best friend, and I’ve already told you how much I appreciate your loyalty— but he’s also my brother and I can’t just assume he’s going to fail without reason. I’m going to support him and love him through this next chapter of his life, until he shows me otherwise.”

You wipe the last few tears that have started to dry, nodding in agreement.

“I mean— I love you, but you gotta quit doing this shit. I know your past has hurt you in so many ways, but you got to stop it from letting you move forward with the life you’re living now.”

“Yeah, you’re right— I’ve got to make peace with things. I’m sorry, for how I acted and for the way things went tonight. I’ll make a better effort moving forward.”

“It’s okay. I mean it’s not, but it is. Come on.” She stands and motions for you to follow her, grabbing your things, you both make your way to the front door. “I think we need to let things settle a bit, give everyone time to cool off. Go home, take a bath, relax— don’t let it eat you up though. I’ll talk to Dieter, smooth things over with him.”

“Mama!! I need you!” Wren’s timing always seems to be right on point.

“That’s my cue— mom mode engaged! I love you! We’ll chat more soon.”

“I love you too.” She pulls you into a tight embrace, it feels like a warm blanket of love. You hug her back, hoping she can feel just how much you love her too.

“Mama!”

“Coming! Night!”

“Night Diem!”

He doesn’t even know how long he’s been sitting, letting the irritation of the evening quiet down, enjoying the chilly air on the back patio.

The moon starts to crest the evening sky and the stars slowly appear, blinking from their respective peaks.

The sound of the sliding door opening catches Dieter’s attention from where he’s sitting at the outdoor dining table.

“Hey, you okay?” Diem placing a glass of ice water for him on the table, then taking a seat next to him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Although, a heads up that you and Wren’s teacher were besties would have been nice.”

“If I’d known you’d both be at each other's throats after your first meeting, I would have.”

He doesn’t really know what any warning would have done, but he wasn’t expecting to be front row to a vent session he wasn’t meant to hear.

“Her and I talked— I let her know that what she said was not the nicest way of expressing her opinion—“

“Ya think?!”

“Dieter let me finish. I told her she can’t let her past dictate her life or how she meets certain people.”

“Certain people? You mean people like me, you can say it— a former drug addicted, an actor. What kind of history is so bad that she’s put off by the idea of you letting your own brother live with you?”

“It’s not my place to share that with you. If and when she does decide to, that’s her choice.”

“But it was her place to talk freely about me with you? I’m assuming regularly too, being that you two have these little gossip nights every week.”

“That’s not fair, Dieter.”

“How so?”

“Look, I already told her that she was out of line with her comments. She needs to give you a chance and I’m going to ask you to do the same for her.”

He can feel his frustration bubbling up in his chest.

“Fuck that! If she’s allowed to voice her opinion about me not coming around, then I’m going to have to do the same— I don’t want her here while I’m staying with you.”

“Well, that’s not an option Dieter, so you can just forget that!”

“Why? Because her friendship is more important than your own brother?”

“First of all, I never said that. Secondly, she’s all I had for a long time— she was here when I needed someone to talk to late at night when I couldn’t sleep, helped me with Wren when I needed it. She stepped up when I didn’t even ask her to.”

He hears the tremble in Diem’s voice, her usual level headed tone shifting towards anger the more she talks.

“You could have just called and said you needed help, I would have been here.” The moment it leaves his mouth he knows how ridiculous it sounds, and knows whatever Diem is about to unleash on him is more than justified.

“Are you fucking serious right now?! Called you? When could I have called you for your help?? Hmm?? When you were across the country shooting your big time movies for months on end?? How about when you and what’s his face were off gallivanting across Europe for a year? I should have called you then, right? Oh! I know— I should have called you every time you were strung out from doing fuck knows how many lines of Coke or whatever drug of the week it was.”

He feels gutted, every bit of him fileted open as Diem pours salt into every crevice of his undeserving body.

This is all part of it though— the healing process. While there is bound to be plenty of excitement and joy around his recovery, there is an equal amount of uncertainty and ugliness that comes along with it. Raw, heavy emotions and animosity all have just as much of a place as the elated ones.

“I didn’t have mom and dad— and I didn’t have you either.” She uses the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her tears as she brings her feet up onto the edge of the chair, arms pulling her legs close to her chest as she rests her head on her knees.

“Diem, I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry I wasn’t available and I’m sorry for not being the brother you needed.”

Reaching over he grabs the arm of her chair pulling it closer to his own, the metal of the legs scraping against the ground.

He leans against Diem, head resting on hers

as he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“I’m not asking you to be best friends, just to give her a chance, for me. Heck, you can even fake that you like her if you want to.” He laughs, but knows an actual effort is what Diem deserves. “I need you both more than you know. Can you promise that you’ll do that for me, Dieter?”

Her body shifts a bit, he leans back to allow her to bring her arm out from where it was tucked away.

It’s as if they were transported back to their childhood, her pinky awaiting his to fully seal the agreement.

“Promise.”

The rest of your evening went as Diem suggested— a warm bath with your favorite bath bomb and a small glass of wine to help relax even more.

You hated how much you were the cause of the evening’s chaos, replaying every word of it on your walk home, as you soaked and now as you situate yourself in bed.

The only remedy for your lackluster mood was a phone call away. Grabbing for your cellphone and scrolling through the recent call log until your thumb finds the contact you’re seeking.

It’s ringing, the silence between each ring feels like minutes, but by the fifth ring you can hear the click of the call being accepted.

“Hello?”

“Hi mom, it’s me.”

“Well hello there, this is a surprise!”

The way her voice is always soothing and warm, it feels as if she’s snuggled in bed next to you.

“Sorry it’s so late, I just— needed to hear your voice.”

“Okay, what’s bothering you?” Her motherly senses already firing off.

“How did you move on?”

“What do you mean?”

“With how dad was, is— how did you move on and feel okay to trust again?”

“Well, that’s a loaded question.”

Propping a few of your pillows behind you, nestling into them as you prepare to listen to what she has to say.

“Time was a big factor. You were my main focus too. But eventually I had to realize that I can’t automatically assume that every guy I meet is going to be like your father, unless they show me otherwise. Once I figured that out, the fear of being let down was no longer keeping me from moving on. I hope that answers your question.”

“It does. Thank you mom.”

“So, who’s the guy?”

“I-I didn’t mention any guy.”

“You didn’t have to. But, he must be worth it though if you’re humble enough to seek out the opinion of your little ole mother.”

“Yeah— we’ll see.”

#sweet creature series #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes

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