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missperfectlyfine13 · 4 years ago

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A Bandaid For Your Bullet Hole (Chp. 7/?)

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It’s been two weeks since Beca kissed Chloe. A whole two weeks since Chloe told Beca how she feels. Two weeks since Beca admitted that she likes Chloe too. And Chloe is patient, she really is, but she’s starting to get a little antsy.

She’s especially antsy because Beca is acting like nothing ever happened. Jesse still shows up after Bella’s rehearsals to take her to dinner or to walk her back to her dorm. He still greets her with a kiss that Beca doesn’t hesitate to return.

Chloe stopped by her dorm last Saturday morning, with a cinnamon roll and coffee…only to find Beca’s side of the room empty. Kimmy Jin told her that she thought Beca was at her boyfriend’s. Chloe confirmed that by text later.

Maybe this is Beca’s answer to her? She chose Jesse, but why wouldn’t she say it to Chloe’s face?

Then there’s the fact that the freshman has been avoiding Chloe like the plague. It’s like pulling teeth to even get the girl to reply to her texts. The whole situation is making Chloe wish she had just kept her damn mouth shut, because this…this is way worse than what she assumed was unrequited feelings. Beca kissed her…told her that she likes her…and then chose to stay with Jesse. But Chloe just wants to hear it. She just wants Beca to say it, then maybe she can start to move on.

“Hey are you ok?” Chloe hears the voice of her uptight best friend, then feels the sofa dip next to her, “You’ve been a little distant.”

Chloe simply nods, not wanting to actually talk to Aubrey about the Beca situation, knowing that it would end with a lecture, “I’m fine.”

She finally turns to look at the blonde, who is giving her a pointed stare, “Bullshit.”

“Bree, I’m fine. I swear,” Chloe lies through her teeth, turning her attention back to the textbook in her lap.

“Ok, is it your mom?” Aubrey pushes along, clearly she’s not going to let it go.

Chloe considers lying and saying it is her mom, but she doesn’t want to worry the other girl, “No.”

Aubrey sighs and Chloe can see her rubbing her temples in her peripheral vision, “Ok then, is it…Beca?”

She wants to blurt out no, but instead finds herself letting out an embarrassing squeak and a shrug of her shoulders. Something about Aubrey always makes Chloe break down and tell the truth, it’s like she physically can’t lie to her.

“What did that little brat do to you?” Chloe isn’t surprised by the venom in her voice, there’s no hiding the fact that her two best friends really don’t get along.

“Don’t call her that,” she snaps out, still trying to focus on the words in front of her, but it’s impossible, so she closes the book and sets it down next to her.

Aubrey sighs again, but when she speaks her tone is softer, “Stacie told me about New Year’s Eve, Chloe, I really didn’t think you had it that bad for her.”

“Ok, well I do. Sue me,” Chloe looks back up at Aubrey, who surprisingly is not giving her the glare she expected.

“What happened Chloe?”

There’s no sense in trying to cover it up now, “I told her how I feel. She kissed me and said she likes me too, but she’d have to think about it. It’s been two weeks and I still haven’t heard anything and now she’s avoiding me too.”

Aubrey grumbles incoherently under her breath, it’s probably a good think she can’t understand it, “I swear to god, she’s not going to know what hit her…”

“Bree, calm down. It’s ok, I should have seen it coming. She does still have a boyfriend, she doesn’t owe me anything,” as sad as it is to say, it’s true. Chloe doesn’t have a much of a right to say anything, she is the one who confessed her feelings while Beca was still in a relationship.

“She at least owes you the decency of a yes or no,” Aubrey rolls her eyes and flops backwards into the couch, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well what am I supposed to do Bree?” Chloe asks her friend exasperatedly, “Walk up to her and demand an answer?”

“Yes,” Aubrey says immediately, “Or at least get her to talk to you about things.”

Chloe drums her fingers on her leg nervously, the blonde has a point. She picks up her phone and checks the time, 9 pm. Beca might still be up, she could chance it and try and call her or head over to her dorm. Anxiety washes over her like ice water as she weighs her options. After a minute or two of her best friend eyeing her in anticipation, she whips her phone out of her back pocket.

She hits Beca’s name in her contact list and waits as a ringing noise fills her ear. Aubrey gives her a supportive smile. Chloe’s just about to give up, but then the voice of the younger girl finally makes her jump.

“Hi Chloe.”

“Hey Beca.”

There’s a small gap of awkward silence before Beca says anything. She’s honestly surprised that Beca answered her, with how hard she’s been avoiding Chloe.

“So, what’s up?”

Oh right, Chloe is the one who called her, “Um, well honestly, I was kind of wondering about the other night.”

“The other night…?” Beca sounds confused, apparently she’s not being as transparent as she thought.

“Like the night I told you about my feelings…and then you kissed me?”

“Oh.”

The one-word response sits in her gut like a rock.

“I know you said you needed some time…” Chloe starts to say hesitantly.

“Do you think we can talk about this in person?” Beca cuts her off abruptly, asking the question with a little more gusto than Chloe had expected.

It almost knocks the wind out of her, she composes herself quickly though, not wanted to put any doubt in the other girl’s mind, “Of course. Are you doing anything right now?”

There’s a brief patch of silence, she can practically hear Beca thinking from here, “No…come on over. Kimmy Jin is gone.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Chloe tries not to sound too eager, she shouldn’t get her hopes up. She could be going to Beca’s dorm to have her heart crushed.

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

She really does try to slow herself down but she’s in her car and sitting in the parking lot of Beca’s building in ten minutes. She briefly thinks about sitting and waiting five minutes before going in but disregards the idea quickly. She’s too anxious to wait any longer.

Before she can process her actions, she’s standing in front of Beca’s door, knocking lightly on the white wood. The door swings open and Beca is standing on the other side, looking almost as nervous as Chloe feels. Her hands are balled up into the sleeves of her sweatshirt, she’s biting her lower lip lightly, her eyes glancing over Chloe expectantly.

“Can I come in?” Chloe asks after a minute of the brunette just standing there blocking the entrance.

“Oh right, yea definitely,” Beca opens the door wider and lets Chloe walk through finally.

The two naturally gravitate to Beca’s bed, the only real spot for them to sit in the small shared space. Chloe makes herself at home, sliding backwards so her back is against the shelving built into the wall. Beca follows suit but leaves a generous amount of space between the two.

“So…” Chloe clears the dead air, looking at the other girl hopefully.

“Can I be honest?” Beca asks timidly.

Chloe nods, waiting patiently for her to continue.

“I’ve really been struggling with this,” she starts to say, pausing briefly.

That much is clear. If it had been an easy decision, Chloe would have had an answer long ago.

“It’s not for the reason you’d think either,” Beca twists her hands together nervously in her lap, “This is really hard to explain, I’m bad with feelings usually…but, what I feel for you is so much more than anything I’ve ever experienced before.”

Her words make Chloe’s heart thrum almost painfully in her chest. That wasn’t what she was expecting her to say, but she couldn’t be happier. Especially, because she feels the exact same way.

Before Chloe can say a word Beca continues to speak, “It scared me, so that’s why I’ve been avoiding you, but when you called tonight, I realized that I can’t go any longer without seeing you, talking to you.”

Chloe reaches across the bed and lies her hand gently over Beca’s, “Hey it’s ok to be scared.”

“I feel so stupid,” Beca replies softly, “I like you so much, but here I am running around with Jesse still because it’s easy.”

“Hey…look at me,” Chloe picks up her hand that had been on Beca’s and instead uses it to brush a tendril of hair out of the other girl’s face, successfully getting the brunette to look at her, “I didn’t want to say it, I didn’t want to scare you, but I feel the same way about you Bec. I know it’s a bit scary but if you’re willing to try…I think it would be worth it.”

Their eyes finally lock and the steely blue gaze that meets hers is full of something she can’t quite put a finger one. Dare she say a look of love, even though she highly doubts it. At least it’s no longer the pained, anxious look that had graced her face when she met Chloe at the door earlier. As she studies the other girl, she is suddenly, keenly aware that Beca’s face is moving closer and closer to her own. Beca’s eyes flit back and forth from her lips. As much as she’d love to lean in and feel those rosy lips against her own again, she can’t. She can’t do that while Beca still has a boyfriend, out of respect for herself…and Jesse. Beca needs to prove she’s serious about this first and break up with her boyfriend.

Chloe scoots backward and clears her throat, “I can’t do that Bec.”

The freshman looks utterly confused and a little hurt, “Why not?”

“You still have a boyfriend,” Chloe replies simply, and a look of realization hits the other girl.

“Oh yea…you’re right,” Beca looks a little sheepish as she scoots away from Chloe.

She doesn’t want this to end right here though, she needs to confirmation that Beca really does want to try this, “Once you break up with Jesse, I swear these lips are all yours…and believe me, I would love to spend forever getting to know yours.”

A blush creeps it’s way across Beca’s cheeks, “I haven’t stopped thinking about our kiss since it happened…”

“Me either,” Chloe says it with such ease because it’s true, every night the feeling of Beca’s lips against hers fills her dreams, she finds herself lost in thought throughout the day wishing it would happen again.

“I’m going to break up with Jesse this week, I promise,” Beca says it so sincerely, Chloe is convinced that it will happen.

“Are you sure you want to do this…with me?” Chloe can’t help being insecure about the whole situation, even though Beca just told her that she’s breaking up with him.

Beca nods vigorously, “Yes. I’m sure…I really, really like you Chloe.”

“I really like you too Bec,” Chloe wishes she could lean over and kiss Beca, just like she tried to do earlier, but she’s waited until now, she can wait a little longer.

#bechloe fanfic #pp fanfic #bechloe #my stuff

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thatdisasterauthor · 5 years ago

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Sensory Notes 1: Backpacking

Okay, I don’t quite have the full write-up of my big backpacking/hunting trip done yet. But! I do have another thing from the trip y’all might find interesting.

One of my biggest issues in writing is describing the world well (I usually get it in there by the third or fourth draft, but first draft? Nope.) So, to try and kickstart my brain into better description land I’ve started making sensory lists whenever I’m in a new place/doing a new thing. Been doing it for about a year and it is quite fun and very helpful. If anyone else finds these helpful I can post more!

Feel free to use these as prompts/details for your own writing if you like!

Setting: Colorado, Meeker Flattops Wilderness, Wilderness, Tundra-ish, Pine Forests, Extinct Volcano, Camping, Backpacking, Elevations between 9,000 and 11,500 feet, trail that less than 100 people hike every year because it is that hard and that far out.

Also, trigger warning for animal death mention in one of these bullet points. I put them as numbers so you can skip it if needed. It’s number 43.

Dirt caked in your palm lines, not just in your nails. Like the Earth is trying to make your future extra clear.

The blood rush/dizziness you get when you take off your heavy pack. You almost feel like you’re about to float away, and your first few steps are rather wobbly.

The sting of blisters forming as your sock rubs you the wrong way, but you can’t do anything about it because to fix it you’d have to stop and take off your pack and then your shoes and socks, maybe drag out a first aid kit, then get it all packed up and put back on. Better to just power through and deal with it at camp.

The smallness you feel staring at a 360degree view of canyons and valleys and mountains. There’s so much world out there, fading away in atmospheric mist in every direction.

The acknowledgement of a wildfire, but knowing it’s far enough off in the distance to never effect you.

The violently colored flowers in hues that almost seem unnatural. Like near ultra-violet daisies.

The sound of the wind racing around the mountains, even though it isn’t hitting your area, is a constant background noise.

The steady, building burn in your muscles. It hits your thighs and lungs going uphill, and your calves and thighs going down.

Your heart racing at speeds you didn’t know it could get to. That it probably SHOULDN’T get to.

Your chest demanding air but it never feels like it can expand enough.

The momentary blip of “well fuck” when your boot slips on some loose rock on a cliff trail.

The clean, empty taste of volcanic spring water. Makes you taste all the minerals and purifiers in tap water quite a bit more when you get back.

The strange sense of security you get being in your tent at night, even though it doesn’t offer much actual protection against large critters.

The annoyingly confined feeling of a mummy bag when normally you sprawl out all over the place when sleeping.

Having your limbs go numb from dehydration and over exertion. Shaking and tingling and your hands feel like clubs. Takes ages for you to fully come back together.

The indescribable feeling you get standing at the edge of a volcanic crater lake that no one has ever found the bottom of. Dipping your toes in feels like inviting something ancient into yourself.

The color of a volcanic crater lake isn’t like any other alpine lake. It’s a deep crystal blue with an undertone of green, especially around the edges.

Hearing a cracking in the forest at night when you’re about to go to the bathroom and deciding you don’t really need to shit THAT bad.

Waking up to the chattering of squirrels that are very annoyed about the placement of your tent.

Watching a little hummingbird mistaking all your brightly colored camping equipment for flowers. He’s so rarely seen people he doesn’t care about them and will land right on you.

Sweat running down your back like a garden hose on a hard hike.

Never quite knowing the right path when going off trail. Is this way going to have a log that’s too big to get over? Will it get too steep? Where can you safely put your feet?

Your lips slowly chapping and cracking as you dehydrate. You know you shouldn’t lick them but you can’t help it.

Breathing through your nose when going uphill is not an option. Not much of an option going downhill either.

The warmth of cooking a good freeze dried meal pack is almost better than the meal itself. Curling up around it as it cooks, soaking up the heat.

There is no way to get completely comfortable at night. You wake up and shuffle around constantly throughout the night.

The freedom of having a warm enough night that you can unzip your sleeping bag and use it like a regular blanket rather than being constricted all night.

The sting of a cut on the tip of your finger. It isn’t much more than a paper cut, but you can’t stop bumping it and opening it up again, and you know it’s been jammed full of dirt long before you could ever get the neosporin and bandaids out.

You’re vaguely aware that you smell terrible, but it built up so slowly you don’t quite notice. Until you stick your head inside your sleeping bag and then OH BOY.

The constant annoyance of bugs eventually fades and then you find yourself staring at the mosquitoes figuring every good hiking trip needs a blood sacrifice or two.

The slow building burn of the sun baking your feet inside your boots.

The little jarring up your arm as the metal tip of your hiking pole hits rock.

The ease of getting lost because you never bothered looking behind you when walking in and wow it all looks different once you turn around.

The lurch you feel in your gut as you stand in the edge of a cliff, the whole world spread out beneath you.

The squelching, sticking feeling of walking through a muddy bog.

Walking through a bog and knowing if you fall into an unseen bog hole you’ll likely never get out alive.

The strange security of grabbing onto plants you know would never do anything for you if you fell, yet there’s comfort in grabbing them anyways.

Somehow, no matter how much you plan, you end up with far too much food. You wonder if the local critters like freeze dried spaghetti so you don’t have to carry it back up the trail.

Marking your progress on the trail by one large trail side rock at a time. Ones you can sit on, ones in the shade, ones that just stand out. Even if you can’t make it to the end of the trail, you can make it to that next rock.

The utter relief when a cloud blocks the sun for a minute or two while you’re hiking, giving a tiny respite from the beating sun.

Rain sprinkles while hiking are the best thing ever. Little cool pin pricks helping whisk away your body heat, but not enough to make you want to pull out a raincoat.

The building desperation of knowing you need to sit, to really rest, but you’re on the side of a cliff and there’s no damn place to do so.

The ever present, prickling knowledge that a horse once fell off this trail and met a very violent end on the way down. They found it’s saddle impaled with its ribs.

The warmth of a campfire hiding in your clothes, then pressing into your skin as you move.

The slight give of a rotting log as you sit on it. Much more comfortable than sitting in a hard log.

The bracing nip of chill morning air as you emerge from your sleeping bag.

The quickly building warmth of the sun coming over the cliffs, finally rising for you even though it’s been up for hours.

Hearing the sheep baaaaing all night and listening to their dogs chase off coyotes. You’d honestly rather a wolf was out there, because those sheep dogs can, will, and want to fight to the death for their flock.

All food is good food after about day three. Even things you’d normally hate are suddenly delicious.

The strange realization that if the world ended while you were out here, you probably wouldn’t know. You can’t quite decide if this is comforting or terrifying.

#Writing Resource #World Building #Writblr #Colorado #Sensory Notes #My Writing

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an-olive-crown-blog · 6 years ago

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THE A TO Z OF RYAN FLYNN

a.d.d. // you don’t get diagnosed with a.d.d. until you’re in the fourth grade. you’ve always know how smart you were, but translating the things going on in your brain into being a productive student caused you to struggle. your classmates always just assuemd you were stupid - the class clown who sat in the back and made the other students laugh. it was a role you happily slipped in to; even after the diagnosis.

boston // it’s always been boston or bust for you. you didn’t grow up that far outside of the city but there was never a place in the world that felt as much home to you as boston does. you live and die by this city.

chinook // she’s named after a strain of hops - because of course you would do something like that. she’s the light of your life, the center of your world, the best brewery dog to ever grace the earth. she’s a swiss mountain dog; big, slobbery, and full of love. your girlfriend hates it, but she sleeps in the bed, nestled down by your legs. no amount of fighting will ever change this.

david ortiz // he’s a legend in boston and as a die hard red sox fan you almost crap your pants when you think you see him sitting at the bar in strip by strega on arlington. it doesn’t turn out to be him, though, even after you’ve made a spectacular ass out of yourself in front of your date. you don’t get a kiss at the end of the night, not the you were expecting one after the noise that came out of your mouth when you first thought it was big papi sitting three bar stools away.

exeter street // the last time you see olivia she’s outside of her hotel, clambering into a cab that’s idling on the curb of exeter street. you thought that seeing her after all these years would be fine, that you were over it. it was just coffee, for crying out loud. but she’s leaving again, back to the new life she made for herself in california. there was supposed to be closure but not it just feels like you’ve ripped the bandaid off the bullet wound she left in your heart.

forward // hockey has always had a presence in your life, as it does for most guys who grow up in new england. you’ve been going to bruins games since you’ve been old enough not to cry about the noise or the cold. you’ve even worn your own sweater in highschool as a forward. you were good, but not great. a career in the NHL was certainly never in your future. but now that you’re older you appreciate it more; appreciate the fact that getting your ass up on sunday mornings to play as a forward for the beer league is important to your health (no matter how much your achy body says otherwise come monday morning).

griffin’s wharf brewing // you go through name after name after name before you find one by mistake. griffin’s whart if the supposed site of the boston tea party, an integral part of the history of the city that you love so much. when you come across this fact in a book, it doesn’t take much convincing for your partner to agree that it’s the perfect name for the brewery you’re planning on opening.

harvard // it was silly, ridiculous to think that you could be a harvard man. but it was what was expected of you - to attend your father’s alma mater, to get a degree in chemistry. but school was never easy for you, and while the classes you take aren’t hard, you can’t help but dig yourself so far into a hole that there’s no way out. you drop out at the end of junior year, just one year shy of graduation. looking back, you can boil it all down to self-sabotage.

isla // everyone says that she should have been the first child, and honestly, you can’t help but agree. she’s two years younger than you but she’s always had her shit together, has always known where she was going in life and how she was getting there. she exudes what you’d expect from the oldest sibling while you’ve always flown by the seat of your pants. no one ever believes it when you say that you’re the older sibling.

january // there’s new england blood running through your veins, a fact you can’t deny. there’s something peaceful about the cold of winter; when it reaches it’s peak right at the end of january, your favorite month. the city bustles along as usual, but there’s a quieter quality about it that you can’t quite put your finger on.

kayaking // it’s one of the few things you love about summer, when the city is sticky and hat and ridiculously overpacked with tourists. the charles is actually nice when you’re on the water when in comparison to when you’re on the esplanade. it’s quieter, too, especially if you go in the morning before the sailing academy starts it’s lessons for all those privileged children of beacon hill.

loan // you’re well versed in the world of loans - you’ve got a mountain of them from those unfinished years at harvard. but this is different. this loan, a business loan, could make or break you depending on what the bank says. there’s a fledgling, fragile dream you’ve concocted of owning a brewery and it’s the only thing you’ve ever felt so sure of over the course of your entire life (save for maybe one other thing, a girl named olivia, but that’s nothing more than a pipe dream at this point). when the bank gets back to you and agrees to the loan, it’s the only time you’ve ever cried tears of relief.

massachusetts avenue // the location couldn’t be better - a refurbished building on mass ave in central square. it’s technically not in boston, like you’d originally wanted, but the rent is cheap and the space is good. central square is up and coming, anyway, bustling with hip college students and young professionals. it’s the perfect place for a brewery.

newton, massachusetts // it’s a nice town, you can admit now that you’re older. you can’t really complain about the life you had growing up there because it was a good childhood. it was every suburban cliche you can think of, but it was your parents dream. and while you don’t necessarily share that dream with them - the white picket fence one - it really wasn’t such a bad place to grow up.

olivia // she may be the only girl you’ve ever really loved. she was the big one, the epic love of your life. you’ll never admit it out loud, but it’s not like you have to. anyone close enough to you knows the damage that was done when she left for stanford and you stubbornly refused to follow her. there’s been an aching in your heart ever since.

patriots // you aren’t as big of a patriots fan as you are a fan of the red sox, but there’s no denying that your blood runs navy and red. you are a walking, talking new england cliche, but there is nothing quite like shotgunning beers to stay warm in the parking lot of the stadium in foxboro.

quincy market // it’s the only part of the city that you truly detest and avoid as much as possible. it’s too touristy, too filled with people walking slow and doing what’s expected of them while visiting boston. the only time you ever go is in the dead of winter, when the big christmas tree is all lit up and beautiful in the middle of the marketplace.

red sox // you’ve been going to games since you were too little to remember. there’s a familiarity about fenway; the green monster, the cold beer in flimsy plastic cups. you were there when they broke the curse in 2004 and won the world series, and while you don’t get to go to as many games as you’d like anymore, there’s a calender hung on the fridge of your apartment with the season schedule.

simcoe hops // the first beer you ever sell to your first customer - your first real customer, who isn’t in any way, shape, or form, related to you or your partner - is made with simcoe hops. it’s one of your early favorites - dry hopped and earthy with fruity finishing notes. it quickly goes on to be one of the breweries most popular beers.

thirsty scholar // you meet olivia at the bar in inman square as a sophomore with a fake ID. you don’t even know why you’ve strayed so far from the usual bars in harvard square, but when you lock eyes with her from across the dimly lit bar, you feel like the stars have aligned. like every decision you’ve ever made in life has led to this one moment in time (in a dirty, college bar of all places).

urban legends // it’s a weird quirk, even for you. you’re very scientific minded - logical, analytical, quick to solve puzzles and rational, above all else. you can’t seem to define what the draw of urban legends are or why they are so enticing to you, but they are. you collect them, catalogue them in your brain. for every place you’ve ever visited, there’s some obscure urban legend you’ve researched and recited, much to the chagrin of your friends.

verb hotel // it’s tucked behind fenway, not even really that from where you live. the sushi bar on the first floor is one of your favorite haunts. it’s always packed and busy, brimming with the after-work crowd and tourists. it’s a good place to people watch and the sushi isn’t half bad, so when you feel like you need to get out of the apartment but that you want to be alone, you always find yourself ending up here, even if you didn’t mean to.

wonderland t stop // you take the blue line all the way out to wonderland. normally you wouldn’t be caught dead in revere but there’s a peacefullness on the beach that’s right down the street from the t stop. sometimes you just need to breath in that salt air, feel the sand beneath your toes. sometimes you need a break from the suffocation of the city.

xfinity center // it’s a hike to get to mansfield from boston but when you’re young and carefree you don’t mind. you’ve seen dozens of concerts at the ampitheatre, and were there in 2003 when pearl jam played the longest set they’ve ever done. there’s memories tucked away in the back of your mind of piling into cars with all your friends and olivia and making the trek down.

yellow // it’s the color of the mug that olivia gets you for the last birthday you two celebrate together. yellow, with black writing that reads ‘i am a ray of fucking sunshine’. you still have it, tucked way in the back of your kitchen cabinet, one of the few remaining reminders of your time together.

zombies // it’s childish, maybe, but you’ve always loved a good zombie move. it doesn’t matter what kind (although comedic are your favorite). every year on halloween you sit down and force your loved ones to watch shaun of the dead with you. it’s tradition, and not one you’re likely to break any time soon.

#gravityrp #this took....way longer than anticipated lmao #ch: ryan

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morphituu · 7 years ago

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Burning

Hi hello. Here’s the deal- I’ve been seeing a plethora of these ‘imagines’ and ‘Y/N’ fics all over my dash, and honestly before i didn’t understand the appeal to them but the more i read them *snort* i wondered, ‘could i write one of these?’ because i NEVER write in first person.

and i don’t want to admit that it has anything to do with my obsession for TWD or Norman Reedus so we won’t acknowledge that.

but here it is, my first attempt at a Y/N prompt? can i call it a prompt? imagine- i’m gonna call it a prompt OKAY? Summary and smut down below. ha, puns. ha.

Basic premise- you’re a new character on the set of The Walking Dead and have only been on set for a few weeks. The crew has “adopted” you into their little family, but you’ve clicked with Norman. You two follow each other around often and spend free time together, but while on location, your boyfriend of 7 years cheats on you and shatters your peace. Distraught and despondent, Norman does his best to keep you distracted and your spirits up, and one day suggests a different method of a distraction.

Without further ado- enjoy!

You stretched your legs out before you, but the ache still remains. Even in the shade, hiding from the Atlanta sun, you feel the heat plastered to you like a wet sheet. And even as you tell yourself that severing all ties to him after he cheated is the best, the hole blown through your heart still stings. A week seemed long enough to start feeling some sort of normal in the wake of the break-up, but pushing down the emotions and hiding from most has left you feeling tense- like a kink in your back you can’t crack. And in moments like this, alone, left to your thoughts between scenes, your mind runs rampant. You wanna ask him the details, even though you know it’ll only make it worse.

You want to know exactly how it happened, because then maybe it’ll answer the why. But you don’t. You ended it and arranged for your belongings to be moved from your- his house, and force yourself to put the phone down every time you’re tempted to call him. It stings, always, and aches, constantly, but you push it down and do your work.

With a slow exhale you blink back the tears stinging your eyes and look back up when you hear Gregg yell, “Cut!”

Norman and Andy finish their scene, but now it’s time for yours and Lauren’s. There’s still time before it’s ready, so you’ll sit a little longer in the shade-

“Why you keep hiding from everyone?” You hear Norman ask, and look up again in time to see him strolling towards you with a cold water bottle in hand. You force a grin.

“Why would I wanna be out in the sun?” You ask as he sits beside you, pulling his phone out.

“That’s not what I asked.” He says, but you chose to nibble on your lip instead. He’s noticed- he always does when you’re upset. Since the day you arrived on set, you two have grown close and naturally fell into a friendship. As you can read him, he can you. It’s hard to hide it when the moment gets to you, but you do your best to shield your eyes and calm your shaking voice.

He keeps scrolling through his phone, but he’s still waiting and looks at you often from behind his shaggy hair.

It’s making you nervous. You want to keep a lid on it, but pried too much, you’re worried you’ll boil over. The words are crawling up your throat- the moisture is in your eyes.

“Hey.” He mumbles. One look, and he sees it.

“Did something bad happen?” His phone is put down, and he’s looking at you with concern in his narrow eyes.

No, please not here- not now.

“Um-,” you stutter, and he turns on his bottom to face you a little more.

“He cheated on me.” You let out, like a breath you’ve been holding for too long. Norman knows who you’re talking about right away- this has been a concern of yours before you’ve expressed to him in confidence.

“What? When?” He asked quietly.

You look down at your fumbling hands that are now holding your excerpt of the script. “About a week ago.” You say. Norman exhales hard, and you pinch your eyes shut when he places a hand on your back.

“Y/N I’m so-,” but there’s another call from Gregg, and it’s time for your scene. You wipe away the tears threatening to spill over, and you swallow the sorrow.

“I’m okay- it’s okay, I gotta go.” You rush, standing and dusting your bottom and legs before jogging over. For once, the sun beating on your back is a welcome sensation. Anything but the ache in your heart.

The day is finally over. What was once afternoons filled with what you love to do is now just… difficult. You can’t bring forth the correct emotions for the right scenes, and you can’t stop yourself from hiding every chance you get. How much longer could this go on for?

The night is still warm, but at least the sun isn’t burning your skin.

You walk without direction towards your trailer, and you can feel the shower calling to your soul. But as you look up from your phone, which to your inner dismay had no missed calls or attempted messages, you find Norman sitting at the steps, the embers of a cigarette in hand.

He grins at you, and you squeeze onto the steps beside him. Your arms and thighs are touching, and the contact feels nice.

“I’m not gonna pry, but I wanna make sure you’re some sort of okay.” He explains, pulling in a drag and blowing the smoke away from you. You shrug.

“Okay as I can be, I guess.” You mutter, kicking gravel with your dirty boots.

“I’ve been there, I know what it’s like to have to carry it. He did it, but he did it to you. Now you have to deal with the end. So if you need someone to talk to or just sit next to- I’m here.” He tells you. His gravelly voice is soft, and it makes you grin. He was the only one who knew at this point, and even if details were still foggy, it was nice knowing you had someone to lean on.

“Does anything help?” You ask, flicking the end of his cig for him when the ash piles up.

“Sometimes- distractions can help but you walk back to where you left it to deal with later. And I hate to say but it gets worse before it gets better. But don’t keep that junk bottled in. If you gotta cry, let it out. It’s like poison, you gotta bleed it out.” He tells you, his expressive hands captivating you.

“Wanna suck it out for me?” You joke, and he snorts.

“You pervert.” He says with an elbow in your side.

“I know you wanna get in my pants.” You tease. He gives you a crooked grin and a sidelong glance.

“I’ll keep your secrets if you keep mine.” He coos. You roll your eyes and push on his shoulder before standing.

“I gotta shower.�� You tell him, stretching your arms above your head. He stands then, flicking his butt into the dirt. “I’m fifteen feet away if you need me.” He says, giving you a quick peck on the cheek that you respond to with a pat on his side. You two part ways, but your eyes find him before walking into your trailer. His do also.

You feel your cheeks flush, but think nothing more of it.

But when you’re done scrubbing your skin of makeup and sweat, and are sitting alone in the luxurious trailer with anything you could want… you find loneliness instead. And with that, comes the thoughts. With your head hung in your hands, you think about Norman and his offer. But you don’t want to bother him.

You flip through your phone. Your flush bank account could handle some splurging on Amazon, but nah. That’s a bandaid over a bullet wound.

Your thumbs seek out your friends name, and you text:

I need a Walker to come eat my brains x(

With the phone placed on your stomach, you sit back and turn the TV on. Bzzzzzz.

Or you need a better distraction

You shrug.

Maybe i should run a marathon at 11 at night

Bzzzzzz.

Eat 13 pizzas instead

Now you giggle.

I can’t even eat 1 alone

That’s a lie I can eat 1 easily

As you open a pizza app on your phone and start to setup an order, he replies again.

Is that an invitation because yes I like my pizza with sausage I’ll be over in 10

You snort, but add Norman’s toppings anyways.

The following morning, you step out of your trailer just as the sun is peeking over the trees. You groan, and smack your cheeks a couple times.

“Too much pizza?” Comes Norman’s voice. He’s already clad in Daryl, and dirty, holding a coffee mug and cigarette in hand.

“Too much is an understatement. I feel like I’m dying.” You mumble, grabbing the mug from his hand to drink some of it.

“And on the forest run, too.” He says with a smile. You groan again and walk away with his mug, but he just chuckles at you. On top of your blood sugar fluctuating from all the carbs in the pizza, you two had stayed up too late, laughing and watching bad movies, but also just talking. It was easy, and comfortable to open up to him, and you were thankful the entire time he’d been nearby that your mind hadn’t strayed to darker corners. But now you were paying for it, at five in the fucking morning. He was a seasoned actor- he knew how to function on little sleep.

The summer heat crawled up quickly, and to your dismay, it took far too many takes for each scene to complete the forest run that day. Even if some of the delays were from you giggling when Norman would crack a joke as he ran behind you, by the end of the day, you were exhausted.

But that’s when it was revealed there’d be a night shoot that evening. More of an emotional scene between you and Norman. That worried you. You’d purposely been keeping sadder emotions at bay.

But now you were sat there against a tree with Norman in the dark, waiting for the rest of the crew to set up. Your eyes remained closed as you went over the lines in your head, but you could already feel a tightly closed lid loosening inside- to portray such feelings but keep others quiet would be tricky.

“You look like you’re about to puke.” Norman says under his breath. You smile.

“I’ll aim for you.”

He chuckles, but still looks at you. “You alright?” He asks. Your eyes open, and you turn to look at him.

“I’m always kind of on the edge of okay and… breaking? Is that too dramatic?” You ask, pulling your knees closer to your chest.

“I mean a little bit.” He starts to say, and you elbow him. “But I get it. But- maybe you need to take a day and let yourself feel it ‘n get it out.” He offers, but you shake your head.

“I don’t wanna feel it.” You sigh. And then it’s time to shot the scene, and you shake your head, square your shoulders and clear your throat. Time to shift into character.

You’re lying face down on your bed when you hear your phone buzz, but you don’t want to face anyone. It had been a disaster. You couldn’t keep a cap on your emotions in the scene, and then couldn’t stop when it bubbled over. It was so, so embarrassing to not finish. So you walked away even after they said it was okay and they could try another night. You’re hiding now, even from Norman who followed you to your car and watched you drive away to your apartment.

Your phone kept buzzing, but you didn’t want to explain yourself to anyone. And you kept crying, silently, and sniffling. It wasn’t as powerful now, and the last of the sadness was leaking from you, but ugh. This sucked.

But three fast knocks on your front door make you jump, and you sit up and look around. Three more come.

“Y/N?”

It was Norman. You sigh and roll your eyes, but shuffle across your place nonetheless and to the door.

“Yeah?” You ask, leaning your head against the door.

“You okay?” He asks, his voice muffled by the door. You smush your face against the door.

“No.” You croak. You can hear him shift against the door.

“Snuck up on you, huh?” He asks. You nod. “Yeah.” Your voice is betraying you.

“After this is when it’ll start getting better.” He says, hoping it’ll help. Your eyes pinch tight, and your hand moves to unlock the door and open it.

There you stand, still dirty and disheveled, with your face red and twisted and your eyes swollen. “How?” You ask, a hiccup of a cry coming out.

“Oh babe.” He whines, and without another word he steps in and pulls you into a bone crushing hug. His strong arms and broad chest cradle you like you’ve needed for weeks. He doesn’t mind that you cry against his shoulder, and that you cling to him like he’s your life line.

“He worked with her. I’ve even met her before.” You tell him, stuffing another chicharrón in your mouth.

“You fuckin’ kidding me?” He asks, looking at you. You shake your head.

“Good riddance.” Norman mumbles, finishing the last of his drink.

“I wish I could just move on from it like he so easily has.” You say.

“He try calling you?” He asks.

“Not once. Not even a text.”

He exhales. “In a sense it’s better. Do you think you would’ve gotten this far with him bugging you?” He asks.

“I’d like to say I’m solid as stone and would ignore him, but I probably wouldn’t. I’m a guppy.” You say, sipping your drink. He chuckles.

“Well, at this point all you need now is some fun to make up for the bad couple a weeks.” He says, and you look at him with red eyes.

“Fun?” You repeat. He nods, adjusting his snap-back on his head.

What you didn’t know then was that Norman’s idea of fun was literally leaving you no time for yourself.

Everyday, he’d be following you around, purposely bugging you because he’d know that eventually you’d become so annoyed you’d start chasing him back, but it’d bring a smile to your face.

Some days he’d pull you from your seat after shooting, and take you out somewhere. Sometimes lunch, sometimes breakfast, even. You two were always met with fans. A small herd of your own but a mob always after him, and you started to notice people taking pictures of the two of you the more you came out in public together.

Other days were spent lounging together or the others, sometimes at bars at night when everyone was feeling lively. He carried you from the car one night when you were too drunk to walk, and he made it a point to snap a picture of the two of you as you hung upside down half off your bed. It was a hit on Instagram, and that’s when rumors started circulating.

You didn’t know how he felt about them, but he never bothered you about it, either.

But there was something, scratching at you, making you question just how in tact your emotional state was.

Every time he popped up with a handsome smile, you felt your body get hot. Your cheeks sometimes flushed and your heart would kick up a bit. When your arms would touch or he’d pose with you for a picture, pressing full against you, you started to feel something stir in your belly. Was this lust?

Shooting for this season was on break- two weeks of relaxing you looked forward to, but tomorrow was your first Con. All of you had flown in for it, and were all situated in your hotel rooms, but the jet lag was making you miserable. This whole new routine and sleeping schedule was killing you.

It was nice to just lay in the plush bed and watch mindless TV. The last month had been full, and fun no doubt, but even in spare minutes before you eventually asleep, why would your mind wander back to him? With a sigh, you tried to think of other things. You blinked a couple times, and your thighs shift as your thoughts wander to Norman.

“Y/N!”

Well speak of the devil. You crawl from your bed and to the door, opening it to find him still in the clothes he wore on the plane. How did he look so good in just a T-shirt and jeans?

“Already goin’ to bed?” He asked, and you shrug.

“The Con is tomorrow.” You say, walking away as he follows you in.

“That’s not till eleven.” He says, and you hear the door close behind him.

“Jet lag.” You sigh as you fall back onto the bed, stretching across the cool covers. “So I couldn’t get you to come have drinks with me?” He asks, giving you a cheesy smile.

“M-mm.” You mumble, pulling the pillow closer for emphasis.

He cocks his head to the side, and studies your face.

“You wandering away?” He asks. How does he always know?

“Is it bad if I am?” You ask him. He shakes his head.

“Just tread carefully.” He mumbles, giving you a small grin. You stare at him, staring at you, and you swear the electricity in the room is growing.

“Guess there’s just not enough distractions in the world to keep me completely occupied.” You said, lying on your back to better face him. He shrugs.

“Maybe we’re not using the right one.” He says. His voice lowered, deepened, and so did the light of his eyes. You cock an eyebrow as he does.

“Are you- do you mean sex?” You ask outright, and he shrugs, leaning onto one leg.

Your cheeks flush and you hope he doesn’t see it.

“With who?” You ask loudly.

“Who else?” He asks with a laugh. Your eyebrows raise, and the coil in your stomach is tightening. That, was a very tempting idea.

“Are you offering your services?” You ask him, your hand moving to the remote and turning the TV off.

“Can’t say that it hasn’t crossed my mind before.” He admits, turning the bill of his hat backwards. That makes you grin, and you hope he can’t see you shaking.

“You’ve thought about us?” You ask, pulling your knees up a little. He takes a step closer to the bed, now leaning against the edge.

“You haven’t?” He asks. You don’t acknowledge the question, but you’re sure he can see it on you that you’ve downright fantasized about it before.

You sit up on your elbows. “So how would this distraction work?” You ask, playing dumb. You just wanted to hear him say it. You feel goosebumps rise on your skin when his hand rests on your knee, and his thumb presses on your kneecap.

“Honestly, we can go slow or I can fuck you until you scream.” He says. There’s a feral spark in his eye when he says this, and all at once your body is vibrating with want. Pure, raw, want. But you can’t decide! There’s no doubt you could make it quick and have him slamming into you, but a better portion of you wanted to savor this. Savor him.

“Slow.” You say, barely a whisper.

Everything shifted- atmosphere, bodies, emotions.

His hat was the first to go, followed by his shirt, tossed aside and revealing his broad chest and sparse tattoos- oh god, you wanted so many times to touch it. And Jesusthatwafastwhathappenedtoslow?

He wasn’t shy about pushing your knees apart so he could crawl to you. Your inner thighs brushing against his sides made you flutter, and your trembling hands moved to the back of his head when he pressed his face against your neck, his toned arms moving around and under you.

In one swift pull, he had you laying flat, and in one smooth slide of his hands, he was pushing your shirt up along the skin of your sides. Shivers followed his fingers across your shoulder blades to push your shirt up and off your head. Your eyes met for a chaste moment- his cold blues were burning, desiring- hungry.

“Norman-,” you gasp, and he leans down to place open mouthed kisses across your chest, back and forth, his teeth sometimes nipping the tops of your breasts gently. The scruff on his chin tickle, but in the mot delicious of ways.

You breathe loudly, already dizzy, and your hands tangle in his long hair. You can feel his tongue against your skin, at the edge of your bra, searching. An involuntary arch in your back pushes him to yank the undergarment down, and his mouth immediately envelopes your standing nipple. He groans loudly, his hand pulling your leg up and around him.

You don’t know what to do- this is almost too much, almost too good. When his mouth is on one nipple, his hand is working the other, making you writhe and stir beneath him.

“Please please please…�� you hear yourself beg, breathlessly, and he parts from your skin.

“Tell me whatcha want.” He slurs against your stomach, making his way farther down. The words don’t come out complete- it’s muddled, and more of a beg, but a rock of your hips makes it clear. You’ve never burned for this so badly.

But he sits up, his hands running down your thighs that are against his hips. He looks messy, but so sexy. His mouth is open in heavy breaths- is he as turned on by this as you are?

“Slow?” He asks, his voice cracking.

You nod, but still whisper, “Slow.”

He keeps his eyes on yours as his fingers undo your jeans and hook around your pants and panties.

And he slides them down, slowly, one leg at a time he lifts by your ankle so he can also pull off your socks. Your mostly naked before him in the dim lit room, and he’s not shy about looking over all of you. As he leans back towards you, a large hand cups your sex, making you jump.

You cling to him, and your eyes flutter as he pushes one finger between your lips.

“He was a damn fool to let you go.” He says, and as he dips down to kiss your neck, his two fingers start circling your clit, slowly, carefully, expertly.

Your head drops back and you moan so long. You grip the sheets below you, and his body pressed against yours is making you so hot, but you love it, and you need it. Your head lifts again and you move his hair away so you can kiss along his neck in return, gently biting at his skin. You hear him groan, and suddenly you’re yelping as he pushes his fingers into you. You try and keep at what you were doing, but every time he curls his fingers in and up, he hits it- that spot that makes your body react out of your control.

“Oh my god-,” you force out, taking a second to look down at his large hand working wonders.

“Tell me what you want.” He says softly, kissing your cheek as you lay back down. You force your eyes open, and look up at him, hidden by his hair. You want to see those narrow eyes that have left you captivated before, stuck in place as he lured you in.

“You.” You gasp, your arms stretching out beside you. Your stomach is tightening, the pleasure is building.

“I want you.” You say again as he kisses closer to your mouth, and then full on your lips when your mouth searches for his. This is exactly where you want him. He kisses you harshly, beautifully, his tongue shoving into your mouth and making you moan. You feel his hand leaving you, but can hear his belt unclasping and feel him pushing his jeans and boxers down his hips.

He pulls from your mouth but stays close, and you can feel him exhale against your lips when he starts to push into you. You hiss inwardly, lifting your ass up as he sinks into you until his balls touch your cheeks. He’s trembling now, and his eyes are closed with his hands planted against the bed on either side of you. You’re filled, completely, in spots you’ve never been touched before.

Then out, slowly, and back in, a little quicker.

It. Was. Torture.

But you loved it.

He kissed you sparingly, not wanting to stifle those long moans coming from you. He looked down often, watching himself disappear in you again and again, his pelvis pressing as tight to yours as possible every time.

“Noman…” You sigh, and his face follows yours when your head moves side to side. His lips find your jaw, and he kisses there sloppily.

“Tell me watcha want.” He says again, unable to keep his own eyes open.

You look straight up at him when you say, “Faster.”

You caught the crooked grin and his K-9 peeking from behind his lip before he quickens, smoothly transitioning into a new speed. It was the friction, and slam, and then the all desirable slide of him pushing back in every time. That, over and over had you seeing stars, and your hands gripping the sheets beside you desperately, trying not to float away as loud gasps and moans in his name tumbled from your lips.

But you wanted more.

“Harder.” You moan, and his hips have more of a roll to them as he comes back down, pushing you farther into the bed. He’s moaning too, leaning down onto his elbows closer to you. You liked this more- to be able to curl your arms around him, to hear him say your name against your hair.

“Fuck me!” You beg suddenly, and his body is from yours as he sits up, shoving his knees under your thighs and his hands angling your hips higher up.

And he’s pounding into you, branding you lovingly against the sheets mercilessly. You yell out, over and over, the sound of your hips smacking together filling the room.

“Oh fuck Y/N-,” you hear him force out, his head hanging back and his mouth hung open. “You feel so good.” He moans, shakily, closing his eyes. The fire in your stomach is building rapidly, smothering you, consuming everything. And with a few more fast slams into you-

You’re aching off the bed, screaming- his name, curses, things that don’t make sense. All that matters is the white, hot explosion touching every corner of your body, massaging all the aches you’ve had for so long. Just as quickly as it flew through you, it’s ebbing from your system, leaving you floating. You look at him again with half lidded eyes, and he’s also cum but all over your stomach. He’s winded, and still holding your hips, but he grins at you lazily. You can’t help but smile back before letting your head fall back against the bed.

There’s no tension left in you; no bitter feelings to follow you to sleep after he kisses you once, twice, three times and tells you he’ll see you tomorrow. But you’re stuck there, feeling the aftershocks of it, and enjoying the jelly like feeling of your limbs. With a hand raised, you flip off the light beside you, and let a calm sleep slowly rock you that night.

There was no nervousness last night afterwards, so why is it hitting you like a bus this morning? You stare at your door, worried you’ll run into Norman. Not that you regret anything- definitely not that, but you’re nervous he will. You adjust your clothing and slip your phone into your back pocket.

You try and walk out the door with confidence, but you stumble a bit as you turn to make sure it’s locked-

You don’t expect there to be a small, plain black bag hanging on the door knob, but there is. Your heart flutters a bit, and you look to your sides. Your hands try not to grab for it excitedly, but you pull out the candy cigarettes and the note attached quickly.

Thought you could use a smoke after the sex.

-N

You smile to yourself and look at the cigs- chocolate flavored. You place the bag back on the door knob but hold the candy, walking briskly towards the elevator.

You don’t see him again until the panel, and despite you coming out at different times once your names are announced, he switches name plaques so he can sit beside you. You try to hide your blush by drinking water, but he still catches it. The questions roll in, as does the laughter and jokes that naturally come from Con panels, but every so often his knee will bump yours playfully, or his arms will stretch and he’ll place his against the back of your chair. Still, you try and hide your smile.

At the booths, you two are separate. Him being Norman Reedus, he has his own. You being you, you share. But your somewhat thankful for the break- you were starting to get clumsy being around him and listening to him talk, sometimes whisper jokes to you. You sign photos and meet fans, and your heart hasn’t felt this light in weeks. Every so often you’ll steal a glance in his direction, and sometimes he’ll be looking at you, too.

When the crowds were dying down and it was time to leave, your booth was empty as were the others, but his still had some people left, as always.

You chose to wait, leaning against a backdrop behind the line before him and out of sight by most. With a grin, you open the candy and pop a chocolate cigarette in your mouth, hoping it’ll grab his attention.

It takes some time, but when he does, he grins. The hand that was adjusting his hat waves to you, and that causes the fans before him to turn and look at you. Your mind wanders backwards- to last night.

How he felt, sounded; made you feel and sound.

It was in that moment you realize you wanted him again.

You’ve been waiting a while, and going over the words in your head. You don’t wanna sound desperate, but then again you kind of are… He kept running into groups that wanted photos, or signatures, sometimes a lick on the cheek. You asked your driver to wait so you could lean against the back door that your other cast mates snuck out of, and he was now finally coming out.

“Always such a commodity.” You say as he walks by, and he turns, grinning when he sees you.

“You had a bite of it- worth it?” He asks, his eyes hidden by his Ray Bans.

You nod with a sheepish smile instead, pressing against the wall as he walks to you.

“So the whole distraction thing- it a one time deal?” You ask with a shaking voice, but he shrugs. That was bold of you- you’re not the type to be so forward, especially when it comes to sex. But how could you not want more?

“I dunno- how often you space out?” He asks, standing close to you. You swallow, but say, “Quite a bit.”

“Told you I’m here if you need anything.” He says softly, licking his lips. You feel your breathing hitch.

“Anything?” You ask, and he nods. Your head tilts up involuntarily when his lips are closer to yours, and he presses feathlight kisses on your mouth.

“So if I said I was having a particularly distracting day- maybe needed some- some…,” you try and find the words, but he’s still brushing his lips against yours, and his hands are against the wall behind you, pinning you in place.

“You’re gonna have to wait- got some stuff t’do.” He mumbled against your neck, giving you a light smooch.

You giggle, and push on his chest. “Meet you later than?” You ask. He nods, giving your hips a little wiggle and a kiss on your cheek. Then he’s walking away, and you catch him adjusting himself in his pants.

You’re hot again, and a little wobbly as you walk to your driver.

You were laying in your bed watching TV when your phone buzzed beside you. Sleep had just started to tug at your eyelids, but a message from Norman woke you right up.

Meet me at my room ;p

You poked your head out first before entering the hallway. It was almost midnight, but anyone could come strolling by, especially a fan that would love to see you sneaking around. You came to his door and knocked, but he didn’t answer. Again, and again, there was only silence from the other side. You pulled your phone out.

I’m here

He read it, but no answer. You started to panic- what if this was all a cruel joke? Would he really do that? What if-

But strong arms from behind you made you jump and yell, and you spin in his arms to catch him laughing. You tried to curse at him, but he smother you with a kiss, one so urgent that you couldn’t help but pull him closer. He pinned you against the door with his body, his hands moving over you and yours fumbling to cling to him.

“Distracted?” He asks against your mouth.

“M-mm- not enough-“ you mumble, and without looking, he clumsily pushes his card key into the door and pushes you inside, slamming the door behind you two.

It was an unspoken agreement you two had somehow come to make. It wasn’t just a distraction for you anymore, because Norman would seek you out just as often. Whether it was him sneaking you back to your room that morning, or him meeting you in the early morning at your trailer when filming resumed. He called them ‘Five AM Fucks’. Pfft.

It was a constant time to look forward to.

One time, you two had been exchanging suggestive stares all day, and seeing him as Daryl always made you more excited than usual. You casually walked away after cutting scene, and made sure his eyes were following when you walked around the back of his trailer. You waited patiently until he could find a moment to slip away, and you looked at him as he finally walked towards you, flicking his cigarette to the ground and swooping in for a kiss. That day, he held you up against the trailer as he fucked you, holding his hand over your mouth so no one would hear when he made you cum.

In the thick of the trees during lunch, he’d be hungrier for a different snack. Your chest against a tree and him rutting into you from behind was a quick fix, and you loved it when he’d lean forward to rest his forehead against your back, hissing your name in rhythm with his hips.

Late nights, when neither of you could sleep, one of you would take a drive across town and have the door unlocked so when either would arrive, you could walk in, undress, and crawl into bed. Of course food would come soon after, and always a movie before you fell asleep tangled in each other.

Rumors were starting to circulate- even when sex wasn’t the aim, you two were by each other’s side even out in public. Dinner, bars, shopping, Cons- almost everything. The two of you would read it online, but neither brought it up. This unspoken thing was too good to spoil.

You were becoming bolder in your escapades, taking any available chance to let him slip in.

You heard the call to set from inside his trailer, but you could barely lift your head as you stifled a loud moan.

“Norman- ahh, we have t’go!” You whisper, but he shakes his head, which in turn makes his mouth slide back and forth across your clit. You gasp, and laugh, but your thighs on his shoulders shift.

“C’mon we gotta gooo!” You plead, but he looks up at you, and parts to suck his fingers.

“Almost done.” He mumbles before sucking your clit again, and as your brow cocks, his fingers slide into you and rapidly rub against your spot. In no time you’re seeing stars. But he doesn’t stop his assault until you’re shaking, and convulsing, begging him to stop. When he finally does, you’re a puddle that’s unable to move with your pants around one ankle. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled down at you, completely spent.

“Apparently you know my body better than I do.” You mumble, and he laughs, and kisses your inner thigh before standing.

“You owe me.” He says before leaving, and you scoff.

It was a quiet night, after sex, when you were still naked and lying on his bed. His sheets felt so good, and you laid on your stomach, your body still ringing. Your hair was still in a loose towel, but the other towel barely covered your ass. He invited you over after shooting the final scene, and you both agreed you were too filthy to jump right into sex despite being ready to throw your clothes off. A shower together was the only logical solution. He had literally pulled out of his car and nearly brought you down with him a he tumbled inside his home.

From the steaming water to a cool bedroom with dim lights- it felt so relaxing.

You heard him walk in from the living room, and suspected he was still in a towel wrapped around his narrow hips. But you couldn’t move, or even wanted to. So you kept your eyes closed.

And you expected him to lay down beside you, but you could hear him walking around the bed and sitting beside you instead. You cracked an eye open, and listened. You tried not to jitter when his hand ran the length of your bare back, but goosebumps followed his hand. And when you felt him lean over to kiss your shoulder, then shoulder blade, moving down, you arched a little. The scruff of his goatee was a welcome sensation.

You started to move more as his fingers pushed under your towel, and his mouth moved back up to nibble on your earlobe. With a giggle and twisting to look back at him, he slid his free arm under your neck to angle your jaw towards him, and kissed you.

You moan against his mouth, and finish laying on your back so you can pull him over you.

Now his towel is gone, and he’s pressing against you everywhere. Chest, stomach, thighs- it feels euphoric. There’s absolutely no doubt in your mind as you kiss him lovingly that you’ve started to fall for him- hard. You don’t know if he has for you, but for once, you don’t worry about it. In these moments, there’s no real thinking.

With an easy push on his chest, you’re on top now, your bare chest against his and his hands running up to hold your face.

You don’t understand why he pushes you away enough to hold you there, your wet hair fanning around you two and his eyes boring into yours. He looks unreadable, but so serine.

And you don’t understand why he grins at you, or why he’s pulling you into a hug, his face buried against your chest, but you don’t mind it. You hold him back, your naked bodies sliding together and rolling until he’s above you again.

It was like your first time with him- he’s close to your face, and you can feel his breath when he aligns himself and slips in you. Now you hold his cheeks, and widen your legs, savoring the slow pumps, in and out. He draws to his tip and then dives back in, kissing you every time he does.

There’s something different about the way he touches you this time. His hands are sliding everywhere, his mouth is kissing every inch of exposed skin, and he’s taking his time in building you up. Your hands are mapping his solid back, and wide shoulders, and your lips are kissing the sun kissed portion of his chest that peaks through his shirts. His age is beautiful; everything about him is.

The times he does slam into you harder; he’ll hold a hand around your jaw and make you look up at him as if he’s studying your face, and how you gasp and groan, or how you’re barely able to keep focused on him.

You’re getting impatient though, and braver. Again and for the last time you roll, and you pin his arms down knowing full well he could break from your hold. But you start the rhythm, and set the pace.

Now he can marvel up at you, his large hands running flat up your stomach, up your ribs and holding your breasts. You moan loud, and long, and hold his hands there with your head tilted back, riding him, feeling his slick dick slide in and out, in and out.

“Say my name again.” He moans, his narrow eyes running along your body.

“Norman…” You gasp, your head still tilted back. It’s building again.

“Again.” He demands, now holding your ribs.

“Norman-,” you whine, and feel a shutter of pleasure shake you. It sends you forward onto your hands against his chest, but you keep going.

In a flash, he’s pushed you backwards until he’s between your thighs, and the tempo has increased.

Slap slap slap slap slap

The steady pace is bringing you closer, making you cling to him desperately, wanting that exploding release.

“Say my name, Y/N.” He forces out, but you scream it this time as you climax, and he’s leaning up so you can arch off the bed, and drag your nails down his back when you curl inwards. Between it all, you heard him curse and shout your name against your neck, and this time he explodes inside you. You enjoyed how he pumped languidly into you, emptying himself, and you loved that it allowed him to lay over you and kiss you. You move his long hair from his face and kiss his slim cheeks as he buries his face against you, not wanting to move from this spot.

It all felt so perfect, so complete.

With your hands running up and down his back, and his fingers hidden in your hair splayed out around your hair, you two hold each other. Content, blissfully floating in the after. You kiss his shoulder and whisper his name, and he does the same, eliciting more shivers. But this is when you start to ask yourself:

What are we doing here? What have we done to each other? Where do we go now?

SEE NOW this was supposed to just be something fun and not continuing but me being me IT NEEDS A PART TWO NOW DAMNIT. Ugh.

anyway, anyone, who has stopped to read this, i hope you enjoyed it n_n if you steal, tamper or do anything malicious with this i’ll find you and break your legs with a lead pipe. just sayin’.

and i’m going to shamelessly inert the link to my Daryl Dixon fanfiction here, because i’m much more into that and appreciate a read for that also! <3 thanks!

#norman reedus #norman reedus smut #norman reedus x reader #norman reedus one shot #two shot #haha #norman reedus imagine #the walking dead #the walking dead smut #twd smut #the walking dead imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #daryl dixon #gringo #morphinetune #twd

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thediaryoftheshrinkinggirl-blog · 6 years ago

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I always told myself I wouldn’t be the girl in a toxic relationship. That if I saw red flags I’d run. Run away fast.

But I didn’t.

The start of mine and Justins relationship was fun! The honeymoon phase was amazing. I got surprised with candle light dinners, picnics in my living room, fraps left in the fridge to surprise me when I got home. We were with each other 24/7.

All of that came to an adrupt stop when I wouldn’t move in with him. I told him I was going to (after we had been together for 2 months) but in the pit of my stomach I knew I shouldn’t. We had been looking at apartments and we had signed to start a lease and I backed out at the last second. I knew he’d be upset.. but I didn’t think he would take it to this level. He got mean. He stopped being nice to me, stopped surprising me, stopped everything.

I was confused and upset at why he was so mad. After that day, everything had changed. He wasn’t sweet anymore. He was hateful. He wouldn’t text me back. He wouldn’t call me.i went to Florida for Family vacation and he didn’t call me or answer my phone calls one time. He didn’t miss me at all. He didn’t want to talk to me at all.

I remember coming home and being so heartbroken over it. I confronted him about it and at first he acted like it was nothing, but once he realized I was truly upset he jumped in and started to apologize to me and started trying to smooth things over. I put up with this kind of shit for 6 months.

Six months.

It took me six months to finally get the courage to say enough. Six freakin months. I’m not mad at myself for this. Just disappointed.

I remember that day so well. I walked into the our place of work after not hearing from him for 4 days.. and I walked straight up to him looked him in the eyes and said,” We need to talk now.”

I said it with such a strong voice that I almost didn’t recognize myself. He tried to make up an excuse and I wasn’t having it.

Finally he reluctantly agreed and we walked to the break room.

I was fidgeting and stumbling over my words and my voice was cracking.

I finally said it though. “We are done. I am done being treated like shit. We’re done.”

He nodded his head and then he started to cry. He apologized for the way he was acting and how terrible he had been. He loved loved me so much and he couldn’t let me go. It wouldn’t happen again. He’d start communicating better and talking to me more.

I ate it up. The past 6 months of telling me how he wouldn’t kiss me because I was wearing too much make up or how he didnt call me that time while I was in Florida with family or how I heard gunshots outside my apartment window and he wouldn’t come over or let me come over to make me feel more safe went completely out the window.

He loved me though.

After that day things were great. We were doing great! Everyone knows I love Harry Potter and for my birthday he dressed up as Dumbledore and bought me a wand and brought it to me. It was the nerdiest, cutest thing ever.

He was the perfect boyfriend. When I was having a bad day he would do everything possible to make it better. He was the sweetest. He took care of me while I was sick. We were the “IT” couple. Everyone was jealous of us because of how great we were together.

Then he decided he was moving to Austin to go to culinary school and I decided I was going with him. We spent months laughing and giggling and making life long plans. We took a road trip to Austin to find our place and had the best time. He really did treat me so well during this time.

I was going to marry him. I just knew it. We were going to live happily ever after.

At our going away party he surprised me with a video of all my friends saying goodbye to us. I was head over heels, y’all.

And then we got to Austin. Turns out he decided he wasn’t going to school anymore. Things began to change again. The feeling in the pit of my stomach that something is wrong was growing. His anxiety got bad. He started to call into work (red flag), the whole demeanor of our place changed.

Christmas was amazing. We got to go home visit with friends and family. I did not want to go back to Austin. At all. Something wasnt quiet right there and I knew it. I had gained a bunch of weight from emotionally eating everything In sight.

I was super unhappy with life and where I was at.

When I got home to Austin I didn’t stop crying. In fact I cried ever day from January 1st to the beginning of May. Everyday. That is not an exaggeration. That’s not me being dramatic.

It took a toll on our relationship. Our ship that had bullet holes already in it that were only covered up by bandaids was suddenly beginning to peel off. We were sinking and fast.

I desperately clung on. I became very dependent, very clingy (something I have never been), very emotional, very depressed.

He did try to be there for me for the first couple of months. He tried to reason with me on things. He tried to calm me down when I was beginning to have an anxiety attack. He did try.

But then he got a new job. He made new friends. He started to stay out late. He started to not come home. He began to text, snap, talk on the phone with this girl he works with. He would talk about her all the time. I was already very insecure but that drove my insecurity level up high.

I have never, ever been a jealous person. I don’t care if you hang out with your friends. I don’t care if you have a bunch of girls as friends. I honestly don’t care.

But the way he talked about her. The way he would smile when he would get a snap. Drove me to insanity. He stopped all together paying any attention to me.

I became a roommate. I was 100% on my own.

1. I got clingy.

2. I got depressed.

3. I got desperate for any kind of attention whether it was bad or good. (Most of the time it was bad.)

4. I started fights all the time. I wanted to feel something again. And if that meant I was going down in an argument then fine. At least he was talking to me.

I was back to the girl who didn’t stand up for herself. I was back to being the girl that was getting walked all over. I was back to the girl that was allowing him to not respect me.

We had sex on his time and only on his time. If that meant 3 AM when he was coming home from his friends then that meant 3 AM.

We only did things on his time. We hung out only when he wanted too and if I didn’t feel like it then I “wasn’t trying hard enough.” There were days I would look at him at hate him so much.

I was going through a one sided break up. He unknowingly broke up with me and I was trying to deal with it while still living w him.

One night, I lashed out at him. I screamed and screamed until my throat hurt. I was crying hysterically and I couldn’t catch my breathe. I couldn’t think clearly which was normal for me by then. I told him it was over. I couldn’t do this anymore. I was tired. And he didn’t fight back. He didn’t fight back this time. He didn’t fight back because he knew it wasn’t over. This was the 50th time in a month I told him i was done and I never left. So he knew I was overreacting.

He looked at me told me to chill out. And then he said he was leaving and going for a drive.

I flipped.

I begged him not to go. That I was sorry. I was going to get help. I was going to go see if I could be put on medication for my craziness. It’s all my fault. I know it’s all my fault for what’s happening. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.

(Literally what the hell is happening to me?)

The next day I got put on medication. I was diagnosed with severe anxiety and depression and was advised to go see a therapist.

For me in that moment, I needed the medication. I needed something to help me with my panic attacks. I needed someone to talk to that wouldn’t judge Me for staying with him. That would listen to me.

I had a dream after I was put on my medication that I was putting on body armor. Slowly, piece by piece I am putting in armor. My head is down the entire time. I am getting ready to go into battle. And then I wake up.

At this point my relationship with God was almost nonexistent. He didn’t believe in God so I didn’t really talk about God. I stopped worshipping. I stopped talking to God. Cold turkey pulled away. So that dream confused me. I knew it meant something but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

On a Sunday night.. Justin came home for about 30 min. Our relationship had gotten better since I was put on medication. I was feeling more like “me.” I woke up at 3 AM and he still wasn’t home. I called him. No answer. I texted him. No answer.

Immediately, I begin assuming the worst.

I didn’t sleep the rest of the night. Still didn’t hear from him all day. I called into work and everything. I called hospitals and looked up jails all around Austin to see if he got out there for whatever reason.

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 3 years ago

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Book One: Gold (Prompto x Reader) Chapter XXVII

A few hours ticked by as they continued to traverse the snowy landscape. Night was beginning to creep over Eos and it would be dangerous to travel. Prompto and (Y/n) located a hut like the previous one, but this time it was much smaller. They dismounted the snowmobile and headed inside for the night.

The hut only had a bed, desk, and fireplace to offer. The guardian found some blankets underneath the bed, brushing off the dust that had collected on them. Then, she closed the small window and locked the door. Hearing a loud 'thud,' she turned around to find a shirtless Prompto sprawled out on the floor. He was missing one of his boots. "Y'know, it would be easier to take your boots off if you sat on the bed."

Prompto lifted his head. "I knew that..."

"And why're you taking your clothes off? You'd be warmer with them on."

He looked away, cheeks turning red. "I-I, uh..." He cleared his throat. "Th-They say skin-to-skin contact is a good way to get warm."

She knew he only wanted to touch her and decided to tease him. "Why would we do that when we have a perfectly good fireplace here with plenty of wood?" She walked over to the fireplace, tossing a few logs into it and setting them ablaze with a minuscule fire spell. Even that was enough to cause her to become dizzy. Shaking her head, she turned back to Prompto as he was now sitting on the edge of the bed. "See? Warmth."

"Oh, c'mon, (Y/n)!" Prompto whined. "You're totally ruining the mood..."

She kept herself from smirking. "There's a mood?"

With a groan, Prompto flopped down on his back. (Y/n) grinned from ear to ear as she walked over to him. She sat down beside him. "I'm only teasing you, Prom. I already know what you want, but make sure to keep your pants on. It really would be bad if you took off all your clothes, especially since the temperature drops at night." She grabbed the blankets and threw one across the boy once he was lying down properly on the bed. She grinned in amusement when he lifted the blanket and patted the space beside him. It wasn't necessary for her to think about it and she climbed into the bed with her back facing him.

Prompto wrapped the blanket around both of them. He snuggled up closer to her, slinging one arm around her waist. He placed a kiss on her exposed shoulder. "I will never get over how warm you are. We should've slept together sooner."

"You say that now, but wait 'til we're somewhere hot. You'll be sweating bullets in no time," (Y/n) remarked.

"I can handle a sweat bath if it means I get to hold you."

She laughed lightly at his words. "Look at you being all mushy."

Prompto smiled. "You know you love it."

"Maybe," she snickered. "Now get some rest."

They both fell asleep a few minutes later.

However, their peaceful slumber was ruined as the sun peaked above the horizon. (Y/n) woke up when she could hear the low humming of airships. She crawled out of Prompto's embrace and hopped to her feet. She extinguished the already dying flames in the fireplace before quickly waking up the boy. "Prompto, we need to go."

Prompto's eyes opened, a groan slipping past his lips. "What's wrong, (Y/n)?"

"I hear airships. I don't know if they've found us, but I rather not stick around to find out."

At her explanation, the marksman flew out of bed and promptly put his clothes back on. As he was sliding his boots on, the sounds of the airships were much closer. He grabbed his pistol just as they heard a taunting voice from outside the door accompanied by knocking. "Do open up. It would be a futile endeavor to slip away."

Prompto and (Y/n) froze at hearing Ardyn's voice. They both remained quiet, gazes locked with each other's in a silent debate on what to do next. They were both still exhausted from yesterday and wouldn't be able to fight their way through a horde of imperial forces.

Backing away from the door, the couple prepared themselves for the enemies that would be pouring into the hut in mere seconds. If they could fight through a few soldiers to make it outside, it's possible they could make a quick escape either on the snowmobile or if (Y/n) transformed. Both their hearts were racing a mile a minute as they tried to weigh their options.

Suddenly, the door was kicked in by an imperial soldier. Prompto immediately raises his pistol and shot them in the head. He fired round after round as more soldiers tried to enter the hut. (Y/n) set a few ablaze, but she was still weakened from using too much magic yesterday. They tried to make an opening to escape, but there were too many enemies and were overpowered.

A soldier disarmed Prompto by ramming the stock of their gun into his gut. The blonde's grasp on his pistol slipped as he crumpled to his knees. (Y/n) tried to summon her sword to help him, but a trooper smacked her in the face with their gun. She fell to the floor, her vision blurry and a single trail of blood trickling down from the fresh cut on her forehead. More shoulders flooded into the small hut to help their comrades drag the two outside.

The two soldiers restraining Prompto forced him down to his knees into the snow. Across the way, (Y/n) was being restrained in the same position. The boy looked up, glaring at Ardyn as he walked between him and the guardian. "The hell do you want?" Prompto spat.

"Come now, dear boy. Did you honestly believe your actions would go unpunished?" The chancellor retorted. "And I do believe I've the perfect punishment for both of you. Take them to separate airships, and do be doubly sure to sedate the guardian. It'd be troublesome if she were to break free before we return to Gralea."

"You bastards just love your sedatives," (Y/n) hissed. Turning her head slightly, she saw one of the soldiers restraining her reveal a syringe gun. She gritted her teeth and wouldn't go without a fight. Using what little magic she had left, she burned the two soldiers and broke free. She pushed herself off the snowy ground and onto her feet. Readying another fire spell, she set her sights on the two troopers restraining Prompto.

Just as the sphere of flames manifested in her palm, the sound of a single gunshot rang out. A sharp pain tore threw her back, causing her to gasp. The fireball vanished as she stumbled forward. Looking down, she saw the hole in her abdomen from where the bullet exited her body. Pressing a hand against it, she desperately tried to stop the bleeding. Her vision was blurry and the sound of Prompto desperately calling out her name was fuzzy, almost as if he was far away.

(Y/n)'s body collapsed in the snow, blood tainting the pure white a deep crimson. Through her blurry vision, she saw Ardyn kneeling next to her. He clicked his tongue a few times. "I was hoping such extreme measure would be misappropriate. It seems I was sorely mistaken." He stood up and gestures to the soldiers who she burnt. "Be doubly sure to treat her delicately. It'd be a shame if she were to perish before her meeting with the devourer."

Prompto struggled against the men restraining him. He continued to shout the girl's name repeatedly as his anger and desperation skyrocketed. He managed to get to his feet and dig his heels into the snow, but his foothold didn't last long. One soldier walked up from behind and kicked his back, forcing him to the ground. He grunted as his body fell into the snow and felt a knee digging into his back. The feeling of metal handcuffs being secured around his wrists didn't mark the end of his struggle. He only grew even more desperate when his eyes landed on the bloodied snow.

The two soldiers that had dragged him out of the hut yanked Prompto to his feet and started escorting him to an airship. He continued to fight against them, trying to dig his boots into the snow. "Dammit, don't touch me!" His eyes drifted over to (Y/n), whose bloodied body was haphazardly being dragged through the snow by her arms. Ardyn, although seeing the rough treatment after distinctly giving the soldiers orders to not treat her roughly, said nothing.

"(Y/n)!" Prompto bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Let her go!"

Ardyn only smiled in amusement, watching the desperate and furious marksman be dragged aboard one of the airships. He held up his hands as the two airships containing his newest prizes flew in the direction of Gralea. "All the pieces are nearly assembled." With a small chuckle, he boarded the third airship and returned to the capital of the empire.

<————————————————<<<<<

Inside Zegnautus Keep, Prompto was stripped of his winter attire and was back in his tank top, leather vest, and normal boots. He was thrown into a cell, where he grabbed the bars and occasionally yelled out for anyone. His anger hasn't subsided and he only grew more enraged as minutes turned into hours. Along with the fury boiling inside his veins was worry for (Y/n). Every few minutes, he would glance down at the gemstone bracelet to ensure it still contained its normal luster and undefiled surface.

After six hours of screaming, Prompto exhausted himself. He slumped against the cold metal bars of the cell, staring up at the ceiling. Closing his eyes, he recalled one of his many memories with the girl.

•••••

A young, somewhat chubby Prompto around the age of six ran towards the nearest convenience store to secure some first-aid items. With the money his adopted parents gave him, he snuck out of the house with (Y/n) to go to a nearby park to play. While playing, the ten-year-old girl tripped and scraped her knee. He had dashed off, already exhausted before he left the park, but he pushed himself until he reached a store he knew that sold what he needed.

Prompto paid for a box of bandaids, a bottle of water, and a pack of tissues. While paying for the items, he received a questioning glance from the cashier. Although she was suspicious of the boy, she said nothing and let him leave the store after he paid.

Running back to the park, Prompto found (Y/n) curled up beside the slide, crying. He ran to her side, clearly out of breath and having issues filling his lungs. As he took in a few deep breaths, he revealed the bag he had to his spirit.

"P-Prompto..." She whimpered.

"It's okay, (Y/n). I've got you covered," he smiled, his glasses sliding up his nose slightly from the action.

Pulling out the water bottle and pack of tissues, he began disinfecting the wound and removing the bits of mulch stuck to it. Once that was done, he lightly dabbed it to dry the wound so the bandaid would stick. Finally, he pulled out a single bandaid from the small box he bought. It was blue and had yellow chocobos printed on it. He placed it over the scrape, smile widening when his job was done. "There! All better!"

(Y/n) ceased crying and let out a final sniffle, wiping away her last remaining tears. "Th-Thank you, Prom." With his help, she got back to her feet. She was a few inches taller than him due to their age difference. Looking down, she peered into his face. "You know what would make me feel even more better?"

"Ice cream!" Prompto cheered. He connected their hands and swung them side to side with a giggle. "Let's got to that ice cream shop by our house! They've got this new chocobo flavor and I wanna try it!"

She blinked in shock. "Ch-Chocobo flavor?"

He laughed at her expression. "It's lemon, you goofball!"

"Do you have enough for ice cream after buying all this?" She gestured to the bag from the convenience store.

Prompto nodded. "Yep! Let's go!"

The two best friends left the park and headed to the ice cream parlor close to the house. They enjoyed their sweet dessert and headed back home.

The moment Prompto snuck back into the house, his adoptive parents were waiting for him. They were clearly angry and upset he had snuck out. (Y/n), who had returned to the gemstone before they arrived home, returned to his side after his parents finished scolding him. She found him curled up on the bed, crying. Her heart ached at the sight, feeling guilty. It was her fault they left. She was desperate to get out of the house. His adoptive parents didn't know about her and she wanted it to stay that way, but she was the reason he got into trouble with them.

"Prom?" (Y/n) muttered weakly. She climbed onto the small twin bed and crawled over to him. She placed a hand against his arm with a sorrowful sigh. "I'm sorry. It's all my fault you got in trouble."

"I-It's not your fault, (Y/n)," he sniffled. "I-I wanted to go to the park too. Th-They wouldn't have let me go if I told them..."

(Y/n) was familiar with Prompto's adoptive parents. At times, they were strict while others they didn't care one bit. They weren't the best parents, but they weren't the worst either.

Searching the bed, she found the stuffed chocobo she'd won him while playing a crane game during one of their outings a few months ago. She grabbed the plushie and tapped its beak against his cheek. "C'mon, Prom. You know Mr. Bubbles doesn't like it when you cry!" She continued nudging its plush beak against his cheek until she heard him giggle. "There's that smile! Mr. Bubbles and I always miss your smile when it's gone, Prom, so keep smiling for both of us, okay?"

Prompto giggled again, his smile widened as his tears vanished. "I promise!"

•••••

Prompto was startled from his thoughts when the sound of the door at the end of the cell block opened with a 'screech'. Quickly, he jumped to his feet and turned around. Gripping the bars, he glared at the approaching figure.

"I will never understand what a guardian sees in loving a human," Callyx sighed, rolling his shoulders. His right eye was foggy while his left was slitted, revealing he had ridded himself of the contacts. "Your kind is inferior in every aspect. Of course, there are some exceptions, but you clearly aren't one of them."

"It doesn't matter who's superior or inferior," Prompto grumbled. "That has nothing to do with how we feel."

"Oh, please. Spare me the talk about the true might of love and how it conquers all." Callyx folds his arms across his chest. "What I'm more interested in is your interest in her. You've learned the truth about her. She is a perfect copy of Verstael's guardian. I was hoping you'd be disgusted with the truth. Then again, you're one of the millions of copies of that mad scientist. Same face, same strand of DNA. Maybe your infatuation stems from Verstael's twisted infatuation with the real (Y/n)."

Prompto gripped the bars tighter, his knuckles turning white. "I don't care what (Y/n) and I are. What matters is our past and future."

"Spoken like a true man blinded by love. Makes me sick..." Callyx groaned. The spiky-haired guardian licked his lips as he looked away from the marksman. "There was something else I wanted to mention. What was it? ...Oh! Yes, that. The real reason I'm here. Are you familiar with torture?"

Prompto's eyes widen. "What?"

"Guess it doesn't really matter. You'll be familiar with it soon enough. After all, I will be the one to break you. I really wanted to be the one to torture (Y/n) after what she did to me at Fort Vaullery, but Ardyn's taken it upon himself to deliver her punishment. After roughing her up a bit, she'll be fed to the devourer. Of course, we wouldn't want you to miss the finale." Callyx smirked menacingly when seeing the boy's horrified expression. "That'll be your true breaking point. Losing the one you love breaks even the toughest souls."

The guardian searched his pockets for the key given to him by Ardyn. When he found it, he placed it in the lock of the cell door. Before unlocking the door, he looked back at Prompto and saw he was ready to attack. Holding out his hand, Callyx sent a bolt of lightning at Prompto. The boy cried out in pain as he was struck in the chest, causing him to stumble backwards and fall on the floor. A maniacal cackle fell from the spirit's lips as he opened the cell door and immediately closed it behind him. Holding out his hand, a wicked grin spread across his face as a sphere of pure lightning manifested in his palm. Taking a step closer to the boy, he glanced down at him. "I'm going to take my precious time with you, Prompto Argentum. Prepare yourself for the hell you're about to face."

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#ffxv #ffxv x reader #final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv x reader #prompto argentum #prompto x reader #prompto argentum x reader

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butterflysparrow · 5 years ago

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Writing Because I'm Broken

Again.

This blog has given me a bit of strength during this time of grief. It's insane how someone I wrote about not being attracted to could end up shattering my heart into a million tiny pieces. I don't have it in me to write the whole story right now. But my fears became a self-fulfilling prophecy. He left me. Our relationship was everything I could have hoped for, except for a quicker will to commit on his part. He said he wouldn't trade me for anyone. But he just wasn't ready to take the next step and move in together. At first I didn't understand. I was hurt and angry and tempted to believe that it meant he didn't love me enough. Then I decided that he was worth waiting for. That I loved him for who he was and where he's at. But it was too late. He was too overwhelmed. He's gone.

I hate this. I hate myself. I know it's not all my fault. If he was better at handling difficult emotions without fear or retreating, things would have been better. But alas, I was too hurt, and he decided that feeling guilty for a little while was worse than breaking up. I'm devastated. I'm heartbroken. I'm a bit angry. I feel sick to my stomach, and every day I wake from dreams of him.

It's been 5 weeks. My mind still wanders to him at every opportunity. I've been doing great at keeping myself busy and trying to better myself. I go to the gym a lot now. Lost 15 pounds so far, and gaining some muscle tone. I'm getting more involved in local politics. I've started therapy. I traveled to the Yucatan Peninsula. And I made a painting that went semi-viral on reddit. And yet, it all feels like putting a bandaid on a bullet hole. Deep down, I know I'm doing these things hoping he'll see them and want me back. But I haven't heard from him. He likes my posts on IG and FB, but that's it. Not a word.

I feel like I'll never love again. Not like him. He broke my heart and yet I still feel like he's my soulmate. I hope I can look back on this post and cringe that I ever felt this way. There were infatuations I wrote about on this blog a few years ago that I've totally moved on from. I can't imagine R ever being someone I totally move on from, but I hope if he doesn't come back, that that's what happens.

2 years down the drain, wasted. 2 years with the love of my life is better than none, some might argue. But it doesn't feel that way.

He said he just needs to sort out some stuff with himself, and that he might want to come back afterwards. Pretty little lies. I know I shouldn't even want someone back after doing this to me. But honestly? I really, really do. If it's like it was with my breakup with J, he'll only return once I find him repulsive.

I miss him with every fiber of my being.

Anyway, I have a date tomorrow.

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missperfectlyfine13 · 4 years ago

Text

A Bandaid For Your Bullet Hole (Chp. 3/?)

Read Below or on AO3/FF

“Where are you headed? Is Jake coming home this year?” Aubrey’s voice makes Chloe’s head snap up from her suitcase.

She looks over at the confused blonde standing in her doorway. Ok, so she hasn’t told Aubrey that she’s going to Beca’s for Christmas. Something tells her that she would take offense to it, especially with Aubrey’s strong dislike for the freshman girl.

“Nope,” Chloe chirps, stuffing a pile of pajamas into the half empty suitcase.

Aubrey trails farther into the room, taking a seat on the edge of Chloe’s bed, “So where are you going then?”

Chloe swallows nervously, “Um, I’m going to Beca’s for Christmas.”

“Seriously?” there’s a serious sour bite to Aubrey’s tone, one that already has Chloe’s stomach churning, “You know you don’t have to go home with that scraggly little alt girl…you’re always welcome to come home with me.”

“I know, I thought it would be nice…and she offered,” Chloe mumbles, turning her attention back to her packing.

Chloe also hasn’t been very up front with Aubrey about how close her and Beca have become. She’s just tried to keep the peace this year with the way her best friend has been acting.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” Aubrey snaps, “You’ve said no to my offer for the last two years.”

Chloe just shrugs, because honestly, she’s not sure herself.

“Do you like her or something?”

Chloe knows that she’s just trying to figure it out, but she can’t help feeling like this is somewhat of an interrogation. She’s not sure how to respond to the question, so she stays silent, pursing her lips in a way that means ‘I’m done talking’.

Aubrey nods knowingly, her own little frown visible, “She’s with Jesse, you know that right? She’s straight Chloe.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Chloe mumbles in defeat.

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt…ok?” Aubrey sighs.

“I won’t…I’m going as her friend and nothing more,” Chloe finally zips her very full suitcase up and stands from the floor.

Aubrey looks at her with softer eyes now, “Chlo, I know you. This is probably more harmful than it is helpful.”

“It’s just a stupid crush Bree, I can move past it,” Chloe doesn’t know why she’s defending herself so vehemently.

“Ok, I get it. Just be careful,” the blonde gives her a small smile before standing up and heading out of the room.

Maybe this is a mistake. Chloe knows what is happening. Every time she’s around Beca she feels herself falling just a little more. It’s a very slippery slope she’s on right now, one that ends up with a broken heart. Why is it that she can never help herself though?

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

Surprisingly, Beca talks off Chloe’s ear for a good majority of their flight to Seattle. Chloe had assumed she would put her headphones on and promptly fall asleep. Maybe she’s just as excited as Chloe is…although right now she’s more nervous than anything.

“So, tell me again who’s going to be there…so I don’t mess names up?” it’s probably the fifth time she’s asked it on this flight alone.

Beca chuckles, “Chlo, you don’t have to worry, I’ll introduce you when we get there.”

Chloe’s sparkling blue eyes bore into Beca’s, she hopes she’s getting the message across, “Beca just tell me.”

“Ok fine weirdo,” Beca scoots around so her left shoulder is against the seat and she’s facing Chloe, “my mom, Janette; my step-dad, Peter; and my two brothers, Lucas and Ethan. Lucas is my full brother, he’s 15. Ethan is my half-brother and he is 4. On Christmas day, my grandma and grandpa will be there, as well as my Aunt and Uncle and their families, but I’ll introduce them to you later.”

Chloe shuffles in her seat anxiously, “Ok cool, I’m excited to meet everyone.”

“You don’t have to freak Chlo, they’re super chill and they’re excited you’re coming,” Beca reads her emotions like an open book.

Chloe sighs looking up at the ceiling of the airplane, “You know, sometimes I feel so lost…I just feel like I don’t belong anywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” she can feel Beca’s eyes on her still, “but for what it’s worth, you have me. I know I’m not much, but it’s something, right?”

She knows it’s not how Beca means it, but the statement makes butterflies erupt inside her, “Hey don’t think you’re nothing, I’m so grateful I have you.”

Shortly after their conversation, Chloe falls asleep, her head resting gently against Beca’s shoulder. She finally wakes up to Beca shaking her, telling her they’ve landed in Denver for their connecting flight. They walk sleepily through the airport, and before Chloe knows it they’re back on a plane. They both settle in quickly and Chloe is asleep again, dreaming of a warm fire, mistletoe and Beca’s lips against hers…

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

When they step out of the airport in Seattle, Chloe’s eyes turn into saucers when she sees the white on the ground and the sparkling little flakes falling from the sky. Beca looks at her in amusement as she skips out into the snow, spinning around in a circle.

“Bec isn’t it pretty!” Chloe feels so carefree and happy in the moment, holding out her hand to catch a few flakes, which immediately melt against her skin.

Beca walks out past the overhang to join her, snowflakes immediately clinging to the fabric of her beanie and hair, her cheeks turning red in the chilly air. Chloe can’t help thinking that she looks beautiful.

“It’s alright I guess,” Beca smirks, “I can tell you’re from the south Beale.”

“Beca!” both girls immediately turn their attention to the voice.

A few feet away is a moderately sized blue SUV, a man who looks to be in his late forties stands next to it waving. It must be Peter, Beca’s step-dad. Both girls quickly grab their abandoned suitcases and walk over to the car. Peter looks like a genuine guy, someone that would give you the shirt off his back. He’s smiling at the two girls like he’s been waiting all month to see them.

“Hey Pete, how’s life?” Beca says casually and she throws her bag into the open and waiting trunk.

“Can’t complain, and this must be Chloe,” the man turns to look at Chloe, he’s grinning warmly, he’s got wrinkles by his eyes and a dark bushy beard.

“Yup,” Beca replies, making a popping noise on the “p” of the word.

“It’s nice to meet you!” Chloe chirps pleasantly.

“Nice to meet you too Chloe, I’ve heard a lot about you,” Peter motions to the back seat of the car, “why don’t you two sit in the back, I don’t mind being the driver,” he winks at the two.

Beca and Chloe quickly climb into the back seat of the car and they start down the road. Chloe watches the snow fall as they drive. They get on the highway; she can tell they are heading out of the city. She vaguely recalls Beca saying she lives in a smaller town just outside Seattle itself.

After about 30 minutes of driving, they are pulling up to a cozy looking two story house. Chloe would bet money on it being perfectly decorated on the inside, maybe it even smells like cinnamon or evergreen.

“Alright, here we are, home sweet home,” Pete gestures at the home as he parks the car in front of the garage.

As they step inside, Chloe’s suspicions are quickly proved correct. Off to the right of the entry way, she can see the living room, where a large tree is perfectly decorated. There is garland wrapped around the railing going upstairs and little signs and decorations everywhere…and it does smell like cinnamon.

“Come on, lets take our stuff upstairs before the ambush,” Beca nods her head to the stairs.

Chloe follows Beca closely up the stairs and down the hall. They walk to the end of the hall and Beca pushes open a door she assumes is her room. As they walk in, Chloe drinks in her surroundings carefully. The walls are covered in posters, most of them being about music. There are fairy lights hanging around the top of the ceiling. In the corner there is a fancy looking computer set up. The first thing Beca does is open up her bags containing her music equipment, which she promptly hooks up to the computer.

Chloe gingerly sets her bag down in the corner and takes a seat on the edge of the double bed in the middle of the room.

After Beca has successfully plugged in her equipment she turns around to look at Chloe, almost apologetically, “So, there isn’t really anywhere else for you to sleep but in here…I hope that’s ok. You can share the bed with me or I can get the air mattress down from the attic.”

Chloe tingles with excitement thinking about sleeping next to the brunette, “Oh that’s totes ok. I don’t mind sharing with you, the mattress would probably take up a lot of space in here anyways.”

“Awesome,” Beca looks relieved that Chloe is ok with the sleeping arrangements.

After both girls get settled, they head back downstairs. Unsurprisingly, her entire family is waiting in the living room when they enter. Her mom lights up at the sight of Beca, her brother Lucas gives Chloe a weird look. Little four-year-old Ethan looks like he could care less.

“Beca!” her mom stands up and throws her arms around her eldest child.

Beca grumbles and doesn’t even attempt to wrap her arms around her mom, “You’re squeezing the life out of me.”

“Oh don’t be dramatic,” her mom chuckles, pulling away to look over at Chloe.

“And you must be Chloe,” her mom walks over and promptly pulls Chloe into a hug.

After she recovers from the shock, she does hug back.

“I’m so glad you could come,” her mom pulls away from the hug, she says it so genuinely that Chloe truly believes she’s excited that a strange girl has invaded their family holiday, “Lucas, come say hi to your sister and Chloe.”

Lucas stands up slowly, very much fitting the angsty teenager profile. He looks so much like Beca that Chloe swears they could be twins if it wasn’t for the four-year age difference.

“Sup Bec,” he nods at his sister, then raises his eyebrow at Chloe, “so are you my sister’s girlfriend?”

If Chloe has been eating or drinking anything it would be sprayed all over the fifteen-year-old. Beca emits a quiet squeaking noise, the tips of her ears turning red.

“Lucas, you know Beca is dating Jesse, remember we told you?” Beca’s mom steps in before either of the two have to answer.

“Oh yea, I forgot about that,” Lucas stalks back to his spot on the sofa, sliding his earbuds back in his ears as he goes.

They talk to Beca’s family for a little bit, but Chloe is barely focused enough to answer their questions. Most of the time she ends up needing them to repeat themselves. She plays it off as jet lag. Truthfully, her mind is spinning with the probability that Beca is not as straight as her or Aubrey thought. Her brother wouldn’t have asked about a girlfriend if she was completely straight.

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

Beca looks nervous as she shuts the door behind them. Chloe sits down on the bed and watches as Beca paces back and forth a few times before settling down next to the red head. Beca had seemed a little anxious all night, so Chloe was glad when it was late enough for them to head upstairs for bed.

“So after all that I have a little bit of explaining to do,” Beca plays with her hands that are sitting her lap, “you know how my brother asked if you were my girlfriend?”

Chloe nods anxiously, trying to cover up how excited she really is.

“Just to clarify, I dated girls in high school…he was so used to seeing me with girls, he just assumed I guess…I’m bi,” Beca stammers nervously.

Chloe nods knowingly, “I kind of assumed so after he said that.”

“You’re not weirded out…like weird about sleeping in the same bed as me, are you?” Beca looks genuinely concerned and it almost breaks her heart.

She shakes her head stiffly, “Of course not. Beca…you aren’t a predator, you just like girls. You aren’t going to feel me up in my sleep…unless you wanted to of course,” she throws the brunette a wink, successfully turning her face red.

“Ok good,” Beca rubs the back of her neck, “I just dealt with a lot of judgement from the girls in high school, I forget that most people are pretty chill.”

“I would never judge you Bec, it would be pretty damn hypocritical,” Chloe flashes her a soft, comforting smile, “I’m not as straight as you think.”

“Really?” Beca looks genuinely surprised at the admission.

“I’ve never officially dated a girl, but I’ve thought about it…I’ve fooled around with girls,” Chloe isn’t afraid to admit the fact, she never has been.

The information seems to floor Beca a little, only a high pitched, “Oh, ok,” manages to escape.

“Thank you for sharing with me Bec,” Chloe reaches her hand out to lay it softly over Beca’s, “thank you again for all of this, for inviting me here.”

“Anytime Chlo,” it looks like she’s going to say more but instead yawns loudly.

Chloe is yawning right after her and she suddenly realizes how heavy her limbs feel, and how soft the bed beneath her is, “Maybe we should get some sleep, it was a long day.”

Beca nods in agreement, “I’m all for that.”

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

Chloe wakes up earlier than she’d like the next morning. The sun is barely peaking through the blinds and Beca is softly snoring next to her. Her eyelids are heavy, like she could fall back asleep if she wanted, but something…well more someone, prevents her from doing so.

Beca ended up turning around in her sleep, so her face is lined up with Chloe’s. She slid impossibly close to her bedmate, not on purpose, but Chloe can practically feel her warm breath on her face. The proximity of the younger girl makes Chloe’s heart hammer in her chest. Her hair is practically on top of her head, wild from sleep, Chloe thinks it’s adorable. She takes the time to study Beca’s face, she ends up staring at the soft lines and plumpness of her lips, wishing she could lean forward and softly peck them.

Maybe Aubrey was right…maybe this trip is more harm than it is good. She does know that Beca isn’t straight now, but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s still with Jesse. Chloe has to respect that, as much as she’d like to shoot her shot with the freshman girl.

She’s not sure how long she watches Beca, but the sun is finally pouring through the cracks of the blinds when Beca finally starts stirring. Chloe snaps her eyes shut, not wanting to get caught staring. She hears Beca groan and feels the bed shift next to her, so she slowly lets her eyes flutter back open.

“Mm, good morning,” Beca yawns sleepily when Chloe’s eyes are completely open.

“Morning,” Chloe replies, her voice still surprisingly gravely from sleep.

“You sleep ok?” Beca asks as she rolls onto her back.

Chloe slowly sits up, the warm cocoon of blankets falling down past her torso, “Yea, definitely, how about you?”

Beca stretches lazily, her legs popping out from under the covers and her arms raising above her head, “Slept great. I’m ready for a day of fun!”

“You have something good planned?” Chloe asks excitedly.

“Well, since it snowed quite a bit yesterday…I thought we could go sledding, then maybe head into the city for a while?” Beca asks, more then tells, clearly wanting Chloe to be on board with her plans.

“Sounds great Bec,” Chloe is already beaming thinking about sledding, she’s only ever done it once before and she barely remembers.

“Cool,” Beca smiles right back at her.

If Chloe’s being honest, she doesn’t care what they do, as long as it’s with Beca. Shit, she really is screwed…

#bechloe fanfic #pp fanfic #bechloe #my stuff

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missperfectlyfine13 · 4 years ago

Text

A Bandaid For Your Bullet Hole - (Chp. 2/?)

Read Below or on AO3/FF

TW: Mentions of overdose

August 2009

“Mom, I’ve got all my stuff in the ca….” Chloe’s sentence is swallowed back up into the atmosphere when she walks back into the living room, “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Chloe’s mom is sitting in the middle of the sofa, her arms wrapped tightly around a scruffy looking man in a mechanics uniform. There’s a few half empty bottles of booze on the coffee table and a lit joint between her mother’s fingers. She laughs airily at some dumb remark the stranger practically underneath her makes. She’s as high as a kite and probably drunk to boot.

“Chloe!” her mom’s eyes light up at the sight of her only daughter, “come have a drink baby.”

The only good thing about her mom getting high instead of drunk is that she is much happier. Her mom is an angry drunk, she turns into someone that Chloe scarcely recognizes. At least when she’s high she somewhat resembles someone Chloe used to know.

“What happened to taking me to college today?” she snaps, completely ignoring her mother’s request.

“That was today?” she asks dumbly, bringing her glass tumbler to her lips, taking a long sip of dark amber liquid.

Chloe groans frustratedly, “We’ve been talking about it for weeks.”

“Calm down princess, we can still do it,” she’s got to be kidding, she’s not going to let her mom drive anywhere like this.

Chloe shakes her head vigorously, “No. It’s fine, I’ll just stuff everything into my car and do it myself. You clearly have more important things to do.”

Her words must permeated through her mom’s hazy brain because she’s jumping up from the sofa, some of her drink sloshing out of her glass and onto the cream colored carpet, “No, Chloe let me do this. I want to do this.”

“I’m not taking you anywhere like this,” Chloe motions up and down her mother’s body, “you would just be an embarrassment.”

Her expression almost looks hurt before it turns bitter, “If that’s how you feel about me, then fine do it all on your own. See if I care.”

Chloe turns around without another word. She mindlessly shoves all her belongings into her little chevy impala, barely getting in everything she needs. She doesn’t even bother to go inside to say goodbye before driving down the road. It’s time for a new beginning, a new life, one she doesn’t have to hate. She has a good feeling about Barden, hopefully her gut is right.

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

December 2012

The winter air is crisp, sending a shiver down Chloe’s spine as her and Beca walk towards her dorm. They just left Bellas rehearsal and the air almost feels good after all the exercise.

“So, what are you doing for winter break?” Beca breaks the comfortable silence, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her coat.

Chloe shrugs, “I’ll probably stay on campus, I might go visit my brother, if he’s going to be around.”

Beca looks at her dumbly for a moment before composing herself again, “You aren’t going home for Christmas?”

Her and Beca have gotten really close this semester, Chloe might even dare to say she’s her best friend…if she didn’t have a heart stopping crush on the younger girl that is. Even so, she’s not sure if she wants to unpack her reasoning for never going home yet.

“Nope,” she answers the question simply, hoping Beca will just take the answer and let the topic drop.

She knew she wasn’t going to be that lucky, because Beca doesn’t care about anyone…anyone but her it seems. Chloe is the only person Beca goes the extra mile for, at least from Chloe’s point of view, that’s how it seems.

“Why?” the question barely surprises her as it come out of Beca’s mouth, her breath leaving a puff of white in the air.

“It’s a long story,” Chloe tries her best to deflect, but she knows Beca won’t give it up.

Maybe opening up to someone else would feel good. Maybe to weight of her problems would feel a little lighter.

“I’ve got time, we can go get coffee?” Beca looks at her hopefully, “My treat?”

“I thought you were having a movie night with Jesse,” Beca had been talking about it all week, the excitement of a new relationship and all.

That’s another thing that has been making Chloe feel even worse than she does at this time of the year. She had a bad feeling Beca would end up with him…she had a bad feeling she was straight. Chloe loves their friendship, but it just makes everything that much more painful.

“You were literally coming to my dorm to hang anyways, that’s not until later,” Beca laughs.

Chloe’s cheeks burn red, “Oh yea, sorry, blonde moment I guess?”

“You’re not even blonde, you don’t get to use that one.”

Chloe gives Beca a playful shove, “Shut up.”

After another five minutes of walking, they finally end up at the coffee shop. Before Chloe knows it, there’s a steaming hot cup in her hands and Beca looking across the table at her expectantly.

“So now, why don’t you go home for Christmas?” Beca parrots the question from earlier, making Chloe squirm uncomfortably in her seat.

“So, I guess it all really started when my dad died,” Chloe twirls the paper cup in her hands, attempting to channel her nerves into something else.

Beca nods, encouraging her on.

“My mom kind of self-imploded after his death…it started with drinking. It just spiraled from there, drugs, lots of sex with random men. It made all four years of high school miserable for me,” Chloe can feel tears threating to spill, she never talks about this, “after my first Christmas back home in college I vowed to never go back until she got her shit together.”

A hand reaches across the table to settle over her own. Chloe looks up into Beca’s eyes, which are sad and empathetic. It makes her feel comfortable, grounded, Beca’s hand against her own. Her fingers twitch underneath the touch, she never wants to break the contact.

“I’m so sorry Chloe,” Beca says softly, “that must be really hard…so I take it she’s still pretty bad?”

Chloe nods slowly, “Uh yea, I’ve tried to get her to go to rehab but she won’t listen, I’m worried she never will.”

“I know this is nothing compared to what you dealt with,” Beca looks vulnerable as she speaks, “but high school was really rough for me too. My parents got a divorce and my dad married my now step monster. I felt so betrayed, I felt like nothing would ever be right again. I felt like my dad was giving up on me.”

“I’m glad you shared that,” Chloe turns her hand so it’s holding Beca’s instead of lying limply below hers, “I’m glad I’m not the only one with a shitty story.”

“I mean you definitely win if we’re comparing, but yea, it was nothing to write home about,” Beca smirks.

Beca finally pulls her hand away and Chloe instantly misses her touch. She quickly moves her hand back to her cup, lifting it to her mouth, not wanting Beca to know how much the little contact affected her.

“Do you want to come home with me for Christmas?” Beca asks after a few moments of silence.

The question practically makes Chloe choke on her latte, “I couldn’t do that Bec. Your family doesn’t even know me.”

“They know of you,” Beca replies nonchalantly, “plus they would love you.”

“So, you’ve talked about me to your family?” Chloe quirks an eyebrow.

It’s Beca’s turn for her cheeks to fade into a light shade of red, “They were asking if I made any friends…so I told them about you.”

“Don’t be embarrassed Beca, I love that you’ve told them about me. If I talked to my mom, she would know about you, because you’re one of the best things about this semester,” Chloe says honestly, hoping the blunt truth doesn’t weird the other girl out.

A smile the size of Texas spreads across Beca’s face. She doesn’t seem sure how to respond, but Chloe knows she probably feels similarly if her expression is to judge.

“Shouldn’t you be asking Jesse to go home with you for Christmas instead of me?” Chloe suddenly remembers Beca’s boyfriend.

Beca shakes her head no, “He has his own family to go home to, plus I’ve only been dating him for a month. I’d much rather have you come with me��especially because I want to save you from having to be here for three weeks.”

“I’ll think about it,” Chloe finally answers Beca’s offer.

She’s going to have to think hard about it, the last time she went home with someone for Christmas…well let’s just say it’s not a fond memory. It was an almost eerily similar situation. She had known Aubrey for one semester and after the blonde found out about her mom, she had invited her home for Christmas. She also needs to remind herself that it was a very different situation all together.

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

December 2009

There’s no hiding the fact that Chloe is scared to go home for Christmas. She’s scared about what she’s going to find. It’s the first time her mom has been alone for that long. Chloe watched out for her more than a teenage daughter should.

She also left on bad terms in the fall.

She could walk into anything really, which is terrifying. Which is why the whole drive back to South Carolina, Chloe is practically shaking with nerves. She probably shouldn’t have loaded up on coffee like she did, the caffeine isn’t helping. Aubrey has called her on and off, offering her support…and the reminder that she can go to Aubrey’s house if it’s too bad. Chloe was determined to make this work though; she didn’t want to run away on her mom completely. Chloe is not a quitter.

About an hour later she finally pulls into the driveway of her mom’s house, the windows are dark even thought the sun set hours ago. That’s already not a good sign. Chloe puts the car into park and takes a deep shaky breath. She gets out of the car after a few moments of composing herself.

She slings her bag over her shoulder and walks up the path to the front door, her hand shakes as she lifts the key to the lock. Chloe pushes the door open slowly, she can hear the TV blaring some infomercial for air tight containers. It’s the only light illuminating the living room. As Choe steps further in the door, she can see her mom’s identical mop of red hair flowing over the arm of the sofa, her hand hanging limply down onto the floor. She can’t make out much else with how dark the room is, the blue-ish light of the TV making everything look a little eerie.

An ice-cold feeling courses through her, her heart rate picking up. Something isn’t right, she can just feel it. Chloe throws her bag down onto the floor and rushes over to the sofa. It barely looks like her chest is moving up and down, her lips look a little blue. Out of the corner of her eye she sees a baggy of pills on the coffee table. Shit. This can’t be happening.

“Mom,” Chloe says firmly, “Mom!”

Nothing.

Chloe kneels down next to her and shakes her vigorously, “MOM.”

Her hands shake as she pulls her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. Her fingers can barely hold still as she dials 911.

The operator is calm and comforting. She walks Chloe through checking to see if her mom’s heart is still beating. She feels like she’s floating through some nightmare as she rips her mom’s shirt open and starts chest compressions. She has no clue how long she hammers into her mom’s chest before the door busts open and the paramedics are pushing her out of the way. Her vision blurs as she finally lets herself cry.

She’s not quite sure how she gets to the hospital. The world finally comes back into focus when a nurse carefully approaches her and asks if there’s anyone that she can call for her.

“Um, my best friend, Aubrey,” her voice sounds foreign to her.

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

When Chloe’s mom finally is stable and back at home, Chloe leaves to go back home with Aubrey. Before she leaves, it isn’t pretty, her and her mom scream and fight, but there is no way she’s ever going to come back home to that again. Chloe gives her a final ultimatum: Go and get some help or I’m done here.

Christmas is miserable, even though Aubrey’s family is warm, inviting and sympathetic. They make her feel like she’s family. Even so, Chloe has never felt more alone. She feels like she has nowhere to go. She has no one to bake her cookies to take back to her dorm or give her a hug that feels like home when she needs it or give her boy (or girl?) advice. She’s all alone and it’s something she’s going to have to get used to.

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

December 2012

“I’ll go home with you,” Chloe offhandedly mentions to Beca as they sit on the bed in Chloe’s room at the Bella house.

Beca’s eyes light up and the chips she was munching on practically fall out of her mouth, “Really?”

Chloe nods, after thinking about it, the idea of having people to spend Christmas with would be really nice. It’s something she hasn’t experienced since Christmas her freshman year.

“I would love to,” Chloe smiles happily at the younger girl next to her.

“That’s awesome!” Beca exclaims, “Oh shit, I’ve got to book the flight like now then.”

“You haven’t done that already?” Chloe looks at her quizzically.

Beca shrugs, “I was waiting to see if you would want to come first.”

“You could have missed out on getting tickets Bec, you shouldn’t have.”

“I know, it’s ok though, I wanted to,” Beca looks down at her phone, which has flight listings to Seattle already displayed, “get your snow boots ready Beale, it’s been chilly out there this year.”

“You know, I’ve only seen snow a couple times in my whole life,” Chloe already feels excited thinking about seeing the fluffy, white precipitation.

Beca’s eyes bug out, “Dude, we are so going sledding.”

For the first time in years, Chloe is starting to feel excited about this time of year. This might be the best Christmas she’s had in a long time…

#bechloe fanfic #pp fanfic #bechloe #my stuff

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