How Do I Tell my Heart it’s Not Yours?
werewolf!M.R. x reader or exhusband!M.R. x reader
Summary: you and Robby had another falling out. Robby is pretty sure “till death do us part” means you’re stuck with him.
WC: 1.3k
Tags/Content: MDNI!!, werewolf Robby, manipulation, toxic ex behavior, reader has an infected wound, not proof read, Robby calls reader baby. Let me know if I missed any!
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He really should be here now. He promised to be here ten minutes after eight. It was a quarter till nine now.
Fuck, he really was going to bail out again.
Leave the boxes filled with his things in your living room just so he could have another excuse to stop by the marital home. Fucking ridiculous.
You were stood in front of your bathroom mirror. The fresh bite mark on your neck was oozy and infected. None of the others had become inflamed like this one. You really shouldn’t have let him back into your bed. So, what if he was in rut? He wasn’t your problem anymore. If he didn’t want to be in this marriage fully then he won’t be in it at all.
Robby and you had been going through a “separation” for the better part of half a year now. Robby didn’t agree though. Which is why you were covered in bite marks from head to toe. It was inevitable really. You’d tell him to go screw himself and he would disappear for a few weeks, then the full moon would come around, and he would flash those sad eyes at you. God, you needed a backbone.
You were shoving more of his shit in boxes when the doorbell rang. Robby stood on the porch step; his hands tucked into his pockets and his lips already dropping into a pout. Not this time Robinavitch.
You open the door without any flair, a box full of his medical textbooks on your hip.
“You’re late.”
“What am I late to?” he asks, flashing you those sad puppy dog eyes. “Just coming home to my wife.”
He stepped through the door pausing to take in all of the half full boxes. To him it seemed like this was only a half assed attempt to egg him on. Afterall, you did always like to raise his blood pressure.
“I’m not your wife.” You roll your eyes as you begin taking the boxes outside and to his truck. Maybe it would send a better message for him to get his shit out of your house if you forcibly remove it.
“Um,” he flashes his gold wedding band at you. “This is news to me.”
Maybe he liked raising your blood pressure too.
You round on him in the small living room. “This is not news. I sent you the divorce papers. You refuse to sign them.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, making it appear impossibly larger. “Why would I sign papers that would take you from me?”
That makes a growl claw its way up your throat as you slam the box into the bed of the truck. “I’m not yours, Michael.”
“The bite on your neck says otherwise… so do the ones on your thighs.”
“They were just a lapse in judgement.”
“If that’s what you want to call fucking your husband.”
“Ex-husband.”
He smiles that charming wolfish smile, “No, I’m not. Well, not yet.”
No, he wasn’t going to weasel his way into your life this time. He wasn’t going to say all the right things only to disappear into his work the next day. Not again.
“Listen baby-”
“Try again.”
He murmurs your name. You can feel his eyes trace your backside and the goosebumps they leave in their wake. You lift another box into his trunk to distract yourself. You might be going through a divorce, but that doesn’t stop your body from reacting.
Michael Robinavitch might have his charms, but he would make a better ex-husband. Just as you’re moving around the couch to grab a box, a hand reaches out wrapping around the back of your neck.
“You didn’t tell me you were hurt, baby.” he coos as he spins you around and tilts your head to get a better view of your neck. You could feel his breath on the side of your neck. “You could’ve come to me. You know your husband is a doctor.”
“Ex-husband.”
He tuts at that. “No, I don’t think so.”
This was an oddly familiar position. His hand cradling the side of your neck while his head tilts like he was going to take a bite out of you. He might. Did you want him to? Fuck, you hated that all you had to do was get close to you, invading your senses with his smell, and your knees would turn to Jello. It really wasn’t fair being an omega sometimes.
“Let me take care of you, hm?”
You let him lead you to the shared bathroom off of the main hallway. He lifts you up onto the countertop, caging you between his arms. Instinctively, you tilt your head for him to look before checking yourself. He tilts your head for you with a soft growl. The fight leaves your body. Robby digs out the first aid kit from under the sink. Of course, you hadn’t moved it. It was right where he left it. You hiss as he dabs the bite mark with alcohol and a clean rag. Robby’s fingers hold your jaw still as he works.
“You know, this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn't kicked me out.” he mutters, his eyes focused on the wound. “I could have been here to fix this.”
“This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t let you inside my house.”
“Difference of opinion.”
He places a band aid over the bite mark and steps back to seemingly give you your space. It’s not long before he’s back in the living room digging through the boxes. He starts with his clothes, carrying an arm full of his shirts and placing them in the closet. You trail after him, close on his heels.
“What do you think you’re doing?” you hiss.
“Putting my things away.”
“No, you’re not.” But you hadn’t filled his side of the closet yet. In fact, you hadn’t done anything but put his things in boxes. Empty spaces were everywhere, waiting for his things to go back in their rightful spot.
“We’re done, Michael.”
He laughs, a deep warm sound. “You say that every time.”
He hangs his shirts next to yours. Color coded. Just how he knew you liked the closet organized.
“You know, I don’t really even know why we were fighting.” He shrugs, blowing the screaming match you had had off. “Tell me you want me to move back home, baby, and I will.”
Oh, fuck him.
“Screw you, Robinavitch.”
“You have. Multiple times. Last week actually.”
You have half a mind to chuck a lamp at his head. It wouldn’t hurt him. Stupid werewolf healing and all that. Was he always this aggravating or was it just close to the full moon?
“What’s for dinner? I’m starving.” Then he is shoving past you and heading for the kitchen. Your kitchen. You’re storming after him just as he throws the fridge door open.
“You’re not staying for dinner. You’re leaving.” You grab his arm and attempt to drag him out of the kitchen. He only plants his feet, forcing you to lose your balance and fall into him.
“Leaving? You don’t really want that.” He reaches up to stroke your cheek. And damnmit, you lean into it. It’s hard not to when you can feel his heat. It's all you can do not to purr at his touch. “You want me to move back in full time, don’t you baby?”
No, you didn’t. Not really. A couple of kind words and playing house with you wasn’t going to fix the issues in your marriage. But why did his touch feel so good then?
“Maybe not full time.” You mutter. “Maybe just on the weekends?”
“Just the weekends.” he nods, pressing a kiss to your lips. He pulls away looking at the clock on the wall. Then he shakes his head with a sigh. “Too bad it's a Tuesday.”
He’s pulling away before you can make a grab for him. Robby doesn’t grab a box; doesn’t even act like he’s going to. Just grabs his keys off of the hook by the door and closes it behind him. Leaving you standing in the kitchen of your marital home, gaping at what just happened. Your eyes catch on the closet down the hallway, his shirts hanging beside yours again like he had never left at all. The band aid on your neck pulls when you swallow. His handiwork. Hiding his mark. Goddammit. Then your gaze lands on the open fridge. He’d already moved the orange juice back to the shelf he liked.
Fuck.
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