#SUPPORTING THE PERSON WHO JUST CAME OUT TALKING ABOUT THEIR ABUSER??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aliceramblez · 3 months

Text

Dating the Hazbin Hotel Residents 😈

Tags: GN!Reader, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Mature Topics (ie. Suicidal Thoughts, Alcohol Abuse, SA, etc), Spoilers For The Show, etc.

A/N: Ahhh yes, more brainriot for the pile 😌 I was more of a Helluva gal before the show aired, but now I gotta say these blorbos are a dear part of my heart! Hopefully y'all enjoy these as much as I did writing them!

Consider following my main blog @taruchinator for more solid content & feel free to leave a request here for future HCs~

Charlie 🌈

When the Happy Hotel first opened its doors and all of Hell started making a mockery of it, you were probably the only one who took it as a sign to try and improve from the low life that you were. It's not like you had anything else to live for, anyway.

As soon as you enter the building, you're immediately greeted by the bubbly Princess of Hell herself (along with a reluctant Angel Dust) who is more than happy to show you around and welcomes you with open arms.

You've never been shown this much kindness and sympathy for your situation before, so it naturally takes you aback and makes you wonder what the catch is. Turns out there's none and the Princess is probably the only sweet soul to live in this shithole.

As you grow closer, she asks you to drop the title and just call her Charlie. She also shares a bit about her situation and how her mother wanted to save sinners from the extermination each year, and now Charlie felt like it was her duty to continue this legacy until her dreams came true.

You can't help but feel touched over how much she cares, so you silently vow to yourself to help her in any way you can, just like she's done for you.

It doesn't take long before the two of you grow even closer and feelings begin to blossom, but you decide to ignore them since why would a Princess ever like someone like you?

But Charlie proves you wrong yet again, since one day she comes to you a blushing mess and confesses her own feelings, asking if you'd like to go out with her. You can't help but vocalize your shock since she could do so much better than a random sinner. She deserved better, too.

She looks at you with fondness in her eyes. “You've been by my side for so long and supported me every step of the way. Who wouldn't fall for someone like that?”

And thus, you are the luckiest person in Hell because you scored Charlotte Morningstar, and whoever says otherwise can get a knife to their throat.

She's the perfect definition of a sweet and patient girlfriend, never pushing you to do anything you aren't comfortable with (since you really aren't used to such adoration in a romantic relationship), but as soon as you give her the get-go, she'll be sure to shower you with as much affection as she can until the doubts in your mind disappear completely.

You aren't that far behind either. Albeit not as good as her, you do your best to be a comforting partner whenever she needs you. This is especially necessary after an extermination happens, which always leaves Charlie devastated and in need of a hug or words of encouragement because she doubts herself sometimes and wonders if the hotel is even working at all.

You remind her how it brought the two of you together, to which she smiles and agrees that at least something good has come out of it so far.

Vaggie 🎀

Both you and Vaggie used to work in the same legion under Adam with the rest of his exorcists. You knew of each other's existence, but didn't really talk much aside from whatever was needed in the midst of battle.

The day she spares a demon child's life, you're doing your rounds nearby and witness the whole exchange, including Lute coming over and ripping both an eye and Vaggie's wings for showing mercy. You don't know why, but it makes your blood boil.

“HEY! What are you doing?! It was just a kid, why not let it slide?”

And just like that, you become a target of Lute's rage as well, being ripped from your angelic status along with receiving a few nasty cuts, yet surprisingly not as bad as Vaggie herself.

Once the two of you are left to die, you immediately try to tend the girl's wounds with whatever you can. Vaggie can only stare in disbelief at what you'd done and questions why you even did so in the first place—now you were stuck just like she was.

“Guess I just don't like seeing injustice... Who knew Heaven could be so fuckin' shitty?”

You both laugh at the irony of it all, and that's when luck is finally on your side as Charlie finds you in the dirty alley and brings you back to the hotel to heal properly.

For the next three years you two stay at the Hazbin Hotel, helping Charlie in any way you can to try and make her dream a reality since deep down you hope that despite Heaven's corrupt system, there can be a small chance that souls can be redeemed. You hide the fact that you're ex-Anges though, since you don't wanna cause unnecessary drama.

During this time period, the two of you become better friends, having your own inside jokes regarding things you didn't particularly enjoy from your time as Angels, as well as learning more about one another.

You're the one to come to terms with your feelings first and decide to lay them on the table for Vaggie to see—she's always been a straight-to-the-point kind of gal, so if you're about to be rejected, might as well have it be done quick. But of course, she replies with her own declaration and desire to give a relationship a shot, which you're ecstatic about!

It's a bit hard at first since you never got to see much of romantic relationships in Heaven while training for murder every year, but you try and make it work. Both you and Vaggie work endlessly to try and make the other happy, and it only makes you fall for each other even more.

Also Charlie is your go-to wingwoman who will be there to give you the best advice to try and woo your girlfriend. She ships you two so hard.

Angel Dust 🕸

Working at a porn studio under an Overlord who owns your soul can be exhausting. You know this better than anyone since everyone who works under Valentino has contracts that won't let you get far with a leash. This is especially true with your friend Angel Dust.

You know about the things Valentino does to the spider demon—hell, everyone in the studio probably knows, but know better than to say anything about it. You're always there for Angel after particularly rough shoots, doing your best to comfort him in any way you can, though there isn't much you can do given you're in the same spot.

When he tells you he's moving to Princess Charlie's Hazbin Hotel, you're so happy for him! At least that will give him some distance from Valentino and his disgustingly filthy hands when he's not working.

This unsurprisingly doesn't bode well with the Overlord, causing him to throw fits of rage around the studio when Angel leaves for the day. You can't help but make a snarky comment that you definitely regret moments later.

“Can one blame him for wanting space from such an overbearing asshole?”

Without his favorite stress toy around, you end up paying the price for such comments. The kind of pain and suffering he puts you through is completely different from what you're used to. Is this the stuff he does to Angel? He leaves you naked, bruised and bloody in your room, and all you can do is muster what little strenght you have left to head for the Hazbin Hotel.

As soon as the door opens, you immediately tumble forward and start losing consciousness. The last thing you remember is Angel's horrified expression before it all fades to black.

Once you wake up and have been patched up, you explain what happened at the studio, and you could've sworn you saw fire in Angel's eyes as he holds on to you, fearing you might disappear at any moment. He begs you to stay in the hotel with him, and you agree without hesitation.

And so, your new routine of heading to work and then coming back to the hotel becomes blissful, not having to deal with that lunatic mothman more than necessary. You also get to spend time off with your best friend, which is always a plus.

Well, ‘best friend’ might not be the best way to describe it. You'd developed a crush on the spider demon even before this whole incident occurred, and now that you were spending more time with him, it only continued to grow.

With the line of work you two had, romantic relationships didn't seem to be a thing that crossed anybody's mind since why have a permanent partner when you could just go around fucking the hottest people in Hell? But you knew your feelings were far beyond from sexual, but didn't wanna ruin what you already had going for you.

One heartfelt drunken conversation after work however, makes you do a double take—Angel likes you back. And that both scares and excites you. But with both of you going over the pros and cons with each other, you decide to give it a chance.

You make sure to always have Angel's consent when it comes to physical intimacy—anything from holding his hand, to kissing to just cuddling. He jokes about not being a porcelain doll, but deep down you know he appreciates it.

You're also there for the rough nights, when he comes home wanting nothing more than to die again and let the earth swallow him whole. Words of reassurance are spoken and you can only hold him and let him cry as you vow to do anything in your power to stop this from happening again.

Husker 🍺

As one of the first guests of the hotel, like any wayward sinner, you find yourself in the bar more often than you'd like. Alcohol killed you in the first place, yet not even in the afterlife could you seem to pull yourself from its grasp.

It's a somewhat welcome surprise to find out that the bartender is going through a similar struggle. He still serves you drinks and lends and ear whenever he's not busy, but will occasionally drop the words of wisdom to watch your fill.

Eventually you two find yourselves doing this little back and forth and aid each other when you're in your dark places—Husk won't let you near the bottle if he sees you're about to knock yourself out, meanwhile you're there to look after him when he has one too many drinks and can't take care of himself.

Not to say he isn't a good drinking buddy—you've found out most of the gossip around the hotel thanks to this sneaky little cat demon and there's never a dull moment with him around.

You learn about his deal with Alastor during a particularly bad night, when Husk's had one too many and isn't thinking straight. You don't bring it up, but now have an eye open for whenever the Radio Demon drags your friend away.

Angel's the one who brings up your questionable relationship to the surface.

“So... you two like, fuckin' each other, or what?”

Your entire face goes red, and if it weren't for the dark fur you could swear you see Husk looking the same. He's quick to get rid of Angel's nosy ass, but now the seed has been planted in your brain—do you like Husk that way?

After careful consideration, you come to the conclusion that yes, you do. And it's honestly kinda terrifying considering how relationships don't usually work out in Hell, at least from what you've seen. Besides, even if you did try and confess, there was always the possibility of him not feeling the same and just being embarrassed by Angel's comment.

So in an attempt to make your feelings disappear, you stop frequenting the bar. Who knew the best way to stop drinking habits was trying to avoid spending time with your unrequited crush?

But of course, Husk isn't stupid. He sees the change in your behavior and let's it slide for a while, until he eventually corners you and asks what's wrong. You decide to get it all out of the way and tell him how you feel.

To the embarrassment of both of you, he holds your hand firmly between his and darts his eyes toward the corner of the room. “Next time you should ask before going off assuming things, ya got it?”

And so, your glass may have been empty that day, but your heart had never felt fuller.

Sir Pentious 🐍

You meet Sir Pentious when you sign into the hotel, and your immediate thought is just how can this snake man be so adorkable, it should be illegal.

As you greet the other residents and staff, you're quick to strike a conversation with him, which based on his body language he was not expecting. He starts telling you a bit about his weaponry and other contraptions, and you can't help but be fascinated by it.

You're a bit of a tinkerer yourself, albeit you've only dabbled in small scale projects—nothing compared to the massive canons and aircrafts that Pentious seems to be familiar with.

He acts like a kid opening gifts on Sinmas when he talks to you about his inventions, clearly never having anyone show interest before. Eventually he'll even ask for your input on certain smaller projects he wants to work on to help around the hotel, all to thank Charlie for being so kind to him and giving him a second chance. You're obviously eager to help!

You two start spending so much time together that the egg boys have started calling you ‘Boss #2’, much to Pentious' embarrassment and your amusement.

One afternoon once exercises are done for the day, the snake demon seems much more fidgety than usual as he invites you over to his room to continue working on his security system prototype. He's a blabbering mess once he has you sitting down and your heart just can't help but swell at each little syllable.

“Dearest (y/n)... you've, um, well... you are a huge inspiration for my work! A-And I wouldn't have been able to create any of this... without your help. You are kind, and smart and very talented.... and w-well, um I-”

You gotta silence the man with a kiss otherwise you two would be here all day. He's puddy in your hands and you can only giggle in return. “I really like you too, Pen.”

Everyone is either saying they called it or groaning in annoyance because fucking FINALLY, you two were just dancing around each other like idiots. The egg boys are just so happy to have someone else besides Pentious to be in their lives, and will do their best to look out for you just like with their own boss.

So yeah, prepare yourself for some sickeningly sweet gestures from this guy cause he will go above and beyond to get you what you need/want even if it kills him (again). And you can confidently say that you'd do the same in return.

Alastor 📻

After running in the same circles when you were alive, it's no surprise to you to end up in Hell, although you never would've suspected that you'd find yourself in the same place as him. It was honestly a huge relief not having to go through this all by yourself.

As Alastor exerted his dominance over Hell as the Radio Demon, you were powerful enough to be an Overlord yes, but rather liked keeping it on the down low instead of making a spectacle of yourself (Alastor was the one for theatrics anyway). Because of this, only select few knew of your true power and what you were capable of.

Instead, if there was one thing you were known for, it was being the only soul allowed to be close to the Radio Demon without the risk of death.

Yes, Alastor was a sadistic, cold-blooded and egotistical mastermind, but he wasn't a monster. You knew that better than anyone. Although the reactions he had to other demons treating you like a joke or calling you the ‘Radio Demon's Pet’ were not helping his case.

“ł₣ ɎØɄ V₳ⱠɄɆ ɎØɄⱤ ₴ØɄⱠ, ɎØɄ ₩łⱠⱠ ₩₳Ⱡ₭ ₳₩₳Ɏ Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ₦Ø₩ ฿Ɇ₣ØⱤɆ ł Ɽł₱ ł₮ ₳₱₳Ɽ₮ ฿ł₮ ฿Ɏ ฿ł₮...”

“Al, chill. You're gonna make them shit their pants.”

After his seven year absence, you immediately noticed something was wrong with him, and wouldn't stop pestering until he told you the truth—A deal he made and how his soul was now bound to someone much more powerful than he was.

You were obviously mortified and started looking into ways to try and find a loophole to this, but alas the Radio Demon would just give you his signature grin and tell you not to worry about it. It was his battle to face.

But of course you're quick to remind him that you've stuck together through thick and thin even in life, so there was no way you were letting him handle this by himself. You work as a team—always have and always will. You engulf him in a hug.

“We're gonna figure this out, Al. I promise...”

The grin remains, but his eyes widen slightly in surprise. He hesitantly returns the embrace, patting your back and wiping the tears you didn't even know you were shedding.

“There there~ To think such a sweet and innocent soul wound up in a gutter like this. I cannot say I complain as long as I have your delightful company beside me.”

And so when he says he has a plan that involves Princess Charlie Morningstar and her new Happy Hotel, you follow along. Whatever fate has in store for you two, you'll be ready.

Also Charlie is a sweetheart who could do no harm. Knowing Alastor, he'll probably do whatever he can here and there to help around for the cause. You also offer your services as an undercover Overlord, much to everyone's surprise when you reveal your status.

The Radio Demon may have a plan, but something tells you it won't involve bloody murder (unless extremely necessary or if someone really pissed him off).

Like you said—he's not a monster.

Lucifer 🍎

You and Lucifer were good friends at the beginning of Creation. While you were stuck with the tedious task of designing blueprints for the new ‘Human Project’ that headquarters had in store, Lucifer's Seraphim status allowed him to bring creations to life with the flick of a wrist, much to your delight and wonder.

His ideas and pitches for Earth were always so entertaining to listen to, and you would do your best to encourage him to show them to the higher ups to get them approved—His mind was just filled with joy and love and wonder that you'd never seen before.

Which was why it was always so disappointing whenever he'd come back and say that he was shut down and even mocked at. How could Heaven shut down such an imaginative mind in the creation of their biggest project yet?

To say you were devastated when you heard about his fall would be an understatement. You mourned the loss of your friend, knowing that he'd done nothing wrong and thinking it wasn't fair to him to receive such punishment just because he cared for the future of humanity.

Thousands of years later, you overhear the plan for Extermination of Hell kind. You didn't mean to walk by, yet here you were, under the direct eye of the Head Seraphims about to be downcast for something you had no control over—just like Lucifer.

“You're all self-entitled pricks! You think you can do whatever you want just because it doesn't follow what you define as good!”

You get a few good arguments before being cast downwards, leaving you in bad shape in a random alley with no wings and no means of escape. That is of course, until destiny seems to be on your side and Lucifer finds you, completely perplexed to see you here at all.

After getting treated, you tell him about the Extermination so he and Hell can prepare. The conversation of you getting cast down by Heaven gets glossed over, but he can feel the fury building up inside him. You were always doing things by the book—how could they do this to you?

Once the slaughter is over, Lucifer gets a meeting with Heaven and secures protection for both his daughter Charlie and you, to which they begrudgingly agree to keep him outta their hair. You can't help but feel touched by this gesture.

He's also quick to offer you a room to stay in, but you compromise by living in a seperate building from him and Charlie so you aren't a bother even though he says you aren't. In fact, ever since Lilith left, he's had to take care of his young daughter all by himself, so he's more than happy when you offer to help.

It doesn't take long for your feelings to start coming into the surface from all those years ago, and you gotta push them away because he's both married and has a child to look after! Besides, why would the King of Hell ever look in your direction?

Eventually though, he brings up the question with nothing but sweaty palms and a customized rubber ducky that says ‘I love you’ whenever you squeeze it. You blush furiously, but can't help but bring up your concerns, not wanting to replace Lilith in his heart. He looks into your eyes and says that he hasn't been as happy as he is now in the past thousand years.

Cue baby Charlie walking in on everything, and she just smiles and goes innocently. “Daddy! Is (y/n) staying home with us now?”

You two can only chuckle at the cuteness of it and you immediately go to hug her. You couldn't believe that you were blessed with such a wonderful family.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel x reader #charlie morningstar x reader #vaggie x reader #angel dust x reader #alastor x reader #sir pentious x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #husker x reader #husk x reader

3K notes · View notes

total-dxmure · 2 months

Text

ೃ࿔ CHERRY FLAVORED →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER ONE

pairing: mega fan!ellie williams x rock star!reader

summary: your guitarist was carted off to rehab after just one month into your recent tour. fuck. there’s only one thing you can do, and that’s hire a replacement. your band thinks it’s going to be nearly impossible to find someone that is on the same level of talent as your “beloved” guitarist. you don’t have high hopes that anyone can nail the songs quite like he did either, if you’re being brutally honest. enter ellie- she’s a mega fan. the girl knows every lyric and note like the back of her hand. . . and everything about you, which isn’t creepy at all. her apparent obsession with you is something that you and your tour manager can overlook if it means carrying on with the rest of the tour. forced proximity with a stalker-level fan . . . what’s the worst thing that could happen?

warnings: smut in next chapter, talk of substance abuse, the reader is a tease and a bit of a bitch but it’s hot i promise, ellie is obsessed with reader to an unhealthy degree.

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

It was the kind of love that tortured poets mused over. Ribs straining against a heavy heart.

Ellie had deluded herself, as any love drunk person does, that she wouldn’t dissolve into a puddle on the floor if she were to meet you. She could keep her cool- downplay the crushing significance you held in her life. Your voice was constantly ringing in her ears. She could see your face in perfect clarity any time she closed her eyes. Pictures like snapshots played out behind her eyelids, and yet you always felt a million miles away for her. You were a perfect performer, situated on your sky-high pedestal, always out of her puny reach.

Because Ellie, as much as she despised this fact and dreamed of greatness, was a nobody. She grew up in a tiny town of no noteworthiness, her adolescent years spent dreaming about the planets and playing guitar with Joel. By all accounts Ellie was normal, while you were certainly not. Still, she liked to tell herself that she’d somehow manage to make herself worthy of your affections if she were ever to be blessed with them.

Finding herself in a situation like this seemed like an impossibility. She was partially convinced that she was daydreaming, having concocted some elaborate fantasy just to feed the insatiable ache. She was starved for you with no way to feed herself.

All it had taken was a single audition tape. One. Single. Tape. Ellie was staring, wide eyed, at Gene fuckin’ Murray.

The blood rushed from her head, hands breaking out instantaneously into a clammy sweat. She couldn’t think, couldn’t function at the realization that she was staring at one of the people that she had worshiped for years. Gene’s talent had been praised by the likes of Lars Ulrich and Danny Carey. He wasn’t popular just for his looks but for his undeniable talent.

And he was staring straight at Ellie, arms crossed over his toned chest as he waited expectantly. She felt like an idiot. Should she be playing? If so, what did they want her to play? Surely one of their songs. She’d glossed past the fact that she was a megafan, instead making it sound like she was just looking for a successful band to join. She was talented. No, Ellie was really talented.

She wasn’t just a technical player, but excelled at making her own rules. She enjoyed the creative freedom that playing the guitar granted, and felt as though the world needed more Jimi’s and Van Halen’s. Ellie excelled at thinking outside of the box.

She wasn’t very successful when it came to women, but had no problem making her guitar scream and cry for her.

So she took a deep breath and tried to steady her heart, once again stepping up to the mic. If there was one thing that all of your bandmates had in common, it was the attitude. She’d watched hundreds of interviews, had studied all of their movements and mannerisms. . .she understood you down to a science.

“So do you want me to play or what?” Ellie spoke into the mic, gripping the neck of the guitar in the hopes that it might act as an anchor. She was scared that she might float away.

The manager’s eyebrows twitched at her sudden change in attitude but he didn’t say anything, merely turned to look at Gene. For a second everyone just stared at her, like a bug under a microscope. After what felt like five minutes but was really just five seconds, Gene broke out into a grin, motioning to her with a flick of his wrist. He wasn’t confident in her, Ellie could tell.

She had a sweet face, she knew that. Big green eyes and freckles- she was unsuspecting. People were usually shocked to find out that she had wrestled competitively in high school and had no problem putting a man three times her size on his ass. People expected very little from her, and perhaps that was part of Ellie’s real charm.

“What song?” She was staring at Gene now, gripping her guitar pick between two sweat-slick fingers.

“What ‘bout ‘Sometime Soon’? Know that one?” His tone was teasing. Condescending.

The song was fast paced. It was supposed to be played loud and hard- one of your angrier songs. Ellie knew that you had been the one to write this one, meaning it was one of her favorites. The notes weren’t beginner friendly, but it wasn’t exactly hard for her.

It was more style, less technical ability- which meant that Ellie would have no problem making this song her bitch.

It was obvious that Gene was the one meant to judge her. The manager was just that- a manager. They needed an actual musician to listen in. So she took a deep breath and readied herself. . .

and then the sound of your singing voice blasted into the booth. Drums, bass- she was meant to play with you.

She almost missed her que, eyes widening in nervousness. She thought that she’d be playing all by her lonesome. She thought wrong it would seem. They’d started her off right in the middle of the song. Probably to throw her off. She jumped in, fingers sliding along the frets to shape out the correct notes. She tucked her guitar pick against the palm of her hand with her thumb, using the pads of her fingers to tap the strings. Faster. Faster. Faster. She didn’t look up from her guitar to look at the men’s reactions to her playing. Instead she just pretended she was standing in the living room of her apartment, hellbent on getting another noise complaint from the bitchy nextdoor neighbor.

Her calloused fingers pinched the strings, satisfied with the way the guitar whined over the speakers. The guitar solo in this song was meant to be impressive- and it was, she had to give it to Leon. A lot of it was just bullshitting though. He’d admitted that he came up with the solo in the actual sound booth off of the top of his head while they were recording the song.

The man was a god. He deserved “guitarist of the year” two years in a row. Ellie had the Los Angeles native beat though. Where he had grown up in the constant presence of “the greats”, Ellie had grown up in a constant state of boredom. She’d been playing the guitar since she was fourteen. Every day she’d sit down for hours and practice until her fingers bled. . . literally. She had thousands of hours on Leon, and she knew that with certainty.

Ellie moved the guitar up and down gently with her fret hand, prolonging the last note so that it cried the way she wanted it to. The muscles in her arms were sore from how hard she had been tensing during the song. She’d been a lot more mechanical about it than she was used to, but she had something to prove.

After a second she looked up from her guitar to gauge everyone’s reactions. The manager had dropped his cold and indifferent demeanor, instead flashing her a small smile. It bolstered her, gave her the strength to turn and look at Gene.

He still had his arms crossed over his chest, and for a second Ellie was sure that he would tell her that she sucked. She widened her stance, shuffling her feet so that she was in a more defensive position. His heated gaze made her feel as though she needed to protect herself from whatever mental anguish he was about to put her through.

“I thought she was kick ass,” Gene finally spoke up, giving Ellie a small thumbs up. Her face lit up into a wide smile before she could school her reaction into one of indifference. “What do you think? You’re the one that calls all the shots.” He spoke behind him, looking down at someone that had been hidden on the couch all along.

Ellie squinted her eyes, taking a step closer to the glass to see if there was another businessman she’d somehow overlooked.

She saw your hair before she saw anything else. It was freshly dyed, different than the last she’d seen you in all of the recent tabloid photos. You were clad in leather- pants so tight that they looked like a second skin. Your top was just as restrictive, breasts spilling out from the top, midriff revealed to show off the small silver piercing you had decorating your belly button.

You were Hecate in the flesh- dark, sinister, mysterious and capable of anything. Ellie didn’t think that it would be possible, but you were even prettier in person. The sight of you sent a shock through her system, and for a second she felt her knees quiver, as if she could no longer hold up the weight of her own body. Her insides turned to mush; white, hot mush.

The Stendhal syndrome: Ellie had been brought to the very precipice of existence by sight alone. She was so overcome by your mere existence that she felt her eyes begin to well up with tears. Body trembling, eyes locked on to your face and nothing else- it felt like she might faint. She remembered reading about the syndrome once before in an art history class she took in college.

“Absorbed in the contemplation of sublime beauty. . . I reached the point where one encounters celestial sensations.”

The urge to flee was just as great as the urge to get her hands on you was. She was thankful for the wide stance she was currently in, because if her legs had been any closer together then she was positive she would have lost her balance and fallen over.

You were right there in front of her. You’d been right in front of her the entire time, she’d just been so focused on Gene that she hadn’t even seen you in her panic. She stumbled forward, her sneakered foot catching the jack for the amp. She slapped her hands over her ears as a blood curdling screech began blaring over the speakers.

Ellie could have died. In fact. . . she just might. She dropped her guitar roughly on the ground as she raced over towards the amp, fingers shaking as she turned the knob to the volume.

The booth, once again, was silent. Silent enough to hear a pin drop. Slowly she turned, grimacing when she noticed the looks on everyone’s faces. She’d embarrassed herself and ruined her chance. Even worse was the fact that she’d humiliated herself in front of you.

She had somehow deluded herself into believing that the two of you were soulmates over the years. She’d compared your birth charts, life numbers- had taken multiple celebrity compatibility tests. All signs pointed to a resounding yes. The two of you were star crossed lovers, cursed to never know one another. She had told herself that if she were ever to bump into you in person that she’d be able to keep her cool. Ellie was certain that she could pretend that she didn’t know who you are- could downplay the significance that you held

Her ignorance was laughable. She’d been so overcome by your mere presence that she’d stumbled on air while standing completely still. You were standing up straight now, and even from her spot behind the thick glass she could tell how much taller you were than her. You had to be wearing heels or platforms, because according to Google you were-

“You know how many auditions we’ve listened to today?” You had grappled the mic from the tech and were now hunched over his soundboard, the lights from all of the buttons and knobs casting strange, beautiful shadows over your face. Your eyeliner was dark and smoked out around your eyes, and in that moment Ellie wondered if you were an angel or a demon. “Twelve. Twelve fuckin’ people have walked into that booth today. Every single one of them has been absolute shit. So bad, in fact, that I’ve wanted to blow my fuckin’ brains out in this buildings tiny, piss-stained bathroom.”

Ellie blanched, lips losing their pink color as the blood drained from her face. She was about to pass out. Her vision was already starting to tunnel. She grabbed onto one of the microphone stands to hold herself up, trying to keep her expression hard and unreadable. People often told her that she had “dead eyes”, and she could only pray that her face wasn’t giving her crushing grief away. It felt like someone had just died; like she had just died. Actually, she would have rather you just go ahead and stab her then tell her she sucked. You were her idol, her dream girl, her everything.

And you were telling her that you’d rather blow your fucking brains out then listen to her play. How was she supposed to recover from this? She’d heard the saying “don’t meet your heroes” a thousand times, but this? She’d rather you just be a bitch to her. Actually, Ellie would probably like that. This was the worst thing she could have ever heard. Her nose twitched as tears began pooling in her eyes. She blinked a few times, praying that you couldn’t tell in the nearly pitch black room you were standing in.

“But this?” You turned towards your manager and pointed passionately at Ellie. “This is music.”

Breath left her lungs in a loud, audible whooshing sound, like a balloon deflating. Her shoulders relaxed, the hand that was white knuckling the mic stand falling limp at her side. No, you didn’t hate her. You liked her.

You liked her.

Everyone had their vices. Leon’s had, apparently, been copious amounts of prescription drugs- often consumed simultaneously. You were used to getting what you wanted. You drank whenever you wanted to, fucked just about anyone that peaked your interest and got away with your usual rotten antics and bitchy behavior. You lived the lifestyle that you’d always dreamt of, even when you were a little kid.

You enjoyed putting on shows. You were flamboyant, loud, and weren’t afraid of expressing yourself. Teachers often described you as a “free thinker” back in your elementary school days. You dressed yourself for school each morning, each outfit louder and more daring than the next. You were an artist, and like most artists you had some inner demons that you fought against. You still fought tooth and nail, even to this day.

Finally though, after what felt like a thousand years of waiting and biding your time, you had the life you had always yearned for.

You sold out arenas, appeared on the front page of just about every magazine imaginable, and had celebrities clamoring over themselves to be your “best friend” of the week. Things were good.

But also a bit empty.

The friends that you’d made in your youth only used your name for bragging rights. Your parents had stopped showing up to concerts years ago, instead choosing to listen about your successes through their shitty television shows. Life felt a bit hollow.

Exciting. . . just different than you had always been used to.

“Come play with us.” One of the women whined from her spot on your plush hotel mattress. The bombshell blonde was already stripped down to her underwear, her eyes glazed over from whatever overpriced alcohol she’d already taken from the suite's bar, at your expense no doubt.

Your manager was used to the up-charges on the company card. He would probably be relieved in the morning when he found out that you didn’t break anything. There was still time for that, of course. It was only one in the morning, which meant you had nine more hours to get fucked up and wreck the cushy room.

“I’m not feeling up to it right now.” You said simply, already disinterested in the two women you had invited to bed with you tonight. You were holding a beer bottle loosely between two of your fingers, swishing the remainder of the room temperature alcohol absentmindedly.

You weren’t much of an “observer” when it came to sex, more of a very active participant. Still, all you could do was sit back in one of the comfortable lounge chairs, muscles tense after a long show. You weren’t exactly sure why you’d invited the women back to the hotel. They were both attractive and had come onto you at the same time. It was obvious what they had been insinuating, and who were you to deny two beautiful women? The first thing that had popped into your head being “a threesome might make me happy”.

Except now you were bored out of your skull and would much rather be sleeping right now than watch two ditzy girls clumsily fondle each other’s fake breasts.

“Please? I want you to fuck me so bad-” There was a knock at the door, causing both girls to go silent for a second.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, exhaustion threatening to swallow you up whole. If it was your manager here to yell at you for “accidentally” breaking an amp at tonight's show you were going to scream. It was too late for that bullshit. Still, you saw this excuse as a blessing.

“Hear that, ladies? Looks like we’ve gotta pack it up. Thanks for showing me a good time.” You stood up from the seat with a small groan, placing your beer bottle onto the counter clumsily. The glass clattered, almost spilling all over the shag carpet.

The two girls groaned, obviously frustrated that they hadn’t successfully gotten you into bed with them. You weren’t sure what was wrong with you lately. If this had happened a few months ago then. . . well, you would have fucked them- no questions asked. Were you maturing out of your “wild and crazy” phase? No, you didn’t think so.

You bent down, scooping up a discarded bra so that you could toss it onto the bed. Fabric rustled behind you as they began to quickly sort themselves out, hoping to beat you to the door.

“Who is it?” You called out in a sing-song voice, deciding that if your manager was already angry enough to show up in front of your door at one in the morning then you might as well have a little fun with it.

There was no reply on the other side of the door, causing you to scoff. He was giving you the silent treatment. You reached out for the door handle, only to have your shirt yanked on by one of the women. You could hear the seams ripping against the weight of her, her eyes wide with desperation.

“Please let me show you a good time. I promise I’m good- I swear.” There was a fear of rejection there, you could tell.

You felt a bit guilty and were quick to lean in to press a kiss on her cheek. “Baby, you’re gorgeous. I’m sure you would have been wonderful- but I’m tired. That’s all, okay? It’s nothing personal.”

And with that you opened the door. The air from the hallway was brisk, causing goosebumps to instantly break out on your bare arms and legs. You were expecting the balding, bespectacled Barry to be standing on the other side of the door, all in a huff about “expenses” and “damages to the venue”. Blah, blah, blah.

Instead it was Ellie. A very broken looking Ellie.

The girls were quick to straighten out their outfits, their attention now turned towards the guitarist. Groupies like this didn’t care who they slept with, just so long as they were getting it in with someone that was in the band.

“You’re Emma. . . right? The new guitarist? You were so great tonight. I mean- Leon was always a bit of a poser anyway. You’re killing it.” One of the girls started, moving to stand next to you in the doorway.

You weren’t sure why, but you felt angry. Genuinely angry. Were you jealous of Ellie? No, because you were sure they would still rather fuck you than her. You’d been their first choice, afterall. Maybe you felt the need to shelter Ellie a bit? Yeah, that had to be it. She was still learning the ropes, and the last thing she needed was to be sexually harassed in a hotel hallway.

“. . . -lie” She was mumbling under her breath, eyes locked on the expensive carpet beneath her ratty old sneakers.

She had changed out of her stage clothes and put on jeans and a t-shirt. Her hair looked wet too, meaning she’d already taken a shower. She smelled earthy- Alpine, even.

You leaned against the frame, slamming your hand against the doorway to box the two women in, hoping to keep them away from the newbie. They flinched but both seemingly weren’t off put in their newfound pursuit.

“You’re the most talented guitarist I’ve ever seen live. I mean. . . your solos were incredible.” You hadn’t managed to successfully remember the girl’s names. Just that they were friends with two guys that had worked security for the venue tonight. People often took advantage of connections like that in order to get close to you and your bandmates. It usually worked too. Tonight was different though. Tonight you had a real stick up your ass.

Ashley? Amber? Sophie? God, you were bad with names.

“. . . -is Ellie.” Your guitarist mumbled again, slowly moving back down the hall in the direction of her suite.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion over her attitude, and you were quick to stumble out of your room and down the hall after her.

“Wait! Emma, can we get an autograph!” One of the half naked girls called after the two of you, trying desperately to shrug on her shirt to follow after.

Ellie turned then, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. You’d. . . You’d never seen her like that before.

“My name is fucking Ellie! Who is Emma? Jesus fuckin’ Christ-” She dug her hand into the back pocket of her jeans, trying desperately to find her keycard.

The girls gasped at her outburst, jostled by the look of pure evil on her face. Even you were taken aback, not used to this kind of attitude from her. Still, you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t know why she was acting like this.

Ellie was what some would call a “mega fan”, though that would be putting it lightly. The word “stalker” would be more appropriate. Your manager knew that before he even messaged her for an audition. He’d checked all of her social media sites and scrubbed the internet for anything he could find on her. One thing was made very clear:

Ellie was obsessed with you.

For whatever reason she seemed to be keeping it a secret from Gene and Chris. All she fessed up to them was that she enjoyed your music, which was why she’d auditioned in the first place. She’d conveniently left out the dedicated fan blogs and the status of her cult-like following.

You didn’t mind it. Sure, it was a bit creepy. . . but she was talented and you liked her. She could hold her own against Gene and Chris’ constant asshole behavior, and had been receptive to Barry trying to teach her the ropes of the business. It was obvious that she wanted this, even if her motives weren’t exactly purely for the music. You’d let her be as close to you as she wanted if it meant that she’d continue playing the way that she does. The crowd had loved her, and it was only her second show with the band.

She was a bit shy, but that would pass eventually. You remember your early debut days vividly. You’d been just like her, maybe even a little worse.

“Hey, stop for a second.” You reached out to grab her wrist, stopping her from fleeing after her outburst. She turned to glare at you, but her eyes softened as she took in your features.

You could feel her arm trembling in your grasp, so you gently let go. No matter how many times you touched her or spent time with her, she still seemed to get overly nervous in your presence. It was endearing.

“Aren’t you a bit busy? Don’t let me ruin your fun-” She was being sarcastic.

“I was done with them by the time you knocked on the door. They aren’t exactly my type. I’m not sure why I even invited them back in the first place.” If you had to guess, you’d probably done it out of habit. You were used to inviting people back to your room or tour bus.

Ellie didn’t seem pleased by your answer. If anything it seemed to upset her even more. She bristled, reaching back into her pocket for her keycard. What did she want to hear? That you hadn’t touched them? You groaned, wiping an exhausted hand down your face.

The elevator dinged behind you, meaning the girls had finally taken the hint and were leaving with their tails tucked between their legs.

“Are you jealous or something?” You asked once the elevator doors were closed. The last thing you needed were the girls trying to sell information to some shitty gossip magazine.

She froze, eyes going wide and lips going pale. It was almost like she didn’t think that you knew all about her dirty little secret. A part of you wanted to tease her. Really make her squirm.

“Why would I be jealous? Those girls weren’t exactly my type either.” She was good at playing things off. Ellie was a good liar.

But you were good at sniffing out the bullshit. It was one of your many talents.

“Not of me,” You leaned against the wall next to her door, watching with curious eyes as she began fumbling in her pockets for her key. “Of them. Do you wish I had taken you back to my room or something?” You cooed flirtatiously, flashing her one of your most sinister smiles.

She coughed, turning around so that she could hide her face from you. This nearly had you groaning out loud in disappointment. Was she blushing? Do her freckles look even brighter when her skin gets all pink and hot?

Nah, it was dangerous to think like this. Band members were always off limits. It was a recipe for disaster. The last thing you needed was another Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham situation on your hands. Your PR team wouldn’t be able to recover. They’d just barely gotten over the “Leon” incident by the skin of their teeth.

Your old band member having to be tackled by three cops in a hotel lobby was horrible. It made you look sloppy. And sleeping with the brand new edition to the band was definitely sloppy.

“You’re acting crazy.” Ellie told you, shoving the keycard into the lock so that she could clammer into her room.

Pushing the boundaries was sort of your thing. You enjoyed being bad, fuck the consequences. Right about now you wanted to kiss Ellie. What would her reaction be? Was she a good kisser? You wanted to know. No- you needed to know.

“You’re right. I’m talking nonsense, don’t listen to me,” You called after her into the room. “Sweet dreams.”

And with that you sauntered back to your own room, practically purring in delight over the fact that it had been that easy to get to Ellie like that. You loved pushing the boundaries. . . and now you had a new toy to play with.

✦ message me about being put on the taglist!

@viswifetotallyreal @lillysbigwilly @overtrred28 @corpsebridenightamare @jokerpokimoon @macaroni676 @eveshyper @lil-elliesgf @fuckingstarellie @gold-dustwomxn @madislayyy @moonbluz @vianna99 @sawaagyapong @mrsromanoff @glory-grl @sadeyedsugar @inf3ct3dd @teatimedisaster @laucalo @ellieswilliamsgf @machetegirl109 @moonchild184 @onlinelesbo @lasting-lover @luvrrcharr @koremis @elsmissingfingers @whoreshores @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @circe-is-struggling @cqrrnts @elliewilliamsmiller0 @harrysslutsstuff @shewantstoknow @laundrybag29 @darkerstarsstuff @elliesdesperatewife @rulerzreachf4n44 @eviestevie-14 @deliriousrn @diddiqueen @bready101 @felsweb @jaeminpookie @elliesswearjar @2012wannabe @abbysbae @boobabietch @amorqts

902 notes · View notes

immajustvibehere · 7 months

Text

Touch Starved Arthur x fem!touchy Reader

Pairing: hh!Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader (fluffly)

summary: Arthur wonders why you, the most touchy person who doesn't mind hugging and being close to everyone in the gang, avoids him. Then you catch him alone one night and he finds solace in your closeness.

warning: Mentioning of Micah's abuse, it's platonic now but maybe second part for some lover action if y'all want?

2400 words, about 10-13 minutes reading time

Arthur didn't understand how you could be so open, giggly, and affectionate with anyone in the gang but him. Your willingness to engage in physical touch made no difference of man, woman or child. He had started to observe your interactions with others more closely, ever since he had found out that they gave him a bitter feeling of jealousy. You held hands with the girls, play-wrestled with Jack, leaned into Hosea's hugs at the camp-fire or happily jumped on Sean's back for some piggyback rides. Even when talking to someone, you'd stand unusually close, a hand on the arm of whoever you were conversing with.

Everyone came to you with their problems, because they knew they could expect hugs or soft caressing. Your role as source of comfort and support within the gang was truly valued, but you weren't stupid or overly naive when it came to intimacy. When you found it not appreciated or uncomfortable, you'd soon let it be. After Micah had joined the gang, Arthur had kept a close eye on how you proceeded around him. For a couple of weeks, until he had settled in, you had kept your distance before approaching him. Arthur almost boiled when he saw how gently you rested your hand on his arm and he almost intervened when he saw Micah's prudish reaction of pulling you closer, groping you and asking if you were the camp's whore. After this encounter with Micah, you wisely chose to keep your distance.

Arthur wondered if he had done something wrong, but he coulnd’t remember any occasion where he would have abused your trust. You had been closer to him before, but it seemed a long time ago. You'd lean into him during story times or greet him with a hug after coming back from a big score…but eventually, it had stopped. Had he given an unintentional signal that he didn't want to be touched?

Those were Arthur’s thoughts as he sat opposite of you at the campfire. You were seated on the log which Javier used as backrest. You sat exactly behind him, your arm and head resting on his shoulder. Sometimes, Javier would snuggle his cheek against your arm. A lover's touch, Arthur thought. He wondered about certain situations that felt needlessly…loving. Keeping in mind that you weren't as restrained and conservative when it came to touches, he thought that some people tended to abuse that. Dutch, especially. You'd sit on his lap and while Arthur was sure your thoughts were naive and you'd just figured out that Dutch likes the attention and you saw nothing more behind it than similar physical intimacy you granted the others, Arthur was convinced that Dutch's thoughts weren't as pure. It was he who had picked you up from a saloon one day, praising your carefree and happy character, warning everyone to respect you. But when he pulled you onto his lap, Arthur swore it was a patronizing move with afterthoughts. Not that he thought either one of you would act upon it.

But it riled Arthur. You'd hold Lenny's hand when he had a bad day and even massage Uncle's back if he asked kindly enough…but Arthur had been ignored for a while now. Arthur had been starring at you and Javier, at your arm that rested so comfortably on him, but as Arthur's eyes wandered up with the intent of studying your face, he found you staring back at him. Slowly, you receded your arm and sat up straight, no longer in contact with the man in front of you. Arthur felt like you had caught him daydreaming. Then you nodded towards the outer rims of camp, standing up and signalling Arthur to follow. He waited a few moments and gave you a head start, before following you into the darkness, away from the group and the campfire.

Arthur had soon caught up with you, as you headed straight for the little patch of woods.

"What're ya up to?", he asked, watching you curiously as you made your way through the forest.

"Nothing specifically, will you join me for a walk though?", you invited with a kind smile.

"Sure. Ain't exactly safe to wander away from camp in the middle of the night", Arthur commented and stomped through the dry leaves on the ground, right at your side.

"How have you been recently?", you asked, your eyes trying to catch his.

"Jus' fine."

"Mh, don't you lie to me, Mr. Morgan. I can tell you have something on your mind."

"Yer that good at reading people?", Arthur said surprised.

You giggled: "Not particularly. But you always have something on your mind, so that wasn't a far-reaching guess."

"Suppose not", Arthur chuckled warmly.

"So?"

Arthur shrugged and caringly extended his arm for you to hold onto, as you climbed over a fallen dead tree. For a moment, he was very focused on your warm and soft hand that had a tight grip on his arm as you tried not to lose balance. Though as soon as the obstacle had been crossed, your touched ceased from his arm, only its memory remained a while longer.

"I don't like 'round here. The way we are foolin' with both of 'em families. I don't think it'll work out,” Arthur said truthfully, "Besides, I don't like the stifling weather."

"I understand", you answered. You never argued when someone was confiding in you, neither did you come up with solutions, if not requested. But you listened, and this was enough.

By now, you had crossed the woods and had reached the meadow with some old ruins of houses and fences. You strolled towards a wall barely higher than a log and watched as Arthur sat down on it. You stood in front of him, carefully inching closer between his legs. Then you reached out and fixed his collar: "Has been annoying me all night..."

Arthur blushed profusely at this domestic gesture, but you barely noticed as you sat down next to him.

"You saw Mary Linton back in Valentine, didn't you?"

"I did", Arthur admitted briefly.

"So tell me more! I bet it's been on your mind", you said.

"I don't know,” Arthur sighed, “I think I miss what we had, but I'm no idiot. It didn't work before, and it wouldn't work now… Maybe I am an idiot, 'cause I keep entertaining those thoughts."

"Why wouldn't it work?"

"Ain't the best time to go off and stay away from camp. There's always something happening, I'd feel like a fool if I pursued her. Besides, her daddy never liked me and that for sure didn't change."

"What would make you happy, though?", you asked and looked at him. Arthur looked you in the eye.

"I think I just miss having a woman by my side. Marston is a damn fool to behave so cold around Abigail and little Jack,” Arthur complained. His gaze wandered off in the distance, searching for a landmark to focus on.

"He'll come around eventually", you smiled, knowing a lot more about John's situation after he had confided in you only a few weeks prior.

"I hope. I just want him to do right by her and the boy,” Arthur said.

"There it is,” you smiled and bumped your legs into his, "big, bad outlaw – lovingly caring for his friend’s wife and kid."

"Yer a damn tease, don't know how they all flock to you talking about their problems", Arthur quipped, now bumping his shoulder into yours. To his surprise, you stayed leaned against it, sighing happily and watching as he lit himself a cigarette.

Suddenly, your hand now rested on his arm, very lovingly and gently.

"All of a sudden, huh?", Arthur commented.

"All of a sudden what?"

"The touchin' and listenin' and stuff. Thought you'd keep ignoring me."

"What? Ignoring you? I'm sorry if I gave you this impression...I thought you didn't like that with other people around."

Your hand had disappeared from his arm, which pained Arthur.

You were right, of course you were. Arthur wasn't too big of a fan of showing that he needed loving attention as much as anyone, but you had figured it out. And now he realised why you had stopped, because you always felt him tensing up, shutting down and avoiding your gaze when you initiated some intimacy.

"Oh", Arthur mouthed. Now he took your hand and placed it on his thigh, squeezing it lightly, "I'm a moron, Miss y/n. I didn't realize you had picked up on that."

You smiled, satisfied that you'd been right, and leaned your head against his shoulder.

"I feared I had said something improper to scare you away", Arthur admitted in a quiet voice.

Of course not, you thought, if anyone in the gang was as gentle, pure and seemes the revel in those little touches, it was Arthur. And it was rewarding to see him soak up those little attentions like a sponge.

"Then you're right about being a fool. You haven't done anything wrong, Arthur", you said and squeezed his hand to emphasize those words. Hearing his first name roll from your lips had something very comforting. Arthur felt right at home, though he was sitting in a field.

"Yer a good person", Arthur said, "I'm damn sure you're the person holding this gang together. We'd have crumbled if it wasn't for you."

"You're giving me too much credit. You work way harder to keep us on track", you admitted and snuggled your face on his shoulder. Your thumb was slowly stroking his arm, Arthur watched shyly how the finger disturbed the hair that was growing on his forearm.

He had forgotten how much he needed that.

You heard the shaky breath the man next to you took.

"'s it dumb that I enjoy that?"

"No. Not at all", you honestly answered.

"What's the most ridiculous thing you've ever done for one of the fellers?", Arthur asked, feeling slightly embarrassed about asking you for something, even though all it would have been is if he could wrap an arm around you. After all, you had initiated all touch.

"Mh, well Micah-"

"No that", Arthur scoffed, "Could have beaten this rat's head in when he called you names, but i felt like you could handle the situation."

"Yes, I had", you said, squeezing his arm.

"I meant more like...did any of the man ever request something funny?"

You giggled: "Oh, you'd be surprised. But I won't tell you. Their secrets are as save with me as yours would, so don't feel bad about asking. I've heard that I give brilliant head-massages."

"That so?", Arthur said.

But he kindly refused the offer to lie his head in your lap, but when he offered this service in return, he was surprised when you readily agreed. "Thought you'd never ask!"

With your head resting on his thigh and looking up into the night sky, you could feel his muscles flex and tense under the weight of your head. Arthur took a while until he relaxed, even longer until he leisurely started to play with strands of your hair. He was very gentle, barely daring to touch your head and only letting few strands of hair run through his fingers.

Arthur closed his eyes and could imagine things that he normally would never let himself indulge in. A family, a cabin out west, a wife and a kid. Boy or girl or both, it didn't matter. A time where he didn't have to worry about the law chasing him down. Maybe, also a dog.

Lost in thoughts and thinking about what could have been, Arthur lost sense of time. It was your voice that brought him back to reality after a while.

"Arthur, dear? I'm getting a little tired. Could we head back?", your voice was soft and whispery. It didn't quite shake him up from his dreams. It's as if his wife called him back inside. But of course, you weren't his wife. And there was no "inside", only back to camp, back to the others.

"Of course, sorry. I didn't want to keep ya from sleepin'", Arthur apologized and waited until you had risen, before standing up himself with a stifled groan.

"I enjoyed this a lot, you know", you admitted. Even though neither of you had spoken, you felt like you had been part of Arthur's imaginations. And maybe found some solace in the same little dreams that he had.

"Me too. Thank you", Arthur said, and still was surprised when you hugged him gently. He hesitated for a moment, before putting his hand in the small of your back. Arthur felt good. It was a feeling that he hadn’t felt in a while. Having confided in you, the intimacy…there was this warm sensation in his chest. It had been a energizing experience, to say the least, dreaming without being judged.

You walked back with your arm intertwined with Arthur's. So not to "trip" on branches in the darkness, but also because it felt right. Arthur didn't dare to ask if that could become a regular thing. You only said good night when you had reached camp and he watched as you walked off to your bedroll.

Something had changed though, because the hugs after coming back from a long day of robbing and killing came back. Suddenly, when you handed him a plate of stew, your fingers would briefly touch. Whenever you found the opportunity, and Arthur gave you plenty, you fixed his collar or suspenders. With time, he lost the hesitation and would pull you closer when you were busy with dusting off his shirt.

Yet, you were occupied most of the nights. Arthur would see you at the jetty, talking with Lenny or deep in concentration while playing a game of Dominoes with Bill. You’d help Kieran with the horses and most of all, you’d always take time for Jack. It was you that put Jack to bed most nights, Abigail exchanged a few words with Arthur one morning on what a great help you’d been. From this point onwards, Arthur loved watching from a distance when you interacted with Jack. Slowly, an idea started to form. Maybe, if he worked up the courage, he could ask you to spend a night or two away from camp. Take Jack with them, as a kind gesture towards Abigail and to give the boy some distraction from his daily life in camp. Hell, you spent more time with him than John did anyways, and Arthur doubted that Abigail would have trouble entrusting you with him for a few nights. But it involved asking you…out, sort of. It wasn’t such a selfless action, though Jack would benefit, Arthur craved some time with you alone. And Arthur wasn’t sure if asking for this was overstepping a line.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Second part with Arthur taking out reader and Jack? Anyone interested? Wanna be tagged?

Second Part here!

#arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption community #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

dalishious · 3 months

Text

Alistair vs. Cullen

It really annoys me when people act like Alistair and Cullen are the same character, when they are very different.

Alistair grew up with child neglect. When visiting Denerim, Eamon kept him in the kennels. At Redcliffe, he slept in the stables on a pile of hay. Alistair also recounts a time when he was locked in the dungeons for a day before someone came to get him out. And of course he also talks about how Isolde despised him, and “made sure the castle wasn't a home.” But is still convinced that Eamon is a good person and he deserved all that. Cullen had a very fortunate upbringing with a loving family who supported him and what he wanted in life.

Alistair never wanted to be a Templar; he was forced into joining the Order by Eamon. He is vocal about how much he despised this, and considers Duncan recruiting him for the Wardens as “saving” him from them. The only thing he says he enjoyed about Templar training was the educational component, which he did not receive previously. Alistair was a poor recruit because he frankly did not want to be there, and therefore did not take it very seriously. He saw practices like the Harrowing as horrifying, and deepened his dislike of being a Templar further. And as time goes on, he becomes even less of a supporter of the Order; he outright says Meredith is the biggest threat to Kirkwall in Dragon Age II, if made king of Ferelden. It was always Cullen’s dream to be a Templar, and would even force his younger sister to “play the apostate” for his “training” before being recruited. Cullen was an enthusiastic recruit who considered Templar training “all that he had imagined”, and “did not hesitate” in taking his vows. Even the Harrowing did not waver his devotion to the Order, which by Dragon Age II becomes downright fanatical and tyrannical, practically worshipping Meredith. (Though this was later attempted to be retconned in Dragon Age: Inquisition… just as poorly as all the other retcons in that game, taking the path of “just pretend he never said and did all those things!”)

There is a lot of dialogue from Alistair about how much he dislikes the Chantry. Cullen, on the other hand, is extremely faithful and the only criticism he ever has about the Chantry is that they don’t treat the Templars well enough.

Alistair has a good sense of humour—in fact, it’s one of his biggest coping mechanisms. Cullen wouldn’t know a joke if it hit him in the face.

The player can disagree with Alistair on every turn. He is presented as sometimes being right, and sometimes being wrong, like most people. (Side note: more than that, you can be downright verbally, emotionally, and physically abusive to Alistair. Holy shit, I didn’t even realize how bad it can get until reading through the dialogue in the toolset, because I’ve never picked those options in game. I was honest to god flabbergasted and very uncomfortable through much of it.) The player rarely has the chance to even mildly disagree with Cullen. On the rare occasion you do, the dialogue is painted as if the player is being an unreasonable asshole, and he never even addresses what they say. (Example.)

The only reason I think people are capable of mistaking them for another is because fandom likes to donate Alistair’s personality onto Cullen. That and the the ever-frequent whitewashing of Alistair doesn’t help matters. But I’m not even a Cullen fan and I think it’s a disservice to both of them to act like they’re just Alistair and Alistair 2.0, honestly.

#alistair theirin #anti cullen #dragon age #meta

563 notes · View notes

crazyintheeast · 1 year

Text

I feel like we don't talk enough about just how amazing Ava and Beatrice story line has been. Ava is a deeply deeply traumatized person. She has spent her whole life being essentially a prisoner who suffered daily abuse. She had no agency, no freedom just a vile old woman telling her all the time how she is broken, how she is a burden. The only friend she had was a child himself. The squatters she had were nice but that's just what they were nice. And the boy was hot but it was blatantly obvious that as far as Ava was concerned it was just about sex and adventure But then came Beatrice and the first thing she did was call Ava out in her bullshit but it was not done in a malicious way and I feel that Ava could feel the enormous difference between Beatrice calling her out and the vile nun who abused her her entire life. And then this fucking scene, Ava was having a full on breakdown and instantly sought comfort and Beatrice was there. Quite likely the only person who has hugged Ava and offered her real comfort for more then a decade. And then it just got more and more intense as Beatrice just kept caring, kept supporting Ava. And also kept her calling her out which I think is something Ava really appreciates because she can she that Beatrice is doing it because she believes in Ava not because she wants to hurt her But the effect is not just one sided. Look at Beatrice reaction in this gif. How stunned she is that someone is seeking comfort in her. We don't know much about her past but we know enough to form a reasonable theory. Look at the very first episode and how Mary treated Beatrice, generally how Beatrice acts with her Sister Nuns. She is friendly but you can feel the distance and based on her breakdown it's clear that her parents were deeply homophobic and knowing how cruel kids can be it's quite likely that she was shunned not only at home but in school as well making her closed, always keeping her distance so she won't get hurt again. And then comes this adorable idiot who pretty much burst through her walls, who sees her for what she is and still calls her beautiful instead of shunning her How could they not fall for each other?

#avatrice #warrior nun #ava silva #sister beatrice

4K notes · View notes

thedreadpirateblogger · 1 month

Text

So I watched "Quite on Set"

I keep hearing "Drake Bell was abused, but he's also an abuser" like these are remotely comparable offenses.

TW: sexual assault, child abuse

Not to minimize the psychological harm done to that girl, I'm sure receiving explicit messages from an adult at 15 was emotionally traumatic and violating. But when Drake was 15, Brian Peck took over his life, estranged him from his father, followed him across the country. He was stalked, raped, and tortured by a John Wayne Gacy fan with economic power over him. That's not just upsetting, that's an actual living hell.

And the only person in the industry there for him was Dan Schneider??? Of course he came out of that with a fucked up sense of what adult men can say to teenage girls. Therapy is where you unlearn that shit and he didn't talk to anyone for 20 years. How could he? He told the police what happened to him in gruesome detail, and Brian served 16 months before going back to work at Disney. Between that and all the support at the hearing, he must have felt there was no point in talking about it because no one cared.

Not to mention how easy it is to distance yourself from what you're saying and who you're talking to over text. Mix that with some dissociation and substance abuse, the cognitive dissonance wouldn't be hard to maintain. It was bad, but it doesn't make him beyond redemption. He's clearly trying to be better.

What I'm saying is cut Drake Bell some fucking slack, okay?

#quiet on set #drake bell #that was a lot

328 notes · View notes

gowonminajxx · 10 months

Note

i’ve never been so desperate for a one night stand miguel fic 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

listen i think i saw a twt art piece where uhh lets just say miguel was nude and he was walking away after what looked like what a one night stand was. so im kinda basing it off that. but thanks for this req, def sparked a lil SMTHN !! 🕷️ artist is yunonoai

// CWs :: mentions of sexual actions (blowjobs p in v all that yada yda dayd adya).., swearing, drinking, miguel being a dumb btich. not proof-read.

[] pre a/n :: this req was really cool. thank u for supporting my work!!

// plot (if any) :: you proceeded to have a one night stand with miguel, who was often recognized as the boss of the spider society. what happens after is a mystery. for fem!readers but can be for gn!readers with diff word placements

working as a spider-person at spider society was the best life you could wish for. that was, until you met miguel o'hara.

the two of you bonded over family values and need for a family in a perfect life, the benign setting furthering your relationship with him. your eyes always seemed to wonder around his lips whenever he spoke to you, which seemed to be the same case for him.

a night had passed where you two were talking in his office, planning on future missions. he liked to keep his work strict when it came to spider society, meaning "no funny business" -- as he would usually call it. one conversation led to another, a hand to another, and lip to lip, before it was you and him in a bed.

he had brought you back to his universe for a proper setting to talk informally, outside of the work at spider society. he felt uncomfortable talking about things not related to anomalies and his job at the headquarters.

by one thing led to another, the two of you had shared drinks over a conversation about relationships -- how deep they were and how sometimes, just so hard to maintain. you two were into deep shit, speaking even though the only thing the two of you were paying attention to were eachother's extremely kissable lips.

another and another drink only led you to the point where your legs wrapped around his tiny waist, his hips bucking back and forth between your legs as he thrusted his length into you. ripples were sent through you as his largeness felt like it was abusing your walls, almost like his cock was pushing them out of the way to kiss your cervix roughly.

he had fucked you like he was an animal, like a predator looking for its prey so vigilantly. he made sure all of his moves would pleasure you and put your sounds in all the right tones and pitches, your moans being like music to his ears. he slapped himself against you until you couldn't take it anymore, the blankets being soaked with the both of your liquids.

on the other hand, his grunting and animalistic sounds that escaped his lips so easily made you want even more and more of his dick, no matter how much it hurt. his size was unsurprisingly huge, and it felt like it was going into your stomach as you heaved for air in front of him.

your clit tingled with overwhelming pleasureful sensations after he pulled out, your whole body trembling as your legs that were once supported by his waist, lowered. that pretty clit was still open to him though, and he took all the chances he had.

for what seemed like forever, he took every single inch of you by swirling his tongue around, tasting your walls. the walls that he had just abused with his huge cock.

his tongue was longer than the usual human, causing even more whimpers and explicit sounds to leave your mouth, driving him crazy. it was a motivation factor for him, his tongue delving deeper into your pussy, his lips forming into a smile against it. what made you shake is whenever he'd speak to you.

"you like that, my cock hurting you so badly?" he'd tease.

"i just can't get enough of this pretty clit." he'd often brush his lips against your folds, chuckling lowly.

it all felt like a fever dream. fucking around with someone who had such high authority at the headquarters, in the man's own home. you had began thinking of it every day since then, but mainly thinking about how he treated you after.

the moment you woke up, you heard the shower sounds coming from the bathroom attached to the bedroom. you instantly felt around the sheets with your hands, eyes widening as you realized what you had done.

you weren't exactly mad that your boss fucked your brains out, but you weren't exactly pleased that it might be a little awkward from now on.

you wiped your eyes hardly with your hands, facepalming before instantly straightening your posture as you heard a door click, miguel exiting the bathroom. his eyes glanced over to you, before he reached for his dresser, pulling out some basic clothes.

eyes darting at his back, you noticed claw marks and kisses all over his back and neck. suck marks, and soft and small bite marks decorated his thick neck. those were your marks. who else would it be?

you glanced around at the rest of the bedroom, before noticing you were completely naked. flinching, you covered yourself shortly with the blankets, the softness growing over you as you hid underneath, flustered. your bra and ripped clothing from last night decorated the dresser in front of the bed.

he got changed, but you couldn't help but stare at his muscular back, and his bare ass, which also had small claw marks on them. your nails.

miguel was now halfway dressed, grabbing his shirt before you freaked out, blurting sudden words at him. "are you just gonna leave?" you asked, voice a little strained, worried, even.

"y/n, i think we both know i'm a busy man." he grinned smugly. your feelings for him drooped a little, you couldn't tell if he was shitting on you or just plainly teasing you, like a cute couple. eyes narrowing, you stared back at him.

"um.. i'll see you.. at HQ then?" you muttered to him, but he didn't pay any mind as he walked out in a shirt and sweats. the door clicked, and you sighed, your head falling back on the pillow.

what would happen at the hq?

a/n :: hope u enjoyed this !!! i 4 sure did,,,, writing a bitchy miguel truly hurt my feelings for him but yk that was uhhh definitely steamy

#atsv #atsv smut #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara smut #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #miguel ohara #miumiulicious

719 notes · View notes

its-time-to-write · 11 months

Note

PLEASE i am on my knees for jamie x reader where she’s just crying thinking about all the times he needed someone but no one was there.. and now everything is great, he’s grown and he has so much love and support and he has her but all she can do is sob because when you love someone you wish you were could be there to hold them even if they were 8 and their dad was a dick.. yknow??? AND he’s just holding her face, nodding and reassuring her he’s fine and he has so many people, especially her, and he’s lowkey choked up too

So. This is actually a mix of two writings. The first part is from your request, the second is something I wrote shortly after my very first post. I actually wrote it because I was processing some personal things, so… yeah. Here it is. Just be warned, it talks about abuse and stuff, Jamie’s dad shows up and is his regular, douchey self. If that’s upsetting for anyone, just be aware. If this needs more warnings, let me know.

i don’t know how you keep smiling/i’m just choking almost constantly

“He what?” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. “You’re telling me he took you there and made you do that?”

You’re sitting on your couch in your flat, legs across Jamie’s lap. He’d come over out of nowhere an hour earlier, just knocked on your door and said, “Can we talk?”

You let him in because of course you can talk. You make tea, sit down on the couch, and words just come spilling out of Jamie. It is all about his dad. How he drank, yelled, and hit, precisely in that order. Watching his mum throw him out and accept him back in, in what felt like an endless cycle. Hiding how bad it really was for her because his dad was making her laugh and she was smiling and anyway, it’s not like the bruises were anywhere anyone could see.

Jamie tells you how his dad came to his game the night before, went to the locker room, and how Jamie punched him. He says he’s scared of his dad finding him, because his dad always makes good on a threat, and he doesn’t usually have anyone to talk to but he figured you might be a good listener, what with being his girlfriend of five months and all. He says it all while staring at the chipped mug on your coffee table, the one he insisted you can’t throw out because it’s his favorite, and who care’s if it’s a little damaged? It adds character.

But all you can think about is little eight-year-old Jamie, hiding under his bed and pulling out his front tooth because his dad broke it, so he can tell his mom he just lost it like all the other kids.

You think of what you were doing that year. You would have just turned six, chasing your brother with a fairy wand and a nerf gun, ponytail flying.

The mental image of Jamie under his bed, cowering in a corner, learning to cover up welts and to lie to his mum brings a fresh wave of tears. Just the thought of him being alone makes it feel as though your heart is breaking, and you wish you would have known him then. Your parents would have loved him. Wouldn’t have let his father come around and hit him.

He just finished telling you about Amsterdam, and you can physically feel your soul shatter into pieces on his behalf. The fact that he can’t even remember it is what really gets you.

Jamie, meanwhile has stopped staring at the mug and is now looking at you. “It- it’s alright, love,” he says. “I’m here now, and it’s alright.”

Through blurry eyes, you can see that it is not alright. Jamie’s eyes are watering now too, and he pulls you onto his lap. He wraps his arms around you and you let him bury his head in the crook of your neck.

You sniff and pull yourself together. “No, Jaim, it’s not alright. You can say, ‘I’m alright,’ or ‘I will be alright,’ but what that shithead did to you is not and never will be ok. And I’m glad you’re telling me about it, and I’m only crying because I keep thinking about how you must’ve felt. It’s not because I can’t handle it, because I can. And I want you to know that I’m here for you, and you’re going to be ok.”

Jamie has started shaking in your arms, and you feel a tears start to drop onto your neck.

You run your fingers through his hair and whisper, “You’re ok. I’m here, I’ve got you, and you’re ok. I’m not leaving. You’re ok.”

—

That was the first real time Jamie ever told you about his dad. You’d talk about it periodically, whenever it got really bad, and he also started talking to a therapist. Doctor Sharon, you think her name was? Anyway, he’s getting better in his mind, which is good, because sometimes you don’t know what to do beyond listen. And you do. Soon, Jamie’s stories about his dad begin with, “Dr. Sharon says…” and he’s not as angry anymore. Not as jaded, not as broken. There are still deep cuts, but his spirit is coming back. He’s not broken in such a way that he can’t be put back together, piece by piece.

—

It’s not until you’re out to dinner at your favorite restaurant that something actually happens.

“Jamie,” you say, face serious, empty plates between you.

“Yes, love,” he replies, matching your expression.

“I think that we should get ice cream.”

His face breaks into a smile as he slides his hand off the top of yours to run it through his hair. “Babe. We just ate enough food to put a horse into a coma, and you want ice cream? What about digestion?”

“Jamie. Listen-” you both argue as he pays the bill, takes your hand again, and swings it while you head in the direction of the ice cream shop.

“-And if you think about it, it’s actually a wise food choice,” you continue.

“Babe,” he laughs, “I just think that you might be making up the health benefits of strawberry ice…”

Jamie's counter-argument has trailed off as he stares at something ahead of you, rather someone who is stumbling down the sidewalk in your direction.

You have never seen this man before, but you know exactly who he is.

He's still a good seven feet away when he yells, “Well, well, look who it is. Me son, who can’t even take the time to return his own father’s phone calls! Just joking, just joking, hey? And who’s this fine little lady?” he asks, punctuating his words with a few fake punches in Jamie’s direction as he draws closer.

Jamie is still holding your hand, but has maneuvered himself in between you and his father. He has yet to say anything, so you take your cue from him and keep silent.

James Tartt, Sr. is in front of you now, and it is more obvious now than ever that he is intoxicated. He's swaying a little bit as he stands, and there is the stench of alcohol with each breath he blows. Jamie is holding your hand so tight that it hurts, but you don’t let go. You grip it back.

“Dad,” Jamie says as a way of greeting, face taut.

You're under a streetlight, but not many people are around this time of night.

“Jamie,” his father replies, mocking his serious tone, “is this how I find out you’ve got a girl? Runnin’ into you on the street? Couldn't have sent me a quick message about it, hey? Oh I joke, I joke,” he says. His words are grating, and he keeps punching at Jamie. You do not like it at all.

“What d’you want, dad?” Jamie asks, gripping your hand harder, if that’s even possible.

His dad wipes his face. “Ey, listen, since you’re ‘ere, what do you say you get me tickets to the Man City game this weekend? Can spend some quality time with this one.” He winks at you in a way you’re sure he thinks is endearing, which is a problem because three things happen in rapid succession: his dad makes a rude comment about quality time, Jamie pushes you behind him saying, “Don’t you ever fucking speak to her,” and James Tartt shouts, “You self-righteous, fuckin’ pussy!” and moves to hit Jamie.

You’re not sure which one of you he’s talking to, but it doesn’t matter because Jamie’s dad is on the ground and people are starting to stare. You pull Jamie’s still clenched fist down and say, “Babe, let’s get out of here,” while James Tartt is drunkenly trying to stand.

“Babe,” you say a little more forcefully. “let’s go.”

Jamie snaps out of it, lets out a short, “Right, yeah,” and then you’re walking as fast as you can in the opposite direction.

Not fast enough, apparently, because you still hear his father yell, “That's two you’ve got on me, boy! You better watch your back!”

You have no circulation in your hand and for the first time that night, you feel real fear. Not for yourself, but for Jamie. You may have never met his father, but you’ve heard enough. You know that he always makes good on a threat.

Jamie looks back twice to make sure you aren’t being followed, and you just walk. You walk a mile past your flat and then circle back. Jamie hasn’t said a single word, just held your hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to the world. It's not until you’re on your doorstep that you decide to break the silence.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You’re facing each other, you one step above him so you’re almost eye-level.

Jamie shakes his head and looks away. “Not- not tonight. I don’t think I can- I’m not sure-”

“Hey,” You slowly lift your free hand and brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead. Not slowly enough, apparently, because he still flinches almost imperceptibly, “It’s alright, Jaim. We don’t have to talk about it tonight.”

Jamie blows out a sigh, and you slide your hand from his hair to his cheek. He just looks so tired, all the anger and defensiveness gone out of him.

“Your place or mine?” you ask because there’s no way in hell you’re letting him be alone tonight.

Jamie shakes his head slightly. “I can’t. I have training tomorrow.”

“Jamie-”

“No, look, I just need something to be normal. And I don’t want you coming over in case me dad fuckin’ decides to come ‘round. I'll come over tomorrow after practice and we can talk then.”

He says it with such resigned finality that you don’t fight him on it. You whisper a soft “alright,” and then wrap your arms around him as tight as they can go. Jamie hugs you so hard you almost can’t breathe, but you don’t ever want to let him go; you memorize the feel of his arms around you, his head in the crook of your neck, and the erratic beat of his heart.

He lets you go after a long moment, waits to make sure that you get inside safely, and then you watch him begin the two-block trudge to his house.

You stay awake until your phone dings with a made it from Jamie, and then, despite all the thoughts swirling in your head, you fall asleep.

——

You startle awake by someone yelling outside, followed by a loud knocking. You squint at the clock which reads an awful one a.m. for a split second you wonder if it’s Jamie at your door, then you catch a word this person is yelling.

Whore.

You’re wide awake now. You grab your phone to text Jamie as his father continues to pound on your door yelling, You stupid fucking bitch, no one messes with James Tartt, I’ll make you fucking pay for that shit he pulled!

The text goes through and you wait a second before calling 999. They answer your call and promise that someone will be over right away. You know for a fact Jamie is still asleep, but you call him just in case and his sleep-deprived voice answers on the third ring. You can only get out a few words - outside, your dad, police - before he is wide awake and on his way over.

——

It's all kind of a blur, really, and you feel truly horrendous, but all you can think about is Jamie. You’re not really sure how he does it, but he is at your flat right before the police. All your neighbor’s lights are on now, and Jamie is in your doorway holding you tight.

You think about how awful this must be for him.

It's his dad. It’s like being a kid all over again.

You’re supposed to be the one person who he can feel safe around, but now you’re asking him to step into a volatile situation.

He got woken up in the middle of the night when he needs his sleep, which resulted in him seeing his dad get arrested.

All you can say is, “I'm sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again, as you try not to cry into Jamie’s pajama shirt.

He pulls back a little and wipes a stray tear from your cheek.

“Your place or mine?” he asks, because there’s no way in hell he’s letting you be alone tonight.

You shake your head. “Neither,” you say. “You have training in two hours.”

“Yours,” he says as he gently backs you into the flat and shuts the door.

“What about Roy?” you ask. Roy gets pissed if Jamie skips training.

Jamie pulls out his phone and narrates as he types: “Granddad. Won't be at training this mornin. If you’re mad about it you can go fuck yourself,” and then presses send.

You have the bizarre urge to laugh. “Jamie, you did not type that.” You try to grab his phone from him but he holds it out of your reach and shuts it off.

“Oi. We’re going to sleep and we ain’t thinkin about anything until 10 tomorrow, yeah?”

“Ok,” you say.

He takes your hand and leads you to the bedroom, where you finally fall asleep in a tangle of limbs.

You might not be ok right now, but you will be. You’ll both be alright.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

631 notes · View notes

thefallennightmare · 6 months

Text

Just Pretend-six

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: Please, I beg you. Don't focus too much on the whole Trey part(i mean he is an asshole.) But when Noah and Angel are listening to music, please please please listen too Eiley by Too Close To Touch. That is all.

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond

"How are we feeling tonight, Milwaukee?!" I yelled into the microphone.

Cheers reverberated back from the ground up to the stage as I squinted my eyes when the stage lights cast over us.

"I'm glad you're having fun because if you weren't, this would be awkward," I joked with a chuckle while adjusting the microphone stand. "But all jokes aside, I wanted to say thank you for all of your support for Hollow Souls the last few years. It's appreciated more than you all could ever know. Because of your love and support, we're able to do what we love every night."

I pointed to Chase who did his typical ten-second drum solo then to Malcolm who strummed a few notes on his bass before giving an over-exaggerated bow. And reluctantly, I pointed to Trey who came up to me and threw an arm around my shoulder, leaving a kiss on my cheek; it smelled like vodka and cigarettes.

"Thanks, baby," he winked before chugging half of his clear water bottle that I was sure wasn't water.

Glancing over to the left side of the stage, I gave a wide smile to the guys of Bad Omens as they all watched out set. They had a killer set before us, this one I actually watched, and the energy that vibrated off of them stuck to me before I came out here, finally letting the excitement of performing to fill my veins. This was the first night in a while that I moved around on stage and put on a show for the crowd.

Noah flashed me a brief smile, memories of our day on the beach a few days ago still burning hot in my mind, and I gave him a small wave.

"So we only have two songs left," I spoke back into the microphone which in turn made the crowd boo loudly. "But you guys have to admit, we put on a killer show for you all tonight. But what about Bad Omens?"

The crow cheered but not as loud as I thought they should so I grabbed the mic off of the stand before going up to the little stage that Chase had his drums set up so I could stare down at the entire crowd.

"Oh, that was some weak shit, Milwaukee," I showed them my mock disappointment by placing my hand on my hip.

Chase looked at me with a smile, knowing what I was fishing for so he beat on his drum, hyping up the crowd.

"I want to hear every single one of you scream for Bad Omens on the count of three. Ready?!"

Cheers and screams filled the large venue hall, but I was greedy; I needed to hear it louder. These guys deserved it.

"One!" I held up one finger.

Chase drummed faster; harder.

"Two!"

Two fingers up in the air as Chase put more force into his drumming.

Looking back over to where Bad Omens were watching with bright smiles as I hyped up the crowd for them, I held up three fingers, Chase breaking out in a full on drum solo now.

"THREE!"

The screams were loud, deafening, and I took out my ear in so I could hear it for myself. My heart pounded in my chest as I ran down the steps from Chase's makeshift stage and ran to one end of the stage, throwing up my arms up in the air before doing the same thing on the other end of the stage. Malcolm played a few chords on his bass as I stood next to him.

"You guys might not think this now but Bad Omens are going to be huge in a few years. They'll be in our position selling out shows and Hollow Souls will open for them," I promised into the microphone.

Malcolm watched me with awe through the messy strands of auburn hair that covered his face. Tonight was the first night all tour that I interacted with the crowd this much and fuck, it felt so good. With the energy of watching Bad Omens play and the crowd singing to every one of our songs made adrenaline course through me and I couldn't stop.

Noah's words from our first night on tour came to mind: "Come alive out there. Have fun."

Trey watched me with pure distaste in his eyes as I hyped up Noah and his friends but I didn't care; I was feeling so good about myself that I even wore something different from I usually did. A short-sleeved white crop top with black high wasted shorts. It showed off most of my tattoos and when Trey tried to tell me to go change, I simply told him to fuck off before running out on stage.

As I walked over to the area by Chase's drum stage where I kept my water, I glanced to my right and noticed that all the guys of Bad Omens were giving me large smiles with Noah finishing it with a wink. I also had my phone on here and usually I never checked it during our set but there was this feeling deep in my gut that told me to check it. It shocked me to see it was from Mason, an old friend of mine.

I'm sorry it has to be through text but you needed to know. Keaton's gone.

My phone slipped from my grasp as I nearly choked on my breath, vacant eyes staring at the floor beneath my feet. I swear my heart stopped in that moment I read the text, almost not believing it. But knowing it came from Mason who was close with Keaton, it was true.

Keaton's gone? I just talked to him a few days ago, and we made plans to catch up once tour was over.

I sucked in a breath; the realization hitting me like a freight train, and I spun around to side stage just in time to see Noah staring down at the phone in his hand. His body was stilled straight, not moving an inch, but even from this distance I could see the cold expression that crossed his face. Nothing about his body language gave off what he was thinking; what he was feeling.

"Look at me, Noah." I muttered under my breath.

I needed to know what his eyes were saying.

Instead, he shoved his phone into his pocket before turning his back to me and disappearing from view, the rest of his friends following close behind.

"Y/N?"

Through my hazy vision, I glanced up to Chase who was kneeling on his makeshift stage so he could look down at me.

"What's wrong?" His voice was full of worry.

He must have seen me read the text and knew me so well to know something was drastically wrong.

"Uh," I blinked slowly, voice wavering, as the grief sank its feral fangs deep into the marrow of my bones. It's nails gouged through my heart, it bleeding to the depths of my stomach.

What was I supposed to do? Cancel the rest of the show?

No, Keaton wouldn't want that. He would want me to perform with every ounce I had left in me and that's what I was going to do. We could all grief together after.

"I'll explain after the show. Lets close it out strong," I nodded my reassurance to Chase before slowly walking over to my microphone stand.

I ignored the crowd as they chanted for an encore and pushed my way through the bodies of our crew members. Malcolm and Chase were hot on my heels, waiting for me to explain what the hell was going on. I rushed through the last two songs so I could get off stage and find Noah. I needed to know if he was alright.

Trey's fingers grasped my elbow in a tight grip to haul me to a stop. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Why did you rush through the last two songs?"

"Fuck off!" I screamed while ripping my arm from his grasp.

Tears burned in my eyes, and I dug my palms into them to stop the tears from falling. I couldn't break down right now. I needed to find Noah.

When Trey tried to grab me again, Chase stepped in front of me and pushed him hard in his chest. "Leave her alone, man. Can't you see something's wrong?"

"This isn't your business!" Trey stepped up into Chase's chest.

Malcolm felt the immediate change in air, the tension growing its webs deep into the air around us, so he laid a soft touch on Chase's shoulder.

"He's not worth it, man."

Trey snickered. "You always have to come to Chase's rescue. Is that what true love is?"

Chase cursed before pushing past Malcom, laying his fist directly into Trey's jaw, knocking his ass to the floor. I yelped out in surprise while covering my mouth as Chase tried to get another hit in but now Malcolm was pushing him farther away from Trey.

"Calm down! You can't do that right now."

He spat at the floor where Trey sat while clutching his jaw. "He deserves it! I'm pissed I waited this long!"

Trey was fast on his feet to barrel past Malcom to tackle Chase down the ground, laying fist after fist into his face.

"Stop it!" I yelled with tears in my eyes.

Malcolm cursed then grabbed Trey from the back and basically tossed him to the side. Chase scrambled to his feet, spitting blood at the ground as he tried to go after Trey.

"That's all you got, pretty boy? Need your boyfriend to come save you again?" Trey taunted with a smirk.

"Fuck off, Trey!" I screamed while stepping between him and Chase, who immediately moved me behind him to block me from Trey.

"Oh, what's this?" He raised a brow. "Noah's dick wasn't enough, now she's sucking yours too?"

Trey's body crumbled to the ground, clutching his now broken nose that had blood pooling to the floor between his fingers.

Malcom cursed under his breath while rubbing his sore knuckles.

"You're a piece of shit," I seethed from over Chase's shoulder. "Not everything is about you!"

"The hell it isn't!" Trey screamed. "You're always taking everyone else side. I'm your boyfriend, Y/N! Why are you in such a hurry to find Noah? You should be with me, not some pussy kid who think he's going to be the next big thing."

Chase advantaged to Trey once more but Malcom was quick to step in front of him.

Malcolm grabbed Chase's face so he could look at just his emerald eyes. "I know, man. But look at Y/N, look at her! She's two seconds away from breaking down and we don't know why. She needs us."

Chase's nostrils flared as he gave one last glance down to Trey before his eyes fell on me, who was still covering my mouth, mind swirling with so many differnt emotions I didn't know which one to focus on. I didn't realize but tears were streaming down my face as I continued to stare at Trey.

"I can't believe you're taking their side. After everything I gave you?" He seethed while slowly rising to his feet.

I blinked, astonished he said that. "I'm not getting into this with you right now."

He spit blood at my feet, wiping it on the back of his hand. "You're pathetic."

I thought the anger would rise as he pushed past us but the grief was so strong; it outweighed all the rest.

"Y/N," Malcolm was now lifting my chin up towards his face, worry filling the emerald lights of his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I have to find, Noah."

My voice was so quiet, and I knew they didn't hear me so after clearing my throat, I held my shoulders straighter so I could tell them the words that I was dreading to say.

"Keaton. He's uh-.," I swallowed thickly. "Keaton's dead."

Chase's anger left his body as he ran a hand over his buzzed head while Malcolm gave a slow nod, my words still registering with him. We all were close with the guys in Too Close To Touch but they knew the special bond Keaton and I had. They also knew how much I was battling inside my mind.

"Come on," Chase's soothing voice encompassed around me as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, leading us through the backstage area of the venue.

Malcolm showed us his phone. "Jolly said Noah's outside, he wanted to be alone."

I nodded numbly. "Maybe I'll catch him before we leave-."

"No."

Turning in Chase's arms, I saw Nick standing at the doorway that lead out to the back parking lot. His hair was a mess as if he was running his hands through his and while his eyes were red, it looked like he was holding in his own tears.

"He won't talk to any of us, not even me. He's shutting down and I don't know how to help him," Nick said with so much defeat in his voice, it made my heart wrench in pain.

"I don't know how much help I'll be if he won't even listen to you, Nick," I shrugged.

His eyes shined with the wetness of tears. "Please."

I was already loss for words and which made me unable to say the things that crawled my mind. How would I be able to translate how I'm feeling about this when truthfully, I didn't know myself?

"Okay," I let out in one breath. "Where is he?"

"When I left him, he was pacing in front of our bus," Nick said while motioning for me to follow.

Chase left a kiss on my head while Malcolm bumped his fist with mine, his way of showing affection, and I followed Nick outside where the sight broke my heart. Noah was pacing the length of the bus, running a frantic hand through his long hair. Jolly and Folio watched from afar with their hands in their pockets, not sure what to do. Noah let out a loud noise that shook the earth beneath me, the raw grief destroying him.

"Noah," I spoke softly.

Red, bloodshot eyes, stared back at me as tears stained his face. Noah's bottom lips trembled as a broken sob crawled out of his throat.

"Is Trey around? Because I don't want to deal with that bullshit right now."

"Fuck Trey," I spat, the altercation from earlier still burning low. "It's just you and me, Noah."

Both of us stood still for a long moment before the same magnetic pull that was etched in deep in our hearts made us both break out in a sprint towards each other. I fell into his embrace, nearly knocking him over, as his arms circling around me while he buried his face in my hairline. Noah completely broke down when my hands spread over his large back, needing to feel the heat of him. I cried into his shirt as my fists grasped the back of it. We stayed like that for so long, until neither of us could cry anymore, and his raw voice spoke in a hushed tone.

"He can't-." The words died on his lips as he choked on a broken sob.

Still in his embrace, I rested my chin on his chest as I looked up at him. "I just talked to him earlier this week."

Noah tensed in my arms for the briefest of moments. "Me too."

I rested my cheek to his chest again letting the beat of his heart calm my own. One had was running fingers through the long strands of my hair while the other grasped at my lower back. This pain was unknown; I'd never lost someone so close to me like this before. I didn't know the correct way to grief but knowing that Noah was going through the same thing made it a little easier.

"Kenneth said the funeral is on Friday," Noah's chest rumbled.

I looked up at him again with my arms still wrapped around him. "What do you want to do?"

Noah swallowed the large lump in his throat, doing his best to hold back his tears. "I need to go."

"Alright. I'll book us two tickets to Kentucky. I'm sure Ethan and Matt will understand if we need to cancel the next show."

"You're coming with me?" He asked, almost shocked. "What about-?"

I gently touched his cheek. "I'm not letting you deal with this on your own, Noah. Keaton was my friend too. I'm going."

With a relief sigh, he brushed his lips through my hairline, pressing the softest of kisses there and even though I forced the butterflies deep down to the pits of my stomach, I couldn't stop the small smile that pulled at my lips.

"Thank you, angel."

Hoping out of the bathroom on one foot, I balanced while strapping on one heel before switching feet to do the same to the other. I straightened out and brushed away the stray hairs on my black dress before turning my attention to Noah, who was standing in front of the mirror in the room, staring at himself.

"I'm almost ready to go. I just need to find my jacket," I said as I rummaged through my suitcase.

He didn't say a word, just kept staring absentmindedly at his reflection and although he was already dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans and a black button him, something was missing from his outfit; the grey tie that hung loose from his fingers.

We arrived to the hotel in Lexington earlier this morning and almost immediately, Noah shut himself in the bathroom to get ready. I checked in on him after a while when I realized the shower was running for some time and when he called back. 'I'm alright, angel' I let him be. Noah needed time to heal and mentally prepare himself for today. I didn't want to add any extra pressure that wasn't necessary. Thankfully, both Matt and Ethan were more than alright with us taking two days off to come to Keaton's funeral. We ended up having to cancel tonight's show but once news broke online of Keaton's passing; the fans understood.

After the first initial shock of finding out about Keaton, Noah shut down. He's barely said anything to me or the guys since the other night and Nick stressed to me before we left I needed to make sure Noah didn't retreat into himself.

"He hasn't had an anxiety attack in some time but I'm afraid that with the weight of everything, it might cause him to spiral."

I promised Nick with a bone-crushing hug that I'd keep an extra eye on Noah.

Noah was already so far in his head that when we walked into the hotel room to see only one bed, he merely shrugged before shutting himself in the bathroom.

"Hey," I said softly while resting a hand on his back. "What's going on in your mind?"

He tore his gaze away from the mirror and held up his tie. "I don't know how to tie a tie."

"Here," I smiled while taking it from his hands and popped the collar of his shirt so I could slide it around his neck.

We stood in silence as I worked on tying it and Noah stared straight over my head. Our breathing was the only thing heard in the room as my eyes traveled away from the tie to the tattoo's on his neck and I bit the inside of my cheek when the urge to lick it filled me.

"Yes, it hurt."

Noah's deep voice broke me out of the trance over tracing over the design of snake, apple, and hand.

"Hm?" I peered up at him, fingers finishing the knot in his tie.

"The tattoo, it hurt. You were staring at it so I figured you were about to ask me that," he said.

The brightness of his dark eyes dulled the night we found out about Keaton and part of me worried it would never return.

"Yeah," I murmured, even though that wasn't what I was thinking about. "Well, I'm done."

Noah smiled a thanks before he grabbed his jacket off the chair in the room and slid it on. Next came the rings and bracelets and if it was a different circumstance, I would marvel at how attractive his fingers were.

I stared at him for a long moment as he stood in front of me, now fully dressed.

"What?," he asked.

I bit my lip nervously, unsure how he would answer my question. "Could I brush your hair? I can fix it so it stays out of your face today. If not, it's not a big deal. I just thought maybe-."

For the first time in a few days, Noah smiled just the slightest and handed me a brush from his bag. "Promise you won't braid it?"

"I won't," I chuckled while motioning for him to sit on the edge of the bed.

He did, and I kneeled behind him to run the brush through his hair. It dried weird after his shower and kind of a mess around his face. I figured it would bother him today, so that's why I offered; not because I wanted to take care of him anyway I could.

From the mirror in front of us, I watched as Noah's eyes shut and a pure look of bliss crossed his features. The hard lines in his forehead eased and the darkness underneath his eyes lightened just from this simple action.

"You don't have to carry everything on your shoulders, Noah," I whispered as I set the brush down on the bed but remained kneeling behind him.

My hands rested on his shoulders as I stared at him through the mirror. His eyes met mine in a dull way but there was just enough spark of life that eased the grip around my heart.

"I know, angel," he nodded while grasping my hand, giving it a squeeze.

When he stood to his feet, my hands fell from him and I couldn't lie I missed the way his strong muscles felt under my fingers.

"Ready?" I asked once I had my jacket and bag on.

"No, but I don't have a choice. I have to say goodbye," Noah ran a hand over his somber face.

It truly worried me if he'd be able to make it through the day without showing some kind of emotion.

Instead of dwelling on it, I extended my hand towards him. "Come on. Let's go say goodbye to our friend then."

The warmth from his hand as his fingers intertwined with mine made my heart flutter in my chest and he reassured me he was in fact fine with a gentle squeeze.

"I'll call you guys once the tour is over and all of us can get together for a dinner for Keaton," I smiled weakly to Kenneth.

"He'd want that," he smiled.

I wiped away a few tears before nodding. "Yea."

Mason motioned behind me. "How's he doing?"

Turning on my heels, I took in the broken sight of Noah who was sitting on a stone wall in the cemetery, pure grief on his face. The funeral wasn't easy for any of us but for Noah, it nearly brought him to his knees; if it wasn't for me.

My arm hooked through Noah's as I rested my head on his shoulder, the both of us staring down at the now filled grave. People has dispersed by now, going to the wake, but Noah wasn't ready to leave. He wanted to stay for a few minutes to say something to Keaton. But the longer we stayed in this position, I realized maybe he couldn't find the words to say.

I rested my chin on his arm while looking to the side of his face but the strands of his hair covered what I wanted to see the most so I brushed it behind his ear. "He knows, Noah."

A muscle in his jaw ticked. "It's not fair."

With a long sigh, I rested my head against his shoulder once more and looked at our friend's grave. "I know."

"Yeah, he will be. Might take some time but I'll make sure of it."

Saying goodbye to Kenneth and Mason, I walked over to Noah who slowly stood when he noticed me.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Yeah," I nodded.

I planned on walking next to him but when he extended his hand towards me, my heart did the same stuttered it always did when around him. So with our hands intertwined, our hearts seemed to slowly be, I let him lead me towards the rental car.

"Are you hungry?" Noah asked.

"I could eat," I shrugged.

Once we reached the car, he opened the passenger door for me and helped me into the seat.

"Noah, I can get in the car by myself," I giggled when he even clicked the seatbelt over me.

We were so close and I could feel his warm breath cascade over my lips as I tilted up towards him, almost closing the distance. It was the same pull, only this time it was stronger, the energy vibrating in our veins. Noah leaned closer but when my phone rang loudly from my purse, he pulled away while clearing his throat.

"You should get that," he said before shutting the door.

Trey's name flashed across the screen and with a grumble, I ignored it and sent a quick four word text to the group chat me, Malcolm, and Chase had.

Going dark. We're okay.

Once my phone was shut off, I leaned back into the seat as Noah started the car and drove away from the cemetery. Trey had been calling almost every hour since I left early this morning and it was getting to where I nearly chucked my phone out the window. He wasn't happy I was coming here, especially with Noah, but I told him to go fuck himself; he couldn't tell me what to do.

Not anymore.

"Shower's open," I said while walking out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of sleep shorts and a hoodie.

Noah sat perched on the edge of the bed still wearing his clothes from the funeral, and rested his elbows on his knees. When he heard me walk into the room, he quickly wiped away tears and cleared his throat.

"Okay," he kept his gaze cast downward to the carpet of the room.

Shit, he was crying.

Then I realized, a soft tune was filling the room and felt my shoulders fall; Keaton's voice grazed my ears as Too Close To Touch played through the bluetooth speaker Noah brought.

"Noah," I said gently while sitting next to him. "Please don't hide this from me."

"Angel," he warned but any malice behind his voice was deadweight.

He was exhausted and couldn't fight, as much as he wanted too.

I brushed my fingers over his face to tilt his chin towards me and sucked in a breath when I saw how red and swollen his eyes were. Not saying another word, I brought him down to my chest while his hands immediately grasped at my sweater, holding on for dear life as if he was afraid the grief would rip apart from me and drag him deep into the dark abyss.

Noah's cries tangled with Keaton's voice as I let his tears stain my sweater, his body shaking in my embrace. I brushed the air back from his face so he didn't have to worry about it sticking to his face with the tears.

"I fucking miss him, angel. It's not fair."

I blinked away my own tears. "I know. But he's still with us in everything we do. We have pictures and messages from him to remember, we have his music."

Noah sucked in a large breath, burying his face deeper into me. "I can't believe he's fucking gone. I can't. I've lost so many people-so many. I just-. I'll miss him so fucking much."

I rested my head on top of his. "Me too."

He pulled his head away from my chest and I raised my hand to brush away his tears, one hanging on by a thread on his eyelash.

"If I'm being honest," he took a breath to steady himself. "Sitting here with you tonight has also hit me like a train."

Another pause as he exhaled the breath, body shaking with nerves or grief, I wasn't sure.

"I can't lose anyone else. I can't." Noah shook his head. "I don't-I-want-"

"Hey," I cupped his cheek, thumb brushing over the tear that hung on his eyelash. "I'm right here."

His eyes twinkled with the wetness from his tears. "I don't want to fucking lose you, angel. No matter what; I can't. I won't."

"You won't," I repeated his words back to him with my promise, tears falling from my eyes down to his lap.

After the tears were shed and Noah felt a little lighter, he went into the bathroom to change into a pair of sweats and a shirt, throwing his hair up with a claw clip. I'd made myself comfortable leaning against the headboard and Noah followed, sitting right next to me. We continued listening to Too Close To Touch, almost in a way to honor his memory. Noah's knee brushed against mine but I didn't bother to move away from him; his body heat wrapped around me like a blanket and I reveled in feeling this sense of peace in so long.

A deep yawn fell from my lips, and when I gazed at the clock, I nearly groaned. It was only four in the afternoon but with all the emotional trauma we went through today; I was ready for bed.

"Here," Noah extended his legs on the bed and patted his lap. "Lay down. You should get some rest, angel."

I hesitated. "Are you sure? We never even talked about the sleeping situation. I can go lay on the couch."

Noah rolled his eyes with a hint of a smile. "We're two grown adults, we can share the same bed. I'll even put up a wall of pillows if that makes you comfortable."

"No, you don't have to do that," I giggled. "But I definitely will take you up on that offer of laying my head in your lap."

Something dark flashed in his eyes and his bottom lip caught between his teeth. "Go for it."

Ignoring the way my core clenched with the image of me doing other things in his lap, I rested my head against his thigh and almost mewled in pleasure when his long fingers ran through my hair, nails scratching lightly across my scalp.

"Is this alright?"

I nodded. "More than alright. If you keep doing this, I'll fall asleep."

Noah hummed. "That's the plan, angel."

"How can you say this was all part of your plan? Start explaining. Crafted from hope and hospital beds, she's gone."

"No," I trembled. "Not this one."

Out of all the songs, this one was the one I did not want to hear tonight; Eiley.

"It hits differently now, huh?" Noah noted.

"Yea, it does."

With the music and Noah's soft fingers through my hair, I dozed off only to awake sometime later when I felt intense eyes staring down at me. I opened my eyes in a daze and looked up to see dark eyes watching me, tracking my every movement as my lips parted in breath. His expression was something I'd never seen before; blank, lips drawn in a straight line, and his brown eyes blown dark.

I opened my eyes wider and his face lit up with a small grin.

"Hi, angel."

"Hi," I whispered.

Noah gently put his hand on my cheek to scan my face once more, almost waiting for a reaction. I met his intense gaze with my own and felt the intensity from the pull that seemed to be connected by our hearts pull me down so deep to the abyss that was Noah Sebastian and for the first time; I didn't ignore it.

I almost expected his kiss. It's always been right there between us, waiting hungrily. What I didn't expect, however, was his hands so rough, to hold my face tenderly. I didn't expect the furrow of his brows as his eyes darted from mine to my lips, almost in a silent question.

Please.

As the earth stood still, gravity nonexistent, Noah laid his lips to mine, kissing me softly, slowly. Everything around us blurring and disappearing. My fingers grasped his wrist to keep from slipping away from how light I felt with his lips on mine, gasping into his mouth at the sensation that came roaring to life inside of me.

A match lit in a dark room, flaring with brilliant light. My lips parted with that gasp to let Noah slip his tongue past mine, and then fight for dominance until eventually, he won.

He tasted fucking heavenly and when a low growl crawled from the back of his throat; I knew Noah thought the same for me.

"Fuck," I rushed out suddenly, sitting up from his lap in a start. "Oh my god, I am so sorry."

Noah raised his tattoo hand and gently cupped my cheek, his thumb grazing over my kiss-swollen lips. "Fuck, no I'm sorry angel. I shouldn't have."

He leaned in close so he could whisper his apology into the air and all noise ceased to exist. There was this tension thick between us and suddenly, I was afraid that with what happened, things would get awkward between us. But Noah broke out in a light laughter one that eased the erratic beat of my heart. I soon followed, both of us laughing away the tension.

"Nick let me bring the Super Nintendo. Want to play a few rounds?" Noah smirked.

I scoffed playfully. "Your ass is grass and I'm going to mow it."

Noah, who was still chuckling and out of breath, stood from the bed to get the game set up. "Whatever you say, angel."

Some people might think laughing and going to playing a video game right after an intense kiss like that was not normal but for Noah and I, none of this was normal. I appreciated he could tell the tension was too thick I couldn't catch my breath, so he immediately made the atmosphere breathable again, the only way he knew how, with blushing cheeks, familiar scars, and electric hearts.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

279 notes · View notes

sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

Text

Platonic Yandere Ghost x Childhood BFF Reader

Warnings: No pronouns used for Reader except for ‘You’, spoilers for Ghost's past, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, yandere Ghost, toxic behaviour, possessive behaviour, kidnapping, arguing, guilt tripping, intrusive thoughts, etc.

Ghost would never let anyone else have you.

To him, you are the one fragment of his life which is truly his own, that doesn't belong to the dark confines of his childhood or the military.

You were, to put it plainly, Simon's safe haven.

Having known each other since childhood, you are the person who is nearest and dearest to Simon, and he to you.

You were there to shelter him from the abuse of his father, taking him into your home and showing him what a real family could be.

You were there when he decided to join the military, a decision you were concerned about yet supported him nonetheless.

You were there to celebrate his return home, throwing your arms around him and telling him how much you missed him.

You also cooked the most delicious meal he could imagine, and he'd polish all of it off without fail.

And for all these reasons, Ghost is absolutely feral when it comes to you.

He knows it's selfish, but he thinks that you're his and his alone.

If you tell him you're going out with some other friends, he'll mope about it.

Perhaps not in front of you. But he may guilt trip you into staying home with him so you can cuddle.

He loves holding you btw, and being held by you.

He feels protected - safe - like nothing can hurt him.

Reminds him of how you and your family would protect him from his own home life, the two of you sharing your single bed and you playing with his hair, promising you'll never let anyone hurt him.

I should be telling you that, is what he thought to himself then, wrapped in your embrace.

And it's what he tells himself now as he argues with you, telling you that you can't trust those people you call friends - they're only out to hurt you!

"Not everything is a mission, Simon!" you'd snap. "Not everyone is out to get you or me; they're just people! We are just people!"

"I'm only trying to protect you."

You can only sigh, both of you aware of how well that line works on you because you know it's true.

"I know, Si. But I just want to live my life. The same way I want you to live yours."

You rarely argue aside from that. Which is what makes your confrontations so explosive at times.

One evening, after you came back late with the shopping, Ghost snapped.

It was a screaming match the second you walked through the door, Ghost demanding you tell him what took you so long, telling you why you were a liability to yourself, why you needed him with you at all times.

The details grew hazy around then. And with good reason.

While begging Ghost to just let you live without casting suspicion on every relationship you had and every decision you made, Ghost threw himself at you, muffling you with a cloth.

It smelled strange. Medical.

You tried fighting back, knowing what it was, but the substance had already taken hold and made you sink into Simon's chest.

You knew where you'd be when you woke up, just not where.

You knew you'd be locked up somewhere, a dark warehouse or a cabin in a forest, but you didn't know exactly the location of these chambers.

Lo and behold, vision coming back to you, you found your answer.

Indeed, Ghost had confined you to a cabin in the woods.

A tinted window decorated the wall, bars bolted across it.

You knew Simon, and you knew nobody would be able to see in while you could see out, a peep show of freedom you'd never have again.

You suspected the doors were metal, too. Too heavy for you to open and sealed with a code or a key that only Ghost had.

Speaking of, he resided in a chair by your bedside, mask on, watching you.

The room was dark, the night not yet having ended.

He must have had this planned, you thought. Unless he's waited a whole day to wait for me to wake up.

Your heart pounded, your nerves burned.

You didn't know who should talk first. You and Simon had a system that one or the other should start a conversation based on who started one last time. A game then, an uncertain future now.

"I told you I only wanted to protect you."

Ghost's voice sent shivers up your spine. As did his mask, the white details of which barely poked through the darkness.

This wasn't your Simon, you concluded. This was a damaged man possessed by his actions - by the persona he'd fashioned for himself to protect him.

He watched you now; a protector guarding a protector.

It felt confrontational, in a way. You, the one who'd done nothing but love and care for Simon all his life, and Ghost, the phantom that took hold of him when the situation called for it.

You were his next mission.

"And I told you--" you flinched at how dry your throat was, "--that I don't need protecting."

Wordlessly, Ghost took a glass of water form the bedside table and offered it to you.

When you didn't take it, not even sparing it a glance, his eyes burned.

He growled, stood, and threw it against the wall, the glass smashing, the sound making you flinch. The intrusive thought of you walking on it flashed in your mind, making you flinch again.

No, this was not your Simon at all.

Ghost, breathing heavily, looked down at you.

Your arm was cuffed to the bed on a very short leash, giving you no way to even go to the bathroom, never mind the bedroom door.

Ghost, seemingly calmer now, eyes softening, reached a hand out towards you.

You winced at the prospect of this stranger touching you, this alternate person Simon told you about when he came back from his travels, the one who killed, bled and suffered for an unknown cause.

And now, his cause was you.

"I love you, (Y/N)." His voice was deep, almost as if his throat was as dry as yours. "I want you to know that this--" he gestured to the room, "--is only temporary."

You swallowed, pain splintering in your throat, multiplying like an infection.

With his once-outstretched hand, Ghost held your shoulder, then placed a knee on the bed.

You wanted to jump back, but Ghost's growing grip on you stole that option from you.

He lay on his side, facing you, encouraging you with a sentimental gaze to do the same.

With few options, you complied, though opted to face away from him.

He didn't seem to care, pulling you into him, encasing you with his frame.

Your position was the inverse of what it had been when you were children, when you'd tried cover Simon with as much of yourself as possible, blanketing him; as if to take the bullets that were meant for him, to absolve him of any more pain.

"It' my turn to take care of you now." Ghost said, his voice quiet yet booming in your ear. He squeezed you, punctuating his point.

"Nothing can hurt you anymore."

You're hurting me, you wanted to say, tears welling in your eyes and throat.

You willed yourself to succumb to sleep, to dream of a life wherein Ghost did not exist, and where this was only you and Simon, holding each other as you did when you were younger, dreaming of a better future.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist

Masterpost

2K notes · View notes

lains-reality · 9 months

Note

hi!! i’m this anon, https://www.tumblr.com/lains-reality/723844364791676928/hi-i-hope-youre-having-a-wonderful-day-youre

about the difficult circumstances :)

i’ve followed your advice, and just rested. whenever i had moments/situations that brought up stress, i began to exercise this feeling of completion/bliss. ever since then, my health has been stabilizing. i took a break from tumblr/over-consuming, and just asked myself “what am i?” “who am i?”. i would let my thoughts go, attaching no meaning, nor identifying with them. i would observe them- in an almost manner of meditation. i started to feel lighter, as i no longer identified with the body. while doing such “exercises”, i found that i “tapped into the void” within minutes of doing so. it was so peaceful, and i had no urge to affirm- which even though my ego thinks my life is still far from perfect, i could care less.

i feel a sort of indifference to what used to seem problematic. i now understand, that there is no “convincing” myself of something, when i am already it. i’ve been “documenting” what works best for me- just because i might have brain damage lol, but what i’ve found is when i am in full acceptance of both the desirable and undesirable, it happens instantly- or within a day. just now, i noticed my collar bone feeling fleshy or the skin around it inflamed- which was one of the major symptoms i faced when i had cancer. my whole collar bone to face just puffed up like a pufferfish. in that moment, i knew who i TRULY was- I AM. God. i didn’t care if my collar bone wasn’t prominent or not- i just KNEW that it was normal, and prominent. literally not even a minute later, i touched my collar bone while scratching my neck- AND THE SWELLING WAS COMPLETELY GONE, IT WAS JUST BONE.

So, for me- what worked was knowing there was no conviction necessary, i am already everything, the good and the bad. thoughts and day dreams have no effect on me unless i identify with them- or personally give them power. no effort, and just complete ease and bliss. the past, and future do not exist- and only affect the present, when identified. indifference was the “biggest” aha moment for me.

I realized, each time I affirmed/thought of something- then let go, and gave it no more attention, it appeared (instantly). for problems, i just forgot of it. i disregarded it- and then bam. gone. since my last experience with the void, i knew since then that everything was perfect with my relationship regarding the void. i always wake up in it, everything perfect for me- i’m aware, blah blah blah. and that’s how it’s “manifested!”. i don’t even think of it any more. ever since that indifference feeling/knowing came- life has been soooo different.

during times of meditation, or of just observing my thoughts and letting them pass- is when i truly began to understand non-dualism. that’s when the knowing came for me. taking accountability and responsibility, and knowing everything is as temporary as night and day. i still have to “fix” my problems with school and university, but i know that is my ego talking. it is already done because i am it. i’m (my ego) is a bit worried if i will properly fix my problems, but after proving what lester, and all the info i’ve consumed (from blog to blog), i truly understand that there is no problem until i think i have a problem. my problems are as an easy fix as my situation with my collar bone.

i’ve also “fixed” my relationship with my mother, and grandparents. they now truly have realized the abuse that is in my household, and are 100% into supporting me, and protecting me. i was so surprised, because they would usually just ignore it and normalize it. especially my mother. all i’ve wanted was my mom- to actually be a mom. and now she is. even though there were moments where my ego wanted to cuss her out and identify as having a bad mother, i thought of it as nonsense, and now our entire dynamic has changed. i can’t really get into it without trauma dumping- but it’s been my wish since i was a child. she has truly changed and grown. even my therapist was shocked, and happy for me! i’ve been trying to “manifest” a change in her, for about 3 years- and after applying little to no effort, through what i’ve mentioned above- everything has changed.

(also “manifested” appearance changes, health to be completely perfect, my safety, perfect grades (literally all A+ or straight up 100%s loll, my pets health, and many other things. literally we all “manifest” our entire day just by identification)

i believe, or what has been true personally to me, about the reason behind the struggle of changing anything- even after seeing confirmation of one’s true power, is because it wasn’t a “big” enough accomplishment. they/me have put problems and “desires” on a pedestal- thinking it will be a varying degree to alter, than let’s say the weather. but it is all the same. everything holds the same balance. it is just the ego that convinces you that it does not. we literally shape our “today” and “tomorrow” from memory and identification. when i’ve thought/knew what my tomorrow would be- that is how it was.

i just wanted to say thank you to your kind response to my ask, last time. i know that it wasn’t easy- and i’m so sorry if i’ve caused anyone to feel any negative emotions. i also wanted to say thank you to your- and every other bloggers dedication to helping anons, and continuously posting the truth. you, and adasdisciple (idk how to do the @ thing, im so sorry!!!) as well as, 4dkelly something (i hope they may see this! i apologize for not remembering your user😭) have aided in ways not even professionals, or other bloggers have. my life has done a true 180- and i know it’s only going to get better from here on out. i appreciate everyone’s kindness to my first post, it truly warmed my heart to see so many people sympathizing with my ask. not many people have reacted with such genuine sweetness. thank you so much!! i’m fr feeling on top of the world 😋

wow! i'm so proud of you!!! speechless tbh!

i'll tag them here for you: @adadisciple, @4dkellysworld

#lainsmail

401 notes · View notes

veeluvss · 10 months

Text

we'll get them

>1k

emily prentiss x daughter!reader

tw : nudes and sexual abuse

i pulled up outside the bau, feeling sick. garcia was in here and i was praying she could help me. i hadn't been able to show my face at school for months and mum had no idea. i couldn't tell her. i couldn't dare - what would she think of me? would she call me a whore? a slag? like the rest of them. i knew my mum was usually understanding but at the same time, this was serious.

i left the elevator with my visitor badge on and tried to stay out of sight. i knew mum was on a case and not in town but i didn't know about anyone else. i was well known at the bau, people loved me but i didn't want to be recognised now. i felt ashamed looking at my reflection.

i knocked on the door to garcia's computers and heard her little chime from inside 'two seconds my love'. she didn't know who it was but she called everyone the sweetest names. she just radiated love and positivity, i could already feel myself feeling better. to my shock, jj opened the door. "y/n!" she cheered, smiling widely. "y/n?" garcia said, spinning on her chair. "emily's on a case, did she not tell you?" jj said, concerned. "oh erm," i muttered and lowered my head. "i came to see garcia." "oh come in sweet cheeks!" garcia said, standing up and welcoming me in. "do you want me to leave you to it?" jj asked sweetly but something compelled me to shake my head. i needed her support too. "sit down baby, are you okay?" garcia asked. i felt sick. "i can't tell you so i'm going to show you," i mumbled. "okay," garcia said. i tapped away on my phone til i found the twitter post. i handed it to garcia and she looked at it. jj peering over her shoulder. "oh sugar plum," garcia mumbled. "does emily know?" jj asked me, sadness in her voice. i shook my head rapidly. "please don't tell her!" "y/n," jj sighed. she crouched down beside me and i felt tears welling up in my eyes. "babe, this was posted over a month ago, why didn't you come to me sooner?" "i couldn't leave my house." i buried my head in my hands and jj held me.

"i didn't take them," i whispered. "you didn't?" jj asked, putting some hair behind my ear. penelope was already looking at how to get rid of them, although it was hard. she was going to find the origin at least because then we know who posted them. "some guy," i began explaining. "we got drunk one night when mum was away and he - he forced me too. he used a polaroid and , and his phone but i didn't know he used his phone." "that's okay," jj muttered, stroking my hair. "right, i've got the person who posted it," garcia said. "however, it is one of them cases where it's on the internet and anyone can have them - especially after a month." i nodded, understanding. when she showed me the guy who posted them i felt even more violated as i didn't even know him. "baby, can we ring emily?" jj asked. "no! no you can't!" "she'll understand, she really will." "no, she can't see them." "she doesn't have to see them, we'll just be able to arrest him and get him put away for it. we can also get talking to the people who shared it." i began to cry. i wanted my mum, so bad. i just began to nod. jj and garcia were decent cuddles but nothing beat my mum. jj held me whilst garcia rang emily.

"what've you got for me garcia?" mum asked down the phone. "emily, are you alone?" garcia asked. "this is personal." "i don't really have time for personal-..." she began. "it's about your daughter so yes you do," penelope said. i smiled at that. we heard mum mumble a quick 'excuse me' to whoever she was with. "what's happened?" her voice was panicked. "JJ and i got a little unprompted visit from your baby today," garcia began. i hugged jj and she pulled me closer to her. "is she okay?" emily asked. "emily you can't judge, she's already hurt enough by it and she just needs her mum. okay?" "garcia, what is going on?" "someone posted pictures of her online, erm, not clothed." i hid in jj, not wanting to hear her response. there was silence for a minute. "do you know who?" she asked. "i tracked down the ip address." "does she know them?" garcia looked at me and i shook my head. "she does not." "i'm coming home," she hung up then. i couldn't tell if she was mad or upset or angry or disappointed. i felt sick. i just clung to jj, hoping she'd understand.

a few hours later, mum charged into garcia's office. i was sat on one of the desks, coffee in my hand and apple in the other. i gulped seeing her. she looked at me, between garcia and jj. "i need to see them." she said, holding out her hand. "no!" i said suddenly, getting down. "no mum, please." i begged. "y/n i need to see what they did to you." "emily," jj whispered as i shook my head over and over. "we've seen them. you don't need to see." "it's nothing i haven't seen before for christ sake!" she groaned, throwing up her hands. i began to cry then, she was angry. so so angry with me. "it's not the same em and you know it." jj said, putting a supportive hand on my back. "we have the IP address and we know who posted them online. we just need your orders to send someone to the house and get him arrested." "get him arrested and sent down. and anyone else who distributed it. no one is getting away with this," she said. i looked at her between my fingers and saw her expression soften at the sight of me. she sighed before pulling me into her arms.

"we'll get them," she said. "mum i'm sorry," i cried. "sorry? why on earth are you sorry?" she asked me, genuinely surprised. "i didn't know he was taking them, i didn't know they'd be posted. i dragged you away from a case," i explained, clinging to her blazer. "sweetheart," she whispered, caressing my hair. "this isn't your fault. at all." she pushed me away slightly and put her fingers under my chin so i looked at her. "i'm not mad or disappointed at you. baby i love you and i'd never judge you." she whispered and my heart swelled with love. "i'm just really fucking mad at the people who hurt my baby." i chuckled a little and she pulled me back into my arms. "what did i tell you eh," jj said, rubbing my back. i only nodded, clinging to my mum. i'd needed this. i'd needed her.

#criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss head canons #emily prentiss x reader #emily #emily prentiss x daughter #emily prentiss x child #emily prentiss x daughter!reader #penelope garcia

401 notes · View notes