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prose-for-hire · 3 years

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UC Sunnyhell: Part three

There’ll be Hell to pay

Previous Part // Next Part

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: Spike and you haven’t been getting along and it all reaches a boiling point. Harsh words are exchanged but something happens to make you both question your thoughts about the other. Will this be enough to change your perceptions though? College AU

Og request by: @sunflower-stan

Requested tags: @fictionalhoomanofnowhere @harpersmariano

Warning: Sex reference, swearing.

He appeared to have no redeeming qualities. His personality was flat, two-dimensional. Like some bully in a kids cartoon. Not that you had particularly looked very hard since your first meeting.

He had upset you. And this ‘revenge’ was all you were thinking about. Your friends had planned it all out with you that night. They were all going to arrive soon and you were pacing with nerves. This could go badly.

You had convinced them to choose the least likely action to get you all into a physical fight. Something that appeared innocent that would annoy him greatly. If he got really mad there would be hell to pay.

They all came over, spreading their stuff around the living room. Taking up as much space as possible because of the way he had all but made you live out of your room rather than face him. They made as much noise as possible and basically tried to antagonise him as much as possible. The way he had with you.

When someone mentioned Angel might show, Spike snapped and stormed out of his room ready for a fight. No bloody way was he coming into his home.

As he opened his mouth, about to speak, he saw something in Xander’s hand. He noticed that you had all been passing around a liquor bottle. He snatched it from Xander.

“That’s mine” He accused.

“Oh no, actually spike, that one over there was yours. My friend Faith supplied this one” Buffy explained, giving him an overly sweet smile as Xander took it back. He scowled between her and his now empty liquor bottle.

“Get out” He snarled.

“You’re not the only one that lives here-” Cordy started in your defense, but she was quickly cut off.

“Fine. We’ll make it a real party. I’ll invite my mates won’t I?”

“You don’t even like them that much” You replied getting to your feet, you had overheard him mutter it to himself when one of them annoyed him again.

“Well, I’ll like them a lot more when they round up your little gang of-” He smirked at their reactions, “Or, everyone could just bugger off I suppose. Wouldn’t need to invite ‘em then”

Everyone shared concerned looks. They had heard about the types of people he had around him. They looked at you as you broke the stare-down you and Spike were sharing. You just nodded and they scrambled to leave. Making sure that you knew you could call them at any time.

Once they left he smirked and began to turn to leave back to his bedroom. But you wouldn’t let him go. Not this time.

“Will you just grow up!?” You screamed as he turned around and closed the space between you. If there was hell to pay after these words you would happily go skint. He should hear them. After everything.

“Yeah, ‘cause you and your little bloody clique are right grown ups, yeah? So grown-up you whisper about people behind their backs!”

“What?”

“I’m disgusting to you, yeah? You’re such a bloody ponce – like them, not even got the stones to say it-” He said and you realised he had heard what you said about him to Willow and Buffy. You didn’t think about it, you just shouted back.

“You want me to say it to your face?!”

“Yeah, might be a change from you being such a back-stabbing bitch”

“Fine! You’re horrible, nasty and so fucking inconsiderate! You think the whole world’s against you but we don’t care! We just don’t care!”

“Yeah, well-”

“I’m not done – you’re so arrogant! You think the whole world revolves around you. Well, I live here too! I pay rent I deserve some space in my own home! I tried so hard to be nice to you and all you’ve ever done is throw it back in my face!”

“Oh yeah, everybody kick Spike when he’s down” he muttered despite him asking you to say what you thought. You didn’t realise but one of the people he frequently had sex with had finished it with him for the final time earlier that day, “You don’t bloody know me!”

“I don’t want to!” You shouted, this time when you turned you really did just walk away. He watched you go, eyes lingering on you as you walked away.

He snapped himself out of it, jaw tensing and you both slammed your doors on each other. He infuriated you. Completely annoyed you. Just like you angered him. Infuriated him. He couldn’t believe that he would have to live the rest of the year with you.

You had both started this because you didn’t know each other. You had assumed. Not wanted to even try to know each other. First impressions are hard to get over. You had appeared to him as some do-gooder that wanted to “fix” his immoral ways. You hung out with those clean-cut-9-to-5-losers that never gave him the time of day.

You had wrongly assumed all he cared for was sex and causing trouble. Hurting people just for the fun of it. You never tried to delve deeper. Think about why he acted this way. Like you said, you didn’t care.

Weirdly, since that night, he kind of respected you a little more after your outburst. You showed that you did in fact have a backbone when he had assumed you had yours removed like most of the people on campus at birth.

But you stood firm, you were just usually nice to people because it just felt obvious to you to treat people with kindness until they gave you a reason not to. And, boy, had he given you reason not to.

As you were thinking this. He was thinking about you. He had always been that way, the line between hatred and... no. He didn’t care. He was indifferent about you. Or, that’s what he kept telling himself. Wouldn’t even entertain a thought to the contrary.

After this argument, he just kept out of your way. You barely said two words to each other, you just lived your separate lives.

You had realised how the other saw them. How there appeared to be faults there that couldn’t be bridged. You had gotten bored of fighting. It was starting to cut closer to each other’s bones. You were exhausted from it. So you kept away from each other.

You had barely spoken for almost an entire month. If it wasn’t for the occasional musical soundtrack or the smell of smoke neither of you would know the other was in.

That was, until something happened. Something neither of you would have ever thought possible. It all began one Saturday evening, at an open mic night.

You arrived at the dimly lit bar and walked in a little tentatively. Your heart was already beginning to race and you still had a while until it was your turn. You were finally going to do it. You were going to perform something you had written.

You smiled at someone that you recognised, he came over to you greeting you excitedly. The guy was friendly enough but you just weren’t able to form that connection you longed for with him. He was very loud and dramatic – a one-man show, if you will. You struggled to keep up with him in conversation.

“Great turn out tonight!” He gushed as you looked around at the two other people that had turned up. You nodded distractedly as you saw a figure at the bar. You recognised the figure but just couldn’t place it.

That was, until he turned around and caught the light. The bleach blonde hair. That leather duster that appeared to be surgically attached to him.

You caught each other’s eye. Scowling at the other. Why would he possibly be here? Was he going to heckle everyone? Start a bar fight?

The truth was, Spike would come every month or so. To read his writings, his poems. He did this because nobody rarely turned up and the tender took a shine to him and offered half priced beer.

He took his beer and sat in his usual corner. Hiding until it was time for him to get up and speak. He watched you, burning holes in you as you walked up to the bar yourself, asking the guy what he recommended. He stared at you. It was a student bar, there wasn’t an exclusive wine list.

You rolled your eyes and just asked for some shots. Three, to be exact. You threw them back one after the other. Spike raised his eyebrows and then smirked when your entire body appeared to shiver in reaction. You went and sat near the front, facing away from him for a while.

Both of you began to feel more and more nervous about speaking. Especially with the other there. Suddenly you got to your feet, full of nerves you needed to have a breath of fresh air.

He saw you leave and this relieved him. You must have become too nervous. He could go up to speak now that you were gone.

And just in time, his name was announced and he got up swigging from his beer as he walked. Glaring at the enthusiastic guy that had been talking to you who had put both of his thumbs up at Spike as he got up to where the mic was set up.

You returned just as he started to speak. But you sat down without him seeing it at first. You heard those words. The breath was knocked out of your body. The words spoke to your soul. The feeling behind them, it was all you had longed to find. Someone with a mind that expressed things the way you did… but the words were his.

He spoke with such passion, such feeling. The words were incredible and you couldn’t believe they were coming from his mouth. You had goosebumps and you just stared, suddenly finding yourself really looking at him. At the way he spoke. The way he looked.

You held your card containing your own words to your chest, there was no way you would be able to go up after that.

You had listened to his words, all but swooning. Hanging on to every last syllable less it dissolve into the air and you would forget it forever.

How could someone with that much of a nasty attitude have so much heart hidden away? You were in awe. His words, the feelings behind them. It was like the musicals you loved so much. Exploring love and loss and heart.

He caught your eye as he walked from the stage. He hesitated, realising what you had seen but just walked past you to the bar. He ordered his body weight in liquor and just sat there.

Then they announced your name. You jolted with shock, still reeling from Spike’s eloquent words. You cleared your throat, nodded at yourself and stepped up to the microphone. He rolled his eyes at you turning away.

Then he heard what you had to say. Such meaningful prose shared with the world. Baring yourself so raw. The words you spoke had real heart. Real meaning, more so than he thought you had been capable of.

His eyes were on you now. Only you. He didn’t even pick up his beer as he listened.

The spotlight was blinding though so you never saw him look at you in the way he did. That flash of understanding, the way that he could empathise with the way you spoke. How you wrote.

You both returned home separately. Neither of you could stop thinking about the other. Those words. Those feelings. The way he looked up there. The way you did. Almost ethereal to the other. It was confusing. Wrong.

You definitely didn’t speak to each other at all after this. You didn’t know what to say. You were so torn. Between what you knew about him and what you had just heard Had you been wrong about him?

His words had stopped time. His thoughts, feelings. They meant something. They had settled somewhere inside you and you weren’t sure if they would ever leave.

You were daydreaming about his words again, looking out of the window as you waited for your water to boil. You hadn’t realised the man himself had walked into the room behind you. You had spun around and overbalanced.

You tripped and he put a hand out to steady you, before snatching his hand away immediately in horror. You just stared, frowning.

“Watch it” he said, but he turned frowning at himself. He stared at you for a second as if he wanted to apologise but then he turned on his heel and left. Your words, the one that you had spoken had made him rethink. You weren’t just some plastic copy of Buffy and her sorority sisters. You weren’t shallow to him like Angel and Xander or just ‘one of the boys’.

You had heart. You had thoughts and feelings that transcended this mundane part of the world. You had such a beautiful mind that spoke to his own. He was just fighting against it as much as he could.

Since a few more occurrences like this, lingering glances. Weird silences where things felt unsaid, your courage began to grow.

You had to say something. You would only regret it if you didn’t. You feel like you had misjudged him. That he was hard to live with but that there was a promise there. You knocked on his door and began to open it.

“Bugger off!”

“Uh, sorry, I… I know we haven’t been getting on but-”

“Understatement of the century that” He grumbled, looking up from where he was lying on his side in his bed. He was flipping through a magazine.

“I just… your words. The other night. I couldn’t not say something. They were beautiful”

“You’re bloody hilarious” He said harshly, jaw tensing. He felt that you were teasing him. Making fun of him for his poetry. He was used to it.

You didn’t realise but his past was the reason he was so defensive. Had to harden himself. Because they all used to tease him for his poetry. For his soft side. Until he hid it completely. Didn’t allow anyone to see him that vulnerable (apart from the two patrons of the pub the open-mic night was held in – he had to express it someway).

“No. I mean it, I’m not- I wouldn’t make fun of you. I’m really not like that, I loved your poems I was wondering if you were going again in two weeks-”

“What so we can skip there together through the merry fields of glee?”

“I’m s-sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered” You shook your head, he saw that you were genuinely embarrassed and upset. You should have known, just because he could write and his heart wasn’t as completely hardened as you thought didn’t mean that he suddenly wanted to be your friend. Just because you suddenly had one common interest.

“Y/n” he said and you turned back, your hope lifting slightly, “close the door on your way out”

Your face crumbled slightly and you turned and slammed it shut. You had wanted so desperately to have a connection with someone, on that level. That you would even chase after it at even the slightest glimpse of feeling from someone you didn’t like.

You couldn’t see him, but he couldn’t stop thinking about you. About that offer. He was so lonely, no matter what he filled his time with he wanted to be able to trust someone. Desperately. But they always disappointed him eventually. He didn’t want to give you or anyone the power to do something like that.

There was a hint of understanding that began between you though since you went to tell him your thoughts. You spoke to him as if he was an equal, for the first time in a long time that someone had. And he let you. You looked at him, past the front he put on. It was only a glimpse but you felt the anger melt away. It had been exhausting living that way.

He wouldn’t dare verbalise his understanding. He did make some subtle changes though. He didn’t blast his music full volume as much. Spent more nights out, rather than bringing as many people home. He was still messy but he left a space for you to live your own life too. Which was really all you could ask for.

You had both humanised yourselves to the other. Let the other into your mind. Your perspectives. He didn’t mention what he had started to do and you wouldn’t dare, but you had definitely noticed. You had formed a kind of truce. And understanding of sorts.

The whisper of a possibility of friendship kind of hung in the air between you. It was there, you could both feel it but it wasn’t solid. You couldn’t grab onto it. It was transient, floating all around. An abstract concept.

For one of you to make the first move, to try and make some kind of amends. It would mean something too great. You wouldn’t push it, you were still unsure.

You were sat in your elective class. You hadn’t really been sure what to take so you ended up in this one. The dreaded paired presentation were looming.

Nobody usually sat next to you, none of your friends took the class so you were facing the embarrassing walk to the front to ask the professor if there was any one else that needed a partner.

That was, until a guy walked in. He was tall and he appeared to take a lot of care on styling his hair. You weren’t sure you had ever seen him in the class before and this was confirmed to you when he stood at the front scanning the rows for a spare seat before narrowing on the seat beside you.

He walked near you and awkwardly asked if the seat was free before he sat beside you. Just as the professor announced that the person sat beside you would be your presentation partner. He turned to you and nodded in acknowledgement that you were paired.

“Angel” He offered his name and it clicked. You had met him before, you think. At a frat party you went to with Buffy so she could try and find him. Either way you had heard so much about him you felt as if you already knew him.

“Y/n” You replied and he nodded his head before it clicked with him too.

“You’re Buffy’s friend, right?”

“Yeah, she’s like a big sister” You smiled and he nodded. You spoke amiably for a while rather than actually doing the work you had been assigned at first.

Actually, you found that you were doing most of the talking but you felt comfortable with him in a way you hadn’t expected you would. The guy was pleasant perhaps a bit more reserved than you would have expected for this ‘popular frat guy’ everyone had made him out to be.

“You’re the one stuck living with Spike, huh?”

“Yeah, he’s…”

You didn’t really know how to finish that sentence now. You had formed a kind of truce. A tenuous understanding. He annoyed you still in some sense but you were intrigued by him. You wanted to understand him. See what else he may be hiding deep down. Why he was the way he was. Angel just nodded, presuming that the tailing off was you implying how horrible Spike was. He had never liked him.

You weren’t friends. You weren’t sure that you and Spike would ever end up friends.

#UC Sunnyhell #Spike x reader #Spike btvs #spike x you #Spike imagine #btvs #btvs x reader #btvs imagine #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #buffyverse #gender neutral #gn

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prettyboymichaels-ao3 · 3 years

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Rewind, Rewire, Reword - Chapter 1: Where Did I Put That Map Again? (Pt. 1)

It’s the week before Wrestlemania 12, he’s preparing to give Shawn Michaels the fight of his life in their 60-minute Iron Man match, and his little brother has decided to drag him out to socialize on an otherwise perfectly ordinary Wednesday night.

Surely, this decision won’t take the course his life was on – and the course his relationship with Shawn was on – and send it into a tailspin.

(Bret Hart/Shawn Michaels ABO AU; NOT Kayfabe Compliant; Words: ~2k; Rating: M; Notes, trigger warning/s, tag list, and chapter under the cut!)

my massive bretshawn abo au is here! as I only have two-ish more scenes to write, and 10 chapters already written to publish on here (separated into smaller “parts” for tumblr, which means I technically have 21 chapters; they’ll be published fully on ao3), I’ve decided to try for an every other day publishing schedule to give myself more time to fully finish this book of the series. so. :) I’ve read and edited and reread and re-edited this more than almost any other fic I’ve written, so HOPEFULLY. I don’t want to edit it MORE after finally PUBLISHING it. sigh. anyway.

tw for: attempted sexual assault. it doesn’t actually occur, but this IS the jumping off point for the fic, and it will be referenced throughout. the tw “references to attempted sexual assault” will be used in any chapter that references it

tag list: @track12to13; @piratewithvigor; @sinderellanightwolf. tell me if you want to be tagged for any future chapters!

It was times like these when he wondered why he ever bothered going out at all.

They’d gotten to California two days before, early, the way they usually did, leaving the morning after their last match to get a head start and not arrive completely burnt out. They’d spent those two days getting acquainted with their hotel room, their rental car, and the stadium gym they were going to be using the next two weeks. However, “California” didn’t just mean “new match”, it also meant “new towns”, which meant “new opportunities to make Bret socialize”. He’d told Owen, repeatedly, in a variety of ways, that the last thing he needed was a fucking wingman, let alone his happily mated younger brother as a wingman, but he’d just brushed off everything he’d said and dragged him out anyway. “You have almost two weeks to prepare,” he’d scoffed, forcing him to change basically as soon as they got back to their room. “When’s the last time you really let loose?” he’d offered, trying to hustle him out almost before he’d had his shoes tied. “I promised mom I’d try something the last time we talked so would you stop digging your heels in, please,” was his final explanation, as he was hailing a cab to take them out of the city and to some smaller town a little less than an hour away, where they’d be less likely to get recognized, because getting mobbed in a bar or a club was always… not great, to say the least.

But it just really wasn’t Bret’s scene. It just really, really wasn’t. He wasn’t twenty anymore, he couldn’t power through a hangover the way he used to, and he wasn’t in the mood anyway, the way he hadn’t been for the last two years Owen’d been trying to set him up. He’d gotten used to being single by now, he’d even gotten used to his mother’s passive aggressive comments about it every time he called home, and, yeah, being used to it didn’t mean he liked it, but trying to find a date at this point in his life wasn’t exactly easy, at thirty-eight years old, in his line of work, with his designation. Honestly, he didn’t know why Owen was still trying so earnestly; the odds of Bret finding a decent prospective partner at some random club in Somewhere, California was so low it might as well be in the ground.

As such, instead of socializing, the way Owen wanted him to, he’d nursed a glass or two at the bar, had a fairly interesting conversation with an older woman who happened to be the designated driver for a group of girls giggling on the dance floor, and eventually called it quits after hitting the bathroom two hours in. It wasn’t even ten-thirty yet, you’d think he could last a little longer, and he could, he was just… bored. His bar mate was corralling her wayward group to leave, and Owen was having a grand time failing miserably at darts with what looked to be a group of regulars, so he just told him he was heading back to the hotel, refused to be guilted into a game no matter how many times Owen batted his eyelashes or how disappointed he looked, paid his tab, and slipped out into the night with a sigh and his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket. It was only slightly cooler outside than it was inside, and it was much less crowded – a few smokers, on the other side of the street, and two people eating a pizza and using the box as their plate a little further down from that. Definitely less busy than Anaheim would be this time of night, and equally less well lit.

There was also, though, something he almost didn’t hear over the noise of the bar:

“…an’t change your mind now!”

“I agreed to go home with you, not you and your fucking friend–”

His foot still raised from where he’d been stepping to the curb to hail a cab, he cocked his head to the alleyway the voices had drifted from – and, there it was, he hadn’t been hearing things, because there was an incredulous laugh, a dull thump, and a pained grunt before another man said, amused, speaking over the rising growls, “C’mon, baby, you really think you’re in a position to turn us down? You’re the one about to go into heat, it won’t matter whose knot you’re taking soon enough.”

Bret was moving before the end of that sentence, rounding the corner to find three figures pressed up against the stone wall beside an open dumpster. They were mostly hidden from the orange street lamps outside the mouth of the alley, but he could still see rough impressions, and they weren’t very promising: two holding the third prone while the third tried to fight back, thrashing and almost snarling with how viciously he was growling, but he was getting nowhere fast, with how successfully he was being restrained. One’s nose was buried in this man’s throat, the other’s teeth visible in the low light as he grinned, and Bret felt his expression twist and harden as he stepped forward. “Hey! You’ve got three seconds to walk away before I make this a fair fight.”

That certainly got their attention, and he saw them all turn his way, their eyes flashing a little in the dark. Parts of their faces were highlighted now – the barest crests of their jaws, their cheekbones, their hair – but he could see the moment their nostrils flared and he was written off as nothing but a nuisance, which was only confirmed when one of them scoffed. “Run away, little beta, this doesn’t concern you.”

And then he turned right back around to continue scenting the man, the omega, who headbutted him so hard in the nose Bret could hear it crack from here. The man howled, staggering away and clutching at his gushing face with both hands, and Bret watched as the omega took advantage of the other man’s stunned disbelief to kick his legs out from under him and send him tumbling to the ground.

Bret didn’t waste any time. He stalked forward, hauling the one on the ground up by the collar of his coat and the waistband of his pants so he could toss him bodily into the open dumpster. The open, empty dumpster, if the clang of metal and yelp of pain were anything to go by. There was a choked off squeal from behind him, and he turned just in time to watch the omega’s leg come back down and the second perpetrator crumple into the fetal position, clutching his groin. That one quickly joined his friend in the dumpster, courtesy of Bret, and the groans and squeaks that resulted from that collision were incredibly satisfying.

He wiped his hands on his jeans before turning back to the omega, raising his hands placatingly when he, too, was met with a sharp, threatening growl. “Hey. You okay? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

There was an extended moment of silence. “…Bret?”

Oh, perfect, he’d been recognized– …Wait. He knew that voice. He squinted, edging closer, and fuck, now that his eyes had adjusted a little–

“…Shawn?!”

When it sounded like the men in the dumpster were starting to try and gather their bearings, Bret put his hand on – on Shawn’s shoulder and pushed him out of the alley and past the bar, letting his hand fall away and trusting Shawn to follow him as he lead them past another two buildings to turn the corner onto another block, and then a little further still, directly under a street light, far enough to see them coming if they tried it. After getting their asses handed to them so thoroughly, not just by their intended victim but by a little beta to boot, the alphas shouldn’t come sniffing around looking for seconds, but you could never be too careful.

“Jesus, Shawn, what the hell was that?” he hissed, shrugging his jacket off and settling it over Shawn’s shoulders in one fluid motion.

Or he would have, if the man didn’t take an immediate step back and bare his teeth at him, rubbing his arms. Bret scowled. “Can you stop being so stubborn for two seconds–”

“I’m two seconds from kicking you in the fucking balls, Bret, don’t test me,” Shawn barked, taking another step back for good measure. His voice was hoarser than it usually was, and Bret was a little worried about what he’d do if it cracked.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, sucked in a breath through his mouth, and blew it out through his nostrils. “Look,” he settled on, staring at Shawn hard, who stared right back. In the orange light illuminating them, he could more clearly see his rumpled clothes, his wrecked hair, his blotchy face, but if he could compare him to anything right now it’d be a cornered animal. “Just – put it under your nose, okay? I know I don’t have much of a scent, but it’s gotta be better than whatever the fuck they were giving off.”

Shawn scoffed, but flexed his fingers from where they were clutching at his biceps, moving his eyes to his jacket. “Gee, when’s the last time you took a high school health class?”

“In high school, asshole, now take it.”

Shawn curled his lip, looking ready to keep arguing, but, shifting his weight on his feet, decided it wasn’t worth the effort, and snatched the jacket from Bret instead. He paused once he had it, glaring at him like he was expecting him to say something, and when Bret just crossed his arms and gave him a look, he finally shoved it under his nose and took a deep breath. Half the tension in his body released in one fell swoop, and with it came a hitch as he buried his face in the leather completely, his hands starting to shake.

Bret, deciding to give him a modicum of privacy, looked behind Shawn to make sure they hadn’t been followed (they hadn’t) and moved to the curb to finally hail a cab. Two of them passed, occupied, before he heard Shawn move up next to him, his jacket still stuffed under his nose. His eyes were a little red, and a little wet, but his cheeks were dry. “I wanna puke,” he rasped, muffled into the leather, and Bret gave a humorless snort.

“If you’re gonna, do it here,” he said, waving at another taxi, and this one actually responded, starting to pull up. “I sure as hell don’t wanna smell it all the way back to Anaheim.”

That earned him a grumble, more lighthearted than anything he’d heard out of Shawn’s mouth tonight, and Bret hid his relief by walking around the idling cab to talk to the driver at his window, digging out his wallet. “You got a divider?”

“Sure do, brother,” the cabbie told him, jerking his thumb to the backseat and the tinted glass that separated him from it. “Got some wet wipes back there, too. Just don’t leave any stains, huh?”

Bret frowned, because that made it all too clear what he thought they were planning on doing in his backseat, but threw a handful of twenties into the driver’s lap anyway, enough to make his eyes widen comically. “That’s to get us to Anaheim. There’s more where that came from if you get us there in forty.”

“Hell, brother, I’ll get you there in thirty,” the cabbie exclaimed, and Bret straightened back up after giving him the hotel’s address, waving at Shawn to get in on his side, which he did one-handed, slamming the door behind him as Bret followed suit. The divider deafened the cabbie’s music to a low rumble, and, as they pulled off, Bret started digging around in the mesh pocket attached to the back of the driver’s seat until he emerged with the aforementioned wet wipes. He tore the pack open, pulling half of them out in one go and passing them over to Shawn, who took them automatically with the hand that wasn’t holding Bret’s jacket to his nose, but gave him a look that said he had no idea what Bret was trying to do here.

He gestured to his own throat. “For your scent glands,” he explained, and he could see the moment the light went off, because Shawn started scrubbing at either side of his neck like a man possessed. Bret used the rest of the wipes to clean his own hands and stuffed them into his pocket after he was done, sinking back against the creaky plastic seats like they might swallow him up, lack of give or no.

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stxrrywildflower · 4 years

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carolina (2)

pairing - emily prentiss x reader

summary - you meet emily in a bar, she doesn’t realize who you are until she hears a song about her on the radio

warnings - none

series masterlist

emily felt like she couldn’t breath.

the profiler tried to go on with her life, she really did. except, your song was already extremely popular. it was topping the charts, people were constantly talking about it, and it was played on most radio stations. it was incredibly difficult to avoid the song, nonetheless you.

an entire week went by of emily trying to escape the song. the details of your hookup were never released, emily was starting to regret not admitting it to j.j. and garcia. the tech analyst loved the song, always gushing about the lyrics. all emily wanted to do was yell that it was about her.

but she couldn’t for multiple reasons; your privacy and the reaction from others. sure the team knew of her partner preference but how would they react if they knew emily had hooked up with one of the most famous singers at the moment.

news articles were another issue too. drama outlets were pestering you with questions about who the song was about. each time, you would remain stubern and not open up. it made her want to scream.

emily decided to just move on, work becoming her main priority for the next few days. j.j. and penelope didn’t let up on their questions, though they did learn to be more subtle about it.

no new cases were presented which was more than suprising. the team was fairly thankful for it, paperwork and 9 to 5’s were usually uncommon. being able to actually work and be home in time for dinner was one of their simple pleasures.

walking into work, emily was focused on one thing; coffee.

she couldn’t have been in the main floor for more than a few seconds before penelope was rushing over to the elevators.

“hey em,” penelope greeted. “there was a package dropped off for you this morning. i told the delivery guy to just leave it at your desk.”

though emily nodded, her mind was already formulating theories as she hasn’t ordered anything recently. being a profiler will make you that paranoid.

just like penelope had said, a smile white box with a small gold ribbon sat on her desk. emily narrowed her eyes slightly, having even less of a clue on what it could be.

“well, are you going to open it?”

emily ignored the remarks from the team, taking a seat and placing her bag at the base of her desk.

with only slightly shaky hands, she reached out to untie the ribbon. the sides of the box fell away as the strings were released, leaving the top on. after pulling the final piece off, she froze.

inside was an envelope, another piece of paper under it. the note was in your handwriting, edges crisp and extremely neat. in cursive letters was ‘emily prentiss.’ all thoughts of it being a mix up went right out of the door.

she refrained from opening it yet, wanting to see the other contents in the box before reading. emily next put the note on her desk, now focused on what was under it.

of all things, it was a plane ticket. ‘washington dulles international airport (IAD) to los angeles international airport (LAX). 9:30 am.’ it was set for the following morning, first class and already paid.

emily opened the note, seeing a five letter offer scribbled down.

‘meet me in los angeles?’ -y/n

emily’s never taken time off quicker.

____

touching down in the warm city of los angeles, emily was a bundle of nerves. she was already begining to regret wearing joggers and a t-shirt.

she had no clue how to feel about dropping everything or just the situation as a whole

it was only when emily grabbed her luggage that she realized just how much of an idiot she was. she had just flow across the country with no clue where to go, who to talk to, or where you were. she was acting on pure adrenaline and impulse. her luggage finally came around, emily picking it up and extending the handle to grab.

a tap on emily’s shoulder caused her to jump. she turned around, now in front of a man in a clean black suit. he was holding a name card and a small index card.

“emily prentiss?” he asked.

“yeah?” emily replied, not quite sure what else to say. “this is for you,” he added, handing over the small piece of paper.

‘if you’re reading this, i assume you arrived with no issue. i sent leo to pick you up at the airport, hope he didn’t freak you out. he’ll take you back to mine. xx - y/n’

emily picked up her luggage once more, ready to follow leo out. “just letting you know, it’s a bit of a drive,” leo offered, getting in the drivers side while emily took the back. she nodded, letting out a sigh with it. at least she could think for awhile.

pulling up to your house, scratch that, it was pretty much a mansion, emily didn’t know if she had guessed completely correct on what it would look like or was just flat out wrong.

the house was in hollywood on one of the steep hills. after passing through the gates, a heavy security measure, she finally got view of the home. the outside was pretty modern, made up of mostly white and grey colors as well as many windows. a garden with a fountain in the center greeted her as they pulled into the circular driveway.

“well this is where i let you out. just head up the stairs and ring the doorbell. y/n should be down to greet you soon,” leo spoke. “i really hope everything works out. i’ve never seen y/n happier then when she came back from washington d.c.”

emily thanked him quietly, still processing the final piece of information he had spoke.

dragging her bags behind her, emily headed up the series of steps and to the door. just like leo had instructed, she pushed the doorbell button and stood back.

you didn’t greet her at the door, the lock on the door clicking signaling emily that it was now unlocked. she twisted the knob, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

the foyer may have been more impressive than the outside. a grand chandelier hug from the ceiling, a curved staircase leading up to the top floor. her heels clicked around the floor as she twirled around, looking up at the decor.

you heard the front door of your house open, the alarm alerting you just moments before. you were currently making lunch, just a simple sandwich and then fruit on the side

after putting your lunch on hold, abandoning your knife you were using as well as your now finished meal, you left the kitchen to meet your guest.

emily stood only slightly awkwardly in your open foyer. her bags were by her side, eyes darting around the room. half the stuff in there was probably worth more than she could think.

footsteps broke the profiler out of her observation.

you were finally in her eyesight a moment later, a small smile on your face as you walked down the hallway. what captivated emily once again was just your overall appearance. a sharp breath escaped her lips before she would realize that.

a loose oversized tan cardigan hung of your body, a white tank top underneath that with leggings as your pants. your hair was down, relaxed in its natural style. no makeup was on either, not even lipstick like you had on when she first met you.

“hey em,” god just the way you said her name made her blush.

“hi,” emily greeted, thankful her voice didn’t crack.

“i can take your bags upstairs,” you offered. “i’ll put them in my favorite guest room, it has the best views. you can go into the kitchen if you want, it’s just down the hall. the rooms open, there’s no way you can miss it.”

the two of you went your separate ways, you upstairs and her to the kitchen.

out of pure habit, emily ran her hand across the marble countertops, looking around at the details you had strewn about.

“sorry about the mess, i was just making,” emily jumped at your voice. she wasn’t expecting you back so soon. “it’s totally okay, honestly.”

another wave of awkward silence fell over you two, neither quite sure what to say. “look emily-” you started. “we do need to talk about what happened.”

“do we?” emily spoke. you laughed, “yes we do.”

while you took a seat at one of the counter seats, emily stood up. she was obviously holding back, reluctant how to go with the situation.

“come on emily. you’ve been all i’ve thought about for the past two weeks. hell, i even wrote a song about you. and we do need to talk about the elephant in the room,” you pleaded. “have you even heard it?”

emily nodded, “yes i have. my friend penelope sent me the link. listed it it then and didn’t really know how to react. it was kinda difficult to avoid, it’s playing everywhere. your doing amazing by the way. figured i could throw in a complement there.”

a blush passed across your cheeks. “thank you,” you whispered.

emily then looked down, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. you figured you might ask well just dive into the heavy stuff.

“all i’m saying is that you came here for a reason. there has to be some part of you that’s been thinking about me too. i would like to think you aren’t the person to just drop everything and meet in a whole different state for just anyone,” you commented.

you did get her there. emily did really just leave work without explanation to come see you.

emily didn’t respond, choosing to step forward to connect your lips. you hooked your legs around her, holding her cheek and arm in your hand.

the kiss was incredibly different than the one at the bar, that one being sloppy and rushed. you two were in a hurry, wanting to feel as much of the other as you could.

this one, you could actually take your time. very little could interrupt the two of you. you could actually savor the feeling of her body against yours.

“let’s give us a try,” you mumbled against her lips.

emily nodded, holding your waist a little tighter. “let’s give us a try.”

☆ ☆ ☆

tags - @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @kissessforharryyy @garcias-batcave @zoseph @kissessfordraco @ogmilkis @cm-is-kinda-cool @matthewgublerswife @guessthatswhyiliveinhell @spencerslatte @babyangellee @agentshortstacc

#criminal #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #jennifer jareau #david rossi #penelope garcia #luke alvez #matt simmons #tara lewis

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years

Text

Build Me Up Buttercup *PART 7*

Whooo man, I don’t know if this is a longer chapter or not. I had planned on splitting the situations into two separate chapters, but it seemed short so I combined them.

If you need to catch up!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 8

Tag List: @wanniiieeee

Rafael slammed the door to the men’s room open, terrifying some poor cowboy just trying to use the john.

“Sorry…” He nodded apologetically to the guy who grumbled some obscenities as he washed his hands and left, leaving Rafael alone to stew.

Why had he just done that?! Why did he have to glance back at your table as soon as you closed your eyes? In that split second, he had locked eyes with Olivia. They were so close it was like they could telepath whole sentences between each other; and the look she had given him in that moment was definitely saying “What the FUCK do you think you’re doing?”.

Truth be told he really had no idea what he was doing, it all happened so fast. Really, the whole day was a blur. Before today you were just a junior detective to him, albeit a very sexy one. But truthfully you were barely a blip on his radar; you didn’t speak much, and when you did it was usually insulting him or contradicting. How had this one out of town trip completely flipped your relationship through a dryer tumble cycle? First the song in the car, the coffee in the car, the Fahey’s bathroom, and now this. At one point did he start…falling for you? Was he even falling for you? Were you planning this thing all along? Had you been seducing him? No, surely he wasn’t that dumb to just be seduced by a pair of pretty eyes and a tight t-shirt...and a soft soul who’d been through so much at so young…

NO.

He wasn’t doing this. Not here, not now.

----

“What do you mean, he just left?”

Once again you had fled to the bathroom, this time to update your BFF on the never ending nightmare that was this day.

“I mean he LEFT. He mumbled some bullshit about being ‘sorry’ and just….walked away. No I’m sorry, he RAN away.”

“Well...maybe he got scared?”

“A grown man?”

“I don’t know from what you’ve said about him, he seems pretty high strung am I right?”

“That’s putting it lightly…”

“I mean the fact that you even got him on that dance floor sounds like a miracle to me, maybe he just got in his head all of a sudden,”

“Maybe…”

“Which means….” they paused ominously.

“Means what?” you asked skeptically.

“You’ve gotten yourself a def con one situation here, babe,”

“...What?” you were completely lost.

“Everyone knows the rule, Y/N” they kept completely serious.

“Wha-What RULE?”

“The RULE! Once you have a…’moment’ with someone that gets interrupted, you HAVE to actually kiss them...or bang them but let’s be realistic,” they continued in a very serious tone, despite the fact that they were talking conspiracy theories.

“Is ANY of that realistic? What happens if you ‘break’ this rule?”

“You have to kiss them in 24 hours or else you’ll just stay friends forever,” They stated like an oracle.

“Do you hear yourself when you talk, or has the crazy just become white noise at this point?” You rolled your eyes.

“Mock all you want, but you remember Duncan and Sarah?”

“They went on one date and decided to be friends?”

“No no, they went on one date and she got called away before the end of it, thus nixing the good night kiss. And then the next time they ‘went out’, it had been 72 hours and when he went in for the good night kiss, she said they were better AS FRIENDS,”

“...THAT’S what you're basing this insane rule on? A story about people we barely know?”

“Well, it was also on Scrubs. Elliot and JD had to go through SO MUCH just because he couldn’t man up in those 24 hours!” They insisted.

“Oh my god, I’m hanging up--”

“WAIT WAIT WAIT, Come on Y/N just hear me out,” They begged. You sighed, putting two fingers across your eyes.

“Alright, let’s hear it,”

“Look, you can choose to think I’m full of shit, but you gotta ask yourself: Are you willing to chance it?”

You bit your lip, actually pondering if she could be right.

“And you better think REAL quick, because your time has already been cut in half,” they added.

“NOW what the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re like, on a ‘vacation’ right now. Barba is FINALLY seeing you, like a person. A woman. Someone who’s not up his ass for warrants or bitching about deadlines,”

“I’m not that--” you tried protesting.

“Shush. No time. You’re in like, another dimension right now. I’ll bet money as SOON as you hit the city line he’s gonna go back to his robot self and remember the fact that you two are completely inappropriate--”

“Oh come on that’s a strong--” you once again tried defending yourself.

“I’m just saying what he’s gonna reason, babe. You know I’m right,”

You paced the bathroom now, thinking of all the reasons you and Barba were bad news.

“....What if he’s already there? What if that’s why he walked off? What if he’s talking himself out of….ANYTHING?”

“THIS IS WHAT I’M SAYING, HELLO You need another ‘moment’, but without everyone staring at you. I’ll bet you anything that’s what got him into his head all of a sudden,”

Your eyes widened, remembering the front row seats your entire squad had to your little romantic moment.

“Oh my god you might be right...they were all staring at us,”

“See?? You need to get him alone,” They went on, as you walked out of the bathroom.

“...Fuck,”

“What? Fuck what? WHAT?!”

“I may have run out of time,”

You saw Barba approaching the booth again, Olivia gesturing wildly. The body language of their conversation did not seem very encouraging. What was worse, Amber walked up and handed them a check.

“I think we’re leaving, Olivia got the check and she looks like a mad mom bitching out her ten year old for trying to swipe candy,” You groaned, ducking behind a man with a huge cowboy hat and following behind him to a seat at the bar, out of the squad’s eye line.

“You need more time! You can’t just get in the car and drive back with everybody there, the ‘moment’ will never happen!”

“Okay can you stop with this, I’m already flipping out enough without you stating the obvious,” you twirled your hair and bit your lip.

“....You need to do something to your car.” they suddenly threw that at you like it was a completely reasonable statement.

“EXCUSE ME?”

“Slash one of your tires!”

“Are you high right now, be honest with me,” You narrowed your eyes.

“Desperate times, babe,”

“Desperate times, not PSYCHOTIC times,”

“Look if you have a flat tire, you’ll have to call AAA and have them come and fix it, that should give you at least an hour. Then you can go back inside, get him ALONE, and get your moment!” They tried reasoning with you. Was that Hurricane THAT strong, or were they actually making some sense?

“...Why am I listening to this?” you kept a straight face, even though it was just a phone call.

“You can act smug all you want baby, but I can hear it in your voice; you’re considering it,”

“Of course I’m considering it! But it’s...it’s insane. It’s like, ‘Fatal Attraction’ crazy,”

“Ok I’m not telling you to boil his bunny, just inconvenience yourselves for another hour, drama queen,” you could hear both of you rolling your respective eyes at each other.

“And what’s more insane; puncturing a tire, or giving up something we both know you’ve wanted for MONTHS,” They pointed out.

“How do you--” You blinked in disbelief.

“Girl, please. I knew before you did, and I’ve never even met the man,”

After several more moments of silence, you pulled your keys towards your face.

“...I’ll call you later,”

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you sprinted outside to the parking lot and back to your car. You pulled the nail file attached to your key ring, and stared at your tires.

“God forgive me…” You sighed, making a sign of the cross across your chest before kneeling next to your left rear tire.

You dragged the nail file across the tire, it barely made a scratch. Panic began filling your head, thinking of missing any chance to have Rafael’s lips on yours. Your BFF was right, you probably had a thing for him the moment you met him; even though you hadn’t even dared to let yourself think about it, until this morning. This WAS like an alternate dimension, it was like the rules of the ‘normal’ world were moot.

The emotions of it all bubbled to a head as you stared at the tire; with a sort of pathetic battle cry, you PLUNGED the nail file into your tire and pulled it HARD across the top. Air came gushing out, the tire deflating in mere seconds. You sat back, the nail file in your hand like a machete, your breath going in and out like you had just run a marathon. Okay, you did go a LITTLE psycho there for a second.

You barely had time to admire the work, you knew you had to go back inside to make it look like you had been in the bathroom this whole time.

There was no going back now.

----

Back inside you weaved in and out of the crowd back towards the bathroom, then made a turn for the booth so it looked like you had come from that direction. You walked up slowly, still hidden in the crowded bar as you heard an exchange between Barba and Oliva.

“...What I’m saying is, don’t start leading her on when you know it’s not going anywhere,”

“How do you know it’s not going anywhere, Liv?”

“Barba. Be serious,”

Oh hell no. Who was she to make that decision? Surely he didn’t think that...did he?

“HEY, hi,” you spoke up loudly, the entire group jumping at your rather loud greeting.

“Oh hey Y/N we uh, I got the check. I just went ahead and paid for everybody, and when I say I, I mean Dodd’s,” She smiled, like she hadn’t just insulted the fuck out of you.

“Oh, yeah? Ready to head home then?” You acted completely oblivious, noticing Rafael was avoiding your eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve got my nanny waiting on me and it’s already...8 o clock?!” Olivia gasped, looking at her phone.

“Good lord, how long have we been here? I better call my sitter,” Amanda grabbed her own phone out of her bag as the group walked out.

“Well, we were driving for a good 45 minutes outside of Hartford before Rafael made us stop here,”

“Wait, what?” You now for the very first time, took a good long look at the parking lot. The bar was next to a motel on one side, a gas station on the other side next to it. And then field, across from it. And for miles.

You were literally in the middle of nowhere.

“Oh god…” you muttered, mentally yelling obscenities at your BFF and yourself for listening to their bat shit logic. Fin glanced at you quizzically, overhearing your ranting-- and then you heard Sonny’s voice.

“Is that….?”

You saw him gesture towards your back wheel. FUCK.

“Oh my god, are you serious?? A Flat tire?!” Amanda slammed her phone against your car.

“Barba must have driven across a nail, or glass, or something in the parking lot. Probably a broken beer bottle if we’re being honest,” Sonny scoffed looking at the less than stellar cars in the parking lot.

“Hey it’s not Barba’s fault!” You snapped defensively, once again mentally face palming. THINK before speaking.

“I mean it’s...it’s nobody’s fault, right? I mean, maybe the road people? Or, drunk hicks? Certainly no one here in this vicinity though, I mean obviously,” Nope, still couldn’t stop talking.

Olivia’s eyes narrowed, looking from you to Barba, who was staring at the pavement silently. She started to say something, but realized she had no concrete evidence to start throwing accusations.

“She’s right Liv, it was just a stupid accident,” Fin chimed in, patting Olivia’s shoulder.

“Do you at least have AAA?” Olivia asked you, still suspicious of the sudden turn of events.

“Oh yeah, I’ve...I’ve never used it before though,” You dug into your wallet and pulled out a worn out AAA card. Olivia took it and started dialing the number into her phone.

You took this moment to start your mission, despite the fact that your plan was quickly running off the rails.

“Can we…?” You motioned sideways, Barba nodded and moved to the side with you.

“Look, Y/N. The whole dance thing it was, cute. Flattering.”

“Flattering?” you scoffed. Seriously?

“But, I mean you know we’re in front of the whole squad, and we’re working,” His words cut you like knives. Was he actually implying that whole was embarrassing?

“ ..And I just don’t think--”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?” Olivia’s booming voice snapped you both out of the conversation.

“Yeah, well-- thanks a lot,” she scoffed, tossing your card as she hung up the phone.

“Hey I might--” you walked back over to her, her red hot eyes meeting yours.

“You don’t have AAA out here,” she spoke directly to you, the annoyance of her voice turning to anger.

“W-What do you mean they don’t--”

“I mean, Y/N-- your AAA card is for NEW YORK, and we’re still in CONNECTICUT,”

“Liv seriously will you knock it off? Leave her alone, she didn’t know,” Barba finally spoke up in defense of you, putting space between you and Olivia.

“I’m...I’m sorry, Y/N. I know it’s not your fault,” she apologized, not knowing it was indeed your fault.

“What am I gonna tell Lucy? We’re going to be stuck here until morning,” She sighed.

“Morning?” Amanda exclaimed angrily. “What about my Jesse?”

“I’m sure Lucy will watch her at my place with Noah, Amanda. I’ll call her right now,” Olivia assured her, the two of them walking off to the side.

You started running your hands through your hair and pacing like mad, trying not to hyperventilate. This wasn’t supposed to happen!! This was supposed to be a MINOR inconvenience, not a crisis! WHY did you listen to your BFF?

“Hey, are you ok?” Barba came up behind you and put both hands on your shoulders.

“Come on Y/N you know that’s not what I--” he protested but you wouldn’t hear it.

“Why do you care all of a sudden? Didn’t I embarrass you in front of your colleagues?” You snapped your head around, glaring at him.

“Can we please just forget it, PLEASE? I am already getting my karmic ass kicked, I don’t need you lecturing me on top of it,” You started walking towards the door of the bar.

“What? I’m not lecturing you I don’t--” He trailed behind you.

“EXACTLY,” You spun back around, planting your feet as you stared directly into his eyes. He stopped suddenly almost on top of you, surprised by your sudden stop; his puppy dog eyes were begging you to forgive him.

“Exactly. You don’t want to, I get it counselor. I get it. I should have never--” you feigned tears welling up in your throat.

“Carino--” he went for your hand.

“Don’t. Just-- I’m sorry. For all of this,” You snapped your hand back and ran back inside the bar, noticing Barba following right behind you. Your fake tear filled face now slid into a sly smirk.

You were getting this moment come hell or high water now.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #rafael barba imagine #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #svu fanfiction #build me up buttercup

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hydroponicjj · 4 years

Text

pinky promise

pairing: jj maybank x reader

word count: 3.1k (i’ve never written anything this long before lmao)

warnings: swearing

summary: your birthday takes place over quarantine and because you can’t have an actual birthday party, the pogues host a netflix party for you but an unexpected guest joins which ruins the mood. jj decides to cheer you up from a distance.

a/n: hello!! i know i’ve been a little m.i.a. but, i promise that i’m back. send me some outer banks requests and i’ll be happy to do them (no smut pls) also, if you’ve sent a request recently, i’m working on em :) gif credit goes to hvitstark!!!

y/n/n “your nickname”

「 ₊˚.༄ 」

When summer first began, you as well as the rest of the pogues were overwhelmed with excitement. You didn't have to do homework, get stressed with school, take exams. Nothing.

The plans weren't set in stone but all of you had a general idea of what you’d do from day to day. From surfing to eating at The Wreck, there was nothing that could stop you and your friends from having the best summer ever.

All of you had seen news articles, talking about a deadly virus entering the United States. It first appeared in Washington, then slowly started to spread around the vicinity. But no one in the Outer Banks of North Carolina was concerned.

So, the beginning of summer break started with absolutely no delay.

After the first couple of weeks of the virus spreading across the country, slowly but surely, you watched as people started to get worried. It got to the point were you mother was cautioning you before going to hang out with the rest of the pogues.

“I pinky promise that I’ll be safe!” You’d tease before going outside and hopping into John B’s Volkswagen.

When you hopped into the back of the van, you noticed the disappointed looks on everyone’s faces while Pope was rambling (like he usually does).

“I really think that we should start to prepare because I think that this virus is very similar to the Black Death.” He finished, taking a deep breath.

“What’s up?” You greeted, raised eyebrows in confusion.

Pope smiled enthusiastically and gave you a warm welcome while the others groaned like a walker from The Walking Dead.

“What are you babbling on about today, Mr.Heyward?” You questioned.

“He literally won’t shut up about this stupid virus!” Kiara answered for him, resting her head on the window as she sat in the front seat.

“Neither will my mom. She’s all worked about this and telling me to ‘be safe’ before leaving the house.” You explained.

“It’s not like we know anyone that’s sick.” John B shrugged, starting the van.

Seconds later, JJ started to have a coughing attack. He literally couldn’t stop, even after he had multiple sips of water.

Both you and Pope moved to the corner farthest away from him, you were laughing because you knew JJ and his personality while Pope was terrified.

“Holy shit, he has it.” He whispered in your ear, eyes as big as a Watermelon.

“He’s about to cough up a lung.” Kie commented, turning around to see the blonde flopping around like a fish.

After a few more seconds, JJ recovered from his coughing attack and sat up, a huge smile plastered on his face.

“Not funny!” Pope screamed, kicking the bottom of his foot.

“You should have seen your face, it was priceless.” He chuckled.

You crawled over to JJ and rested your head in his lap, arms crossed over your stomach as you cackled, “Oh my gosh, that was hilarious.” You raised your hand and gave him a high five, intertwining for fingers and bringing it back down to your chest.

“I only did it because Pope needs a reality check. In a couple weeks everything will be fine.” He sighed, using his other hand to take the lighter out of his pocket and light the blunt between his teeth.

Before he could, you held out your left hand which was your way of asking him to place the items in your palm because no one was interested in getting a contact high at 2 pm.

Usually the rest of the pogues would snatch it from him but you were different. You didn’t feel comfortable being rough with him because you knew about his life at home and you didn’t want to set him off.

That was one of the many things that JJ appreciated about you. You were gentle with him and always took your time, not wanting to him to feel rushed. So, he always complied when you asked.

“Fuck it, I’m taking all the toilet paper.” Pope commented out of context, causing everyone to laugh.

「 ₊˚.༄ 」

Fast forward one week later and your entire life has flipped upside down.

Covid-19 shut down absolutely everything. Kie and her family were forced to close down The Wreck because they couldn't take the risk of hurting any customers or members of the staff.

All of your friends were separated, except for JJ and John B because they quarantined together, not wanting to be alone during this time.

To be honest, you missed everyone, especially JJ because the two of you always gravitated towards each other so it was pretty hard to be separate from him.

To stay connected with each other, you all texted in the shared group chat and had group facetime’s and netflix parties almost every single night.

John B insisted on inviting Sarah and you didn’t know how to feel about it. Sarah and Kie did squash their beef but, she told you all of the things that happened and it really rubbed you the wrong way. But, you wanted John B to be happy, no matter who it was with.

“Holy shit, y/n/n your birthday is in 2 days!” JJ noticed while the two of you were on facetime. John B was busy talking to Sarah so, he called you to pass the time.

“Yeah.” You replied, unenthusiasticlly.

“I know it sucks that we’re in quarantine but, I promise we’ll have a group facetime and you can pick the movie.” He smiled, you didn’t even have to elaborate on why you were sad because he knew you that well.

“Wait for real?” You laughed.

Listen, everyone has different taste when it comes to movies so, every time that you’re doing a netflix party, it’s really hard to decide on a movie that all of the pogues can enjoy.

“Okay, now I’m excited. This is going to be so fun!” You screeched, clapping your hands together.

“Shit, John B’s calling me. I’ve gotta go but, keep that same enthusiasm, okay?” He replied, smiling into the camera.

“Pinky promise.” You gave him the biggest grin known to man before hanging up.

「 ₊˚.༄ 」

Exactly two days later, you woke up to your mom towering over you with a cake in her hands, “Happy 17th birthday, y/n/n!” She took JJ’s lighter that was sitting on your nightstand and lit the ‘17’ on the cake.

“Woah!” You said, rubbing your eyes. It was still pretty early in the morning and you couldn’t fully comprehend what was going on.

“Thank you so much.” You sat up in your bed, making room for your mother to sit.

“Make a wish.” She encouraged, taking out her phone to capture the moment.

“I wish that I have the best day ever, despite not being about to see my friends.” and with that, you blew out the candles, smiling up at your mom.

“Awe were you recording that?” You smiled, covering your face.

“I was gonna send it to your friends,” She paused, “Speaking of them, are you gonna uh... party on neflix tonight?” She squinted.

You chuckled, your mom really wasn’t as aquatinted with technology as other parents, “Yeah, the 5 of us are gonna watch a movie on facetime. I promise to keep it down.”

“Thank you. I’m gonna go start on breakfast. I’ll call you when it’s finished.” She left your room, leaving the door cracked slightly.

After a few seconds of staring off into space, you checked your phone like you always do when you wake up and your phone was filled with notifications.

Your smiled from ear to ear. Unlike the average kook, you weren’t very popular but that didn’t matter because you had 4 of the best people on planet earth as your best friends.

The first thing that you checked was Instagram. You tapped through the stories that you were tagged in and were met with some of the best memories that were caught on camera.

From the time you accidentally set off the sprinklers at The Wreck, getting all of the customers wet as they were leaving to the time that you got stuck at the top of the monkey bars at your old elementary school and JJ had to come and save you.

You almost started crying because you hadn’t been apart from any of your friends for more that 12 hours and even though it’s only been a week, it felt like forvever.

Before you responded to the countless amount of texts from your aunts and uncles, you texted the group chat and gushed to them about how thankful you were that they all posted something in honor of your birthday.

They all politely told you to and I quote, “shut the fuck up.” because it was a given that they’d praise you for your special day.

You rolled your eyes with a smile on your face and threw your phone on the charger, heading to the kitchen to eat breakfast with your mother.

「 ₊˚.༄ 」

The sound of your phone ringing tore you away from the piece of cake that you were chewing.

“And the guest of honor has arrived!” John B gushed, JJ was sitting next to him and it looked like they were on the couch.

“Get any presents?” Kie asked, positioning her phone upwards so that she could be seen.

“Nah, unless you count cake.” You chuckled, showing them the piece that you were currently devouring.

“That looks so good.” Pope commented, he was staring into the camera, hypnotized by the sweet treat that you had just showcased.

“Snap out of it!” JJ started clapping his hands in the camera causing Pope to fidget slightly taking his face out of the camera.

You spent the first 30 minutes of the facetime call catching up about the stupid quarantine habits that you all picked up.

Kiara had given herself a few dolphin stick & pokes, Pope had started online shopping, like a lot. He had at least 30 new t-shirts in his closet. John B calls Sarah while JJ spends most of his time talking to you.

“Wait, wait, wait guys,” You paused, trying to get their attention because they were all screaming at each other, “Are y’all ready to watch the movie?” You questioned, opening a new tab on your computer.

“Yeah, yeah. Wait a second.” John B put himself on paused, you could hear JJ sigh because he does that at least once every time that you all are on a group call.

After a few seconds, you heard everyone's phone ding as well as your own. You all had gotten a group e-mail to join a netflix party. At first you were confused because JJ said that he talked to everyone and they agreed to letting you chose the movie.

A few more seconds passed and you saw another square begin to connect to the facetime call. It was a number that no one recognized so, everyone was pretty stunned (except for john b).

The mystery person finally connected and it was revealed to be Sarah Cameron.

You looked at everyone's little square and saw how wide their eyes were. JJ seemed furious but, he didn’t want to make a scene because after all, it was still your birthday.

Kie and Pope looked shocked that John B would add her without asking if you were okay with it first.

“Hey guys! Happy birthday, y/n.” Sarah greeted, smiling.

“Thank you.” You croaked back a response, going on your computer and opening the e-mail that was sent, clicking the netflix party link.

After taking a second to load, you saw that you were watching the 4th season of Riverdale. (yikes)

You rolled your eyes, praying that it went unnoticed.

“Is this what you wanted to watch, y/n? I thought you hated Riverdale?” Pope asked, still a little confused on the whole situation.

“Nope.” You stated dryly, shrugging you shoulders and falling back onto your bed.

“Oh, it was my idea.” Sarah chimed in, her bubble got bigger because she had said something, “You don’t mind, right y/n/n?”

“I kind of wanted to watch Back to the Future.” You revealed.

At this point, everyone was shocked, even you. You didn’t hate Sarah, she was currently being really nice but you wanted to spend your birthday talking to your best friends and she didn’t fit into that category yet.

“I don’t really like that movie.” John B commented, earning a slap on the back of the head from JJ.

“Actually,” You paused, contemplating if you even wanted to continue the sentence. You had two options, make a scene or leave peacefully.

“I’m not feeling to well. I think I’m going to go but, have fun watching Riverdale.” Before anyone could protest, you hung up.

Option two it is.

“Fuck birthday’s.” You concluded, turning off your light. You didn’t have the energy to argue with anyone so, you decided to go to bed and deal with it in the morning.

JJ muted the phone so that no one else could hear the conversation that was about to ensue, “Dude, what the fuck?!” He yelled at John B, who was very confused.

“You invited the girl you’ve been mackin’ on for a month to y/n’s birthday party. Did you even ask her?” He stood up, towering over his friend.

“Woah, woah, calm down. I didn’t think that she’d care.” He defended himself.

Pope and Kie were texting you while Sarah was too busy watching the cringe unfold on Riverdale that they didn’t notice that John B and JJ were arguing.

“All she wanted was a good birthday and you fucking ruined it.” He accused, poking at his chest.

“I didn’t ruin it. She was tired and had to go!”

“It’s literally 9:30 pm. You think she’d go to bed this early? We’re in quarantine! Everyone stays up till like, 5!”

The look on JJ’s face conveyed that he was seconds away from punching John B in the face but he had to remember that you wouldn’t want them fighting because of you.

The blonde took a deep breath that lasted at least 5 minutes, “I need to go check on her.” He stated, going into the guest room that he was currently residing in and grabbed a big basket but with how fast he was walking, it’d be impossible to make out the contents inside.

“You can’t go see her, we’re in quarantine.” John B protested but JJ didn’t seem to care.

「 ₊˚.༄ 」

The sun started peaking through your window at around 6 am. The heat of the sun beamed on your face, causing you to wake up earlier that you anticipated.

Groaning, you trudged to the one and only bathroom in your house, thankful that your mom was off to work. She works for Mr.Heyward and they’re currently trying to deliver supplies to as many people as possible.

After getting ready for the day in the restroom, you headed towards the kitchen. In your peripheral vision, you saw a big basket sitting on your front porch.

Peaking your interest, you opened your front door and grabbed the basket with two hands. It wasn’t that heavy but it appeared to be filled to the brim.

Perched on the very top of the basket was a ripped sheet of blank paper covered with medium sized writing. The penmanship was sloppy and certain words had been written over and over again, most likely because the marker was running out of ink.

Based on the lack of punctuation, you already knew who hand delivered this package.

On the inside was 3 of JJ’s shirts (without the sleeves ofc), a half empty bottle of cologne that he’d only wear on special occasions, a torn 2 dollar bill, and a hydroponic blunt.

If any other pogue was receiving this as a gift, they’d probably be really disappointed but, not you. You knew that JJ wasn’t well acquainted with showing and or receiving love so, this was a huge gesture.

Running back into your house, you grabbed your phone, ignoring all of the apology texts from John B, you facetimed JJ.

After a few seconds of it ringing, he answered, “What time is it?” He groaned.

“When did you deliver this?” You asked, ignoring his question.

“What are you talking about?” He didn’t falter, standing his ground.

“Don’t play dumb with me, JJ. What time did you put this on my doorstep?” You persisted, showing the poorly wrapped package that rested on your dining table.

“I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about.” He chuckled, scratching the back of his head.

You squinted your eyes into the camera and waited a few seconds and sure enough, he creaked, “Fine, fine! I may or may not have decided to play mail man last night.”

“What the heck-?” You paused, attempting to take in what he had just said, “Wait, why?”

“Well, after Sarah crashed your birthday party, I thought you might want to wake up to something, uh, nice.” He grinned, awkwardly.

“You should’ve called me! I would’ve come outside to see you.” You replied, disappointed. He was mere feet away from you last night and you weren’t aware.

“Social distancing, y/n.” He teased. We all know that JJ is the pogue that’s most likely to accidentally break one of the rules during quarantine.

“JJ,” You took a deep breath, “Why did you all of this. I mean, it’s such an amazing birthday gift. A blunt and a 2 dollar bill, what more could a girl ask for?”

“IT’S BECAUSE HE LOOOOVES YOU!!” You heard John B scream from farther into the house.

JJ dropped the phone on the bed and put himself on mute, you shook your head, knowing he was most likely scolding John B.

“I’m sorry, he’s been spending to much time with Sarah.” He returned, “Also, I stole that bill from Kie, don’t tell her though.”

“I really really really miss you, JJ.” You sighed, frowning.

“I really really really miss you, y/n.” He mocked, of course he could not be 100% serious, even when he wanted too.

“Can you promise me something?”

He raised his eyebrows, face plastered with curiousness, “Uhhh, maybe.” He chuckled.

“Promise me that you’ll ask me out once quarantine is over?” You deadpanned. It was clear that it caught him by surprise because his face wasn’t covered with confusion anymore but shear terror instead.

“W-What was that John B???!!! You fell in the toilet! Awe shit, y/n, I’ve gotta go.” He replied, hanging up the phone.

Usually, you’d be a little offended but, you knew he was just messing around with you, especially because he was so used to making the first move when it came to getting girls.

Your phone was on silent so, you didn’t notice it a first but you had a new text message from JJ.

“pinky promise.”

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #netflix #outer banks fic #jj maybank fic #jey's oneshots #rudy pankow #john b routledge #pope heyward #kiara carrera #sarah cameron #rafe cameron #imagine #outer banks imagine

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jamielea81 · 4 years

Text

Conversations

Chapter 8

Description: You accompany your friends on a day trip to Animal Kingdom Theme Park where you meet Scott Evans by chance. This one afternoon leads to a year long friendship with both Chris and Scott over text messages and phone calls.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: A couple of curse words, fluff, overthinking, Scott being a little shit.

Word Count: 3,210

A/N: I know nothing about the lives of the Evans family and mean no harm. This is purely fiction and for fun. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! The tag list is now closed. Each chapter tends to get reblogged from me a few times, so if you’re following me, you can’t miss it.

*Italics are internal thoughts

“It’s like I don’t even know you anymore,” Scott whined.

“You’re being dramatic.”

Scott was facetiming you and being his normal grumpy self. If you didn’t love him so much, you would have disconnected the call ten minutes prior.

“I thought we had no secrets,” he plainly said.

“We never agreed to that. I’m pretty sure there are a million things I don’t know about you,” you threw back at him, one eyebrow raised.

He scoffs and shakes his head with a little bit of a smile coming through.

I knew he’d break.

Chris had gone back to Massachusetts two days prior and you still hadn’t stopped smiling.

After sharing a few more sweet kisses that night, the two of you watched the sunrise before making the short walk back to your house. It was the first time you had experienced both the sunset and sunrise with someone all in the same day. Sleep deprivation never felt so good.

You dropped Chris off an hour later. He wanted you to come inside to say goodbye to his mom, but with half your makeup worn off and the giddy look on your face, it wasn’t the impression you wanted to give. Especially since the first one didn’t play out so well.

With the two of you parked like teenagers outside his rented home, you struggled with what to say.

“Thanks for having me over,” Chris offered with a lazy smile.

“Thanks for coming over and for lunch.”

You turned in your seat to face him head on. Chris grabbed your hand intertwining your fingers.

“I hate to be a bummer, but I don’t know what I can come back to visit. But I want to see you again. Don’t want to leave today and have you thinkin’ this is it,” he said.

You nodded your head numbly, trying to keep the last eighteen or so hours in your mind solely. No use in being sad right now. Leaning forward, you captured his lips once more. The two of you pulling away with sleepy smiles.

“Call me when you get home,” you said.

Chris lifted your linked hands, bringing them to his lips, and kissing yours softly.

“Of course,” he said.

“Fine…You still should have told me,” Scott insisted.

You rubbed your right eye with the palm of your hand, momentarily freaking out before you realized you didn’t have any makeup on.

“I don’t really know what it all means,” you sighed out. “Okay, that’s not completely true.” Scott chuckled at your indecision. “It was nice and I kind of wanted to keep it to myself for a while.” You shrugged a shoulder.

“Well, he can’t stop gushing about you,” Scott replied. That made you perk up.

“Really?”

“Yeah, it was like the first thing he told me when he got home. No mention of Disney, just Sassy,” he said.

“See, I didn’t have to tell you. You guys tell each other everything. Which honestly concerns me.” You gave him a smirk. “But what did he say?!”

Scott laughed, shaking his head at the same time.

“I don’t know…Think I need to start keeping my relationships with the two of you separate.”

Sticking out your bottom lip, you give him the biggest pouty face you could muster causing Scott to chuckle again.

“All I’m going to say is he said you spent the night together and it was wonderful.”

“Wait. Wait. Hold up. That sounds like our night was more than PG13!” you exclaimed.

“Oh my god! I didn’t even think of that!” Scott laughed. “He didn’t mean it that way, I swear. But that’s all you’re getting from me.”

“Fine,” you groaned.

A week had passed and the endless smile had finally dissipated. You weren’t upset or anything like that. No. The euphoric state you were in had just…faded. Chris and you spoke or texted over the last week, but reality set in that the night you shared would probably be no more than a night. This of course was not stated with actual words between the two of you. Saying it out loud seemed much too scary. But since it wasn’t spoken, you could only assume that Chris had come to the same conclusion. Really, what were the two of you? The calls and texts were much the same as they had always been. Teasing each other, a good amount of flirting, small talk about your days, and maybe a little Scott talk. It was really just getting your mind to wrap around the idea that Chris was your friend that you happened to have kissed. A few times. Maybe that was good enough.

Cirque du Soleli was premiering a new show called Drawn to Life, after being closed for some time in Disney Springs, the shopping and entertainment district at Walt Disney World resort. Jana had agreed to be your date, but since she was coming from work, she was running a bit behind. You busied yourself with a drink on the outdoor patio at House of Blues, letting the dark rum and mix of juices take your mind off the busy week. Grabbing your phone out of your purse, you decided to give Chris a call since Jana wouldn’t be arriving for at least another ten minutes.

“Well, hello there sweetheart. What are you up to?” His soothing voice answered.

“Hey there yourself. I’m just drinking alone. At a bar. Woe is me,” you replied.

“I don’t like the sound of that. Tough week?” Chris asked.

“Wasn’t too bad. Just waiting on Jana who’s running late.”

“Oh, you two. Do I need to warn the cops that you’re out together?” he teased.

“Well, we’re on Disney property, so we can’t get into too much trouble. Watchin’ the new Cirque show that’s opening tonight for the paper. They actually gave me a plus one and I couldn’t think of a better date,” you bated him.

“Really Sassy? Aiming low I see?”

“I haven’t a clue at what you’re implying Mr. Evans.”

“Mmhm, I’m sure. She gonna kiss you goodnight when the evening is over?” he asked.

“Well, she’s married. So…”

Chris chuckled at that. “So, what you’re sayin’ is she doesn’t know about that little spot right below your ear that gets you all hot and bothered?”

This man will be the death of you some day. It took a moment for you to compose yourself. Clearing your throat quickly and blowing out a breath.

“No, no. Sh-she doesn’t know that. But you barely know that, so dial it down buddy,” you giggled.

“Ah-huh. Alright, sweetheart. I’ll try to rein it in.” There was a beat of silence on both ends, the only sound was each other’s breath. “God, I miss you,” he softly spoke.

With your heart hammering in your ears, you licked your lips. “I miss you too.”

You felt a tap on your shoulder, turning your head you saw Jana who gave you a silent wave.

“Um, babe, Jana’s here now,” you said, struggling to get your voice.

“Alright. Have a good night and don’t get into any trouble,” he warned.

“I promise nothing. Talk to you tomorrow?” Why you asked it as a question, you weren’t sure.

“Always. Goodnight sweetheart.”

“Goodnight,” you replied, hitting the end call button.

Dropping your phone into your purse, you turned back to Jana, gesturing for her to take a seat.

“Who was that?”

“Chris.”

You’re sure she can see the heat in your face, but you don’t care at the moment. He said he missed you. You’re glad you aren’t the only one.

“How are you holding up?” Jana asked.

Lifting your glass to your lips, you took a sip of the mostly watered-down rum. “I’m doing good. Chris is still my friend and that’s all I can really ask for,” you said, shrugging your shoulders.

Jana gave you a pointed look, setting her bag on the tabletop, resting her arms on either side of it. “Really?” she asked.

“Of course, not!” you practically shouted. Had it been anyone else, they would have flinched at your sudden loss of composure. Taking a calming breath, you composed yourself once more. “We did just have a nice conversation, so I’m feeling better. I’m fine.”

“Yep. Sure, seems like it.” She stood up, pushing the chair back in. “Let’s go. Time to join the circus.”

You knew she probably would have given you a lecture about going with the flow and learning to discuss your feelings if you had time before the show started. And if you were an adult about the situation, you would listen to her.

Whenever your phone rang during the middle of the day from one of the Evans boys, you knew something was up. Seeing Chris’ name on your screen surprised you a bit. He had been filming the last couple of weeks for another Apple TV+ series, so it was a lot more texting with a few phone calls sprinkled in. Usually just as you were falling asleep.

“I’m sorry, who’s this?” you answered.

You hear a deep chuckle on the other end of the line. “Funny. Did you delete my contact or something?” Chris asked.

“Not this week. Not yet anyway,” you teased.

The newsroom was packed this afternoon being that it was Friday and mostly everyone was required to make an appearance. You pushed away from your desk, getting to your feet to find an empty conference room.

“Not this week? What did I do last week?” He sounds tired. You know he loves to work, but you really wish he’d take a little more time for himself.

You found an open room, quickly shutting the door, plopping your butt in a chair at the large round table. “Hmm. If you don’t know, that makes a bigger case for me to delete you as soon as we hang up.” The chairs in the conference rooms were always much nicer than the ones on the floor.

Wonder if I could swap mine for one of these without anyone noticing?

“Maybe I could change your mind,” Chris offered.

“I’m listening,” you said, tapping your fingernails against the polished wood table.

“Could you take off work for a couple of days? I’m going to be a New York City for a few days, and my schedule isn’t going to be packed. Thought maybe I could convince you to come see me.”

You wouldn’t say it out loud, but you most definitely would make something work. It had only been a month since your weekend together, but that month felt more like a dozen. With his filming schedule, you planned on waiting another couple of months before you would even bring up the idea of seeing him.

“When exactly? I’m sure I could get away, but if it’s a Friday, it will be a little harder to swing it.”

“You don’t think I know that Sassy? Fridays you have meetings and you can’t be late,” he said, a smirk in his voice.

“Kudos to you, Mr. Evans.”

“I’m gettin’ in Monday night, late.”

“This Monday?”

Crap. Maybe not.

“Sweetheart, I’m not calling you last minute. The week after.”

Relaxing a bit when you realized you’d have a little over a week to prepare rather than just a couple of days. You’d have to look up flights and hotels to see what you could find. Figure out what part of New York he’d be in. Knowing you probably wouldn’t be able to afford where ever he was staying, you wanted to at least be close.

“I can make that work. Maybe come in Tuesday morning and leave Thursday night?”

“Whatever you can make happen Y/N, I’ll take.”

You smiled at his words. “I’ll look at some flights and hotels. Where are you staying?”

“No, no, no, sweetheart. I’m flying you out here. My treat,” he said.

“Chris, no. I can’t have you do that. That’s too big of a gift,” you reasoned.

The two of you were friends, maybe something a bit more, but mostly just friends. It was much too much for him to paying for trips.

“Let me do this. I want to see you and it’s really not that big of a deal.”

You shook your head and then rolled your eyes at yourself remembering he couldn’t see you.

“Let me at least pay for the flight, Chris.”

“You’re frustrating, you know that?” he groaned.

“I’ve been told that,” you chuckled.

“If you’d feel more comfortable, I can get you your own room. But if I’m being honest, I’d like you to stay with me,” he said softly.

Holy shit.

“Ye-yeah. Yeah. I’d like that. To stay with you I mean.”

Chris chuckled at your response. “One room it is. Let me know you flight info and I’ll arrange a car to pick you up.”

“Okay. Yeah, I’ll do that.” You had a dopey smile on your face, but you couldn’t help it.

“Talk to you soon, sweetheart.”

“Bye babe,” you replied.

If you weren’t at work, you’d pretty much be freaking out. The freak out would need to wait.

Your flight was booked for seven in the morning on Tuesday, flying home at four in the afternoon on Thursday. Not a lot of time, but at least it was two full days. Two full nights as well. That was a whole other thing. You were spending two nights with Chris. Presumably in one bed. Unless he booked a room with more than one bed. Who were you kidding? He probably doesn’t even book his own rooms. He was there for work, so the room probably only had one bed.

You quickly fired off a text to Jana.

Y/N: Am I just a booty call?

You knew Chris didn’t think of you that way. He was your friend. You were close friends with his brother. But being whisked away to New York for a couple of nights sure made you feel a little bit like one. And you agreed to sleeping in the same room.

Jana: In general, or??

Bitch.

Your friends were all trouble and as soon as you get back from New York, you were going to look for new ones.

Y/N: Thanks, I’m about to call your husband instead.

Jana: He told me to type that!

Y/N: 🥺

Jana: You are not a booty call. Chris lives a different lifestyle from most people. If the two of you want to spend time together, flying to different cities is probably how it’s going to go.

She was right. You knew she was. But your dumb brain didn’t want to accept it.

Nine at night was entirely too early to go to bed. Usually you weren’t even in your room that early, but it was Monday and you were trying to fall asleep at an earlier hour since your alarm was set for three in the morning. Why you picked a seven AM flight was beyond you.

Y/N: I’m going to bed early. Talk to you tomorrow.

You waited a few minutes for Scott to text you back. He was in L.A. if you were remembering correctly, so it was a lot earlier than normal.

Instead of texting back, he was calling.

“Hello, Scott,” you answered.

“Hi Sassy. I’m trying to have a nice dinner with Zach and you’re interrupting what was once a beautiful evening.”

Yet I’m the sassy one?

“I’m pretty sure by you calling me, you’re interrupting dinner with Zach. Tell him hello from me by the way,” you replied.

“I hate when you’re right,” he chuckled.

“Just stating facts, sweetie. You didn’t have to call, just wanted to let you know I was turning in early.”

“Is your flight early?” he asked.

“Yeah, seven. Not sure what I was thinkin’ there.”

“Thinkin’ about gettin’ some,” he murmured.

“Scott! Dude! What the fuck?”

Rather than respond he just continued to laugh on the other end of the line.

“I’m just saying. Don’t kill the messenger here,” he continued to chuckle.

“What happened to keeping yourself separate from Chris and my relationship?”

“Uhh, yeah. You’re right. My lips are sealed,” Scott replied.

“Unanswered prayers!”

“Watch yourself, Sassy,” he said sternly. “But have a safe flight. Give Chris a hug and kiss for me.” It was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde all of a sudden. So serious one second and nice and sweet the second. Scott Evans was a man of mystery.

“Yeah, thanks, Grumpy. Goodnight.”

“Bye, love.”

One of the positives about taking an early flight was that security was a lot easier to get through so early in the morning. You had said for years you were going to get Pre-Check but you always just put it off. Going through a short security check was nice.

Picking up a coffee and a bagel, you made your way to the gate. Boarding wasn’t for another hour, but that gave you time to finish your food, use the restroom, and over think the trip.

Sigh.

No amount of crying babies and couples arguing about which bag had the phone charger could distract you from knowing you’d be seeing Chris in a matter of hours. Do you greet him with a hug, high five, or a kiss? I mean, really, it could be anything.

Sigh.

Y/N: Let’s say I wanted something more to happen on this getaway. I’m not saying that’s what I want. Hypothetically speaking.

You chewed on your lip waiting for Jana’s reply. You should have bought a pack of gum. Your lips would be raw before you even touched down in JFK.

Jana: Hypothetically you want to bang him

Y/N: Where is that coming from? I never said that.

Jana: It might be time you spoke to a professional.

She probably isn’t wrong.

Y/N: Let’s say the answer is yes. Too soon?

Jana: That’s entirely up to you. If that’s what you both want.

Y/N: It’s me. I have no idea what I want. I wish there was some magical way to know what the other person is thinking.

Jana: Doesn’t work that way babe

Y/N: Yeah

Brooks: Just bang him!

Jana really needed to stop telling Brooks everything.

You quickly replied to Brooks’ message.

Y/N: Not a word to Scott.

Now that two of them talked, who knows how quickly this conversation would get back to Chris.

Brooks: My lips are sealed.

Damnit! That’s what Scott said last night.

Because you bought your seat a week out, you ended up buying an upgraded seat in Delta Comfort which essentially gave you a few more inches of leg room and a seat just past the first-class section. The bigger benefit for you was being boarded sooner. Being able to skip most of the standing around the gate like watching a street act was nothing more than a blessing for your nerves.

Settled into your seat, you decided to send Chris a text before powering down your phone.

Y/N: Hey there, Delilah What's it like in New York city? I'm a thousand miles away But, girl, tonight you look so pretty Yes, you do

Chris: Cute. Now get your ass here so I can kiss you.

Maybe you knew what you wanted.

Chapter 9

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chuckbass-love · 4 years

Text

Why Him? | Ransom Drysdale | Part 14

A/N : Just finished a Loki one shot, it’ll be posted tomorrow and i’m so proud of it.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than my Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3. However, reblogs are welcome.

No smut in this one unfortunately but i really enjoyed writing this chapter. Hope you guys love it as much as i do.

Why Him? MASTERLIST

Ransom’s POV

“It was lovely to see you again Claudia, and you Ransom” grandad says as we all say our goodbyes. “You too, thank you for having us” Claudia hugs him before bidding farewell to my parents. “Hope to see you again soon” they say and we wave to them as we get into my car. “They love you” i beam as i start driving away. “I love them too” she admits. “So it’s 5:30pm now. We have to meet them around 7 ish. I think we should get ready when we get home” i suggest and she nods. “Sure thing babe” i place my hand on her thigh, squeezing it slightly.

“Are you okay?” a hint of worry in her voice “I’m fine doll, don’t sweat it” she shrugs before turning the radio on in the car and bopping her head to the music. To tell the truth, i’m shitting it. I’ve never had to meet a girls friends before, my ex didn’t have many and the few she did have she didn’t want me to meet because she was worried that being with me would ruin her reputation. Whatever that was supposed to mean.

We get back home and she runs inside and up the stairs to choose an outfit. I follow closely behind her since i need to change too. “Okay, this dress or that one?” she holds up a little black dress and a knee length body-con dress that would accentuate her features perfectly.

“The red one” she shakes her head, unsure “The red one, trust me” she walks over to me on the bed and she straddles me. “What are you doing doll?” i raise my brows “Just can’t keep my hands off of you that’s all” i pull her face closer to mine and kiss her. I swipe my tongue across her bottom lip and she opens her mouth, letting me in. We both get lost in the kiss and eventually i pull away. “We don’t have time for this now baby” she gets off of me in a huff.

“Someone sure is sulky when they don’t get their way huh?” i stand up and head into the closet, she follows. “I just, i can’t stop thinking about how good you fucked me this morning, my pussy is still sore” fuck.

“Well maybe later we can do it again. If you behave that is” i wink and she bites her bottom lip. I start changing in front of her and she whistles as i pull my shirt off. “Quit it, i’m not a piece of meat doll” she throws her head back laughing. “No, you’re a god. A sex god at that” she’s making it real difficult to be able to control myself.

I finish getting changed, i’m wearing a white shirt, which i rarely wear. My usual slacks and a grey cardigan which i can just take off when we get there. Just as i’m about to leave the closet, i remember something. The love egg. Time for some fun.

“Hey baby, come here” i call out and soon enough she wonders in, all innocent looking.

“Before you change, i’ve got something for you” i was gonna surprise her with the diamond necklace but that’s for another occasion. Since she’s been nagging for my dick, i’ll make her earn it for later. I hold up the toy and dangle it in front of her, her jaw drops. “Bend over” she does and i rub her pussy a little, also making sure to lube up the egg, no need to lube her up since her pussy is always soaked for me. I work it in and she gasps. “That’s it, keep it in there until we get home. You understand” she nods “I have all the control though doll” her eyes widen at the sight of the little remote in my hand. “No moaning either, got it?” she nods once again and she starts to change.

As she finishes getting ready, she turn to me and i hold her hand, twirling her around. “So beautiful” i’m in awe of her. I can’t help but feel extremely lucky.

We head out to the beamer and i drive us to the bar to meet her friends. I start tapping my fingers on the steering wheel whenever we come to a red light. “Babe, calm down. It’ll be fine i promise” she leans over to place a kiss onto my cheek, to give me some reassurance.

---------------------------------------

“Darcy” she yells in excitement as we enter the bar and she sees her friends. She holds my hand and leads me to through the crowd. This is the same bar that we met at a couple of weeks ago. Funny how one night changed our lives. We reach the back of the bar and her friends are sat in a booth. They all file out of the booth to greet me.

“Hi, i’m Ransom” i smile, reaching out to shake hands but Darcy pulls me into a hug. “So you’re the one that’s got this one over here all love struck” Claudia gives Darcy a nudge as if to say ‘shush’. I chuckle as i reach Luke “I’m Luke, that’s Darcy and this is James but i think you’ve spoken to him before. It’s nice to meet you” he gives me a hug and then so does James. We all take our seats in the booth, i sit next to Claudia. Opposite James, Darcy and Luke.

I reach my hand into my coat pocket to where the remote is and i press the first button, turning it on. Claudia jolts slightly “What’s wrong?” Luke asks, a look of confusion on his face but she waves it off. “Just accidentally knocked my knee against the table, no biggie” tonight is going to be a lot of fun.

“Wait so your grandad is Harlan Thrombey?” Darcy’s mouth is practically on the ground. “Yeah, Claudia told me and my family that you’re a big fan and he said he’d love to meet you” she squeals “You did not” Claudia laughs. “I did. You know i got you girl” they both start smiling at each other. Brownie points to me.

“So Luke, I know you like cars and well Ransom here has a beamer” he stares at her “Shut up, i’ve always wanted to ride in one. I know, not the best dream but you have to let me tag along in it one day man” i shake his hand “You’re on, i know a track we can race it on if you’re up for it” his eyes go wide as he sips his beer. “For sure, i’m down” i look over at Claudia as i press the second button on the remote, she starts biting at her lip. It’s working.

Tonight is going perfect, i’m getting along so well with all of them. We have loads in common which is great plus i know at the end of the night that Claudia will be like putty in my hands, she’ll be soaked for me. Just how i like her.

I order more drinks, getting myself a non-alcoholic beer since i’m driving and i get chatting to James about interior design. Claudia told him about my house and he said he’s looking for inspiration for his new home that he’s just purchased.

“Seriously though, you’re welcome to come and look around, maybe it’ll give you some ideas. I can even set you up with my mother too, she helped me with most of it and she’s very good at that sort of thing” we sip at our drinks and continue to chat about everything and anything. Claudia excuses herself to go to the toilet, Darcy follows. Just me and the guys now.

James’s POV

“So now she’s gone, we have to know man. What are your intentions?” Luke quizzes and i nod in agreement to his question. “If i’m being honest, i’m never like this with women but she’s different you know. I truly believe that she’s the one” me and Luke smile from ear to ear, in pure happiness at Ransom’s response. Claudia has been hurt before like most people and we just want the best for her. I can tell that Ransom has a past but what matters the most now is how he treats Claudia.

Claudia’s POV

“So, what do you think?” i ask Darcy, a cubicle separating us. “He’s lovely babes, i approve. He seems to be making you happy, am i right?” i gush at the thought of my man. “I am, i’m genuinely happy for the first time in a long time” i giggle as i feel the egg vibrate more inside of me. That fucker. I have every right to tease him when we get back out there. We finish up and head back out to the guys. I strut up to Ransom and sit down, making sure to flash him a cheeky wink. “I wanna dance, you guys coming?” i suggest but they wave me off. Darcy decides to join me though.

We walk over to the dance floor, i make sure to walk extra sexy, as i know Ransom’s eyes are fixed upon my figure. The song Please Me by Bruno Mars and Cardi B comes on, perfect song for what i’m about to do. I feel the vibrations go up a notch as i sway my hips to the music.

‘Please me baby, turn around and just tease me baby’

The music goes and i slut drop to the floor with Darcy, my ass in full view of Ransom’s eyes. I know i’m looking sexy and it’s clearly getting to him. I start grinding my hips in a circle as i move up and down, i turn my head and glance over my shoulder at him. He’s covering his crotch and i see him holding the remote. I wink at him again and the vibrations get more intense. Luckily for me, he can’t hear the quiet moan slip out of my mouth.

The song Privacy by Chris Brown comes on next and i get more freaky with my moves, Darcy follows my lead as we start grinding on each other. That’ll send him right over the edge. Minutes later i feel a hand on my waist, i turn around to find Ransom.

“Hi baby” i whisper in his ear and he glares at me, hunger in his eyes. “What the fuck are you playing at” he growls into my ear as i wrap my arms loosely around his neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about daddy” i give him my puppy dog eyes and bite my lip in an innocent manner. I can see i’m driving him crazy. I turn around so my ass is pushed against his crotch.

‘Partition’ by Beyonce comes on, time starts going really slow. All the couples in the bar start grinding on each other. Me and Ransom are no exception. I push my ass back even more and i swirl my hips round in circles. I feel his breath on the back of my neck. “You’re really pushing me now doll” this is what he gets for denying me sex earlier and forcing me to wear this vibrator inside of me. It’s time i teased him for once.

“Someone is gonna get it when they get home” the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, just what i wanted. He thinks he’s getting sex tonight and i have him right where i want him. “We’ll see about that daddy” i lean my head back, resting it on his pecks and leaning up slightly so he can hear me. I stop grinding and walk off of the dance floor to go to the bar, ordering some shots. He follows me.

Ransom’s POV

“I think you’ve had enough doll” that doesn’t stop her though. She pays and takes two shots, one after the other. She then heads back to the booth, me and Darcy join her.

“I think we should get off now, this one has had one too many” i chuckle, nodding my head towards Claudia who is drunk. “Spoil sport” she scoffs and we all laugh. “It was so nice to meet you” they all say, accidentally in unison as we leave the bar. I hug them all and we part ways. I help Claudia into the passenger seat before jogging round to the driver’s side.

We’re halfway home and Claudia is just sat there in the passenger seat, giggling away to herself. “Doll, you really should know better than to tease me like that” i tap away at the steering wheel, wishing i could get home quicker. “You deserved it” i roll my eyes as i speed up, trying to get home faster.

I pull up and help her into the house. My staff left hours ago. “You’re about to learn a lesson princess” she raises her brows, pushing me off of her. She manages to get away from me and get upstairs as i head into the kitchen to get her some water.

“FUCK” i yell as i run after her with a bottle of water. “Unlock the door NOW” i snap as she locks it just before i get there. “No” i can hear her giggling again. I keep knocking in hopes that she’ll unlock it “Quit the games now doll” she sighs. “You wanna have sex baby? Well too bad” there’s that famous laugh of hers again.

I stop hearing any noise in the bedroom as i press my ear to the door. “Babe” i call out and i get no answer. Shit, i have a spare key for the bedroom door. I head downstairs and into my office. I open my desk drawer to find it. Ah here it is. I race back upstairs and immediately unlock the door. To my surprise though, there she is. Fast asleep on the bed. Snoring slightly. She looks adorable like this. She can’t sleep in that dress and those heels though. I lift her up slightly and do my best to undress her without waking her.

I leave her in her panties and i pull the covers over her body. I’ll have to get that toy out of her in the morning and leave her to sleep for now in peace. She’ll get her punishment tomorrow.

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heartofsnark · 5 years

Text

Hunting Ground (Vincent/MC Non-con)

Notes: Holy fuck, this is not for the faint of heart. This is my first Boyfriend To Death fic on this blog and it’s also a birthday fic for my friend @piplup235, I’m really happy she wanted Vincent because holy shit this is something I’ve been wanting to write for a while. Also, it’s been a while since I played BTD, so if Vincent is at all OOC, I’m sorry.

Summary: Vincent’s latest hookup discovered some literal skeletons in his closet and took off running, not a great idea.

Pairing: Vincent/Cis-Female MC

Word Count: 1986

Warnings (Oh boy): Non-consensual sex and sexual acts, fingering, violence, threats, humiliation, shame, minor blood, watersports (it’s piss wolf, my dudes), fetishized non-con

~Please if any of that makes you uncomfortable or triggers you, do not read. If you are someone who struggles to separate reality and fiction, do not read. This is fetishized non-con, it does not go over the full gravity of the situation and what is being done to the MC. Writing this does not mean I condone or endorse any of these behaviors in real life. Further more, if you are someone who regularly follows my blog but doesn’t want to see this kind of content at all, please blacklist or filter the tag ‘tw: noncon’~

Her breaths are ragged, her lungs burn with every frantic step. The forest ground is soft and muddy under her feet, slowing her down, like nature itself is trying to stop her from escaping. Branches and bramble scratch at her arms as she runs, the stinging pain just an irritant at the moment.

It was suppose to just be a fun hookup, a hot guy in a rough looking bar, a chance to get off then move on with her life. Then she saw the skull, she knew it was real, nothing smooth or plastic about it. That and his reaction, the way his expression darkened and he went to grab her. Instinct kicked in and she ran. She has no idea where she’s going or where she is, the area unfamiliar, but she knows she needs to get away.

Her heart pounds in her chest, beating against her ribs. It might be paranoia or real danger, but she swears she can feel something just behind her. Something just ready to grab her. She can’t hear anything but her own breaths and heartbeats, has no idea if he’s chased her this far, but she can feel it. The hair on the back of her neck standing on end, a constant threat looming just behind her.

Something slams against her back, a heavy weight forcing her to the mud below. She doesn’t even have time to brace herself, face hitting the muck, the taste of rainwater and dirt heavy on her tongue.

“Really thought you could get away that easy?” A masculine voice, thick with a southern accent, taunt against her ear. The voice that turned it on just a few hours ago, makes every fiber of her being scream at her to run.

She tries to squirm out from under him, it’s all for nothing. He’s too heavy, pounds of muscle keep her firmly pinned and the mud prevents any hope of gaining traction.

“You’re not that bright, are you? Hate to break it to you, but all that running and struggling did was make me harder.”

He grinds his hips into her ass, his cock hard and hot against her. Her body betrays her; heat pools between her thighs and she can feel how wet she’s getting. She can’t seriously be getting off to this, her face flushes hot and she curses her body for it’s shameful reaction.

One of his hands stays firm on the back of her neck, he could easily break her neck with one hand. His other drags down her back as he pulls the mass of his body off her, just enough for her feel the cool wind on her back, but his warmth is still there against her ass and thighs.

She gasps the movement leaves superficial scratches down her skin, just enough to sting. His hand pulls away just before it drags down the curve of her ass, then his other lifts off of her neck. He’s still sitting on her thighs, she able to move her arms out from under her body, maybe she can grab a rock and-

The sound of fabric ripping is follow by cool air against her ass, she cranes her neck to look over her shoulder as Vincent rips and tears off what he can of her jeans, exposing her ass.

Her heart catches in her throat and she she tries to escape from under him again, the reality of what he’s going to do hits her full force. A throaty grunt leaves Vincent’s throat as her ass rubs against his hard on as she struggles. He grabs her hips, sharp nails digging into the tender skin and yanks back.

He’s able to move her like a rag-doll, putting her in the position he wants, ripping away what’s left of her jeans and her panties in the process. Every squirm to get away does nothing but make him groan and get rougher with her. Cuts from his nails mar her ass and hips, some small scratches while others are little punctures from where he’s gripped her tight.

He’s lifted her on her knees, ass high in the air while her face stays to the ground, like he’s making her present to him. The night breeze feels ice cold against her cunt, her hot slick cooling against her thighs. One of his hands stays firm on her hip to keep her in place.

“Looks like this little escape attempt turned you on too,” he taunt, pushing two thick fingers into her, “fuck, I think you’re actually wetter this time. Y’know, if you needed me to be rougher, all you had to do was ask.”

He pumps his fingers as he talks, every word and movement sending making her gush slick. Vincent already knows she can take him, which means he’s more interested in dragging this whole experience out than preparing her. Her pleasure is building higher and higher, tension stretching tight inside of her. She whimpers, she doesn’t want to cum, but her body is begging her to ride it out. Her hips try to grind, but his grip keeps her from fucking herself on his fingers.

Vincent pulls his fingers out and she whines at the loss despite herself. She brings a hand up to cover her mouth, she can’t control how wet she gets or how desperate her body is for orgasm, but maybe she can least keep herself quiet. The fingers that were just deep inside of her wrap around her wrist before she can fully cover her mouth, his grip is tight and firm.

“I’m gonna hear you scream, no matter what. It can be while you’re wrapped around my cock or ‘cause I broke every bone in your body, got it?”

“...yes,” she murmurs and relaxes her wrist. He lets go so her hand falls limply to the side, a few more bruises to show for it, but not broken.

He reaffirms the grip on her hips, quickly unzips his pants just enough to pull his cock out and lines himself up with her cunt, the head just brushing the lips of her sex. She barely gets a moment to prepare before he thrusts into her, a scream rips it way through her throat. It doesn’t matter how slick she is, his cock is huge and the initial stretch stings. He pushes in as far as he can, his full length deep inside of her.

She doesn’t get even a second to catch her breath before he starts fucking into her. The deep hard thrusts rekindles her building pleasure, that had just barely started to ease. Each thrust harshly hits a spot deep inside of her, dragging over every sensitive nerve inside of her. The side of her face grinds into the mud with the force of his movement, she can’t stop moaning, her noises mingling with the sound of his hips hitting her ass every time he thrusts into her.

Her nails dig into the muck, the tension inside of her stretching tighter and tighter, threatening to snap with each thrust. Somehow his pace gets harsher, hitting that spot harder than she thought possible and her pleasure hits it’s tipping point.

Her cunt clenches like it’s trying to milk him dry and her loud scream of Vincent’s name echos through the woods. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she feels disgusting for yelling his name, for giving him that ego boost when he’s done something so vile. But, the orgasmic fog over her brain doesn’t let her dwell on it, instead focusing on how his pace has gone from harsh to absolutely brutal.

He fucks her through her climax, making it last even longer. Her cunt is sensitive, but it doesn’t stop him, not that anything would. He’s chasing his own pleasure, just using her body as a means of getting off, of fucking through all of his rage and taking all of his aggression out on her slick sensitive hole.

Something between a snarl and a howl escapes Vincent’s mouth, his body wrought with tension as he cums inside of her. Load after load of hot cum fills her up. Despite, the tight fit of his cock splitting her open it’s just too much, his cum overflows her cunt and leaks down from where they’re connected.

It suddenly feels too quiet, just the sounds of them both breathing heavy. She still needs to escape, but she doesn’t know how. Fighting him is certain death and she clearly can’t outrun him. There’s a gross part of her that thinks maybe if this is what it’s going to be like, it won’t be so bad, maybe being his living fleshlight isn’t the worst thing in the world. She curses that part of her and writes it off as just a part of her riding off the high of her orgasm.

She yelps, all coherent thought ending as Vincent pulls out, a slow drag of his cock that still stimulates her sensitive body. This might have been a good chance to make another run for it, but she doesn’t think she can even stand, let alone run.

Her theory doesn’t even get to be tested, Vincent stands and puts a foot on her back. She can still crane her neck to watch him over her shoulder, even if she can’t move from the ground. His cock is still hanging out of his pants, smeared with cum, her mouth water more than she’d care to admit.

“Guess, I gotta make something clear,” he grumbles, aiming his now flaccid cock. What the hell is he do-

“Ahhh!” she yells out and tries to scramble away when she feels his piss hit her ass. It’s scalding hot compared to the cool air, the cuts on her skin burn as he empties his bladder directly on her, marking his territory.

“Fight too hard and I’ll make you drink it,” he threatens and she stiffens, completely still under his foot.

She’s whimpering as Vincent sighs, the stream of piss getting weaker under it ends. Her face is wet with tears and mud, her lower half a disgusting wet mess of cum and piss. All of the bodily fluids that cling to her are starting to cool out in the air, making her shiver. It was so hot she’d thought it’d burn her just a moment ago.

Vincent zips up his pants and pulls her up off the ground. Is he going to kill her now? Or just drag her back to keep torturing her ?

His movements are surprisingly gentle given what just happened, he gathers her in his arms and she wraps her own around his neck for stability. The position would be intimate if not for everything that just happened, if her ass and thighs weren’t coated in a mixture of cum and piss. The mess he made of her didn’t seem to phase him as began taking her back to his house. Every instinct in her told her to fight or run, but she’s far too weak, her thought fading to blackness as she passes out in his arms.

#boyfriend to death #boyfriend to death 2 #btd2 #btd #btd vincent #vincent metzger #tw: noncon #tw: violence

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sidespromptblog · 6 years

Text

Suffering

Summary: When Thomas suffers a heartbreak, it is almost certain that Patton, Virgil, and Roman feels it. However, they soon all discover that this is not the case, when it comes to lashing out.

“When will you get it?!” Virgil snapped back at Logan, his fists clenched and shaking with the raw anguish and rage that flowed through his veins like a gushing river on a stormy day. His gaze was narrowed sharply at the logical side, as the equally sharp and poisoned words flew from his lips right towards Logan’s heart, like a deadly arrow going in for the kill. “We can’t be an emotionless machine like you! We’re hurting over this whether you like it or not, and if you can’t contribute something to actually make us feel better. Then. Why. Are. You. Here?!” He practically snarled.

Something flickered across Logan’s expression, something that Virgil realized a little too late as Logan readjusted his tie. Looking over at Patton who was still weeping into his hands and Roman who was holding the moral side close, he got only blank stares in return. They weren’t going to help him, and they weren’t going to stick up for him either. No surprise there, nobody was ever on his side.

“Tell me, Virgil,” Logan placed the emotions that were writhing inside of his chest like a can of unopened worms on lockdown, his eyes were blank, almost glazed in a way as he looked back at the anxious side. Folding his hands behind his back, Logan did all that he could to remain standing up straight. He was serious, he had to remain serious right now. “What makes you think that you’re the only one suffering right here and now? What gave you that idea?” Logan coldly spat the words out, before stepping back away from the other.

Behind his back, Logan’s hands were trembling. His fingernails sinking into the skin of his hand leaving behind little crescent shapes. The pain of it helped, it helped focus him and it helped to keep the tears at bay. Not that he was about to cry or anything, even now he still had functioning tear glands, that elicited a response whenever he was under too much stress.

“Do you assume that because you believe that I cannot feel? Do you believe that I don’t care that Thomas’ heart was broken? Do you think…” Logan’s breathing hitched for a moment before he closed his eyes taking just a split second to calm himself before opening them again. His stern gaze remained there, even when tears started to well up in his eyes clinging to his lashes like individual snowflakes. “Do you think because I don’t understand emotion...that it gives you the right to constantly put me down? That..that I’m lesser because of it? That…”

Logan went silent, and he wasn’t the only one either as Virgil stared back at him in abject horror dawning on his face. The logical side’s shoulders trembled, and it seemed that even the pain of his nails digging into his flesh did little to help this time too.

Swallowing the lump in his throat Logan made a bigger effort to stand taller now, his pride was pretty much in tatters but he could still attempt to hold himself together a little while longer.

“I thought that you of all people were better than that...Anxiety.”

A great pit of dread and regret opened up inside of Virgil, as he stood there frozen to the spot. The words that he had so carelessly said, that had left him before he’d even had a chance to think about it had...hurt Logan. He’d hurt someone in the exact same way that he’d been hurt in the past, and he had done it all towards someone who was...who meant more to him than he’d ever thought about before. The taste of shame and guilt was sour on Virgil’s tongue, as Logan turned away from him pressing his hand over his face in an attempt to mask the emotions that were spilling out like an erupting volcano. The sound of Virgil’s old title sounded wrong on Logan’s lips, worse than that...it sounded like a nightmare.

His worst nightmare, come to life.

“Lo…” He began as he reached out, his hand was shaking as his eyes glanced along the back of the logical side’s hands. Marks, deep jutting marks from where Logan’s had bitten his tongue time and time again, was this the first time that Logan had actually snapped back at them for something like this? It must have been. “Lo I’m sor-”

A harsh bark of laughter abruptly cut Virgil off, as Logan threw his head back. The cold detached laughter that rang from Logan’s lips sent a chill down Virgil’s spine. It didn’t sound like the nerd at all.

“You’re what? You’re sorry Anxiety? Sorry for all of the times you insulted me, thinking that ‘Oh Logan doesn’t have feelings’ and ‘Oh if he doesn’t have feelings then I can say whatever I want to him!’ or was it ‘My words can’t have lasting consequences because Logan won’t care about what I say and do to him!’ Is that it? Is that it Anxiety?!” Logan mockingly mimed Virgil’s voice, and the anxious side felt himself getting smaller as he hunched his shoulders. The gleam in Logan’s eyes now were more than just tears, as the logical side breathed heavily, his chest heaving as a stream of saltwater dripped down his face. “Well I have news for you,” Logan whispered, his expression crumpling. “I do feel, and it does hurt Anxiety.”

A dead silence hung in the air before Roman started to march forward, Patton no longer clinging to him as the princely side moved forward.

“Now Specs, I think that this is enough, he clearly got the message. So calm down.” Roman attempted for his words to sound soothing, but to Logan, it just felt like sandpaper in his ears. Of course Roman took Virgil’s side, everyone was on each other's side except for his. He was alone, he was all alone.

Squadless geek! You’re alone. Alone. Alone. Alone!

A shuddering sob escaped Logan, and before he knew it he had clasped his hand over his mouth, his hair hanging in front of his eyes as his entire body started to shake. He gasped, even if there was air all around him it still didn’t feel like enough. Why couldn’t he breathe? What was wrong with him? Was he this broken? A dry rasp left his lips as he struggled to breathe inwards, his throat felt raw and swollen. His chest ached, like someone had placed a set of steel bars around his lungs. Why couldn’t he breathe?

In the background of his thoughts, he heard them, three separate voices screaming out to him. Screaming his name, but it was muffled. Like someone had placed a layer of cotton over his ears preventing him from hearing the smallest things.

Lo...gan…! Log..a..n! Bre..athe! Logan!

“Logan!” Warmth graced Logan’s face as a pair of hands cupped his cheeks, “Logan listen to me, you need to breathe..just breathe.” Fingers curled around his wrist, pulling his hands from where they had been tugging at his own hair, his palm rested on the warmth of another’s chest the firm thudding of a heard underneath. “Focus on my heartbeat, you feel it? Just focus on that and breathe with me.”

A tendril of tension eased out of the logical side’s lungs, the burning, the pain, the emptiness of his own mind eased with it.

“That’s it, just breathe. Focus on me, I’ve got you..” The soothing voice whispered, and the thudding of the heart under his hand remained there, tethering Logan to the present, helping the tightness in his chest slowly ebb and flow away from him. It felt like an eternity to him, as he exhaled and inhaled letting his palm linger over the beating of the heart.

When he could see again, when his tears cleared up, and the tightness of his throat went away. The first thing that registered with him was the color purple.

“You’re doing great.” Virgil smiled tears in his own eyes, as Patton and Roman nervously hovered around them. Logan couldn’t see it yet, but terror and dread was the emotion that was carved deep into the eyes of the moral and creative side. As they witnessed the very pillar of stoicism and coolheadedness completely breaking down in front of them.

Roman hadn’t any idea on what he was supposed to do when the first rasp had left Logan, and even more so when it had become apparent that the logical side hadn’t been able to breathe. Patton was even worse though, as the moral side had completely started to freak out until Virgil had taken ahold of the situation.

“Good..good.” Virgil murmured again, his fingertips gingerly tracing the veins of Logan’s

Wrist, “I’m going to lead you over to the couch now Lo, you’re going to be a little weak at the knees for a while. Having an anxiety attack is the equivalent of running in a relay.” He calmly told the other, steadily working his way back over to the couch as Logan stumbled after him. The faint sniffle he heard from the logical side, completely broke his heart. “I… We’re going to take care of you, and once you’re better. We’ll all talk alright, for now, take it easy. I won’t let you go.”

Logan’s grip tightened on him as the sensation of a blanket being laid over his shoulders greeted him, his dead tired gaze locked onto Virgil’s. And without even thinking about it, Logan leaned in, resting his forehead against the anxious side’s shoulder, keeping his palm firmly pressed against the fluttering heartbeat of the other.

“I’m scared,” Logan whispered, and for a second, just a split second Virgil grimaced as he ran his fingers through Logan’s messed up hair.

“I know Lo, but you don’t have to suffer that alone anymore. I’m here, we’re all here now.”

Tagged:

@apologieslogan

@koro-arts

@remy-alagaesias-dragon-queen

@dragonsight9

@sans-the-comic

@unikornavenger

@tea0-0stache

@cats-vetal-miking-vomit

@supernatural-official

@ab-artist

@sleepyssnail

@thedreamer240

@bippityboppitybooyakasha

@witch197

@paperghastly

@moonstone-fox

@letrashalmighty

#logan sanders #angst #hurt/comfort #anxiety attack #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #angst with a hopeful ending #platonic analogical #analogical #platonic lamp #lamp

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written-s0ul · 6 years

Text

Misdialed (3/4)

REQUEST. I really liked that AU you reblogged that was like you have the wrong number but you sound pretty upset about that person, wanna talk it out, if you want could you write a Steve Rogers x Reader fic based off of that please. From anon.

SUMMARY. Lawyer AU. Steve Rogers x Reader. Your boss gives the case you’ve been working so hard on to someone else. Out of anger, you call a friend to rant — only to realize that you called the wrong number.

WARNINGS. Curse words. Fluff + angst = all our doom.

WORD COUNT. 1k.

AUTHOR’S NOTES. Finally! Here is the update! Unfortunately, with this updated Tumblr, it seems the entire chapter wasn’t able to fit HAHAHA so we only have this first, kind of short scene. The next is rlly long, so it had to be cut. Anyway, enjoy! :D

#1 / #2 / #3: you are here / #4 / epilogue

You don’t remember the last time you were called to the principal’s office at school, but you do remember how it felt: the rabbit-speed of your beating heart; the tautness of your sewed ribcage; the sense of some sort of impending doom. It didn’t show from your smooth strides and perfect posture, but that was how it felt like now. Why would Barnes want to see you again? Possible reasons gushed out and into your mind, pouring in like a waterfall, loud and rapid and inevitable. God, what if he found out about your ranting last night?

What if he knew you called him a dick?

Your heart bounced even higher, stronger against your chest. But that’s impossible. No one heard that — except, of course, Steve. But you doubted he had any connection with Mr. Barnes or the firm. The chances of that has to be so little.

Speaking of Steve — you took your phone out of the pocket of your blazer, and clicked on your inbox, pressing on your chat with him:

Hey, Steve! I’m actually glad you did text me, thanks. How are you? You and your best friend doing okay? Text me any time! I hope your day goes better than mine. (:

Sent last 8:04AM. Steve’s text was around 7:10AM this morning. Almost an hour difference — and you don’t blame yourself for the huge time gap. Sometimes, the words didn’t feel right, and you had to retype the entire message several times. It had to come out right.

But now an hour and a half later, there was still no response. Your message sat there, smiling and patient, as it spoke out into the void, waiting for someone to call back. You tried not to think about why he hasn’t.

Pocketing your phone, your gaze shifted to the glass wall separating Mr. Barnes’ office from the hall, then on Mr. Barnes himself, who was leaning back in his seat, ankle on knee, and one corner of his lips pulled up to a half-smile. This was the most laid back you’d seen him. Even during the few team buildings you’ve had with the other partners, he wasn’t this — affable.

On the seat where Natasha was yesterday, though, was another man. Sun rays pouring in from the windows lit up his blonde hair, framing his head like a golden halo. You furrowed your brows. Who was he? And why do you feel like you’ve seen him before?

“There you are, right on time,” Mr. Barnes said, looking up as you stepped inside. He sat straighter, pulling his blazer closer to himself, and there he was: the unflinching, professional Mr. Barnes you’ve always known. “Take a seat.” He gestured to the chair you’ve sat in last time, and you complied, keeping your back straight as a pipe.

“Did you need something, sir?” you asked, hands clasped on your lap.

“Y/N, you remember our of-counsel attorney, Mr. Rogers—” He flourished a hand at the man beside you, and now, you turned to face him.

Mr. Rogers looked at you now, and the puzzle pieces clicked in your head. Memories flashed: seeing that same face in the conference room, helping out in a case or with a client; during the occasional Christmas party, standing by the bar and rarely on the dance floor; with Mr. Barnes or Mr. Wilson or both, inside or outside the firm. Many times as grim and undaunted as Mr. Barnes, and occasionally as warm and amiable as Mr. Wilson. You wondered, for a moment, why you’re meeting him now, after nearly a decade working in this firm.

Stretching out a hand, Mr. Rogers’ lips stretched to an ever more golden smile, and slipping your hand in his, he shook it, firm yet gentle. “Please,” he said. “Call me Steve.”

Your heart stopped.

“Steve?” you said, echoing him.

Something glinted in his eye, something playful. He nodded.

No.

No, no, no. This can’t be happening. He wasn’t — this can’t be the Steve.

But that voice. That’s the voice. The Steve’s voice — the same Steve who texted you this morning, the same Steve who heard you rant about your job, the same Steve who heard you call Mr. Barnes a dick.

Shit.

Quickly, you composed yourself. “Good to meet you, Steve,” you said, extracting your hand from his, and forcing on a polite smile. It was almost an effortless feat — thanks to the bountiful experiences you’ve had in settling cases and persuading clients.

“He’s here for the Wakanda case,” Mr. Barnes said, fingers loosely weaving together on his desk. “I’d like you to bring him up to date with all the details about it.”

Your brows furrowed. “But I’m out of the case.”

He leaned forward, chest falling as though heaving out a resigned sigh. “You were. But, not anymore.”

You blinked, eyelashes fluttering. Did he — does this mean —

“To be honest,” he said, voice hushed and raw, almost vulnerable. “I shouldn’t have removed you in the first place.”

It felt like you stopped breathing. You tried to suck air in through your nose, chest expanding, then pushed it out, deliberate for a few more breaths before you were sure your lungs were functioning properly again.

“I’ll talk to Natasha.” He rested back against his chair, and the raw moment was gone, his features lining back up to their usual somber expression. “Now, could you please—” he gestured to Steve, flourishing an exasperated hand. “We have to be in court by Friday, so — get moving.”

Your heart was fluttering like an excited little bird at the arrival of its mother with food, but you kept yourself composed, rising from your seat and nodding in determination. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”

He shot Steve a look you couldn’t read. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

A/N. I don’t know if I like this Tumblr update with the text posts. It’s cool but kind of annoying; for some reason, I can’t do HTML on mobile?? ): Anyway, next scene will mostly be with Steve alone! <3 It will be posted on Friday!

Tagging: (If you’d like to be tagged to the story or permanently, let me know!)

@courtneychicken @riddikuluslyemily @zadyalyss @iamwarrenspeace @smilexcaptainx @coltcas @mymarvelobsessions @magickandmoons @sheep-demon @a-girl-who-loves-disney @bexsbaxters @l-tay @flowxrsforyourgrxve @acunningstargazer

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers reader insert #avengers fic #avengers #marvel #bucky barnes #modern au #avengers modern au #lawyer au #avengers au #avengers fanfic #marvel fic #my writing #steve rogers au #misdialed

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tiemeupspidey · 7 years

Text

Fucking Idiot

Series: Dog Mom Life

Relationship: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: Cute Fluffness & Swearing

(you should know by now that I swear all the time in my imagines lol)

Word Count: 1,000

A/N: Sorry I posted this late but I love you all!! I really wanted to type something about his nose getting broken for a second time.

me working on future posts like v

[Reader’s POV]

Today you were walking Tessa out in town for a little while. You needed to be out and about since it was healthy for the baby. Of course people snapped pictures which made you uneasy without Tom. One man came close and Tessa barked at him to make him go away. She was protecting you and the baby.

You had an hour before Tom’s flight would land so you thought this opportunity would be great. Harrison wasn’t responding to your messages since he told you to stay off of social media. His warning was it could harm the baby if I got stressed. Of course you wanted to look but you took Harrison’s word for it.

“Hey your Tom Holland’s wife right?” a teenager asks coming up to you and Tessa. Giving her a smile you nod.

“Can I please take a picture with you?I-I mean if you don’t mind, My friends will never believe me” She gushes pushing up her glasses. Freckles adorned her cheeks, your heart wanting your daughter to be sweet as this.

“Of course love get your phone out” She pulls her phone out of her bag while you tell Tessa to sit. She angles the camera so all of you are in the frame. Tessa’s tag was wagging and hitting your ankle.

“Thank you so much! You’re going to be a great mum, Tom is lucky to have you! Bye Tessa, tell Tom Roxy says Hi!” she waves before walking down the street. Her backpack bouncing as she ran towards the bus that pulled up to the curb.

“Alright Tess let’s go stop at the store real quick and pick something up yeah?” Tugging her leash a bit we head towards a grocery store. Thinking you wouldn’t get too much because you had to carry it all back.

[Tom’s POV]

“Mate how bad is it? Do you think she’s going to freak out?” I ask Harrison opening up the camera on my phone. Looking at my reflection I cringe at the sight. My gaze moving to Harrison with fear in my eyes.

“Dude it’s so bad, she’s going to flip her shit… you know it’s going to be worse since she has all those extra hormones thanks to the baby…” Harrison laugh before looking back at his phone. Rolling my eyes I feel a pain of guilt from lying to her.

Recently she texted me asking if everything was okay because of what Harrison said to her. Yet in reality everything is not okay. My face is swollen, it’s bruised and sensitive to the touch. I couldn’t even cover it with makeup. I miserably failed at trying to cover it up and just gave up in general.

I FaceTimed her before I broke my nose on set that day. We were wrapping up week two of Chaos Walking and I fucked up again. My fans gave me so much shit for it. Literally a walking meme,I saw so many memes about me. I still get teased about not saying croissant right. Quackson will forever be the meme of my existence.

“I told her not to check social media so she wouldn’t stress out because I’m not losing my goddaughter to you being careless on set Tom” Harrison remarks sending a quick glare to me. Harrison hasn’t looked at me like that before.

“You’re exaggerating, I couldn’t possibly cause that” I deny looking at Harrison as if he was insane. Me be the cause of my daughter’s death?

“It’s possible Tom, women who are pregnant and go through high amounts of stress can lead to a miscarriage.. I swear I’ve done more research than you mate” his tone laced with seriousness but teasing me. I couldn’t tell if he was more serious than teasing me.

“Shut it Harrison, I’m the father of this baby.. I’m supposed to know more here” I say pulling my phone out of my jacket pocket. Opening up my instagram and taking a scroll through. Another text message pops up on my notification bar.

Love of my LIFE:

Tom are you sure everything's okay?

You:

Yeah everything’s fine love, see you in a few hours.. Give Tess a kiss for me and I’ll see you tonight for dinner with the family since I’ll only be home for two days..

Love of my LIFE:

Met one of your fans today, Her name is Roxy and she says hi! I’ll make sure dinner is ready for everyone tonight. Love you xx

[Reader’s POV]

“C’mon love let’s head inside so we can get ready for everyone coming over..” Ushering Tessa to walk into the house. Carrying the bags inside the house and setting them down real quick. Standing back up straight you lock the door behind you.

Leaning down to reach for the bags and groaning because you can’t reach them. Squatting down and grabbing the bags. Swearing underneath your breath because now you can’t stand back up. Placing your hand on the door handle you manage to pull yourself up somehow.

Tessa walks by tilting her head looking at you struggling. A laugh escapes your lips cause she looks so damn cute. Tom was normally the one to help you up but now that he’s been gone filming it’s been harder. You’ve had to adapt to doing things without him around.

“I wish you could be human sometimes” you sigh once you’re fully situated and not feeling off balance. You were currently three and a half months pregnant and luckily your bump wasn’t huge. Your mother had a huge bump but luckily so far you haven’t exploded.

Time went by quicker than you thought as you made dinner in the kitchen. In between everything you set up the table with the essentials. Setting wine glasses out for Tom, Nikki, and Dom. You couldn’t wait to have alcohol again but that wouldn’t be for a while.

Stirring the sauce in the pan and a separate sauce in case anyone had an allergy to mushrooms. You couldn’t remember which of the twins couldn’t have it so you just made two sauces. Paddy preferred marinara sauce but he called it “Red Sauce.” You never made Quinoa because Tom was sick of it ever since he could only eat that on a diet he had for a film.

You were turning into a mom and were remembering what people liked and didn’t liked. Only reason is because you’ll have to do that when your daughter is born and as she grows up. Your phone starts ringing making you come back to reality. Taking it off the charger you answer it bringing it up to your ear.

“Ello love, we just picked up Tom so we’ll be there in an hour okay? Traffic got crazy because of the fans knowing Tom was coming home”she explains through the the conversations going on in the background. You could hear Sam and Harry insulting each other and Paddy’s laughter.

“You two knock it off! Your mum is on the phone” Dom’s voice stern making the car go silent. Nikki thanks him for getting them to be quiet.

“That’s fine Nikki, I just have to finish the pasta and another dish so everything should be ready by then” your hands busy as the vegetables are being cut.

“I love you Darling! Ow Paddy stop!” you hear Tom’s voice in the background making you smile. Paddy is probably doing something and probably pinched Tom. Not thinking much of it you say I love you too before hanging up.

[Tom’s POV]

“Your face is fucked” Sam snickers pulling out his phone from his pocket. He takes a quick picture making me upset.

“Fuck you Sam, I’m already scared as it is..”

“Yeah scared of your pregnant wife” Harry’s laughter is joined by Sams. Rolling my eyes from their annoying comments.

“Tom did you not tell her about your nose?” Paddy asks re zipping his jacket up. Nodding my head Paddy’s eyes widen.

“But.. Tom lying isn’t nice” I was getting chastened by my youngest brother, great.

“If she swears at you I won’t be surprised” my mum turns in her seat to look back at me. Guilt growing in my chest, thanks everyone.

“Mum.. I was just trying not to freak her out” I defend myself huffing a breath out looking away from her gaze.

[Reader’s POV]

Sighing in content when everything was done. Tessa was roaming around the kitchen looking for food that may have fallen. Heading up the stairs carefully towards our bedroom. I go to the closet to change my outfit since it had flour on it.

You spilt flour on yourself when trying to make cookies for the boys but mainly Paddy. He loved the cookies you made and would come over sometimes to make them with you. The boys would come over to check on you and the baby when they could. His brothers have such a sweet side to them when they aren’t messing with Tom.

Pulling another pair of maternity leggings on and grabbing a tank top out of the dresser after. Going to the closet you pick out a gray cardigan and slip it onto your arms. The fabric warming you up, the draft in the house made you chilled. Another reason why you missed Tom being home because he is so warm at night.

Looking at yourself in the mirror and turning to the side. A smile on your face as you see your bump, it’s so damn cute. Heading out of the room you head back downstairs. Tessa following you everywhere you went. She was like your own personal guard dog when you were home alone.

Tom’s voice comes from the foyer of the house. Reaching the last step with Tessa she jumps over to Tom. Nikki walking in with some flowers, a smile on her sweet face. Dom walks in waving at you before taking his jacket off. Looking back at Tom’s face you see his skin around his nose is bruised and swollen.

“Thomas what happened to your face?” You ask placing your hands on your hips. He slowly looks up from Tessa giving you a small smile. Sam and Harry coming in , their conversation ending.

“I uh.. Fuck. I broke my nose on set darling” Tom explains making panic flood through your system.

“You fucking idiot, that’s the second time you’ve done that.. You lied to me what the hell” annoyance in your tone but who are you kidding? You weren’t that surprised he broke it again.

“Fucking idiot” Sam and Harry say simultaneously making Tom groan. The boys laugh high fiving each other. Paddy stumbles in looking at everyone laughing at Tom.

“Hey, what did I miss?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. Nikki ruffles his hair trying to stifle her laughter.

“Let’s just say Tom learned his lesson for lying” she explains leaning down and kissing Paddy’s head.

“Alright everyone go serve yourselves, food is in the kitchen.. Also Paddy I made some cookies for you” you smile over at him. He takes off towards the kitchen followed by Sam and Harry.

“Tom why did you lie to me?” you ask stepping down from the stairs. He stands up walking over to you once everyone is in the kitchen.

“I was embarrassed okay? I’m really sorry love.. Can you forgive me?” Tom’s eyes looked pained and you felt bad. Ugh these hormones flip on and off like a switch.

“I can forgive you, but you have to put an ice pack on that right now.. Don’t be stubborn or else” You point your finger at him sternly. Pecking him on the lips you then take him to the kitchen.

Going into the kitchen you walk over to the fridge. Opening the freezer you grab a bag of peas out. Handing them to him he puts the bag on his nose wincing. Laughing at how silly he looked with the bag on his face. It was good to see him home even if it was just for a little while.

“I love you” a smile on your face as you looked at Tom. He takes his free hand grabbing one of yours.

“More than yesterday?” He asks with a cheeky grin. Rolling your eyes you nod.

“Yes Tom, more than yesterday” His smile always making your heart flutter. Your love for him grows more and more each day.

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concussed-to-pieces · 7 years

Text

ESC

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Baron Corbin/Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: I don't know what I'm doing with my life anymore, but I know I ain't apologizin' for nothin'. Tagging @toxiicpop, @oraclegazes and OF COURSE @hardcorewwetrash. Enjoy!

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains brief mentions of ticks and scabies, as well as human muzzling of a non-BDSM variety and allusions to previous abuse.]

Heyman’s Delights was, at its heart, a traveling circus. There were tents, a few acrobats and strongmen, fire-breathers. Paul had been trying for ages to get his hands on something a little more exciting, and it seemed like he’d finally managed it.

For one reason or another, there were people in the world deemed unfit for regular society. Usually displaying extreme aggression or overly predatory tendencies at an early age, they would put an incredible strain on loving parents and concerned siblings until tensions snapped. All roads tended to lead to Heyman’s Delights or other such traveling shows for these individuals.

The thing that boiled your blood was the fact that they were nowhere close to as inhuman as they were made out to be. Most of them could easily be suffering from hormonal imbalances or other undiagnosed issues. But due in part to the media hysteria (there had been an incident involving one such ‘feral’ child getting their friends to remove their school-mandatory muzzle so they could spook the teacher) and also in part to what you could only assume was parents that didn’t want or couldn’t afford another child, people were clamoring left and right to surrender their ‘feral’ children to various state-funded programs.

And if the government wouldn’t take them…might as well make a buck or two getting rid of your problem. If you could live with yourself afterwards.

“Bought them off of another one of those local shows. According to their owner Wolf was nineteen when he came into their possession, government releases them when they’re legal adults and no parent wants their kid back when they're like that. He’s unsure on Beast.” Paul Heyman sighed, a little heavier than you expected. “Vince threw Wolf in for free, said he didn’t need one without the other. But he hasn’t been trained as much as I was led to believe at first and he’s past thirty. This bleeding-heart altruism is punching holes in my pockets faster than I can line them.” He rubbed his temples. “We’ll just have to see what we can do, I suppose.” Recognizing the dismissal, you nodded and stood with the rest of your coworkers.

You had seen the photos of Beast, he appeared to come with a set of fine cauliflower ears. It wasn’t rare to stumble upon underground bare-knuckle rings where the dregs of society would bet money on the so-called ‘ferals’. Common belief was that they were subhuman, more resilient to pain, stronger, stupid. Hyper-aggressive outbursts tended to be calmed via distraction, dangled food or cattle prods the only two options you'd witnessed in person. Thousands of videos existed on the internet of 'ferals' silently devouring cheap microwave burritos or gas station hot dogs, fresh blood still dripping off their faces. Even more videos were shaky camera footage of the abuse, the prods or beatings.

No one seemed to make the connection that since most of them were sold off or surrendered young, they never got the chance to develop like normal children. Instead they were used as amusements, poked and prodded through the bars until a reaction was obtained. Then, John Q. Public would move on to the next thing, heart rate up and laughing with his friends about how he “wasn’t scared at all!”

You had signed on with Heyman a few years back, literally running away to join the circus. You were sick of being in one place, a stuffy room sandwiched between other stuffy rooms in a building that seemed all but abandoned by your landlord. Paul warned you that the work would be hard, the pay would be garbage and that you would more than likely have to sleep in a tent. You’d just nodded and signed your name, happy to accept all those shortcomings in exchange for the variety of a traveling life.

Heyman quickly seemed to realize that you were no quitter. Despite everything he threw at you, you carried on doggedly unloading and loading the trucks town after town. Your persistence had been a thorn in your side at every other job you’d had, but here it appeared to finally be useful. Paul would go to you for tasks that needed to be completed and you saw to it, simple as that.

His new acquisitions needed new housing so you, English and Gotch spent a good portion of the day putting together a sturdy cage for them. According to Heyman, they were currently kept in wooden crates with the barest slats in them for viewing. “I want my beasts to be able to stretch and move!” He instructed the three of you. Gotch just nodded, letting English gush about the genius of Paul Heyman while handing you a scrap of lumber to cover the bars. Aiden English was a kiss-ass through and through but he was also a classically-trained thespian, able to easily adopt any role pushed upon him. Not to mention the singing. Simon Gotch was very much the classic circus strongman. Like something straight from P.T. Barnum’s era, he had the mustache, the one-strap singlet, and the boisterous laugh of a man out of time.

You sat astride the bars of the roof, silently staring at the beams of lumber. “Hey, I was uh…I was thinking, maybe instead of wood, we should have a cloth roof? I mean, the two of them will be boxed up when we travel.” You suggested. “It would let in a little more light for them, and it’s not like we can’t just put a piece of plywood over it if it rains.”

“What, like a sheet?” Paul squinted at the roof for a minute. “I don’t see the harm in it. Saves me from buying another box of screws. The bars are still there.”

From your perch on the roof, you caught sight of a dingy van trundling along the road towards your campsite. There was a small trailer attached to the van. “And here comes the cavalry.” English muttered to Gotch, who nodded grimly. You studiously avoided looking up while Heyman moved to greet the van’s driver and gather up his new prizes. English tossed an old, tattered blue tablecloth to you and you wove it in between the bars of the cage, carefully smoothing out the wrinkles so it would lay flat.

You were in the middle of securing the sheet down to the sides of the cage when there was a loud, high-pitched roar from the trailer. An angry snarl followed, the two ‘ferals’ obviously not pleased with their surroundings. You swallowed hard as the full gravity of your predicament hit you. The whole caravan was being put to the test by the new acquisitions. If either of them got loose or something to that effect...

You squared your shoulders after a minute. You weren’t about to be scared off by a little noise. You had done your research, determined to see them as the people that they were and not the monsters they were always made into.

“Come over here and meet your new charges, boys! You too, sweetheart!” You rolled your eyes at Paul but obediently swung down from the cage and dusted yourself off, following the other two men to stand by Heyman. “This is Mr. Vince McMahon, he’s the gentleman parting with these fine specimens.” Paul continued, flattering the old man who appeared to have the leathery skin of an alligator.

You extended a hand to Mr. McMahon, cringing inwardly when he scooped your palm up and pressed it to his lips. “Enchanté.” His voice reminded you of an alligator as well, raspy. French was obviously not a familiar language to him. He released your hand after what felt like an eternity and you resisted the urge to wipe it off on your dirty overalls while he shook hands with Gotch and English. “It pains me to see these boys go.” He patted the side of the tiny trailer and then flinched back when the whole thing rocked. There was a thud like something had fallen over. “Whups, sounds like they’re roughhousing again. Guess I’d better uh…” Vince fumbled around under the front seat of the van before tugging out a cattle prod. “They were shock-trained, of course.”

“Of course.” Heyman echoed. You caught English and Gotch's worried looks at one another out of the corner of your eye. At least you weren’t the only one sure Paul was in over his head here.

“Sir, if we could…maybe not rile them up just yet?” You said quietly. “My associates and I would like to see the size of them, make sure our enclosure will be sufficient.” That was a bold-faced lie of course, and you felt more than saw English staring at you incredulously.

There was a loud whiffle of breath from the trailer. One of them was scenting the air. You wondered how terrifying this must be for them, trapped in a tight, dark space that moved and rattled uneasily. “Of course, they’re all yours. They’re secured and separated by a wall, naturally.” Vince unlocked the back of the trailer and swing the doors out. “Never know what they might do.” He chuckled, his laughter quickly dying off as the inside of the trailer was revealed.

It appeared that the separating wall had buckled or shifted during the transit. Or was pulled down. The hulking blond Beast barreled towards the open doors from the rear of the trailer. You didn’t even have time to think, body frozen on the spot.

A colorfully-marked arm abruptly hitched around Beast’s midsection, halting him in his tracks bare inches away from you and giving you an up-close look at the blond's strangely-phallic chest tattoo. “Shit, Beast!” Vince shouted, sounding more irritated than scared. “Knock it off!” The blond snapped and thrashed, struggling against the one you could only assume was Wolf. “You want to get zapped again, you piss-poor freak? Get back!” Vince brandished the cattle prod, making Beast snarl loudly in reply. “That’s right, you know what this does! So cool it!”

Wolf took Beast back a step, but then Beast lashed out with a vicious elbow and broke free. You dimly noticed the loose end of his chain trailing along behind him on the floor before Beast sent you crashing to the ground, the back of your head slamming into the dirt with a vicious impact. Your vision swam with reflex tears and you grimaced in pain, scared stiff as Beast pinned you with his body weight and screamed in Vince's direction over your head.

Something suddenly plowed into Beast’s side, throwing the blond off of you. Vince caught Beast in the ribs with the cattle prod, continuing to holler abuse. Wolf stared down at you and you stared back up, wishing you could stop shaking. His hair was matted and overgrown, hanging in his face. All you could make out was a pair of brown eyes studying you warily. You swallowed after a minute and his eyes tracked the motion, watching the way your throat moved before snapping back up to your face. “Hello?” You tried, flinching when a smile flashed through that thick hair.

“H-Hi.” He sounded almost shy, his voice deep and a little shaky. Definitely not what you’d been expecting. He tilted his head and then retreated cautiously back into the trailer, sitting at the edge and watching as Beast ate a few more volts.

You sat up slowly and English was instantly at your side, looking panicked. “Oh my goodness, how are you still conscious?!” He sputtered.

“Just my rotten luck, I guess.” You grunted, rubbing the back of your head. “Jesus.”

“There you are, see? Gentle as a lamb.” Vince panted, standing over the cowering Beast. “Now I’ve got to be going, so if we could move this process along…”

…

Paul had definitely bitten off more than he could chew. All Wolf seemed to want to do was sleep, and Beast delighted in tormenting the other man through the bars of their cage. The original plan had been to display them to the public in an enclosure they could interact with each other in, but Beast ceaselessly savaged Wolf until Paul put a sturdy divider in their cage.

Beast quickly became Heyman’s favorite, due to how he paced and scared off the bravest of souls by screaming and lunging to the bars at the most random of times. He was the picture of crazed animal, all froth and fury. Paul loved it.

Wolf would wake up out of his sleep at mealtimes, usually offering you a grunt, sometimes a “hi” if he was in a generous mood. You stayed to talk at he and Beast as they ate, Beast snarling into his food. You had lost most of your fear from Beast knocking you down, understanding that he had probably just gone for the first shot at freedom that he saw and it was unfortunate circumstance that you stood in his way. You had jokingly appointed yourself as head of feral nutrition, knowing that if you avoided Beast because he had scared you, you would never get past the incident mentally. It helped that there hadn't really been any competition for the position either.

“Hey, I’m sorry about what happened the day you came to be with us, Beast.” You said hesitantly one night. It wasn’t fair that they were kept in tiny cages, even if Beast seemed like the mauling type. You didn't think your own sanity or temper would hold up well under the duress of constant captivity, especially if you were crammed into a sardine can with someone you didn't like.

Wolf looked up at you curiously when you began talking, 'hmm'ing in his throat and then returning to his food.

“Just like everyone else.” Beast had never spoken before. You hadn’t been sure that he could. Tiny blue eyes narrowed at you over his plate. You knew that staring only made the person doing it look stupid, but you couldn’t help it. “You think you’re the first one to sit here an’ fuckin’ talk to me like this? Fuck you.” He muttered. “Fuck your boss too.”

“Brock-” Wolf sounded like he was about to protest but Beast stuck a hand through the bars between them, grabbed a fistful of matted hair and yanked.

“Shut the hell up, freak.”

“Hey, stop it! Why do you always push him around?” You asked indignantly, getting to your feet.

Beast mimicked your motion inside the enclosure, gripping the bars until his knuckles whitened. “He’s weak, that’s why.” He spat. “That’s the only reason I need, asshole.”

“I think I preferred when you were doing your strong-silent act.” You retorted.

“I could have ripped you apart and escaped. But this-” Beast’s face reddened angrily as he searched for the word. “-dumbshit just had to play hero. What, were you worried?” He asked Wolf mockingly.

“Don’t like getting prodded.” Wolf mumbled. “The lightning hurts like tch-zark!” He clicked his teeth and tongue in a weird imitation of a lightning strike. “Scares you too, dick.”

“Fuck you.”

“They don’t use the prods. I…I know you’re not happy, m’ not happy either but at least they’re not hurting us.” Wolf pointed out. “I’ll hurt people if they let me go, that’s what everyone always said. So I’m being good.”

Beast gritted his teeth. “Don’t give a shit what you do, idiot.”

Wolf rolled his eyes and then fixed his attention on you. “Dumb request.” He began slowly. “Need a bath. A-Ask Heyman, maybe we can work something out? A hose, tub?”

You nodded. “Absolutely, I’ll do what I can.”

Wolf smiled briefly. “Thank you. Don’t listen to him.” Beast clocked him upside the head and Wolf grunted. “You talk to us like people. It’s nice.” He continued after shaking off the blow.

“Why wouldn’t I talk to you like…you are people.” You pointed out.

“You know what I mean.” Wolf looked sad and Beast stormed off to the other end of his enclosure, clearly done with the conversation. “Most people act like we’re dumb or like we can’t understand them.”

“I don’t understand any of this garbage.” You tugged at your hair, a little frustrated. “We get told when we're young that if you’re a ‘feral’, it’s obvious because you’re bigger and dumber than the other kids. Like that’s an actual diagnosis, you’re just a crazy, hyper-aggressive child. You’ll try to bite or lash out, your parents will have to give you up because you’re a danger to society. But you guys...” You gestured at Beast. “He sounds almost totally normal. Obviously the whole wild thing is a sulky charade for him.”

“My parents surrendered me when I was six. I tore a piece off the doorframe and then I tried to bite my dad because he came at me with a knife.” Wolf said haltingly. “S’why I don’t talk so good. Nobody outside the complex I was in cared all that much about what we were doing. What mattered was we were away from them.” His voice grew more sure as he spoke. “Sometimes the older guys, y’know, kids that had actually been to school, would teach us. There was this huge kid we called Hacksaw because the story went that he’d ripped clean out of every single thing his parents had secured him in and they’d had no choice but to give him up. He was the teacher most of the time, he had a loud voice and he was bigger.” Wolf grinned. “Dumb as hell though.”

“Was Beast with you there?” You asked, getting an angry huff of ‘no’ out of the pacing blond.

Wolf shook his head. “Met Brock for the first time in McMahon’s pony show.” He glanced over at the other man. “He’s not that bad, except for most of the time. Vince enjoyed having him bust me open when I was misbehaving. I acted like I would bite, started laughing. Vince didn't like that.”

“It was business, dumbshit.” Brock grumbled. “If I went after you, McMahon would ease up.”

“There used to be more at Vince’s. A smaller guy named Neville. Big ears. Then there was Moxley. He'd get the rages. And Samson, played the guitar sometimes. They all escaped one night. Dunno’ what happened to them, they just up and vanished.” Wolf seemed to be sinking back into a funk, slumping down against the bars of his prison.

“Hey, easy. Look, I'll go talk with Paul and get your bath squared away, okay?” You patted his hand through the cage.

“M' name is Baron. What my parents called me, anyhow.” Wolf raised his eyes to yours. “I can't forget that. Please.”

“Okay. Baron.” You said softly.

…

When he was soaking wet Baron appeared decidedly less threatening. “It just grows so fast.” He had mumbled through the muzzle Paul insisted he needed to wear, wincing every time he found another tangle with the old comb. You had given him a trim to the best of your abilities once he was finished washing up and he looked miles better when you were done.

“You have a nose! And it's a nice one, too!” You had said in mock surprise, getting a snort out of Brock while you unbuckled the muzzle and pulled it back through the bars.

Baron had worked his jaw for a minute then graced you with a real smile. “Thanks.”

As you laid in your sleeping bag late that night, your thoughts kept returning to the young man in his cage. His parents had surrendered him at six. Your heart ached. What would it be like to go through most of your life being told over and over that you were the problem?

You were startled out of your musings by a rustling noise and you sat up in your tent when the flap slid open. It was just Adrian, one of the acrobats. He pressed a finger to his lips and you nodded, a little confused as he crowded into your tent. “Had t' talk with you.” His normally cool British accent sounded more clipped for some reason. “I've seen ya' spending time with the ferals.”

“I talk with Brock and Baron, yes.” You winced. “Mostly Baron, Brock isn't much one for conversation.”

“He never was.” Adrian muttered cryptically. “Listen, I don't have a lot of time. I'm not sure how they'd react to seeing me. But if at some point you could maybe...ah, I dunno', let it slip into a conversation that everyone still cares, I'd greatly appreciate it.” Adrian touched your shoulder, his eyes searching your own. “They don't deserve this life. You and I both know this. Can I trust you to deliver the message?”

“Adrian, what...”

“Hey, this is important. They're people, not fucking attractions. You have to promise me.” Adrian pleaded. “Get the message to Baron. Tell him that, tell him three days.”

“Everyone still cares, three days. Got it.” You repeated, raising an eyebrow. “What the heck does that even mean?”

“He'll know.” Adrian hugged you tightly. “I have to go. Don't want Gotch to talk.” He joked, his body language much more tense than you would care for.

Sleep didn’t come easily after Adrian left. You stared up at the ceiling of your tent, thinking. Everyone still cares, three days. It must be some kind of code, you reasoned. What does it mean, though? Why can’t Adrian tell them himself? You scooted down further in your sleeping bag.

When daylight finally began creeping through the fabric of your tent, you quietly eased the zipper open and slunk across the camp to Brock and Baron’s cage.

“Early for breakfast.” Brock commented idly when you were within earshot. You ignored him, moving to Baron and shaking him awake through the bars. Baron grunted and rolled over, yawning widely.

“Hey, listen to me.” You said, keeping your voice soft. Baron nodded sleepily. “Somebody wanted me to tell you this: Everyone still cares, three days.”

Brock’s fingers were around your throat before you realized he was moving, the large man dragging you in to knock your head against the bars of their enclosure. “Brock!” Baron cried. You gasped for breath as Baron tugged and pulled at Brock’s arm. But Brock didn’t even seem to notice. He looked purple with rage.

“Who told you that?” He hissed.

“Brock stop it, you’re gonna’ get us prodded! They can’t breathe!” Baron said frantically. “You have to let them go before something bad happens again!” You made a choking noise and it seemed to whip Baron into a higher frenzy, his fingers clawing at Brock’s arm hard enough to draw blood. “Wolf will bite!” He snapped his teeth loudly, like a warning shot.

Brock just scoffed at him. “Wolf, my ass!”

“Wolf bite!” Baron sank his teeth into Brock’s thigh and jerked his head to the side, making Brock scream angrily and swat at him.

“Hey!” Heyman’s sharp yell interrupted the scuffle. Brock quickly released you and you stumbled back from the cage, wheezing as air flooded your lungs. “What the hell is going on here?!” Baron hadn’t stopped chewing on Brock’s thigh, ignoring the blows that rained down on his head. Brock started slamming his leg against the bars, cracking the metal into the back of Baron’s busy jaw.

You reached back into the cage and touched Baron’s hair. “Baron.” You said shakily. “Hey, Baron. Baron shh, you can stop. It’s okay.”

Baron snarled into Brock’s skin but you kept petting his hair, kept whispering and he finally eased off enough for Brock to pull away. Baron’s chest heaved, blood trickling from the side of his mouth. He still seemed furious, his brows drawn into a tight scowl as he panted for breath and jittered restlessly under your touch.

Heyman approached cautiously once it appeared you had Baron under control. “You mind explaining to me what just happened?” He blustered.

“Heard…heard something. Woke me up.” You lied quickly. “They were fighting so I tried to…tried to stop them.”

“You’re crazy, getting between two ferals?!” Paul was practically shrieking at this point, jabbing a finger at Baron. “Look what he did to Beast! You're wearing a muzzle for the foreseeable future, Wolf!” Baron flung himself against the wall of the cage, yelling nonsense and trying his hardest to get a hold of Heyman. His long arms fell just short though and he finally collapsed in a heap, curling up in the corner. “Now that that's over with.” Paul huffed, looking somewhat shaken.

“Mr. Heyman, please-” You began to protest but Paul carried on over you.

“No, I'm firm on this one! He's a menace and I want him fully muzzled. Liquid diet.” Heyman insisted, smoothing out the remainder of his hair. “That's an order!”

Baron just huddled tighter, flinching away when Brock reached through the bars to harass him.

English and Gotch ended up muzzling him. You couldn't do it.

You loaded the truck by yourself as a trade-off, hefting rolled tents and wheeling boxes up the ramp with a dolly. When it came time to board up the walls of the enclosure for travel Baron didn't so much as look at you, wrapping himself in a hole-riddled blanket.

“Three days.” Brock muttered, bumping his forehead against the planks. “Three fucking days, Baron.”

“Dun' care.” Baron slurred through the muzzle. Gotch had strapped it too tightly around his jaw but he wouldn't let you fix it. “All I do'shurt. Destherve thith.”

“Oh please, you ain't never had a set of balls before. Then they show up and all of a sudden it's 'Wolf bite!'” Brock taunted, slapping his shorts over the bandaged area. “You went for paydirt, you cocksucker.”

“Were gonna' hur'them n' we'd ge' zapped.” Baron shuddered, gripping the blanket tighter and staring at his knees. “S'bad.”

“Brock, stop bothering him, please.” You said softly. Brock snorted but sat down in the opposite corner, tilting his head back and watching while you slid the roof boards into place.

“Three days.”

The trek to the new fairground was a long one. When the group stopped for dinner, you went to remove Baron's muzzle so he could eat. But he flinched away. “Mr. He’m’n said I gotta' wear'it, 'member?” He grunted.

“I don't want you to wear it.” You replied angrily. “You didn't do anything wrong, it's not like you were trying to strangle me!” You raised your voice so Brock would hear you, narrowing your eyes in his direction.

“Dun' wanna' get in trouble.” Drool trickled out of the bottom of the muzzle. “Tha' smells good though. S'it fries? I lo' fries. Oh...shit, ugh, stop.” He tried to wipe off his chin with the bottom of his ragged shirt. “Nooo, c'mon, s'gross.” He groaned.

“Yes it's fries. A burger, too. You want it?” You waved the wrapper in front of his face and watched his pupils dilate. “Gotta' take that off if you want to eat the probably-meat.” You sang.

Baron whined, tugging at the bottom of the muzzle. “Wanna’.”

You reached out and weaseled the buckle loose, quickly pulling the muzzle down over his chin. Baron glanced fearfully over at Brock, who rolled his eyes. “Are you even serious right now? Just eat the fucking burger, idiot.” He grunted, already well on his way through his second sandwich.

You tore chunks off the burger and handed them to Baron. He had a habit of bolting his food if you gave it to him all at once. Brock started watching you feed the other man, his brow furrowed like he was thinking hard. You ignored him and continued to slip one fry at a time through the bars, Baron humming quietly as he ate.

“Why?” Brock muttered finally. You looked up at him. “Why the fuck didn't you say something about me? I know the idiot is your favorite. You could have told your boss I went after you first. Don't tell me you didn't want to get me in trouble or some bullshit.”

“I knew how that would have ended.” You replied simply. “Mr. Heyman is incredibly emotional. He would have flown off the handle. Just like everyone else on this damn planet, he's fine as long as you two are ripping each other apart. But as soon as a 'regular' person gets involved?” You shook your head. “There was no good way to resolve that. So I lied.”

“But-”

“Look, out of all the people I might owe an explanation for something, you are the absolute last on that list.” You snapped, getting to your feet. “If anything, I think you owe me an explanation for losing your mind over some dumb thing that I was told to say. Haven't you ever heard of 'don't shoot the messenger'?”

“Sounds dumb.”

You threw your hands up in exasperation. “Fuck you too, buddy.” Brock just chuckled.

Baron, seeming a bit more at ease now that his stomach was full, waited patiently while you re-buckled his muzzle (correctly this time). He bumped the metal mesh into your forehead, his sleepy smile doing odd things to your stomach. “Thanks for keeping us from getting prodded. This isn't too bad. Sorry I was such a baby about it this morning.”

You felt tears well up in your eyes. “It's not right. I don't want you to wear it, but I don't want you to get in trouble either. I don't know what to do, Baron.” You whispered.

“It's okay.” Baron reached through the bars and awkwardly patted your shoulder. “Don't worry about me. Three days, y'know.”

“What does that even mean, what’s three days?”

“Nothing.” Brock said sharply, shooting Baron a fierce look.

…

You found out what it meant three nights later, when you were woken out of a deep slumber by someone tripping over one of the guy lines on your tent. The muffled swear that followed startled you to fully alert because it was a voice you didn't recognize. Who...? Curiosity won over self-preservation and once the footsteps faded away you quickly slipped out of your tent.

A flash of light from over by Brock and Baron's enclosure caught your attention. There was a quiet clatter, the sound of metal on metal. “Easy now, cool it Brock.” That was Adrian's voice. “Don't botch this, big guy.”

“Great job, getting hired as a fuckin' acrobat.” That voice belonged to the person who had tripped over your tent. “You always were the flexible one, Nev.”

“We'll have plenty of time for you to pat him on the back once I'm free.” Brock growled.

“I can't leave.” Baron mumbled. You had to strain your ears to hear him even as you snuck closer.

“Bar we don't...look man, I know everyone says you're a danger. We got a guy to help with that now. I promise, we're going to get you to some people who can make you safe.” You caught sight of a thinner man with a mop of light, curly hair, shimmying in place beside the cage door. Next to him was Adrian, who had a pack slung over his shoulder. Further off in the shadows you could barely make out a third figure.

Brock slid out through the cage door, taking a deep breath of air. “I'm not waiting around for you to sass Moxley and Mighty Mouse.” He snapped at Baron. You had to snort at the apt nickname for Adrian.

“Fine, go with Samson, Brock.” The man who you assumed was Moxley jerked his chin in the direction of the man on the edge of the parking lot. “We'll catch up.” Brock didn't wait around, bolting for the trees. “Great to see that confinement has only improved his shit attitude.” Moxley grumbled.

“Bar, you can't stay here. Paul will think you had something to do with it.” Adrian pointed out gently.

Baron hung his head. “You remember what I did, Nev. I deserve-”

Moxley undid his muzzle and pulled it off, chucking it to one side. “What any of us woulda' done, stop beatin' y'self up about it.” He scolded.

Baron tugged the cage door half-closed. “No, I'm staying. I can take it.”

“Baron?” You quietly called his name, taking a step forward.

Moxley whirled, his whole body alert. Adrian relaxed when he realized who you were, patting Moxley on the shoulder. “Easy. They're a friend.”

“Skulkin' son'uva, Jesus.” Moxley put a hand on his chest.

“Why won't you go with them?” You asked Baron, who refused to meet your eyes. “Hey...” You pushed the cage door open a little wider so you could enter the cage. “Baron?”

“You don't get it, I'm dangerous.” Baron mumbled. “I'll hurt people.”

“Yeah?” You circled around him, scoffing. “Like when you ripped me to pieces right out of your trailer? Oh yeah, that didn't happen. Like you did when I was cutting your hair? Oh that's right, you didn't. Earlier this week, when I hand-fed you and you graciously let me keep my fingers?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “You're pretty bad at hurting people.”

“You-! You're different, alright?” Baron exploded. “You talked to me, talked to Brock. Even if we didn't talk back. You weren't scared. I wasn't an animal to you.”

“If you go with your friends you don't have to be an animal ever again.” You reasoned with him, a plan coming together in your mind when he shook his head stubbornly. “Listen, I'm at least going to give you a hug, okay? Seeing as how I'm not allowed to be in here with you and Mr. Heyman probably won't be too keen on keeping you around when he wakes up to his Beast gone.” You hugged Baron tightly and he stood there, stock-still like he didn’t know what to do. “Run.” You whispered, and when you pulled away you shoved him backwards with all your strength. He stumbled out of the cage and you quickly shut the door behind him, hearing the lock click with a sound of finality.

“No!” Baron grabbed the bars and shook them in a futile effort. “What the hell are you doing?!” Baron asked incredulously, brushing Neville’s hand off when the smaller man tugged at his shoulder.

“It’s alright, Baron. Go on.” You mustered up a brave smile. “I’m sure I’ll see you again, okay?”

“I’m not leaving you like this.” Baron rested his forehead on the bars. “I don't want to.” His voice cracked.

“You have'ta. There isn’t another option.” Moxley whispered. It seemed the commotion hadn’t gone unnoticed, lights clicking on in the various tents and cars. “We gotta' go, Baron. I toldja', there’s people that can help you where we’re going. If we don’t leave now, the rest of the crew will be caught and I know you don’t want that shit on your conscience.”

You took Baron’s hands and brought them to your lips for a moment, then gently pushed him away. “Go on.” You urged. “I’ll buy you guys some time.”

“We won’t forget this kindness.” Adrian murmured, squeezing your hand while Baron grimaced. “C’mon Bar, we have to move.”

You sank into a crouch as flashlight beams began to crisscross the parking lot. Adrian melted into the shadows with Baron and Moxley in tow. You listened to their retreating footsteps, fighting back the urge to cry. You heard Heyman and Gotch hollering to each other and you squared your shoulders, exhaling in a bracing burst. Any extra seconds you could give the little group to escape would probably be beneficial.

Time to see if you could hold up under stress. If Paul wanted an angry feral, he'd sure as hell get one.

A flashlight shone in your eyes and you snapped your teeth, sticking an arm through the bars to swipe at whoever was holding it. “Whoa! Easy, what the fuck?” Simon backed up out of reach and then shone the light over your head, his face going pale as he took in the lack of residents in the cage. “Oh no. Oh no.” He breathed. You managed to grab his leg and he yelled in fear, flailing and falling over in his effort to escape your grasp. “Help! Help! English they’ve gone feral!”

You continued to snarl and paw at his leg. The longer you kept his attention, the more likely it was that someone else would help him instead of running off into the woods.

“Simon!” Aiden cried, ever the drama king as he valiantly pulled the other man out of reach of your deadly fingers. “What's wrong with you?! Mr. Heyman, come quick!”

…

You hadn't realized how much the muzzle would cut into your jaw if you moved wrong, but you were finding out pretty quickly. You hadn't realized how small the enclosure truly was. You hadn't realized how drastic the emotional and physical toll of being labeled an attraction was. Now you understood why Baron slept all the time, or why Brock would play up to the crowd.

If you didn't scare people away they would mob and heckle until you had to lash out, just to get five minutes of peace. No one wanted to see a 'feral' that looked like it was about to burst into tears. No one wanted to feel sympathy for something like what you were pretending to be.

It was worth it, you thought as you paced and did your best at imitating Brock's infuriated screaming. Their safety depended on you keeping up the act. Paul hadn't been too upset at losing the two 'ferals' or Adrian, quickly realizing that you were a hell of a lot easier to feed and transport than Brock and Baron. Not to mention he could market you as the first 'turned feral', like you'd been transformed into a crazed beast from too much time spent alone with the 'ferals'.

It took a little work, of course. You didn't have the added 'benefits' of rapid hair growth or other such issues to depend on so you ended up improvising with more noises and rumpled hair. You ripped the sheet covering the roof to pieces, scattering it around the cage to give the place a den-like appearance. Your collar was Baron's old one so it was enormous, jingling around your neck when you darted to the bars and swiped viciously at the people who got too close. You didn't talk, flat-out refused honestly, and Paul gave up questioning you after a few tries.

English usually brought your food, pushing it within reach with a stick and then fleeing quickly. Gotch was the one in charge of boarding up the enclosure when the caravan set out and he did it all while watching you nervously.

A weird feeling of loneliness slowly crept in as time marched on. No one attempted to talk to you after Heyman, your days were spent either in the darkness of travel or in the wild hysteria of being a freak. It took its toll on you as fall chilled the air and the leaves changed colors.

Sleep became your solace. In your dreams you were no longer caged; you slept in a soft, comfortable bed instead of a pile of tattered blankets. Baron would come to you, all big brown eyes and gentle noises in his throat as he held you close and kept you warm. Waking up was the worst part of your day. You always woke up tense now, wary and shivering while your breath frosted in the air.

It was hard not to listen to the things people said. The insults they hurled or terrible jokes they made more often than not added a little real fury to your act. It was bad enough that they would say those things to you. You could only imagine what Baron and Brock might have heard in their time as attractions.

Then there was the day where a young man dumped his soda on you. It was already cold out and now you were wet and sticky, on top of everything else. You grabbed him and slammed his head against the bars, screaming in his face like the beast you were supposed to be. You got grim satisfaction from seeing him cry, a grown man reduced to a sniveling mess. But all the satisfaction in the world couldn’t dry you off or make you less sticky.

There was no dinner for you that night because you had acted out. You curled up in your ragged bundle of thin blankets once Simon clumsily muzzled you and tried to ignore the rumbling of your stomach, feeling disgusting and lower than you’d ever been. Tears welled up in your eyes and you cried for the first time in ages, shivering and hiccupping pitifully.

“This ain’t exactly what I had in mind for a darin’ rescue.” Moxley’s rough voice by your head startled you and you barely kept from screaming in surprise. You bolted to the side of the cage and were greeted by the sight of Moxley and Baron.

Baron looked distraught, his fists clenched tight. “Who has the keys?” He asked, his tone harsh. You made a noise in your throat, reaching out desperately to touch him. Baron leaned closer, letting you cup his jaw. “What the hell did they do to you?” He whispered, his own fingers tracing the twisted-up straps of your muzzle.

“Get them out of that fuckin’ shit Corbin. We need the keys.” Moxley said curtly.

Baron slowly loosened the straps around your head, trying not to catch your hair in the process. The leather dragged against the scraped areas on the back of your jaw and you groaned in pain. Large hands ghosted over the abraded skin. “Shit, you’re raw. I’m sorry, would have been more careful.” Baron apologized.

“Heyman.” You rasped, your voice dry from disuse. “Heyman has keys.”

“Well fuck him.” Moxley shrugged, picking something off the bottom of his boot. “What do you think, Baron?”

“He’s mine.” Baron snarled, pushing away from the cage.

Moxley winked at you once Baron had stormed off. “He’s been an absolute wreck since we got word of a ‘turned feral’. Guy was chompin’ at the bit, we all figured it was you but he was losing his damn mind. Should have brought Nev for the door, he didn’t wanna’ wait. Now we gotta’ do this the old-fashioned way.”

You were totally overwhelmed by what was going on, sinking into a kneeling position.

Moxley made a noise of sympathy, petting your sticky hair. “It’s alright. You’re gonna’ be safe now.” He assured you. “We won’t leave you here. He won’t leave you here.” You whimpered and rested your forehead against the bars, barely able to comprehend it. He came back. Moxley seemed to understand your reaction, continuing to just pat your head. “I can’t believe that you’ve been in this cage the whole time. You’ve lived regular, you ain’t like us where you grew up in that shit. How did you even handle it?”

“If I couldn’t talk, they couldn’t ask me questions.” You mumbled. Keys jangled loudly and you turned around, confused at first when you saw Heyman at the cage door. You squinted and realized Baron had a firm grip on his arm, standing behind him in the shadows.

“Open it, fucker.” Baron snarled. Paul looked a little worse for the wear, his striped pajamas mussed and missing a few buttons. You got the feeling Baron hadn’t woken him up gently. “You have three seconds.”

“This is illegal, I’ll have you know.” Paul blustered. “Intimidating a-”

“No, what’s illegal is what I’ll fucking do to you if you don’t open the fucking cage.” Baron interrupted him, his grip tightening. “They’re not a feral, you’ve been keeping them locked up like a damn animal. I fail to see how the fucking law is going to be on your side here. Now open. The. Door.”

“Y-You’re not…” Paul trailed off when you shook your head.

“So if you let them go, we’ll just take them and be on our way. No muss, no fuss.” Moxley made his presence known, ambling to stand by Heyman. “Or…we can do this the hard way.” He had a wicked smile on his face. “Your choice.”

“N-No, I don’t want any trouble. I’ll j-just--” Paul dropped the keys twice in his haste to obey, finally unlocking the cage. “If I had known-”

“-You would have gotten everything you could out of them and then thrown them to the goddamn wolves. Get back into bed.” Baron shoved Heyman in the direction of his trailer. “You never saw us. Breathe a word and we’ll find you.” He threatened.

The night suddenly seemed brighter, the fall air crisp and clean in your lungs. “Can you walk? We have to move.” Moxley said hurriedly. You nodded jerkily, scrubbing your hands over your face to wake yourself up a bit. “Samson is in the next town over, we have shortcuts. Let’s go.”

Fingers twined through your own and you looked down at Baron’s hand, confused. “So we don’t lose you in the woods.” The large man explained, tugging you along behind him.

“Oh.” You hadn’t realized you were crying with relief until your breath hitched in your chest.

Baron grunted when he felt you shiver, quickly stripping off his hoodie and bundling you into it. “Better?” He asked worriedly, tying the hood strings so they held snugly beneath your chin. You nodded, letting him wipe your eyes with one of the sleeves. Baron’s smile still made that odd feeling flare up in your stomach. “Cool.”

“You talk more.” You pointed out as the three of you slipped through the foliage.

“Elias makes me sing with him so I can sound normal.” Baron grumbled while Moxley snickered. “Stupid Samson, forcing me to sing ‘Country Roads’.”

“I bet you sound good.”

“Better than him, anyhow.” Baron pointed to Moxley, who immediately stopped snickering. “Roadkill sings better than him.”

“Damn Corb, why you gotta’ smack-talk the roadkill?”

“Good thing we weren’t going for stealth, idiots.” Said a new voice through the trees.

“Elias! Shit, I must be sprinting, I thought we were still a ways off from the road.” Moxley apologized, pulling bushes to one side so Baron could haul you up an embankment to the road.

“How many times you done this?” The bearded man scolded, pulling open the sliding door of a van parked on the side of the road. “We’re lucky, man. Get in before something dumb happens.”

Baron easily lifted you into the vehicle, climbing in behind you. “Sit down.” He muttered, grunting when you wrapped your arms around him instead. “Oh. What?” He asked curiously, patting your back carefully. “Shh, there there. That’s the thing, right?”

“Yeah, you’re a natural buddy.” Elias laughed from the driver’s seat. “Christ.”

“I thought-”

“Don’t listen to him, man. You’re doing fine. Rub little circles. They’re…it’s--uh, anxiety. Yeah. They need contact right now.” Moxley bluffed, winking at you before strapping on his seat belt.

You flushed as Baron instantly pressed his whole body to your own, arms tightly enfolding you in an embrace. “I’ll help you.” He sounded so determined. “We’re gonna’ get you a shower. A real nice one, with hot water and soap. You’re all sticky, what happened?”

“Baron has volunteered to be your sponsor to help you readjust to normal life. We tried to explain that you weren’t like us but he was…very determined.” Elias said wryly. “So he’ll be sharing his bunk space with you.”

“Gonna’ take care of you like Mox and Nev took care of me.” Baron reassured you.

“Yeah, you’re uh…you’re in good hands.” Moxley seemed to be fighting off laughter. You had the feeling that you were in for a odd time of it, but you were so relieved to be free you couldn’t help giggling hysterically into Baron’s chest.

He came back.

…

Baron was disappointed when you didn’t let him shower with you, he had apparently become very fond of hot showers after years of nothing but sponge baths or dealing with communal bathing areas.

“Neville had to help me wash my hair, I don’t want you to miss anything.” He said worriedly, his shirt already pulled over his head.

You quickly assured him you would be fine. “I’ll let you look me over once I’m clean, deal?” He nodded seriously and proceeded to sit on the floor, inches from the raggedy shower curtain. You coughed. “Um, Baron, I kinda’ need to…”

“Oh!” He shut his eyes, covering them for good measure. “You’re safe. I won’t peek.”

“You’d better not.” You hurriedly peeled your dirty clothes off and got into the shower. As much as you’d like the company while you washed up, you weren’t sure how he viewed you. Were you just someone who had been kind to him? Or were you something more? Either way, it would hardly be fair for you to dump an emotional bombshell on him in the shower.

Your mind wandered, wondering what his hands would feel like on your skin as you scrubbed off the dried soda coating your arms and hair. There was no harm in thinking about it, was there?

Baron gave you your towel once you were done, waiting until you stepped out of the shower to get to his feet. He began carefully checking you over, clicking his tongue sympathetically at the raw-rubbed areas on your neck and behind your jaw. Baron then traced his fingers around your hairline. “Ticks.” He said by way of explanation when you gave him a confused look. “Because you’ve been sleeping outside.” Your whole body shuddered involuntarily. “Nev says to check the hairline, they hide behind the ears, armpits.” Baron paused for a minute. “Groin. Any um…any crevices, really.” He mumbled, taking a step back and clearing his throat. “So I’ll just…go. And get your…um…clothes, yeah, and you can give yourself a once-over. Moxley says I need to give you your privacy.”

You ripped the towel off once he’d left, panicking. You hadn’t noticed anything while you were showering, but you’d also been distracted. You ran your hands over your thighs, relieved when you felt no lurking intruders. You went up your stomach, checking your sides. You cupped your breasts and were about to move on, then…

In retrospect you realized that maybe screaming wasn’t the best course of action as it summoned Baron with alarming speed. “What?!” He took in the sight of you standing there naked, and carefully put down the bundle of clothes he’d been carrying. “You found one?” His voice was weirdly calm.

You just nodded, your lower lip starting to quiver.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He soothed. “Where is it?” You gestured at the side of your right breast, where the fiendish bloodsucker had taken up residence. Baron muttered something that sounded like of course, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling momentarily. “Alright, can I touch you? I’ve got one of those tick pullers on my keys.” He pulled your towel up and draped it over your shoulder, like he was attempting to preserve your modesty. “You don’t need to cry, s’okay. I’ll take it off and Regal can fix you up with meds if you get sick. Brock had a bunch of ticks on his butt, he got really sick but he’s fine now.”

You laughed through your tears at the mental image of Brock enduring someone pulling ticks off of his rear. You were incredibly embarrassed at your body’s response to Baron touching your chest, his motions all business as he carefully cupped your breast and held the skin tight so he could use the small tool. It still somehow stirred a reaction in your belly, even with you quietly freaking out about Lyme disease or a thousand other issues you could get from the little bastard embedded in your skin.

“Got it. Okay. You should wash that with soap and then get dressed. I’ll put this little fuck in a baggy, we’ll head to Regal.” Baron’s voice was still strangely calm, the low sound grounding you.

“Thank you. M’sorry.” You managed to hiccup. “So gross.”

Baron burst out laughing, surprising the hell out of you. “You had one tick-” He sputtered finally. “If you’ve got a strong stomach, you oughta’ ask Regal how many times they had to delouse me. He wanted to shave my head it was so bad.” Baron continued to snicker, making your indignant knee-jerk reaction peter out.

“Oh excuse me for not being graced by the scabies fairy.” You retorted while quickly pulling on your clothes.

“I’d cry if you’d had those.” Baron said bluntly. “Doc Regal gave us his monthly presentation for newbies on all the shit he’s seen and I about lost my lunch.”

…

“He’s quite smitten with you, you know.” William Regal said offhandedly as he counted medications and jotted something down on his notepad.

“Excuse me?” You asked, flustered.

The doctor (“How many times do I have to tell you Baron, I’m a pharmacist.”) looked up at you, one eyebrow raised. “Come now, you can’t be serious.” His tone was chiding. “You haven’t noticed?”

“W-Well-” You twiddled your fingers and Regal rolled his eyes.

“He was only here for a few days before he came to me about the odd dreams he had. You were a rather large part of them. He was having difficulty establishing a foothold in reality when it came to your place in his dreams.” Regal folded his hands, his face Bond-villain severe. “Baron grew very attached to you during his brief period with Heyman’s Delights. He says you were the only person who would even interact with he and Brock. He mentioned an incident when Brock lashed out at you and he bit Brock ‘with everything he had’ because you were in danger.”

“I just stroked his hair and tried to talk quiet to him. I didn’t want him to get hurt.” You recalled.

“It apparently made a lasting impression. His dreams, as with most so-called ‘ferals’ when they gain freedom, were of a sexual nature. But he mentioned the petting happened almost every time, like you were soothing him back to sleep. He found it calming but he had a difficult time waking from something like that.” William shrugged.

You wished you could vanish into the floor, your body hot and cold all at once. Baron chose that moment to make his appearance, knocking on the door before pushing it open. “Hey.” He greeted you warmly. “All set with the doc? I have your bunk made up.”

Regal exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “Baron-”

“Sorry, sorry! You all set with the pharmacist?” Baron rephrased his question. “I didn’t even know that was a word until last month, you’d think he would cut me some slack.” He stage-whispered to you as he ushered you out of the makeshift office. “So you’re gonna’ be in the bunk next to me in the orange trailer. Orange trailer is the one that’s mine. Neville said I could have it if I fixed the roof, and that wasn’t even a big deal.” Baron continued proudly, “Moxley says I’m great at fixing things, he comes to me with trailers all the time and I get them squared away.”

“You do upholstery too?” You teased.

“No, Mr. Styles is the sheriff around here. He upholds the law and a whole bunch of other things. I just fix stuff.” Baron didn’t seem to understand why you were laughing so hard, grinning uncertainly. “I um. I have a couple of documentaries we can watch, if you feel up to it. Not much in the way of entertainment around here but I guess that’s why we move so much.”

“Documentaries?”

“Yeah! Elias found me some old wolf ones. He says most of the information is inacc…in…uh, not right anymore, but I just like watching the wolves.”

The VCR made a terrifying noise when Baron fed it the tape later on, squealing and sputtering for a moment before the grainy footage began. You sat up and watched with Baron for a little while, his rapt expression one of the most adorable things you’d ever witnessed.

You reached out and began to stroke his hair. He didn’t even seem to notice at first, his attention entirely on the documentary. Little noises bubbled from his throat every time one of the wolves howled. You slipped behind him and tugged him back against you, Baron moving absently as he remained glued to the television. You dug your fingers into his scalp and that he noticed, if the whimper of “ah!” was any indicator. You continued your ministrations and his head lolled back on your shoulder “What are you doin’?” He asked thickly. “I love petting. Gonna' make me get hard.”

“Oh?” You dragged your fingers down through his hair, relishing the deep groan that came from his chest. “What would I have to do if I get you hard?”

Baron stared up at you, his brow furrowed. “Well, you wouldn't have to do anythin'.” He said finally. “If...I mean, if we're talking about what I'd want you to do, I'd...um, I'd like it if you'd...if you'd pet me. Below the belt.” His voice had dropped to an embarrassed mumble. “On my cock.”

You slid a hand down his torso and started playing with the zipper on his jeans.

Baron swallowed, covering your hand with his own after a second and rolling his cock up against your palm. “Do you feel me through that?” He asked, moaning softly when you nodded. “M' hard, you did that because you like me, right? Like how I like you. So you did what you know I like?” You nuzzled your face into his neck and pressed yourself tightly to his back, nodding shyly. Your fingers pulled down his zipper and Baron whined, muscles in his thighs flexing nervously. “Yes.” He gasped when you wrapped your hand around his cock. “Oh! Fuck--”

“Regal said you had dreams about me.” You whispered, loving the cute flush that quickly reddened his neck. “Good dreams.”

“Y-Yeah.” Baron admitted, cradling your face against his own while his cock twitched in your hand. “Just look at me. Want you, want to touch you all over. Make you happy.” He took a deep breath, seeming like he was gathering up his courage. “Sit on me and I can touch you if you want?” He said in a rush. “Please?” The begging note in his voice was what did it for you. You licked his ear playfully and he shivered, growling when you continued to mouth over the sensitive skin. “Ah, fuck, please-”

You slid out from behind him and he quickly grabbed you around the waist, easily settling you into his lap. His cock rubbed against the damp spot on your pajama pants and you blushed when Baron pressed two fingers to the area, teasing your clit.

“Like that?” He asked softly, “You feel good here, right?” His other hand slipped into your pajama bottoms to cup your ass, urging you to roll against his cock. “Here, right here. With me.” You dug your fingers into his hair again and pulled, making him snarl loudly. “Ah, can't do that, not fair. I'll fuck you sideways.” Baron warned, chuckling when you repeated the motion. “I'll do it. Better watch it.”

“Yeah yeah, big talk.” You stuck your tongue out at him and were surprised when he leaned in and captured it. Baron kissed with his teeth more than his lips, nipping at your tongue and licking hungrily into your mouth like he was devouring you. You grabbed at the neck of his shirt as he prodded his cock against you over and over, dry-humping you roughly. “B-Baron please--”

“Inside? Didn't know if you...” Baron paused as you stood up to drop your pajama bottoms and kick them over the side of his bunk. “I...Oh.”

“Please?” Now it was your turn to beg, sinking back into his lap and rubbing your soaking wet pussy over his cock.

Baron's eyes narrowing was the only warning you got before he lifted you bodily and pressed your back to the wall. “Yes.” His teeth snapped loudly at the end of the word, hard cock prodding up against you. “You're wet for me, you're wet for me and you're going to have me, you already do but now you can have all of me.” He said firmly, his forehead touching yours as he slowly entered you. “Told you I'd fuck you sideways.”

“I dunno' if this--counts as--sideways.” You managed to gasp.

Baron spread your legs a little wider, his pace erratic as he fucked you. He kept making sounds that went straight to your groin, helpless whimpers and growls pouring out of him when you pulled his hair and scratched down his back. “More.” It was a demand, it was a plea, gritted between his teeth as he thrust furiously into you. “Touch me, touch me, touch me God dammit-” He swore, words finally seeming to fail him as you swept his hair to the side and started nipping his shoulder.

The noises he carried on with wreaked havoc on your arousal, low-frequency rumbling in his chest seeming to roll through your whole body. You tensed up and Baron choked out a breath, obviously relishing the new sensation as he picked up his pace. “Coming-” You sobbed, gripping his shoulders tightly.

Baron's words came flooding back. “Yes do it do it want it-” He rambled, breaking his rhythm to sheathe his cock fully then move you back to his bunk. “No more sideways fucking, want you to come, want you to come.” He urged, smoothing the hair back from your face and pinning your hips down with his own. “Come for me come for me come for me-” You arched up beneath him as you came apart and Baron's forehead pressed to the hollow of your throat, your skin muffling his cry of “good!” when he came a second later. “Good.” He sighed again, his breath washing over your throat. “Good.”

You nodded tiredly in agreement, starting to comb through his hair with your fingers.

“Ugh, so good.” Baron groaned, nuzzling the thrumming pulse point beneath your ear. “Yes, yes.”

“Shh, I know.” You kissed his forehead, loving the way he stretched and preened over you before settling onto his side.

“Come here.” Baron demanded, pulling you back into his arms. You laid your cheek on the tattooed heart, feeling the lightning trip of his heartbeat slowly start to even back out. After a second Baron started stroking over your hair hesitantly, like he wasn't sure if you liked it or not. “You make me feel so good.” He said softly. “Not just this stuff. Always.”

“Yeah?” You tilted your head up to look at him and he nodded solemnly. “I'm glad, then.”

“I hope you'll stay. Y'know, with us. Me.” He mumbled when you were almost asleep, his thumb sliding over the raw patch behind your jaw. “Me an' Nev an' Mox an' 'Lias, we got a lot of work t' do...”

Part Two

#Baron Corbin #baron corbin smut #baron corbin/female reader #feral!Baron #thirst party saturday #this somehow got really long #wwe #wrestlers without the wrestling #Wrestle!AU: Feral Peril #behold all my weaknesses in one post #enjoy!#Baron's Bitches #(in case any of you were interested)

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justthinkingofwaystoavoidbusses · 7 years

Text

Blindsided

Hi there! This is my first time requesting a B.O.B reader insert, but I was thinking that if you could make a reader!combat nurse/Joe Liebgott ( one sided Skip Muck) where the reader has a crush on her best & childhood friend, Skip Muck, but is blind by Joe’s feelings towards her. After Skip dies, the reader finds out that Joe’s comfort and friendship towards her slowly makes her fall in love with him. I know its kinda cheesy, but I hope you would accept it! - anon

A/N- sorry this has taken so long but I may have gotten a little carried away, this has taken like three weeks to write and got way longer than i intended but i hope you like it

—

Faye Tanner was perfect in every way. She was sweet, beautiful and funny, you couldn’t even hate her. There was no question as to why Skip had fallen in love with her. Skip was your best friend and always had been, you couldn’t remember a time in your life when he wasn’t in it, you realised that somewhere along the way you had fallen in love with him, only it was too late. He was in love with Faye Tanner, the girl who had moved into town a few months ago.

You tried to hate her, to find a flaw that made her unworthy, but she was perfect and nice and love him back. They were the perfect couple.

Skip didn’t stop hanging out with you, perhaps that would have been easier, he remained your best friend and you still did everything together with the notable addition of Faye. Then Hitler invaded Czechoslovakia and started a whole mess, when Skip joined up to fight you weren’t going to let him go alone. So, you joined up to be a combat nurse, by some miracle you were assigned to tag along with the company that Skip was in.

You trained separately to the company with the other nurses and occasionally the medics would join you, whenever you got the time you would seek out Skip and his new friends Penkala and Malarkey. He was always talking about Faye, it hurt but you kept a smile on your face - you didn’t want to ruin your best friend’s happiness. He talked about her so much that the whole company knew about sweet Faye Tanner.

Faye sent him a multitude of letters which would always have him gushing to you about her, you couldn’t stop the thoughts about what your life would be like if Skip felt the way he felt about Faye about you. You knew one thing for sure, Faye was the luckiest girl in the world.

—

The restaurant you had set up as a med bay was full of soldiers, most of which had been bandaged up by now. “I’m gonna go see if I can round anyone up,” you told Roe as you walked past and out into the streets of Carentan. You kept close to the walls lest there were any more German soldiers hidden.

You rounded a corner and saw a soldier holding another who was bloodied and lay on the floor. Rushing over you dropped next to them, “It’s Tipper,” you looked up and met Joe’s eyes. You pulled out some sulfa and began to sprinkle it over the wound on his face, eyeing his leg with concern.

“Go get a stretcher,” you order the other two soldiers who ran off quickly.

“Will he be okay?” Joe asked quietly.

“Of course,” you replied, though there was worry in your eyes. He needed some serious medical attention and soon. You patted Joe’s shoulder and helped him lift Tipper onto the stretcher the others had brought back and carry him back to the med bay.

—

You were laid out on the steps with Skip as the sun shined brightly on you, he and the guys were gossiping about Speirs who had supposedly gunned down 20 POW’s on D-Day. You were so enthralled by Skip’s story telling that you didn’t notice Liebgott looking at you from across the courtyard. “As long as he sticks to shooting POW’s then I don’t care,” you commented.

“Well I heard he shot his own sergeant,” Penkala countered.

“What?”

“No way!” you exclaimed, this was the first time since D-Day that everything felt almost normal again. Sitting around with Skip and your friends, laughing without a care in a world, though the absence of Faye did seem almost unsettling - you hated to admit that seeing Skip without her felt wrong now. You pushed the thought aside, this was the first time in forever that she hadn’t been at Skip’s side and you were going to enjoy this time together; it’d be like old times, with the notable addition of German artillery.

—

Everyone was going to London on 48 hour passes and Skip had saddled you into going with him, you managed to bag a window seat on the train with him and Malarkey before it got too jam packed. You paid half attention to their card game as you looked out the window, the two got on incredibly well - you didn’t even mind that Don could be considered Skip’s best friend because he was always so nice and genuine, plus Skip hadn’t edged you out because of him (he was too caring to do such a thing which was why you had fallen for him so hard).

London was busy and smoggy and so full of life, it was easy to get lost in the winding streets but somehow all of the easy boys had managed to end up in the same pub. A small live band played an uptempo tune, most of the guys were playing cards or flirting with the local girls. You stayed close to the bar as Skip and Penkala had a game of darts beside you and sipped at a beer, not your favourite drink but it was something to do. “We’re on leave, you’re supposed to look happy,” Joe smirked as he slid in next to you.

You shot him a smile and turned to face him, “Drinking beer at the back of a pub is hardly a girl’s idea of a good time.”

He smirked, “Well, then can I have this dance?”

You were a little shocked but nodded, “Sure thing.” You took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor where a few other couples had congregated to dance to the band.

You swayed with him and let out a surprised squeal when he suddenly spun you outwards then tugged you back in, you gently collided with his chest. “Oh, that’s how you wanna play?” you laughed with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, ma’am,” Joe smirked.

“Don’t call me ma’am,” you restored as you tugged him suddenly into a correct dancing position and he let out a surprised ‘oof’. “I’d let you lead but I don’t think you’d know what to do,” you teased.

“That so?” He stepped you back and you were shocked that he knew the right steps to the dance, the two of you stepped quickly in time to the beat of the music not noticing the attention you began to get from the patrons sitting at the tables. Joe spun you around effortlessly maneuver the two of you across the dance floor, this was a thousand times better than watching the dart game you had already forgotten about.

The song cane to an end just as Joe dipped you, you received a round of applause and a few whistles as he brought you back up causing you to smile and duck your head to hide your blush. “That was really fun,” you grinned, the band started up a new song and the bar returned to their previous activities and Joe les you off to the side. “You’re such a great friend, Joe.”

You didn’t see his smile falter. “No problem,” he gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, though you had no idea why.

“Hey, Y/N, come over here!” Skip yelled across the bar.

“I’m coming,” you yelled back over your shoulder, “Thanks for the dance,” you smiled at Joe once more before making your way over to Skip.

—

Winters came up to you after the attack, you were patching up a small wound on a man whose finger had gotten jammed in his gun. “Y/L/N, can I speak to you for a second?”

“Of course, sir,” you tightened the bandage and stood up to face him, “What is it?”

“I just sent Liebgott back to HQ, he has a gunshot wound that I don’t think he’ll get patched up.”

You nodded with a frown, “I’m on it, sir.”

You caught up with Joe just as he had dropped off the German POW’s and your eyes instantly hones in on the bloodied bandage tied badly around your neck. “What the hell is this?” you cried, hands flying to his neck to assess the damage but he brushed your hands off.

“It’s fine.”

You shot him your best unimpressed look that you had to use on soldiers reluctant to have their wounds looked at. “Sit,” you stated firmly, pointing at the wooden boxes that lay outside the building.

With a roll of his eyes he sat and you knelt in front of him, you could feel his eyes on you as you undid the bandage and sprinkled some sulfa over the wound. “You’re lucky, it’s not infected. It’ll leave a scar, though,” you told him and tied a clean bandage securely around his neck.

Leaning back you made eye contact with him, “Keep it clean.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” you smiled as you packed up your aid kit.

His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite identify, “Must’ve forgot.”

—

You were sat next to Skip as you watched the film in front of you, it was your tenth time seeing it and Luz had been doing impressions for the last eight so you had learned by now sit as far away as possible from him.

“Skip! Come on! -Where you been?” Malarkey came into the screening, leaning over you to get to Skip and earning shushes from Lipton and Toye at the front.

“Well, l was at home in Tonawanda then Hitler started this, so now I’m here,” snarked Skip and you chuckled quietly.

“How’d you make out in craps?” you asked Malarkey.

He grinned and produced a wad of cash and handed over to Skip, “Here’s the $60 l borrowed.”

“You’re paying me back?” Skip asked incredulously, no one ever got the money back that they had borrowed other guys.

“And as thank-you,”

“Surprising.”

“A tip!” Malarkey gleefully handed over another handful of cash.

“Jesus!”

“Shut up!”

“Only $3600 left.”

“What’ll you do with that?” you asked.

“Blow most of it in Paris as soon as possible.”

“Give me a tip.”

It was not to be, the movie got shut off and you were told that you were going to be shuffled onto the front line again. You had no food supplies, ammo or winter clothing. You were fucked.

—

You were squished into the back of a truck, pressed against Joe’s side and desperately trying to steal warmth from the guys around you, you had tried to get in next to Skip but the truck had filled up too quickly leaving you exposed to the frosty air at the back of the truck with Joe.

“Christ I miss those C-47’s,” Guarnere complained and you were inclined to agree.

“Where are we going with no ammo?” someone question, as a combat nurse you couldn’t carry a gun but not that it would make much of a difference. You could feel it in your bones that you were all walking into something bad.

“Hey, kid, what’s your name?” another guy bothered a replacement.

“Suerth Jr.”

“You got any ammo junior?”

“Just what I’m carrying.”

“Any extra socks?”

“A pair.”

“You need four minimum,” Skip piped up, “Feet, neck, hands, balls.”

“Extra sock warms them all,” you chimed in with the rest of the guys with a small smile that was tucked away in your jacket collar.

Skip laughed, “Good, we all remember that one. But did we remember the socks!?”

“I want a cigarette.”

“I want ammo and socks.”

“I bet juniors got plenty of both.” The replacement protested but the guys were all throwing requests at him.

“A hat?”

“Extra ammo?”

“An aid kit?” you chipped in, knowing you’d need all you can get your hands on.

“How about a coat? You got a coat?” Joe asked.

Someone figured out he had smokes which quickly got passed around, you didn’t smoke yourself but you appreciated the hot smoke that was coming off the end of Joe’s right next to you even if it was only minuscule.

—

You shivered against a tree and scooped up a spoonful of beans, you were sick of Bastogne. As if the cold wasn’t bad enough you were called out of the safety of your foxhole during almost every barrage or after to treat another man severely wounded, with no aid kits to go around. You were using bed sheets from the hospital in the town.

The only thing you couldn’t complain about was the company, you watched with a grin as Skip narrated the wounds the guys had garnered since Normandy. “George Luz has never been hit, you’re one lucky bastard, George.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Ah, consider us blessed.”

“Better keep it that way gentlemen,” you tossed over, you smiled but it was the truth that you never wanted to treat another friend.

“You bet,” Skip winked at you and your heart fluttered, you ducked your head to hide your blush, glad that the cold made your cheeks flushed already.

—

“Hey, Y/N, can I talk to you for a second?” Lipton crouched at the edge of your foxhole.

“Sure, what is it?” you flashed him a smile. He sighed heavily and looked away and a bad feeling settled into your gut. “What is it? Is someone hurt?” You stood up in an instant.

You were halfway out of your foxhole when- “It’s Skip.” Your heart stopped cold.

“Is-is he okay? How bad is he hurt?” you asked frantically.

Lipton sighed heavily and shook his head, “I’m sorry.”

You swallowed hard, “Where?” your voice was thick and your eyes stung but no tears fell.

Lipton lead you over to a crater that was already being covered with a dusting of snow. This was where it had happened. This was his foxhole. Here one minute and gone the next. It was a direct hit. You vaguely registered the chatter of the men around you, Muck and Penkala.

In the corner of your eye you saw Luz hand Malarkey a piece of broken rosary but your eyes were fixed on the foxhole. He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to be alive and go home and marry Faye and have babies and live a long happy life.

Luz came and stood next to you, snapping your attention away from the ground. “I saw it happen.”

“Was he in pain?” you asked, you could barely hear yourself your mind was so full of grief.

“No,” Luz shook his head, “No, they didn’t feel a thing.”

Eventually they began to filter away until only you and Malarkey remained, both overcome with sorrow and unable to express it.

Malarkey held out the broken rosary, “You should have this, you were his best friend.”

You glanced at the rosary in his outstretched palm, thinking back of the perfect choir boy he had been when he wasn’t getting himself in danger, you closed Malarkey’s fingers back around the rosary and shook your head. “No, he would have wanted you to have it.” There was no way you could have faith in God after this.

You gave him a sad smile and patted his shoulder as you walked away, Malarkey was the only one who came close to knowing exactly what you were going through. The only difference being he wasn’t secretly in love with your mutual best friend, at least as far as you were aware. But you couldn’t bring yourself to stay with him, you had duties and now wasn’t a time to grieve.

Someone had to answer the calls for medic, someone had to tell Faye, someone had to make sure everyone was doing alright. It had to be you and you wouldn’t lose yourself to this loss, not now when you were on the front lines.

—

You heard snow crunch above you and you tensed, relaxing when you saw Joe’s silhouette appear at the edge of your foxhole and crouch. “Lieb? Do you need something?”

“You got a foxhole buddy?” he asked.

“No, hop in.” Joe jumped in and sat next to you, it wasn’t much but the extra warmth was appreciated as you tossed your blanket over him and squished into his side.

“How you doing?” he asked quietly and you instantly knew what he meant.

Despite your earlier promise to push off the grief you couldn’t stop your eyes welling up and your throat becoming thick, “It’s not fair.” That was the sentence that broke the dam, tears fell freely and you shook from the sobs and the cold.

Joe wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him as you sobbed silently against his chest, “It’s okay,” he murmured, “It’ll be okay.”

—

You don’t know how it happened but you found yourself coming back to Joe often, no matter which foxhole he was staying in. He was the only one of the guys (barring Skip) who had ever seen you cry, seen you so vulnerable and the fact that he didn’t blab about it sparked a connection.

It was easy to feel overcome with misery as you watched Foy endlessly and hid away during barrages, losing yet another friend in your arms. Joe was a comfort, a small relief from the horrors you faced daily.

“Hey, Joe,” you slid in next to him, your teeth chattering. After a moment’s hesitation Joe wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close to warm you up. You smirked, “Cuddling, Leib? Didn’t take you as the type.”

“Shut up, it’s cold,” he reasoned.

“Sure,” you rolled your eyes with a small smile, noting that your teeth had at least stopped chattering.

—

“Smoke?”

“Sure.”

Joe couldn’t contain his surprise when you plucked the lit cigarette from him and took a drag, by now so used to the smoke permeating from the boys that you only choked a little.

“What’s with the change of heart?”

“We might die today.”

“We might die every day,” Joe pointed out.

“Today in particular.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Joe sighed as you looked out across the open field before Foy. Dike had asked you to stick with him and Luz during the assault, maybe it was because he didn’t trust you or maybe it was because he didn’t want to have to wait for a medic if he got hit. Either way you were unhappy with the choice.

You smoked the cigarette until it was burning your fingers and crushed it into the snow beneath your boot. You were not going to die today.

“I’ll see you on the other side, alright?” Joe squeezed your shoulder and went to join his platoon.

—

Speirs was a godsend, bat shit crazy but you were glad he was on your side. Morale was significantly raised, Dike was done for and we had captured the town we had been looking over for a month. You were stood next to the soldiers on the tank who were singing for the cameras when a gunshot sounded.

A man above you fell from the tank, just as you were about to check another shot sounded at the same time as you felt something embed in your stomach. You fell back to the ground as a searing pain spread through your abdomen.

You were unaware of the chaos as you stared up at the sky, it was grey and clouds swirled above. You couldn’t feel the cold, though you shivered and convulsed as warm blood spilled over your fingers, down your wrists, spread across your OD’s.

A muffled shot, applaud, then Joe’s face appeared above yours and blocked out the sky. His lips were moving but you couldn’t hear what he was saying, more faces gathered in your vision but you couldn’t focus on any other than Joe’s frantic face. You tried to speak but your tongue was heavy, you were so tired. You were going to die today. Your eyes slipped shut and someone patted your cheek gently, then hard.

Snapping your eyes open you saw Roe had taken Joe’s place, his eyes full of fury and worry at the same time.

At the same time as the voices could be heard again a sharp pain sparked through you. You screamed out in pain.

“Stop it! You’re hurting her!” Joe’s voice yelled near you.

“There’s no exit wound. Gotta get the bullet out,” Roe snapped back, jaw clenched as his fingers dug into your open wound.

The pain lasted for 15 more agonising seconds before he procured the bullet and tossed the crumpled bloodied metal aside. It was a strange relief and you sagged against someone who had propped you up into a sitting position. You could feel the blood pulsing heavier now.

Roe expertly sprinkled half a pack of sulfa, all he had left, and tied a bandage tightly around you. You glanced down and saw the pool of blood on your clothes and snow around you, you had gotten so used to seeing it but it still shocked you.

“Will she be okay?” You heard Joe ask, you realised he was the person who you were leaning back against.

Roe gave a nod, “She’ll live.”

—

Despite the thought that you would be taken off the line the company pressed on, Noville and Rachamps were next on the list. You weren’t allowed to take part, obviously, but there was no aid station nearby. You hung back with Perconte and a few others, unsettled by the sounds of the battle you couldn’t help with.

At the end of it all the company was given board in a church, the first time you had slept indoors in a month. Perconte was laid out on a stretcher near you and you were sat next to Joe on a pew. The bullet hadn’t hit anything major so you knew you’d be back soon, and the guys were getting pulled off the line tomorrow anyway.

All you wanted to do was sleep but you wanted to savour this moment, safe, warm and listening to the sweet voices of the choir. It reminded you of being dragged to church back home, sitting next to Faye as Skip sang in the boys choir. It still hurt to think of Skip, you wondered if Faye knew yet, what surprised you was that though the pain of his loss was deep for the first time you weren’t associating Faye with your unrequited love.

Skip would always be your first love but maybe now he was gone you could move on, maybe that sounded selfish but you knew that he wouldn’t want you or Faye to be hung up over him. Joe had played a big part in keeping you sane, you wished you could have done more to help Malarkey who was sinking into himself like you would have done if not for Joe.

“What are you thinking about?” Joe whispered.

“Everything.”

Nothing else needed to be said, the choir began another soft song that you didn’t know the words to. You reached an laced your fingers with Joe’s which layed on his leg. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Joe look at you in surprise but you kept your gaze forward on the choir until he too averted his eyes from you. Finally you let your eyes slip shut, warm and content with Joe’s hand in yours.

—

Webster walked along the line of trucks trying to find second platoon, finally he recognised the guys on the back. “This second platoon.” The men looked at him silently. “Some lieutenant from first told me to come here.”

“Yeah this is second.”

“Jackson, right? Help me up?” Jackson reluctantly helped pull him up onto the truck and he looked down at the few men on the back of the truck.

“So, you just got back from the from the hospital?” Jackson asked

“Yeah.”

“Must have liked that hospital, because we left Holland four months ago,” Liebgott inputted, not looking at him.

“l wasn’t only there. There was rehab, the replacement depot,” Webster tried to explain.

“I’m sure you tried to bust out and help us in Bastogne..”

“How would l have done that?”

“Popeye found a way. So did Alley, back in Holland. And Guarnere–”

“Where is Guarnere? He still platoon sergeant?” “No.”

“Well where’s Y/L/N? She get transferred?” Webster asked, noting the lack of their female combat medic.

He saw Joe tense up, “No,” he bit out, “She got shot. Sniper in Foy.”

“Is she going home?”

Joe scoffed, “She’ll be back.”

“Let’s go.”

“Bill got hit in January,” Babe said as they hopped off the truck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, he got hit. Blew his whole leg off.”

—

The aid station was hell, there were hardly enough beds or supplies but thankfully you managed to stay with Perconte who was on the bed next to you.

You were both were healing nicely, well at least enough to go AWOL so you didn’t get lumped in with a new company. Easy hadn’t been pulled off the line and they needed whatever help they could get. You had been keeping an eye on the rounds the nurses made looking for the right opportunity, you were both dressed in clean uniforms and showered (what a fucking blessing) and you were anxious to get back to the guys, back to Joe.

You managed to sneak out of the hospital and hitch a ride to the city centre, badgering people on where Easy was until you caught word of a small town named Hagenau near the Rhine. That was where you had to go, you got a ride on the back of a runner’s truck and you bounced your leg the whole time.

The town was drab and grey, mortar damage evident. “Where shall we start?” Perconte asked.

“Supply room?”

“Of course.”

You heard squabbling coming from within, recognising the lilt of Joe’s voice, there was some very serious talk of hershey bars. Frank stepped into the room first and you followed after him, you were surprised to see Webster back amongst the men and a new Lieutenant which was less surprising. “Hey fellas.”

The group turned their attention to the two of you standing in the doorway. Joe’s face lit up at the sight of you and you gave him a beaming smile back. Martin came over and slung his arms around yours and Percontes shoulders, “Would you look at that? I try and get these two out of the war and they come straight back.”

“No kidding, I’d be lost without my boys,” you grinned and walked over to join the group. You stood next to Joe, “Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi back,” he whispered.

“Here’s a hershey bar,” George tossed Perconte a chocolate bar, “And for the lovely medic,” he passed you one and winked exaggeratedly.

“Such a charmer,” you flirted back, a large amused smirk on your face. George was the first one to break character and laugh, you followed seconds after.

“They get a fucking hershey bar?” Joe asked indignantly.

George shrugged unapologetically, “They got shot in combat.”

“I’ll share mine,” you told Joe quietly, glad to see a small smile slip back on his face.

“I heard the Germans are done for,” Perconte said as he waddled over.

You saw everyone shift. “Yeah well just to make sure they want us to row across the river tonight, grab a few and make sure.”

“You’re serious?”

“Wish I was. Welcome back Frank.”

You sighed, you were officially sick of war.

—

You watched Joe speak German to the prisoners of the camp, there were too many thin frail bodies in the crowd to get to him yourself. You saw him collapse onto the truck bench and the other soldiers began to herd them back into the camp, you pushed on through the crowd and sat next to Joe who was still sobbing.

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him to you, Joe clung to you tightly as he cried for his people and what he just had to do. No words were said, they didn’t need to be, you would always be there to comfort one another without judgement. It was just how you worked.

—

“Do you have enough points?”

“No. You?”

“No.”

You sighed, you were sick of the waiting game to jump into Japan. You heard through the rumour mill that Winters had applied to transfer to the 13th airborne to get it over with and you were tempted to do the same but you couldn’t leave easy. You couldn’t leave Joe.

For months now you had been pushing aside your feelings towards Joe. Perhaps it was the relative peace you now lived in, the rolling hills and glistening lakes did little to quell these thoughts. You didn’t know when they began, was it Bastogne or even earlier? Either way they were here and didn’t seem to be going away anytime soon, you always did fall much too deeply.

“If we make it out of Japan what’ll you do?” Joe asked. The two of you were laying back in a field, enjoying the sun and cloud watching having just come off from patrol duty.

“I never really thought about it,” you admitted, “What about you?”

“Get my job back at the cab company.”

“What if we never see eachother again?” you thought out loud.

Joe turned his head to look at you, “We would if you moved to San Francisco.”

You huffed a laugh, “And where would I live in San Fran?”

Joe bit his lip, “You could live with me.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Joe huffed, turning away from you, “Don’t act like it’s such a big deal.”

You rolled your eyes and tugged him back to look at you, before you could lose your nerve you planted a kiss on his lips. “I’d love to. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Joe smiled, pulling you back so he could kiss you again.

****

A/N- This was hell to write, let me just tell you. I have no idea how to write cheesy fluffy things so I hope this is good enough for you. Thanks for reading xxx

#band of brothers #band of brothers imagine #joe liebgott #joe liebgott imagine #skip muck #skip muck imagine #joe liebgott x reader #skip muck x reader #unrequited love #frank perconte #don malarkey #george luz #justthinkingofwaystoavoidbusses #fic:blindsided

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