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imyourbratzdoll · 9 months

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𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒆𝒏

🕊️a whore's fairytale masterlist🕊️

summary - when snow white (you) escapes into the woods to escape the queen's order to kill, she learns that not all strangers should be trusted.

warning - smut, swearing, choking, under a spell, dubcon, creampie, slight angst, death, breaking and entering, jealousy, oral sex, kidnapping/entrapment, attempted poisoning and murder, group sex, groping, dark content.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

The Queen sneers, staring at herself in the mirror. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall.” Her eyes squint, and her back straightens. “Who is the fairest of them all?” The answer she was expecting wasn’t what the mirror gave her.

“Y/n is the fairest of them all.” The Magic Mirror spoke, a live video of you playing before her, your sweet self hums to the animals, pulling a small bucket from the well, capturing the attention of the many people that pass by.

“What?!” She screams, and her face becomes red with anger. “No one is more fair than I! The Queen must have the best of everything. Everyone knows that. What could be more fair?”

“Y/n is the fairest of them all!” The Mirror repeats, not caring for the tantrum the Queen is throwing.

“What do you know? You’re a mirror!” She huffs, rolling her eyes and storming off. A plan sets in motion as she heads to where the huntsman rests, ordering him to take you out of the equation.

You had spent your time running through the woods, away from your horrid stepmother and the huntsman that she had sent after you. Your hands clutched your skirt, lifting it from the ground, and your bare feet dodged the many sticks and rocks. Your breath is heavy, and you can hear his footsteps catching up to you. “Little Snow! You can’t run from me! The Queen ordered me to kill you!” You gasp, picking up your pace, desperately trying to distance yourself from him.

You squeal and cry as your foot gets caught on a root sticking out of the ground. You fall forward, tumbling for a few seconds until you end up on your back. Fat tears cover your cheeks, your eyes are puffy, your hair is ruffled, and your once-beautiful dress is ruined, ripped and dirty. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears as the huntsman appears in your vision, “P–please! You don’t have to do this! I–I won’t tell anyone if you let me go! Please!” You cry you beg, you plead. Your hands curl into the ground, crushing the dirt into your palms. You don’t notice the magic flowing through you and into the ground. You are so caught up in begging the man not to take your life.

He shakes his head. “I have to. I was given an order.” His head continues to shake, clutching the knife as he desperately doesn’t want to kill you. “If I return and the Queen finds out I didn’t obey, she’ll kill me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the tears slip past, and your lips tremble. You nod, accepting your fate. You wouldn’t be able to escape this. “O–okay. If taking my life means you get to keep yours, okay.” You breathe in and out, a soft sob passing your lips. Your brows furrow as you are met with silence before a crunch and a groan follow it. You slowly peek your eyes open, wondering what caused the noise, and a shocked sob escapes you when you notice a giant black wolf on top of the huntsman. Yellow eyes stare back at you, and you feel oddly calm before standing on shaky legs. It’s as though the animal is giving you enough time to escape. “T–thank you.” You take off running again, the sky becoming dark as night falls, heading in the opposite direction of the castle.

You happen to stumble across a wooden cabin tucked away in the middle of nowhere. You rush forward, rapidly knocking on the door. “S–someone! Is anybody there?! I need help, please!” The door is pushed open from your knocks, and you cautiously enter as you receive no reply, looking around. “Hello?” When you don’t get a response, you decide to take a closer look. “Such a dirty place…” You think out loud, “Maybe if I clean up a bit, whoever lives here may help me.” You nod to yourself and walk over to a broom that rests against the wall and grab hold of it. You get swept away cleaning and then cooking before you slowly make your way upstairs, noticing seven large beds, making you wonder who lives here.

“I hope they won’t mind if I…” You ponder, going over to a bed that reads ‘CRANKY’ and sitting for what was supposed to be a second. The moment your body hits the mattress, your eyes flutter closed, and a deep slumber hits you with full force.

You wake to someone or something poking you. Your eyes flutter open, blinking as you notice many different men surrounding you. You gasp, scooting to the headboard, pulling your knees to your chest. “Oh, please don’t kill me! I–I promise I didn’t do anything wrong!” Your bottom lip wobbles and your gaze shoots between theirs frantically, wondering if the Queen also sent them.

A man with blue eyes and his hair in a man bun scoffs. He crosses his arms over his chest, and your eyes land on one of them being shiny. “Who are you? And what are you doing in my bed?” A growl practically escapes his lips, and his eyes scan your body with a lick of his lips.

You gasp, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know! I–” You're cut off as you try to get out, but a larger man stops you. His light blue eyes and blonde hair cause your breath to catch in your throat.

He shakes his head with a soft smile. “Don’t listen to him, ma’am. We are just startled, is all.” He turns his head, glaring at his best friend before looking back down at you. “Now, why don’t you introduce your pretty self and explain why you think we would kill you?” He sits at the end of the bed, resting a comforting hand on your leg.

“Oh, I do apologise. Where are my manners? My name is Y/n, but I am more known as Snow White.” The men are shocked, wondering what the princess is doing in their cabin. “The Queen is trying to have me killed, and I don’t know why. S–she sent the huntsman out, and he chased me through the woods until I was able to escape, and that is how I stumbled across your home.”

A throat clears, and you turn your head to look at another man who’s built like a bear, with pretty blue eyes and blackish hair. “She wouldn’t be trying to kill you for no reason. Tell us what you really did. You can’t really be that innocent.”

“I–I swear–” The man touching your leg interrupts you, giving you a soft look.

“It’s okay. You don’t need to explain yourself. I can see that you are innocent. I mean.” He looks around at the men with his brows raised. “What innocent person would break into someone’s home and decide to clean and cook? The breaking in part obviously doesn’t sound great, but look at her. She needs help.”

The man with the blackish hair speaks again while nodding. “You’re right. I apologise. We’ve been rude and haven’t introduced ourselves. My name is Clark, but these bastards call me Bossy.”

The man touching your leg smiles. “And I’m Steve, better known as Brawny.” He points to the man with a permanent scowl on his face. “That’s Bucky. We call him Cranky, though.” Bucky rolls his eyes, wondering why the hell they haven’t moved you from his bed yet. Though, he has been having a great time imagining you tied to it while he pleasures you.

Another man with a flirty smile leans against the bed, coming close to your face. “I’m Johnny, yet these guys call me Sleazy. No idea why. I would’ve said Flirty.” Johnny wiggles his brows, loving the shy look that crosses your face.

A man with a beanie and dirty face and hands nods. “I’m Curtis, known as Dirty around these wankers.”

Your eyes land on a man drinking what seems to be alcohol, and his eyes are half-lidded as he stares at you. “I’m Dean or Tipsy. Whatever you prefer, but I’m hoping to make you scream one of them later.” Your eyes widen.

Your attention is pulled away from Dean or Tipsy to a darker man touching your arm, looking at you with a smirk. “I’m Sam, baby. But you can call me Horny.” You blink, stunned, never having heard such words come out of a person’s mouth before, but you know that you cannot judge as you did break into their home.

“O–oh, it’s nice to meet you all. Such interesting names.” You fold your hands in your lap and look around at each one of the men. “I would like to cook you, men, some dinner as a thank you for not kicking me out.” You watch as they nod, and you give a soft smile to Steve, who helps you off the bed. You head down the stairs, and all seven men follow behind, watching your hips sway beneath the dress. They sit, watching as you start to heat the food. It’s magical to them. You turn around, the food nearly ready. “Please go and wash up before dinner.”

“What? No.” Bucky growls, refusing to get up from the seat while the other men immediately stand and head out. Steve grabs hold of his best friend and drags him out, ignoring the shouts and yells. “Steve! Steve! Stop!”

You shake your head, turning back toward the pot, stirring it before you turn off the stove and grab hold of it, bringing it to the table and setting it down. “Dinner!” You watch as the door swings open, and the men walk back in with smiles, smelling clean. “Don’t you men look dashing!” They thank you before taking a seat, watching you with wide eyes as you fill their bowls with the delicious-smelling stew.

Clark tilts his head as you take the pot back to the sink, noticing that you didn’t make a bowl for yourself. “Are you not eating with us?” The other men stop with their spoons midair, looking between you and Clark. “Come, sit. You deserve to eat the food you cooked.” Clark pats his thigh, raising a brow when you don’t move. “I’m called Bossy for a reason. Now, sit.” You scurry over, taking a seat on his thigh, feeling a weird tingling sensation between your legs as you feel how thick his thighs are. “Good girl.” He nods to everyone, and you all begin to eat. Clark occasionally brings the spoon to your mouth, feeding the two of you.

During the night, you get to know all of the men, laughing and listening to stories. Steve stands, clearing his throat. “I hate to interrupt this wonderful evening, but we have work tomorrow., and I think it is best if we get some rest” The others agree, and you get up to bid them goodnight, practically tucking them into their beds and placing soft kisses onto their foreheads. You are about to head back downstairs, needing to find somewhere to rest, but Steve stops you. “Y/n, here.” You spin, heading over to him with furrowed brows, wondering what he is talking about. He pulls back the blanket and pats the space next to him.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude more than I have.” You gnaw on your bottom lip, feeling like you’ve been a bother. “I can find somewhere else to sleep. I saw a blanket downstairs.” Steve gives you a look that makes you quickly crawl into the bed, and your body shivers when you realise how cold you’ve been compared to the warm man. Your body curls into his larger one, sighing as sleep takes over you before you can even register.

You wake to birds chirping and the sun shining through, your eyes flutter open, and you stretch your arms above your head. You slowly pull Steve’s arm off of you and get out of bed, making your way downstairs, and you decide to prepare breakfast for the kind men. You cook eggs, bacon, pancakes, and a fruit platter, wanting to give them a filling meal for their big day. You smile and turn as you hear the men bound down the stairs, dressed for work with hunger in their eyes. “Good morning! I thought I’d make you guys some breakfast before you go. I hope you don’t mind.”

They smile, thanking you before sitting down. The same happens as the night before. Clark pulls you into his lap and feeds you some of his breakfast, ensuring you also get to eat. You stand once you finish, gathering the dishes and walking over to the sink, gently placing them down before walking to the door and handing the men their coats.

Clark is the first one to grab his coat, thanking you. “I hope you have a good day today.” You lean up, resting your hand on his muscular arm and kiss his cheek softly. Clark smirks, tipping his head before walking out the door.

Steve is next. Once his coat is on, he leans down for you to reach his cheek. “Thank you, Snow.” Steve turns his head and returns the favour, kissing your cheek and smiling as you become shy.

Bucky huffs, “Can we hurry this up? We have work to do if you haven’t noticed.” But everyone ignores him, and he watches with envy as you continue to give each man a kiss.

Curtis gently takes his jacket from your tiny hands, closing his eyes as he feels your soft lips on his cheek. A smile on your face, “Have a good day, sweetheart.”

Johnny walks up next, smirking at you and already leaning down. You give him a soft smile and lean forward, but he turns his head last second, and you gasp. “I–I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!” You freak, staring wide-eyed at the happy man.

“Don’t worry bout it, Baby.” Johnny winks, giving your arse a smooth pinch before strolling out. You feel your body and cheeks heat up, eyes still wide as you watch him leave.

“Well damn. He did it before me.” Dean rolls his eyes, slapping your arse after you give him a kiss as well. “Doesn’t matter. Have a good day, Sugar.”

Sam pulls you close, tapping his cheek before resting his hands on your hips. He groans as you lean up and kiss his cheek softly. His hands move down and squeeze your cheeks, pulling you even closer. “Mmm, Snow. You make a man so feral.”

Once Sam leaves, it leaves the last man, the crankiest of the lot. Bucky grumbles, going to reach for his coat, but you pull back slightly and give him a pout. He rolls his eyes, bending slightly, and when you gently kiss his cheek, his whole face grows pink. “Whatever.” Bucky clears his throat and quickly leaves, leaving you in their cabin all by your lonesome, not prepared for what is to happen next.

You hum to yourself, beginning to clean the place. You don’t notice the magic swirling around you, calling the forest animals to the cabin, some even helping you clean. You wash the men’s clothes, and the birds hang them along the line. You are so lost in your own world that you don’t notice an older woman watching you from the shadows, a scowl on her face, but the older woman also doesn’t notice the large black wolf watching her.

You giggle, leaning over to pet the cute little bunny that hops in your direction before you walk inside the house. Your hands become busy as you begin to prepare another apple pie, continuing to hum to yourself. “Excuse me.” You turn, hearing a knock at the open window and someone talking. You smile softly, walking closer to the older woman. “I–I’m so sorry for bothering you. I am just a poor old woman trying her best to sell some delicious apples.”

You lean against the counter, peeking over the window sill and looking at the basket of apples. “That is perfect! I’m baking an apple pie and in need of some apples!” You give an innocent smile to the older woman.

She reaches her hand into the basket and grabs a big red apple that sits at the top. “Take a look at this big red apple.” She holds it up to your face, watching you stare at it in wonder at how perfect it looks. Your hands slowly reach up to touch it, but the woman jerks it back. “Lovely, isn’t it? But you cannot touch without a price.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, looking between the woman and the apple with furrowed brows. You desperately needed more apples to make the pie. It had to be perfect. “I need that apple… But I, uh, I don’t have any money.”

She thinks, knowing that this apple contains something horrible. The Queen realised there was no point in a price when she would finally have you dead. That was good enough. “Oh, my dear. No need to worry for a first-time customer. I will let you have this apple for free.” You look at her, shocked, cupping the apple as she hands it to you. She watches you, desperately wanting you to take a bite out of it in front of her, but she doesn’t get her hopes up.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! How can I ever repay you? You are so kind. Please let me give you something!” You go over and grab a plate of freshly baked biscuits, heading back over to her. She tries to refuse, but you persist. “Oh please, It wouldn’t feel right if I were to take this for free. Please take as many as you want.”

“Okay, thank you. That is kind of you, my dear.” The older woman takes one, bidding you goodbye before disappearing into the shadows again, wanting to watch what unfolds. Her eyes widen as she watches you begin to cut the apple, mixing it into the mixture of the pie. She thought the call of the apple would cause you not to resist a taste. “Oh, no, no, no! This won’t end well. You stupid girl, you should’ve eaten the apple yourself.” She huffs, stomping her foot. “The poison only works for those it is intended for… If she serves it to others, it can have side effects, and I do not need that in my hands.” She growls to herself, knowing that she will have to put a stop to this or kill more people than intended.

Before the Queen can return to the cabin, she is met with the giant black wolf. Its teeth bared as it growled. She scoffs, waving it off. “Be a good puppy and leave. You can’t destroy the Queen.” Her eyes widen as your hums begin again as you place the pie in the oven, and she realises that you are the one controlling the animals, even if you don’t know you are. In the moment of shock, the wolf lunges, and your sweet melodies drown out her screams.

You are happy with how the pie has turned out, placing it on the window sill to cool down. You wait patiently for the men to return home, sitting curled up in a chair with a book between your hands. You’ve made the house more into a home, having gone out and picked some pretty flowers to put in a vase, gathering some wood for the fireplace, and keeping the food warm for when they walk through the door, their clothes all folded neatly. You stand when you hear them, their voices carrying through the air.

Clark opens the door with a smile, “Hello, Little Snow. I notice that you’ve been busy.” He moves past you, brushing his hand across your hip as he moves to the pot, smelling the delicious scent.

The rest of the men enter, Steve, being the second after taking his shoes off and giving you a large grin. “Snow! Did you have a good day?” You nod, giggling as he brings you into a hug. He lets go of you and walks over to the pot also, not used to coming home to dinner already prepared.

“Sugar!” Johnny enters, pulling you into him immediately by gripping your arse in his large hands, causing a squeak to fall from your lips. “You look so good. I could just eat you up.” He grumbles when Dean and Sam push him to the side. “The hell?”

“You're hogging her,” Dean grunts, pulling you against him, and your eyes widen when you feel him grope you so freely. “Hey, sweetheart. You’re so tiny.” He blinks down at you, and you get a whiff of the alcohol already on his breath.

Sam grows annoyed, pushes Dean out of his way and pulls you against him also. “Don’t hog Snow here. I want some too.” His large hands grip your arse, rubbing his bulge against you, groaning softly. “How you doing, baby?”

Curtis and Bucky stand near the entrance, watching everything unfold. You smile softly at Sam as you let go, walking over to the two men and ignoring the shocked gasp they let out as you pull them into a hug, greeting them with your kindness. “Come, sit. Dinner’s ready, and I’ve made a pie for dessert!” You skip over, waiting for them all to take their seats before you grab the pot and serve the food. Dinner goes well, and it’s finally time for them to taste your sweet pie. You walk over to the pie, carefully picking it up before bringing it to the table and serving them a slice each. “I hope you guys enjoy.”

The moment the pie hits their tongues, the magic begins to flow through everything and everyone, eyes turning a bright pink for a split second before they let out soft groans from the flavour that explodes on their tastebuds. You don’t notice anything that has happened. You are too happy to see that they enjoyed your baking.

The atmosphere in the room has changed. Every single man in the room felt their heartbeat quicken and their breathing become heavier. Their eyes are half-lidded, and their members harden, growing rapidly in their pants. It seems their gaze is set on you, eyes darkening as they look you up and down, slowly getting out of their chairs and surrounding you.

“That was a great pie, Little Snow,” Clark growls, getting closer. “But I want to taste something a little bit sweeter.” You squeal as Steve and Bucky hold you, ensuring you can’t move as Clark kneels, lifting your dress and letting out a thick groan when he realises you haven’t been wearing anything underneath, your folds slick with your juices. “Aren’t you a dirty little girl? Wearing nothing while staying with a bunch of men.” You moan as he surges forward, licking from your hole to your swollen button. “Fuck, she tastes so much better than that pie.” Your walls clench when Clark moves close again, gripping your thighs as he nuzzles his face into your soaking cunt, licking and sucking.

You whine as Steve grips your chin, turning you to face him and locking his lips with yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth. Bucky groans. The hand that isn’t gripping you moves to your plump breasts and squeezes and fondles them. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as Clark begins to suck on your swollen clit. You whimper into Steve’s mouth before gasping as a finger softly pokes against your entrance, breaching into it with a slow thrust. Your head falls back onto Steve and Bucky’’s shoulders, not noticing the other men rubbing their bulges through their pants, watching the scene before them with dark eyes.

A choked whine escapes you when Clark curls his fingers while Bucky and Steve suck on your hardened nipples, swirling their tongues around. Your back arches, hands gripping their shirts as your vision becomes white and your juices flow out of your sopping cunt, covering Clark’s smirking face. “Fuck, Little Snow. You taste even more divine.” He curls his fingers in, happily watching how you twitch, your arousal still flowing out. “Men, clear the table. We are in need of a different kind of dessert.” He commands, standing to his full height and stepping aside.

Steve and Bucky pull you toward the table, carefully setting you down and stepping back. All of the men stand and admire how beautifully blissed out you look. Johnny stumbles forward, his hardened member already hanging out of his pants, and you gasp as your gaze falls upon it. “T–that won’t fit…” You begin to shake your head as he slips between your spread legs, pulling you flush against him.

Johnny smirks, tapping your cheek. “Dumb little sugar. I’ll make it fit. You’re so fucking wet. I’ll slide in so easily.” He reaches down and grips his throbbing base, tapping his leaking tip against your swollen clit before lining up against your entrance. Johnny groans when he pushes in, gasping at how tight you are around him. “Oh god! You feel so good, Sugar.” His hands grip your hips, slowly pulling out before thrusting into you harder. A grin forms on his face at how your eyes roll to the back of your head, letting out a sob as his tip hits your sweet spot.

You are suddenly lifted, and your eyes widen when you feel something poking your already stretched hole. Your head turns slightly, and you notice Sam giving you a cheeky smile, “Don’t worry, Snow. I’m just gonna join in on the fun.” You gasp when he slowly begins to push in, stretching you even more alongside Johnny. Sam’s head falls back, and he groans, “Holy fuck! You’re so fucking tight!” His grip tightens on your hips, and the thrusting begins between the two men. When one pushes in, the other pulls out, and your screams fill the cabin. Johnny pulls you into a deep kiss while Sam grips your hips and pounds hard into you. “Oh man, can you feel how tight she is?”

Johnny nods, groaning. “Fuck yes! I don’t think I’m going to last long!” His pace picks up, slamming harder and faster into you before he buries his face into your neck as thick amounts of cum spurt out of his angry tip. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” Johnny slips out of your stretched hole, sagging into a chair as Sam pulls you down, pounding into you from behind, thrusting Johnny’s cum deeper into you. Your mouth falls open, and your eyes roll into the back of your head as Sam slams into your sweet spot, causing your walls to clench around his thick member and your juices to squirt out of you.

“Good little princess,” Sam growls into your ear, slamming his cock harder into you before burying inside of you, releasing his cum deep into you. “Fuck.” Sam moves back, the magic draining out of him, and he sags next to Johnny, their eyes fluttering closed.

You squeal when you feel someone grabbing the back of your head before you start gagging as Curtis shoves his thick member into your mouth, thrusting in and out. “Jesus.” His head falls back, and his eyes half-lidded. “You’re mouth is so warm.” His hands hold your head, and he pulls out slowly before thrusting in again. You moan around him, swirling your tongue around his swollen tip before starting to suck, loving the salty taste that lands on your tastebuds.

Dean smirks, gripping his throbbing member and tapping his angry tip against your used folds. He lifts your hips before sliding in, groaning at how tight you feel wrapped around him. “Damn, sweetheart. How are you still so fucking tight? You were just stretched by two cocks.” He begins to set his pace, pounding into you, pushing you to choke on Curtis’s cock. “Go on, sweetheart. Choke on his cock.” He groans, fucking into you faster. His tip repeatedly hits your sweet spot, loving how you feel as you squeeze his cock. “Shit! I’m so fucking close!”

While Dean is busy chasing his orgasm, Curtis holds your head down and thrusts into your throat. His head rolls back as you moan around his member. “Such a sweet mouth for a sweet woman.” Fat tears roll down your cheeks, gagging around him, and your eyes roll to the back of your head when Dean fills you, setting off your orgasm, causing your arousal to coat him, and the vibrations from your moans cause Curtis to groan and release deep into your mouth, gripping your chin until you swallow and show him. “Good girl.”

You whine as both men pull out and watch through blurry eyes as they also sag into the chairs. Your head flops down onto the hardwood table, breathing heavily. “Do you think we are done with you, Doll?” Bucky steps up, a pink swirl in his eyes as he peers down at your used form. “There’s still three of us.” You gasp when he picks you up, wrapping your legs loosely around his hips while lining his tip with your entrance. Steve steps behind you, and his hand strokes his cock up and down. Your eyes roll back, and your head flops onto Steve’s shoulder as Bucky pushes in. A loud whine escapes you when Steve follows suit, slipping his giant cock through your tiny hole.

Both men begin to take turns pounding in and out of you. Clark steps forward and grips your chin, turning your head to capture your lips with his. “Who knew Snow White was secretly a whore. You like being used by seven men, honey?” You moan, nodding and clutching onto whoever you can. Clark grips your throat softly, making your dazed eyes look at him. “Of course you do. Only a little whore like you would like being used. No wonder the Queen wanted to get rid of you.” He moves closer, smirking as Steve and Bucky pick up their pace, causing your mind to go fuzzy. “She couldn’t have any competition because you’d end up stealing the attention of men away from her.” You nod along, barely hearing anything that leaves his mouth, too focused on the intense pleasure coming from between your legs.

Steve presses forward, his hands kneading your breasts as he buries himself deeper inside you. “You feel so good, Snow.” He begins to kiss your collarbone and shoulders, groaning as you tighten around him. He picks up his pace, feeling his balls tighten and his cock twitch, a loud groan escapes him as cum spurts out of him, filling you to the brim. “Fuck…” He pulls out, sagging into a chair, his eyes falling closed.

Bucky moves you, pushing you against a wall and pounding hard into you. “Fuck, take my fucking cock.” He grunts, bouncing you against his thrusts, filling you repeatedly. “You better take my fucking cum, slut. It’s what you are made for.” His metal hand wraps around your throat and squeezes, feeling his cock throb when your eyes widen and your walls spasm, squeezing the life out of his cock. “Oh, what a dirty little slut you are. Who would’ve known you liked being choked.” Bucky smirks before he grunts, burying himself deep inside you and releasing large amounts of cum. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” The moment he pulls out, his body does the same as the others, and before you can fall, Clark catches you and gives you a dark smile.

“Oh, poor Little Snow. You should’ve chosen another cabin.” Your eyes widen when his eyes flash, and his cock fills you immediately. Even though the Queen was dead, it didn’t mean her minions died along with her. They just now had a mind of their own, a darker, more twisted mind. Your moans and screams echo outside the cabin. Clark’s member was bigger than the others, practically splitting you open. He growls, gripping your throat tightly. “You better find a way to wake the others when I’m done with you because you are ours now.” You are suddenly bent over the table, surrounded by the sleeping men, your nails dig into the wood, and your eyes roll into the back of your head as Clark slams deep into you.

Your vision goes white as he repeatedly hits your sweet spot. Your juices squirt out and cover him and everything around. Your head hits the table as he continues before filling you with his cum, mixing with the others. You barely have time to register Clark’s body dropping as the magic leaves him. You shakingly stand, your legs wobbling, and you grip the table beneath as you look around and take in the sleeping bodies, or so you thought. You stumble over to the closet man, which happens to be Steve and feel his pulse.

Your eyes widen, and your body drops as a wail escapes you, magic exploding from your body as you release every emotion you’ve been keeping in. Your eyes begin to close, and the last thing you hear is the men coming back to life, their hands grabbing you and bringing you upstairs.

Come morning. You would learn never to trust strangers.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

2K notes · View notes

jasmines-library · 3 months

Note

Hi love <3!

I was wondering if you’d feel comfortable with writing something with the bat-family finding out that the reader has like, the abilities to transfer injuries to themselves.

Like, one of them is hurt and reader just rips their gloves off mid mission and drops to their side, transferring the injury to themself. Bonus points if they automatically transfer some psychological trauma as well? And maybe reader avoiding talking about it and stuff, the family finally seeing the countless scars that reader got because of their power.

(This is has been stuck in my head for forever and I’ve never seen anyone write the bat-family as good as you do, so <3)

Heal

Note: I've literally wanted to write something like this for ages! thank you for requesting ❤️ also tumblr was throwing a tantrum and not letting me put the image I wanted as a header so you get a GIF instead :(

Warnings: Blood, Injury, Scars.

Word count: 1.7k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

“Robin!”

The scream ripped itself from your throat as you saw him drop to the ground. The crook stood over him, removing the dagger that dripped with crimson red from where he had plunged it into Damians thigh. You practically launched yourself across the street as he fled, dropping to his side. He clutched feebly at the wound, eyes screwed up in pain. Your hand hovered over the wound as he cried out in pain gawping at the open wound. Blood gushed from the deep wound staining the concrete.

“Hold on Robin, you’re gonna be fine.” you told him as you tore off your gloves and discarded them on the ground.

Then, pressing your hand firmly over the wound and wincing at his shout of discomfort, you began to heal the wound. It was a strange sensation that no matter how many times you felt, you never seemed to get used to. The tingling ran up your arms but quickly replaced by an agonising burn as Damian’s wound began to heal on his skin and began to appear beneath your thigh beneath your suit. You bit your lip to hold back the cry as you watched the gaping wound close leaving behind nothing but shiny new skin and another hole in his suit for Alfred to patch up.

Damian pushed himself up onto his forearms to regain his composure when he felt the pain dissipate from his body. Around you, the rest of the vigilantes were still battling the criminals who seemed to be flanking in from every possible angle. You helped him to his feet, asking if he was alright as you pulled on your gloves. He gave you a brief nod of thanks before dashing off with his katana in hand to help his family. You staggered behind him trying to hide the limp that you had developed from the wound. You could already feel it healing; one of the many perks of your abilities, but it still hurt like a bitch. But you pressed forward anyway, gripping your weapon tightly to help with the fight.

You had had much worse. Much much worse. Like that one time that Joker had captured Tim…you took all of his injuries. But the thing is, with injuries come memories. Each cell carries its own story. And every time you take on a wound, you take on some of the trauma that comes with it. It's not your own, but it feels so real. The images play inside your head on loop like a movie often cropping up at the worst times. The worst time was when Jason died. Although when he returned he was physically healed, he was still struggling; scarred by the memories that haunted him. So, when he started recklessly patrolling and you had offered to heal him, you took away as much of it as you could.

Sometimes it was the memories that hurt more than the actual wounds themselves. To see and feel what they had been through broke you completely. The torment that Jason had been through that you had seen was something you couldn’t even muster up the words to describe. You couldn’t imagine what he went through and you would never be able to heal him completely, but you were glad you could help him as much as you could. Glad you could take away any of their pain even if it meant that you had to feel it for them.

They didn’t know this. You had kept it somewhat hidden from them. The vigilantes knew you could heal wounds, but they didn’t know that you took on the injury. And you wanted to keep it that way because you knew that if they found out they would just stop you from doing it and you would be left feeling useless on the sidelines.

Nightwing dropped down beside you, noting your slight limp as you fought against the criminals. They seemed to be thinning out now with the five of you fighting them. They either fled or dropped to the ground like flies.

“You alright?” He asked, swinging a right hook and sending a guy wielding a crowbar. You winced at the sight of it, hit with Jasons memories again.

“Fine.” You grunted out as you blocked another oncomer.

“You sure? You’re favouring your left side.”

God damn you, Grayson.

“Fine. Just took a hit is all but it’ll heal quickly. You know me.”

He eyed you uncertainly. He knew you were lying but he dismissed it. Dick had always had a suspicion that more happened to you than you let on but he had never pressed you to talk about it. Though, he was going to find out much sooner than you had hoped.

You stared at the scab on your thigh in the mirror; it would soon become a new addition to the tapestry of scars that covered your body. It was ragged, torn and an ugly reminder of the blade that stuck out of the young Wayne’s leg. Some of the scars that marred up your smooth skin were yours, though most of them once belonged to the boys.

The scars flecked almost every inch of your body, all varying in size and shape. Some were small and round, others long and jagged and some in between. And though the scars saved your boys, you couldn’t sometimes help but wish that you weren’t left with them. Sometimes, it all became too much. For example when you healed a wound that had been forced upon them in such a brutal way that you would lie awake for hours with your eyes squeezed shut tight as you curled up on your bed waiting for the haunting memories to pass. Although your abilities meant that you healed quicker, sometimes you were still left managing the wound for days as it healed whilst still trying to hide it from the boys. You suffered in silence, often pondering if you should just tell them… but you never did. And it was worth it because seeing them okay put a smile on your face.

You didn’t like to talk much about your abilities and how they worked, no matter how much they pressed you. Everytime the topic was brought up you would go quiet, or quickly change the subject, trying not to let the feelings resurface. You buried them deep to keep your secret.

“You okay, kid?” Jason frowned as you walked into the library, poorly disguising the last of your limp. He was lounging on one of the couches as he delved into one of Bruce’s many hardbacks.

“Yeah I’m fine.” you dismissed, running your finger over the spines as you scanned the shelf for something to read to try and give yourself something to do for a few hours while your leg continued to heal.

“You said that earlier.” Dick poked his head around the door, noting the way you tilted most of your weight onto your left foot as you stood on your toes to grab a book. “Your leg still bothering you?”

“A little, but it’s healing.” You shrugged, taking your book over to the couch and settling beside Jason.

The eldest Wayne frowned, forcing wrinkles onto his forehead. “Shouldn’t a hit have healed by now?”

You cursed mentally. “It was a nasty hit.”

“You know, thinking about it didn’t Damian take a knife to the thigh?” Jason asked.

“Yes.” Damian appeared in the doorway with Tim. “Y/N healed me though.”

“Strange.” Dick noted, tilting his head to look at you. The four of them had had a suspicion for a little while that something was going on. The way you avoided the topic was like having a sign waving above your head.

“... it’s just a coincidence.”

“Just like the time you injured your arm training after healing my broken one?” Tim had you stuck.

You bit your lip in the silence of the room.

“Fine. Maybe I haven’t been totally honest with you all.”

Jason sat up and leaned forwards in his seat “Go on.”

You took a deep breath, preparing for their onslaught as you revealed the truth. “When I heal a wound, it doesn’t just…vanish.” The four of them watched you intently and you could feel a sheen of sweat try to break out across your forehead. “It transfers to me instead.”

Damian stared at you agape “But…”

“You’ve healed us so many times.” Dick said. “That's gotta be…”

Tugging your hoodie over your head, you revealed the scars to them for the first time. Tim had to hold back his shock.

“Oh y/n/n…” The vigilantes all looked at the countless scars that covered your skin.

“They’re not all yours.” You tried to lighten the mood, albeit it seemed to have little effect.

“How have we been letting you do this? We should have know-”

“Stop.” You shut Tim down. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. Healing you is… special. Making sure that you guys get to live another day is more important to me than anything.”

“But you’re hurting yourself…” Damian said shyly, feeling incredibly guilty.

“It doesn’t hurt bad. My accelerated healing means I can get rid of wounds that would take weeks for you to heal in a number of days. Sometimes hours. I like helping you.”

The boys narrowed their eyes at you. They were sceptical however they could see the truth behind it. You were selfless; always giving to others in need. They didn’t like that you were being hurt because of their recklessness, and they were angry with themselves that you felt you couldn’t tell them the truth, but they could see the reasoning behind it.

“Besides” You added. “I think the scars are pretty cool. Like a piece of artwork. And I can use them to blackmail you in the future.” You grinned.

“Tt.” Damian rolled his eyes. “They are pretty cool though…”

There was a nod of agreement.

“Thank you. y/n/n.” Dick said. “I honestly don’t know what we would do without you.”

“Bleed out and die probably.” You joked and he hummed with laughter.

“On a serious note,” Dick added “We have seriously got to stop getting hurt so much.”

🦇 Batfam Taglist:

@mamapucket

@xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys

@aestheticdaisies

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pixiesfz · 19 days

Text

goodbye gift n.c x reader x j.f

plot: You and Jessie are both leaving Chelsea, leaving Niamh and you all have some unfinished business you need to take care of

warnings: smut, threesome,

a/n: this was written and almost done and I was actually proud of it and then tumblr DELETED IT

January was a hard month for the Chelsea team.

Jessie had announced her departure for the NWSL almost immediately after the Christmas break, Portland thorns offering her a ground breaking offer.

A week later you announced that you were leaving for Barcelona, your contract was up and they wanted you, you accepted.

Chelsea were losing two key midfielders, you were both leaving the team, leaving Niamh.

You were sitting with your national teammate Sam in the physio room, she had done her ACL and you were eating your lunch whilst sitting on the table with her.

Sam decided to wait until her physio left to back your leg “Ow! Sam what the fuck!” You yelled, rubbing your leg.

“I wanted to know if you and Jessie have finally done it, since your both leaving, get rid of that sexual tension”

You rose your eyebrows “first of all, we do not have sexual tension, second of all not that it’s any of your business but no we have not”

“Well why not?” Sam said and you rolled your eyes “well because we don’t have sexual tension” you said and the fellow Australian gave you a pointed look.

“And I have a healthy knee”

Sam pointed at you “cmon we all saw you two at the last continental cup after we all went out”

It was true.

The whole team had gone out to a club to forget about your loss to Arsenal, you and Jessie had been closer than usual, having both been together the entire game as midfielders.

“We didn’t sleep together that night” you told Sam who snorted “ya should’ve”

Looking back on it you smiled, remembering the feelings of Jessie’s hands on your waist as you danced.

“Just remember you only have one week left”

Niamh was sat on Millie’s kitchen bench, eating pasta that her fiancé made “so when are you going to do it?” Millie asked her and she furrowed her brows “do what?”

“Make a move on y/n before she’s gone, I know you guys went for it at a team meeting”

Niamh shot her head up “how did you know that?”

Millie smirked “you both were gonna for about ten minutes so I just assumed”

“So you guessed”

“And I got it right yay me!”

Niamh rolled her eyes “She’s moving to Barcelona and neither of us want a relationship right now”

Millie smirked, “who said anything about a relationship”

It was now a week before you and Jessie had to leave to your new teams and after the speeches your friends had been given to the three of you, your nice sneaky glances had become obvious and longer.

It was obvious to the team and especially Guro who ran up to the Canadian and English players at the end of the session.

“Do you both like Y/n?” She asked and Jessie turned red as Niamh looked away, Guro gasped “You have a crush on the same girl!” Niamh covered the girls mouth as Jessie turned even more red “can you shut up” she whispered to the girl who was smiling, ear to ear.

“Does this not affect your friendship at all?” Guro asked and both girls shook their heads “none of us want a relationship” Jessie said and Niamh nodded “yeah but like you’re all leaving eachother and none of you had made a move?”

Both girls nodded before Guro smirked.

“TEAM NIGHT AT YA YA’S EVERYBODY BE THERE!” She screamed before looking at Niamh “that’s near where you live right?” Niamh nodded and Guro ran off towards you with a smile, wrapping her arm around your neck “your gonna have fun tonight”

You furrowed your eyebrows with confusion but brushed it off.

You and Kristie sat on your bed with different outfit options “Samantha!” You called out to your friend who slowly walked in, already knowing your question “what” she said and you pointed to the clothes “which one?” You asked and she looked over “none”

“What do you mean none, I’m not going naked” you said, crossing your arms and Sam laughed and went up to Kristie, whispering something into her ear which made her gasp

“Can I know?” You asked “I would have said it out loud if you could know” Sam responded before walking out, leaving you with Kristie.

“This is gonna sound weird” she started “but do you have any pretty lingerie?”

That’s where you lead now, in a dress suit and matching skirt, your black lingerie bra on view for anyone to see.

“My fiancé is a miracle worker” Sam cheered as you walked out “Ha Ha” you fake laughed and grabbed Kristie’s arm “let’s go”

Niamh and Jessie were already sitting at the bar “So it’s not crazy if we-“ she stopped her sentence once when she noticed Niamh was looking at the entrance which she followed “oh fuck”

“Fuck indeed” Niamh agreed with her best friend as they looked at you, your cleavage and legs on display and saying hi to all the girls.

You spotted the two girls and smiled, quickly walking over to them “hey you two”

“Hey- uh- hi” Jessie blushed and Niamh smirked “hello y/n”

You looked past them and to the bartender “three shots please?” You said and he nodded.

Guro, watching from afar saw you take your first shot with the pair “everyone leave! Go!” She ushered the team, all making sly comments whilst all of you three were too distracted with each other to see the whole bunch of them leave.

“My round next” Jessie smiled before bringing her card to pay “we should probably talk to the others” you suggested, ignoring Niamh’s palm that was know on your thigh “Do you want to?” Jessie asked, passing you your shot which you nodded at “yeah”.

You all got up to walk, Jessie’s hand resting on your lower back “can’t find them” Niamh said from the other side of you, stepping slightly forward to check it out.

“Did they all leave?” Jessie asked, her grip tightening on you as people walked by. You noticed as you walked further through the girls always had you in between them.

After accepting the fact that your team had left you still had decided to stay sitting down in a private booth, empty drink littered around the table as you spoke about little things.

There was never a minute one of their hands weren’t on you, weather Niamh had her hand on your arm or Jessie had it on your lap, slowly growing closer and closer to a place that was growing wetter and wetter for the two girls.

“I think we should get out of here” suggested Jessie who was looking down on you, her hands rubbing up and down your arm “to where?” You ask “My house” Niamh said, “none of you guys live in your houses anymore” she said, reminding you of you and Jessie’s departures.

Jessie leaned down to your ear, “I don’t want to leave here with any regrets do you?” She asked and you turned to her, looking at her eyes which were stuck to your lips as you crossed your head “Can’t leave anything back in London” Niamh whispered in your left ear, her lips resting on your skin as you turned towards her, her stare the same as Jessie’s.

“So what do you say?” Jessie asked, her hand sliding up your thighs to the end of your skirt “should we go?” Niamh said, her hand doing the same.

As their hands grew closer to you your breath shortened, feeling flustered from all the attention but still nodding “We need your words y/n” Niamh said, her lips dragging from your ear to your jaw where she pressed small kisses.

“Yes” you stuttered, turning your head to Jessie “please”.

Jessie was already close to you but still closed the gap between you both with a small kiss as Niamh started to knock suck at the skin being shown, brushing your hair back as Jessie pulled at it.

Jessie pulled away first “let’s get out of here”.

The quick walk to Niamh’s house still felt an hour long as your need for them grew. You had wanted them both, at first separately but now…

you couldn’t think of anything better.

Just like in the club, Jessie took the job of placing her hand on your back, now it took a lower place and you took hold of Niamh’s hand who was navigating in front of you, taking the lead.

The two girls knew the house well as they walked in, turning on certain lights as if they were in a routine. Jessie turned towards you with a blushed smile and brought you into a kiss.

It was different from your kiss in the club and you knew it was because you were now in a private space, Jessie loved her privacy.

You heard Niamh drop her keys onto her kitchen bench before her steps walked into a room, you assumed a bedroom.

“C’mon you two” Niamh said as you and Jessie separated and walked past Niamh who was staring to you with an unreadable expression “do you wanna do this?” She asked and you nodded walking towards her.

When you walked into the room, Niamh behind you you smiled, Jessie had already taken off her top and you helped her with her bra, Niamh behind you, stripped off your jacket and unzipped your skirt which you stepped out of leaving you in the lingerie set Kristie had told you to wear.

You turned towards Niamh and started unbuttoning her dress shirt “this was planned wasn’t it” you wondered out loud

“Are we complaining?”

You heard Jessie chuckle at her friend before her lips attached to your neck, you immediately buckled your knees, faltering your paste of undoing Niamh’s shirt which she helped you with.

When Niamh was finally undressed she pushed you onto the bed and Jessie followed, she pulled you into her chest as Niamh walked to the other end of the bed.

Jessie wondered her hands around your chest, pressing kisses to you shoulders before pinching your nipple, causing you to moan.

Niamh lowered herself down to your legs, separating them, kissing from your ankles all the way to your thighs which you started to squirm, Jessie’s smirk being felt against your skin as she saw the effect Niamh gave you.

“Niamh please” you begged the girl who looked up at you “please what?” She smirked and you rolled your head back “answer her” Jessie told you, lifting your head back up.

“Niamh please fuck me” you let out and the girl waisted no time, bringing one of her fingers into you as you gasped, gripping Jessie’s arm.

“You gonna take her fingers baby?” She asked and you nodded “need more” you said as Niamh added another one, and started to speed up “oh fuck” you moaned, squeezing Jessie’s arm tighter.

Jessie’s eyes grew dark watching you moan out Niamh’s name and she grew more wet “can you take another finger?” She asked you and you squirmed at the thought but nodded “such a good girl”

After Niamh added another finger it wasn’t too long until you needed to cum “fuck, Niamh please!” You moaned, Jessie’s fingers playing with your nipples when you finally came undone, Niamh letting you ride out your high as Jessie pulled your head into a kiss.

Niamh came up to also pull you into a kiss, going from one friend to the other. Jessie was sweet with her kisses as Niamh was more dominant.

You felt the warmth of Jessie's body move away, leaving you to lay down fully on the bed, Niamh and Jessie tried to switch spots but you reached out to grab Niamh's wrist, missing the way Jessie reached into her bag.

"are you okay?" she asked you and you nodded "want you to sit on my face" you told her and you saw the confident girl blush and raise her brows "really?" she said and you pulled her closer "please".

Once you made yourself comfortable Niamh rested herself on your face and you almost moaned at the sight. Jessie walks back over to you, your view blocked by Niamh as you waited for her to be comfortable.

You felt the dip in the bed as Jessie crawled on top before you felt the Canadian girl's tip play through your folds, causing you to gasp, sending shivers down Niamh's spine.

Your grip on Niamh's thighs tightened as Jessie positioned herself into you "You ready?" she asked and you nodded your head, your nose hitting Niamh's clit as she rolled her head back at the friction.

You started licking through Niamh's folds at the same time Jessie pushed into you slowly, both moaning your name as you tried to remember the sound forever.

Niamh gripped into your hair as you tried to muffle your moans into her, using her as a form of relief when Jessie kept hitting you in the right places.

"fuck y/n" Niamh moaned out before coming on top of you, making a mess on your face which you smirked at, licking your lips as she got off of you, leaving you to Jessie as she quickened her pace.

You rolled your head back in ecstasy, yanking at her hair which she thankfully wore out "fuck Jessie, just like that" you panted, finally coming undone for the second time that night before you pushed Jessie away, feeling over stimulated.

"You okay?" Jessie asked you and you nodded "just need a little break" you told her, quickly giving her a kiss before turning to Niamh and doing the same.

"then we can go back to it".

#woso #woso soccer #woso x reader #woso community #matildas #jessie fleming #niamh charles #jessie fleming imagine #jessie fleming x reader #niamh charles x reader #sam kerr #smut #chelsea women x reader #chelsea wfc #barcelona #portland thorns

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fallenangelkitten · 9 months

Text

You Wish

Synopsis: You and Henry have been best friends for years. What will happen when Henry realizes it’s more than that for you?

Warnings: friends to lovers, teasing, eating out, penetration, smut with fluff at the end.

Notes: I used to be fallenangelbb here on the Henry Cavill side of tumblr but deleted my account and have regretted it ever since. So here I am reposting my work :)

“Henry!” You squealed. He had you pinned to the ground in a wrestling match. “Get the fuck off of me, you’re so heavy!!”

The two of you had been best friends since you met on the set of Superman; you were part of the stage crew. He did really well at keeping you out of the limelight- he hated the idea of people speculating and ruining the friendship he held so dear. You loved how much he cared for you, though in the back of your mind, you wished he cared for you in a different way.

Your relationship had always been platonic. He never made any moves or flirted and neither did you. Yes, of course you wanted to, but was terrified of losing him. You weren’t going to risk it. You had been waiting on Henry to make some type of move for so long that you realized he just wasn’t going to- and that was okay. I had come to peace with it. You were just happy to have him in your life.

“You’re just a sore loser,” he laughed, grabbing a hold of your wrists to make sure you wouldn’t fight back. With both of your wrists in one of his big hands, he rested his chin in his other, showing off just how easy this was for him.

You let out a scream as you used all your force to try and move your arms, but it was no use. “Fuck you, Henry,” you groaned in defeat, rolling your eyes.

“You wish,” he mocked, eyes locked with yours, a smug smirk twisting at his lips. You felt a blush creep to your cheeks; you couldn’t even look into his eyes if you wanted to, but you noticed his smirk dropped as realization set in. “Wait- you wish?”

He was still on top of you, wrists pinned to the floor. You hadn’t taken notice to the fact that he was straddling you, but now it was all you could focus on. You nodded your head yes, unable to form any words. The hand that he was using to rest his head on found its way to your cheek.

He gently cupped your face, letting his eyes trace over each of your features- almost as if it was his first time really looking at you. As his eyes made their way to your soft lips, his thumb brushed across your bottom one, causing a breath to hitch in the back of your throat. His brows were furrowed as if he were deep in thought.

His parted lips were gravitating towards your own. You had no idea your heart could beat as fast as it was in this moment; you were sure he could hear it too. His mouth just barely brushed yours. His hot breath tickled you and the faint smell of mint flooded your nose. His hand drifted to the back of your head, tilting it so that your mouth finally pressed against his.

He kissed you so softly, like he was afraid of scaring you away. He pulled in your bottom lip, lightly sucking and sweeping his tongue against it. A groan emerged from your chest. You never believed in that ‘spark’ like in the movies; but with a shock shooting up your spine and the tips of your fingers going numb, you knew it to be true.

He took the little seconds that you moaned to caress your tongue with his own, only to make you moan more and allowing him more access. His hand around your wrists loosened and snaked its way down your right arm and to your waist. Unlike his gentle touch against your lips, his hand hungerly gripped at your waist and hips, making you even more desperate to have him as close as you could get him.

You felt a pool of arousal at your core. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his, pulling his hips completely flush against you. He growled against your lips, the vibrations causing them to tingle. He began trailing sloppy kisses against your jaw line, nibbling slightly as he made his way to your neck. Your hands found his curls; you tangled your fingers in them, lavished by his touch.

He looked up at you, “Are you sure this is okay, (Y/N)?” The care behind his eyes made your heart melt.

“Henry, I’ve wanted this for so long,” you admitted, stroking your thumb across his cheek and bringing his lips back to yours. The hand he gripped at your waist with found its way under your shirt. He clawed at your back, fondling with your bra until he got it undone. You slipped your shirt over your head, taking the bra with it.

He made his way back down to your neck, leaving lingering kisses at the base and along your collarbone. His hand was just at your ribcage, not quite touching you where you desired. Your back arched, causing your nipples to brush against his chest. “Have patience, (Y/N),” he scolded.

It was teasing like before, but the darkness in his tone was new. You’d never heard him like this way before and it was intoxicating.

You whimpered as his touch rose higher and his lips descended. He finally flicked his tongue against your nipple, then took it into his warm mouth. You gasped as his teeth toyed with your flesh, tugging and sucking. He moved on to the other, giving it just as much affection. You could feel his bulge against your covered clit- you whimpered. “Please, Henry.”

“Someone’s a needed little girl, aren’t you?” He teased, bringing his hands around your bum and squeezing. “I’ve known you all these years and I wouldn’t have expected that.” You blushed deeply.

He began pulling down the sweats you were wearing, inch by inch, never once leaving your gaze. As a new section of skin became exposed, he kissed and nibbled at it, leaving small marks along your hips.

You felt as though you could hardly breathe as his mouth went lower and lower. He pushed your legs apart after throwing your bottoms to the side. He blew on your cunt, causing you to pant. He took a deep breath in and released an animalistic growl, “Fuck, you smell so good, darling.” You couldn’t help but blush at his words; no one had ever spoken to you like that before- you lived for it.

He let his tongue lightly trial up your slit before he wrapped his lips around your bud. You cried out, one of your hands gripping into his hair and the other on his shoulder. He tenderly sucked, hands grounding your hips to the floor so you couldn’t squirm. He traced your folds, massaging with the tip of his firm tongue before thrusting it into you. “Is this what you always wanted? Me to fuck you with my mouth?” All you could do was wail as he wasted no time before shoving his tongue back inside of you. He plunged into you at an ungodly speed- one of his hands reaching up to rub circles around your clit, sending you over the edge when he brushed against it.

Your legs began to shake, nails digging into his skin. But he released you before you could get to that oh so euphoric state. “H-Henry!” You whined, gasps leaving your pleading lips.

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Oh, (y/n). You really think I’m going to let you cum so quickly after keeping this little secret from me?” He had a devilish smirk on his lips, your juices shining on his face.

He crawled back up to meet your face, pulling his cock out of his pants as he made his way to you; you practically drooled at the sight. He lined himself up with your entrance and without warning plunged completely into you. Your mouth hung agape, but not a sound emerged. You were stunned, the feeling of his girth stretching you being almost too much to handle.

Henry grumbled a sigh of relief as you clenched around him. He looked down at you as he huffed, “What? Am I more than you thought I would be? Too hard for your little cunt to take?” He started to move so slowly; it was agonizing. “Too fucking bad.”

He never picked up his pace, but his hips were strong. Each thrust jabbed into you, pushing against the deepest, sweetest part of you. As he continued his steady, unwieldy assault on you, he ducked his head down to take your nipple back into his mouth.

You were feeling yourself begin to teeter back on the edge of bliss. Your legs were starting to shake around his waist, eyes rolling back into your head. He grunted, head falling into the crook of your neck as he came into you. The feeling of his hot cum sending you over, walls clenching around him as he rode out both of your highs.

•••

The soft cloth was warm against you, soothing, as Henry gently cleaned you up. A hum of bliss leaving you. “Never in a million years did I think this would happen,” you admitted.

He chuckled, teasing affection lighting his eyes. “I would agree, but the thought never even crossed my mind. You were never something I even realized I could have,” he admitted. His thumb caressed your cheek. “But now that I know. Now that you’ve tasted you, had you.” You felt the heat rising to your cheeks. “I don’t know if I’d be willing to let you go. So if this was just something physical for you, please tell me now.”

You kissed him gently. “No, Henry. This is as real for me as it is for you. I’m here.”

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grave-z-boy · 3 months

Text

Arthur Morgan x Male!Reader

A/n: Tumblr straight up deleted the original ask :/ also the ending is kinda rushed cuz Ive been working on this for too long.

Request: if ur taking requests, can i request a arthur morgan x male reader where the reader gets kidnapped by o’driscolls, gets injured a lot, and arthur comes, pissed asf, screaming, “where is he” and shit, basically rescues reader, and comforts him later after they set up camp and basically start making out which the leads to sex, but arthur is super gentle, and very careful and isn’t sure if they should because of readers injuries but they do and he’s super sweet and, making sure reader is ok and stuff. (already were in a relationship prior to kidnapping) if this is way too much i get it lmfao. i like your writing a lot!! ~anonymous

Summary: Arthur rescues reader after he's been kiddnapped

Word count: 3,442

Warning: torture, murder, reader gets shot, bruises and scars, guns in general, passing out, smut, bottom!reader, top!Arthur Morgan, hurt/comfort, short smut.

A stray bullet flew so close to your ear that you could hear it cutting the air. The oozing hole in your leg only spit out more blood as you crouched down behind a tree, your shoulder pressed hard against the bark as you tried to keep your head from spinning. You whistled for your horse, only to hear a sudden pained whiny from her somewhere across the O’Driscolls camp, you swore under your labored breath. Another bullet flew past you.

Using the tree you pushed yourself up, the old, sharp bark tearing the skin on your palms. Breathing in, you tried to block out the searing pain in your leg. It worked just enough for you to peek around the tree and aim your pistol at the O’Driscoll. Squeezing the trigger, the man fell back, you hit him square in the chest.

He wasn’t the only one though- this camp was chock-full of O’Driscolls, and they were all looking for you. You spotted another man, hunting rifle in hand, slowly creeping into the tree line, you aimed, but he was faster, shooting you in the shoulder. It hurt like hell, you yelled as you hit the ground. He crept closer- he was fast, but he wasn’t a good shot, you could tell as he nervously reloaded his gun. The shot wasn’t enough to kill you, even if you let it sit and fester. Before he could aim again you raised your pistol and shot him, once in the chest, and when he didn’t go down you shot him between the eyes.

Letting out another breath, you pushed yourself onto your knees. Only to feel warm metal against your neck, before you could even swear, you were hit with the butt end of the gun, your vision blurring to nothing in a matter of seconds.

~~~~~~~~~

“He should of been back by now..” Arthur said for about the fourth time this hour.

“Y/n’s a strong man, he’ll be fine. Probably just…camping out again.” Karen, who’d had to listen to him complain about four times this hour, muttered, her hands and mind more focused on mending a pair of Sean’s pants.

Sitting with Karen tended to comfort Arthur more than it should have, but right now her presence only made it worse. Her husband was out there with you and yet she wasn’t worried. She sat idly sewing like death couldn’t come to her man at any time. Arthur knew all too well how death could sneak up on a person. Especially you, who have had at least a dozen near-death experiences this year alone, and dozens more in the years before that, and that's with Arthur around to try and keep you breathing, he doesn't like to think about the shit you’d gotten yourself into before you met. Some of your little stories, stories you told so casually, made him sick at best and unbearable angry at most. You were everything to him and to think of what people had done to you made his blood boil beneath his skin.

“Look there, it's Sean, Y/n shouldn't be too far behind.”

Looking up, Arthur watched Sean nearly fall off his horse, leaving his lead untied, then bolting straight towards Arthur.

“They got him!” Sean shouted as he ran through camp, “Those fuckers got Y/n!”

Arthur was on his feet faster than he could process, grabbing Sean by the collar, forcing the frantic, fidgety man to stay still- at least a little so he could explain himself.

“Who has him?” he asked through clenched teeth, he knew he shouldn't be mad at Sean but he was. Whatever happened, they were supposed to be watching each other.

He felt Karen's hand on his shoulder but paid it no mind.

“We were just riding around, found some O’driscal camp out North. I swear I didn't mean to leave him, but we were surrounded and I thought he’d get out on his own-”

“You left him?!”

“I heard a horse bolt and I thought he was on it-”

“Bullshit, you're a goddamn coward, Sean-”

“Arthur!” Karen shouted from behind him.

Arthur's grip on Sean loosed enough for Karen to drag him away, muttering comforting words to him.

Arthur was out of camp in less than a minute, pushing his horse to the limit, blowing past trees, towns, and other riders until he came across your horse, standing in the middle of the road, dried blood covering its left side.

He breathed out slowly, hopping off his horse, taking slow, careful steps towards the spooked thing, hesitating for a moment before petting him.

“That's it..” he muttered, listening to the horse whiny, “I know, I know. I'll find him..”

Arthur caught a glimpse of something moving out of the corner of his eye, just beyond the tree line. He took the lead of your horse and guided him off the road, carefully watching the barely hidden man. The only thing keeping Arthur from seeing him was the shadow cast by the trees and the rapidly falling sun.

With his hand hovering over his pistol, he gave your horse one last look before a sudden shiny glint caught his attention. He didn't think, whipping his pistol from its leather holder and firing, watching the glint disappear and the shadowy figure falls back.

Letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding, he walked forward into the treeline, glancing down at the body, and the gun in its hand, then stepping over it.

~~~~~~~~~

Your own senseless muttering was the only thing keeping you awake, pain searing across every part of your body, blood pooling beneath you, dripping from your wounds, down to your feet, and into the waiting puddle below. The quiet dripping of your blood had become too soothing, too rhythmic- in your exhausted form it had begun lulling you to sleep.

You knew you couldn’t, you weren’t stupid enough to let that happen. You’ve seen guys twice your size with wounds yards milder than yours take little naps and never wake up. You weren’t going to risk it.

You blinked in the darkness, you’re husband will be here soon. Sean rode out like his ass was on fire, camp was only a couple of miles away, Arthur will ride in here, ready to blow the whole damn camp- and every O’Driscoll he sees- sky high. You laughed at the thought, wincing when the slight move aggravated every open wound, as well as the robe burns around your wrist.

The door behind you slammed open, the pitch-black room was suddenly flooded with the warm, mid-day sunlight.

Heavy footsteps thudded behind you, getting louder and louder as they came towards you. Without warning, your hair is pulled back, your scalp flared with pain, but subsides quickly. You locked eyes with the man, tall and pale, yet so strong, as you had learned over the past few hours.

“How many times do I have to tell you to shut up?” he growled, a forced glare on his face.

You opened your mouth to respond, something hurtful and defiant, just as all of your other words had been. But you couldn’t, your throat was dry, and the bruise on your cheek was sweltering. So you just stared at the man.

There was a sudden thud from outside, then another, and another.

You blinked hard, the tall man let go of you, hand on his holster, creeping towards the door. He peaked around the door, glanced at you with that same forced glare, then back out the door. When breathed in deeply, then jumped into the doorway, whipping his gun out as fast as he could. It was in his hand maybe half a second before he was shot at least four times, falling back when the first two hit him square in the face, the other two must have just been for fun, once in the neck, then in the chest.

Unnecessary, rageful- more thuds came from outside, shouting, screaming, gunshot. You closed your eyes, letting your head hang low, finally relaxing your strained neck. You were being rescued.

~~~~~~~~~

The O’Driscoll camp wasn't hard to find, from afar, it looked normal, a couple of guys sat in an unhorsed wagon, drinking, and laughing, a couple more were cooking around a fire. Two were standing guard outside the door of a shack, the only permanent building in the camp, all holding guns. Every last member of the O’Driscoll camp.

Arthur breathed out, he wanted to think this out, he wanted to be reasonable, he wanted to sneak you out the back, a quiet escape. But it was too peaceful here, they were having too nice of a day and you were somewhere, hurt- or…worse- and they didn't care or better yet they were happy about it. About your pain.

Arthur checked his gun, then his knife, it's all he needed.

Then, he charged.

The first man to notice him didn't even get to get a word out before being met with a bullet, the next four followed the same fate. The last man from around the fire made a perfect hostage. Young, the whole crew jumped when he was grabbed. Arthur held a gun to his head, one arm around his throat, glaring at the others as they closed in around him.

“Let ‘im go!” one of the men shouted, gun trained on Arthur.

He wouldn't shoot, it was too close of a shot.

“I'm only gonna ask once,” Arthur yelled, the man shrunk away from him, “Where is y/n!”

Silence.

Arthur pulled the hammer of his gun back.

“We don't know no ‘y/n’, whoever the hell he is, he ain't here!” the same man as before shouted.

Arthur blinked, then pulled the trigger. The man hung limply in his grip for a second before he let him crumble to the floor. A bullet flew past Arthur's ear a second later.

Somebody here is fast- a shame he can't aim.

Arthur shot the five men down before anymore could pull their guns.

The camp erupted into a mix of shouting orders, and screams of pain as Arthur made his way through the camp. His gun was holstered in exchange for a knife and his bare fist.

Another man, also young with dark hair, watched with wide horrified eyes as Arthur practically tore a man open with his knife, then set his sights on him. Running didn't work, he didn't get very far. Jerked back by the back of his collar, turned around with so much force his legs gave up on coordination and ended up in a heap. Arthur held him by his rumpled, red shirt.

“Where is he?!” Arthur said through gritted teeth, his voice deep and guttural, panting from the force he'd used on every man in this camp who stood in very similar positions to the man he was holding right now.

“The shack-” the man nearly cried, choking on his own breath, “it’s-it’s where we keep our meat.”

Arthur shoved the man to the floor, his back hitting the ground with enough force to crack it.

In the short moment he had- he could hear more members of the camp coming- he reloaded his gun.

Two O’Driscolls came from behind a large tent. Arthur got them in one shot, straight through both mens chests, they collapsed on top of each other in a soon-to-be rotting heap.

The rush of O’Driscoll’s was brought to a quick and brutal end. The last line of defense for the meat shack- for you- was a tall, pale man.

With bullets to spare, Arthur emptied the barrel of his gun into the man, storming into the shack. It was dark, the soft light the sun provided wasn't enough, old wood creaking beneath his boots as he took slow, careful steps inside. Vague figures, six, hanging from the ceiling.

Even in the dark, he recognized you immediately. His heart sank as you hung there, unmoving.

A sudden deep breath broke the silence, then a groan. You shifted slightly against the rope around your wrist, muttering something as you did.

Holstering his gun, he sped over to you, putting both hands on your face, and even in the impossibly low light he could still see your eyes staring straight into his.

Cutting you down and carrying you out was a blur, he didn't look at you, your body, he didn't think he could, not with how he was now. He knew you were hurt, you'd hissed painfully when he picked you up, and despite his attempts to keep his eyes off of you, he could see that your shirt, at the very least, was torn and stained with blood.

He felt like he was burning, even with the camp extirpated and you safe in his arms. He still felt a furor building in his chest as he searched for your horses.

Your head rested against his chest, eyes just barely open, vision entirely blurred.

Unaware of your surroundings, you let Arthur’s familiar presence take you over. Listening to his ragged breath and pounding heart.

You don't remember being brought to camp or dozing off, but you felt better, your arms felt lighter and your head had stopped spinning, you could feel bandages on your shoulder, stomach, and leg. You blinked, looking down at yourself, your clothes had been changed, they were mismatched but comfortable. Resting your head back against the cot, glancing around the little camp Arthur had set up.

Kneeling by the fire, swearing under his breath as he stared into the hanging pot.

Pushing yourself up, you realized how sore your wrists still were, but you pushed passed it. Finding your barrings, you walked over to him, feeling dirt and twigs crunch under your boots. Arthur, staring so deeply into the pot, so frustrated with everything and everyone, did not hear you coming.

You sat behind him, wrapping your arms around him, squeezing him tight, feeling his warmth envelope your aching body.

“Hey, Hon..” you muttered into his neck, your throat was a little sore, you realized.

His hand found yours quickly, but they lingered on your wrist, over what would soon be scars. You breathed deeply, setting your head on his shoulder.

“Rope burn ‘s no joke”

You heard him breathe out.

“I was so…” he started, trying to find the word.

Enraged, pissed, livid, angry-

“..scared. With Sean riding into camp the way he did I couldn't help but think the worst.”

Sighing, you moved carefully to sit next to him. Your bruises ached, your cuts and gashed burned, and the bullet wound in your shoulder felt like hell, but you smiled.

“You know I'm not going anywhere, not without you. If I'm going to hell you bet your ass I'm taking you with me.”

Hd smiled softly, “I know, I know,”

Stirring the pot a bit, he said “Food’s not gonna be done for a while.”

“How long?”

“‘Bout an hour.”

You hummed, leaning your head on his shoulder, a moment passed, you pressed a kiss into the leather of his coat, another moment passed, you kissed his neck, right under his jaw. You felt him shift his head to the side.

A few more moments and a few more kisses later he pulled away. He was already hesitant to reciprocate, he'd seen the extent of your injuries when he was cleaning you up, it was a hard sight to see. So many cuts and bruises that no matter how hard he tried he couldn't keep track of them all.

The second he reciprocated, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him, kissing you slowly, his hand curling around your hip- he pulled away when a small, pained noise left your throat.

Guilt immediately flooded Arthur, his heart clenching, then dropping into his stomach when you moved your pants down to reveal a deep purple bruise. Still fresh and no doubt painful.

He mumbled your name as you checked out the bruise, then fixed your pants, looking back up at Arthur like nothing had happened.

“I’m okay,” you said, your mood clearly not phased the way Arthur’s was.

“I’m sorry..”

You hummed, getting close and leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Don’t be.”

“You know I can't help it..”

You pressed a short kiss into the crook of his neck.

“Then make it up to me.”

It was a well known fact that Arthur was wrapped around your finger, you knew it, he knew it, and all your friends at camp knew it. So it didn't take much begging, despite his better judgment.

His brain was screaming at him- you were hurt, covered in bruises. Sex would not make you better, it would actually make you worse.

Yet here he was, kneeling on the cot with you laying in front of him, a relaxed smile on your face as he popped each button on you pants open. You spread your legs, hanging them over Arthur’s hips. He hesitated.

Your hands found his in a moment, pulling them up to your lips and kissing from his wrist all the way up to the tips of his fingers. He sat there silently admiring you, every touch of your lips stinging him with a feeling of both guilt and need.

You stopped with a bite, taking the tip of his thumb in your mouth, biting with just a little bit of pressure. Then you kissed it like you had done all the others. It brought to mind a rougher memory, with you at his mercy, with him doing nothing while watching you writhe, pleas falling from your lips rapidly.

He blinked and the memory was gone.

Arthur let out a slow, unsteady breath. Then leaned down, burying his face in your neck, listening to your breath, feeling your pulse, kissing your exposed skin. Hearing the relieved sigh you let out, he began to grasp just how much you wanted him.

With practices ease, he blindly unbuttoned your shirt, moving from marking your neck to marking your exposed chest.

As gently as he could muster, he ran his hands down your sides, feeling the hard, hot bruises that littered your body.

You breathed out as he went farther and farther down, from your neck, to your chest, all the way down to your barely exposed hip. His fingers in two belt loops, slowly tugging your pants lower and lower. He kissed every inch of your skin, and every time he exposed more, he devoured it.

Pulling back to take your pants all the way off, nearly disturbing the now healing cut that went across your thigh. Your already hard cock rested against your stomach. Balling up your pants and setting them to the side. Resisting the urge to run his hands across each scab that had formed on your skin. A deep-seated urge to soothe and comfort, but he knew he couldn't do much more than he already had.

He pressed into you slowly, holding your hip steady in his hands, your thighs flinching several times, bitting down on to your lip as the pain of being stretched open lit every nerve in you body. Letting out a rigid, stuttered breath as he slowly pulled out after a moment of waiting- your hand squeezing his arm, giving him permission to move.

He did, holding your body close to his, reveling in every little whimper and moan, no matter how small. His praise boundless and constant as he thrust into you. You could feel him holding back, you’ve been with Arthur far too long to no know- he’s doing it for your well-being- you probably couldn’t handle more that what he’s giving you now.

Your body clung to Arthur’s as you came, your own shattered breath was the only sound you could hear for a long moment. Slowly releasing Arthur from your crushing grip, you blinked as your vision - which you hardly even realized was skewed- became clear again, and the mildly worried face of your lover came into view.

You couldn't help but smile- not that you wanted to let help it- especially as relief flooded his rigid figure.

“‘You okay?”

You nodded, shutting your eyes for a moment, finding that opening them became harder with every second that passed. You could hear Arthur talking, small mutters to you or to himself, your words only came out as a quiet, incoherent noise. You were exhausted, but quite happy. Even as your body settled and new pains set in with the old ones. You were happy.

#male reader #male!reader #x male reader #male y/n #arthur morgan x male reader #arthur morgan x male!reader #red dead redemption 2 x male reader #red dead redemption 2 x male!reader #red dead redemption 2 #✮ — z boy

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thefallennightmare · 5 months

Text

Just Pretend-six

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

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"One!" I held up one finger.

Chase drummed faster; harder.

"Two!"

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

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

"THREE!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I needed to know what his eyes were saying.

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

"Y/N?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He's not worth it, man."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Malcom cursed under his breath while rubbing his sore knuckles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I have to find, Noah."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Noah," I spoke softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you, angel."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, it hurt."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?," he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He'd want that," he smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ready?" He asked.

"Yeah," I nodded.

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

"Are you hungry?" Noah asked.

"I could eat," I shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

Going dark. We're okay.

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

Not anymore.

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

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

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

Shit, he was crying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is this alright?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yea, it does."

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

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

"Hi, angel."

"Hi," I whispered.

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

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

Please.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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all-mirth-no-matter · 7 months

Text

Time After Time | Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: You suffer through the repercussions of Christmas morning, a new year begins, and Polly provides some interesting insight.

Warning: language, smoking, ethnic slur, yelling

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 12: Nobody Knows

So help me find my way, the way I came from. ‘Cause I’m feeling lost and afraid, you better not be too far gone. Oh, have I been so wrong? Missed the song? Still I don’t know where I belong. No I don’t know. Because no one really knows me, at all. — Nobody Knows, Autograft, WYNNE

You ran through the garden toward the temple, sure the sacred grounds would bring you some solace. “You betrayed me!” You shouted behind you, tears pouring down your face.

Closing your eyes, you once again saw the shower of arrows fall from the sky, then a plague of sickness run through your lands. You saw death on the sands of your beaches, fires raging through the cities. You felt the whips and thrashes of pain across your body, the screams surrounding you until you fell to the floor with your hands over your ears.

“Cassandra.” The beautiful voice of your love boomed from behind you. On your knees, you opened your eyes and you were back in your palace, the peaceful night continuing as it had before. You turned, peering up at the figure, the moonlight illuminating his features.

Weak, your voice came out in a whisper. “What did you do to me?”

He smiled. “I blessed you with a gift of my own rarity.”

You shook your head, the tears still falling down your cheeks until you could taste the salt. “I’ve seen your arrows — how could you?”

“Cassandra—“

“Back!” You voice stronger now as your fear fueled your adrenaline. “I didn’t want this! How could you do this to me?”

He reached out to you, “Our future is together—“

A sob left your lungs as the images wouldn’t stop from behind your eyes. “All I see is destruction. Demise. Death. How could I love someone who allows such things to happen?”

Patience turned into anger. Your god stood to his full height as the rage froze his eyes. “If you don’t want our future together, then you’ll have no future at all. I curse you, Cassandra!”

——

“You in there love?”

You gasped awake, eyes searching around you as you tried to determine where exactly you were. Slowly, your brain began to recognize your surroundings.

Tommy’s room felt different than it had before. You looked down at the bed, evidence in the tussled sheets of where you’d finally fallen asleep — but the bed and room was otherwise empty.

A soft tapping brought you back, the door opening slowly as Polly poked her head in.

“They’ve just gotten back,” she said, taking in your obviously confused expression as you finally sat up on the bed fully.

You looked to see the open bottle on the nightstand accompanied by two empty glasses and the cigarette case you’d given him. That’s when you began to recall the events of the night.

“I need you,” Tommy had whispered with his forehead pressed against yours, your legs in his lap as he held you against him.

For a moment your brain tried to determine how exactly he meant that — was it business, pleasure, or something more. The way his lips pushed against yours swept the thought away, and an involuntary “I’m yours” came out as a breathy reply.

His grip tightened in response, soft touches turned needy as your fingers worked on the buttons of his vest, his on your dress. You were in just your slip, him in his trousers, when you fell to your back against the mattress, pulling his body with you.

“Tommy!” A shout from the other side of the door accompanied by an urgent knock caused you both to gasp away from each other. “We got trouble!”

Tommy jumped off the bed as your head fell back against the pillow, a huff leaving your lungs. “This has to be a cosmic joke at this point, I swear—“

He hushed you as he grabbed his gun from the holster on the hook before cracking open the door.

“It’s Russel. We’ve been fuckin’ had,” you could hear Arthur from the other side of the door, Tommy standing in the way of the crack to keep you hidden, though you were sure his disheveled state was evident. “Put ‘our cock away and get dressed.”

Tommy shut the door, running his hand through his hair as he turned back toward you, already offering him his discarded shirt. “Fuck,” he swore, pulling you into him for another searing kiss before he finally pushed away and took the shirt. You smirked as you watched the material cover the red smear from your lipstick on his neck and collarbone, internally groaning that he had to leave now, just when things were finally getting somewhere.

You shook your head, trying to get it out of your vagina and back into the realities that something bad must be happening.

“I was worried this would happen,” Tommy muttered as he pulled his shoes on. “Fuckin’ coppers.”

Standing up, you reached for your dress that’d pooled on the floor next to your shoes.

“What are you doing?”

Your brow creased, “Getting dressed, I should go home—”

“No,” he cut you off, grabbing the dress from your hands and throwing it over the arm of the chair. “I’ll walk you home when I get back, but you’re safer here.”

“You think I’m in danger?” This copper wouldn’t know your involvement in the situation, you couldn’t reason why tonight would be any less safe than any other night you’d walked home from the Garrison.

“Don’t know, but I’ll think straighter knowin’ you’re here with Pol and the family than out there,” he answered, securing his shoulder holster and checking the round of his revolver. “Sleep,” he added as he threw on his jacket. “I’ll wake you up when I get back.”

And with that, he left. You’d tried to stay awake as long as you could, your neediness for him slowly turning into worry the later it got. Eventually, you’d fallen asleep.

Finally catching up to what Polly had said, you looked out the window to fully recognize the beginnings of sunlight. “They just got back?”

“Aye, they’re in the kitchen. They’re alright, just beat a bit.”

Your eyes widened at her words, prompting you to scramble out from the covers and hustle toward the door.

“Oi, get dressed first!” she snapped, stopping you as she gestured toward your discarded dress still on the chair. “You go down there in this slip of a thing and you’ll give ‘em all heart attacks. There,” she added, helping you finish the buttons and manage your hair.

She turned back toward the door and reached for the handle. You took a step, ready to follow her, but stopped when she paused before turning the knob. Your brow furrowed as she turned back toward you, her eyes doing a quick scan of your face.

Suddenly worried that the situation was more dire than she’d let on, your heart began to race faster. “What are you—“

“You care for him, truly?” she asked you, this time her eyes not leaving yours as she waited for your reply.

You opened your mouth to answer, but closed it when your throat felt suddenly thick, and you swallowed instead.

“I pity you then,” she said when you didn’t answer, then turned back toward the door. “Come on, now. Let’s go figure out what the bloody hell happened.”

Polly lead down the stairs, your brain ping ponging between what state Tommy and his brothers might be in after being out the whole night, and why the older woman would pity you.

Your over analysis came to a halt when you both finally breached the kitchen doorway, your eyes immediately finding Tommy.

The first thing you noticed was the bright red splattering against his white collar and shirt. You followed the trail from his neck to his collarbone, bright red blood replacing where your dark red lipstick had been just a few hours before. Swallowing, you examined the rest of him — his knuckles were beaten, the sleeves of his shirt a mixture of smeared blood and dirt stains. But other than a deep cut on the hood of his cheek bone and the early signs of bruising along the jaw, he seemed to be okay.

You let out a relieved breath as your eyes finally met with his, knowing he’d been watching you as you took him in. The white of his eyes were red, causing his usual brilliant blues to appear icier than ever. They were wild, feral even, like nothing you’d yet seen.

“Fuckin’ hell, Ada!” Arthur shouted, causing you to finally break your stare and address the room fully.

“Shut up, you’ll make it bleed again!” Ada shouted back, shoving a soaked cloth to the piece of Arthur’s lip that was split pretty badly.

Next to them, John held another cloth to his nose to stop the bleeding, a similar sign of a bruise against the edge of his eye that’d birth a nasty shinner by the end of the day.

“What the bloody hell happened?” Polly asked, throwing Tommy a wet cloth as he began to clean off his knuckles.

“Russel was sellin’ information to the sloggers in Digbeth,” Tommy replied, throwing the cloth aside and reaching for the box of cigarettes in the middle of the table.

“Fuckin’ double dealin’ on the both of us,” Arthur added, hissing when his lip began to bleed again. Ada smacked his arm and pushed the cloth against him.

Tommy took a long drag, “They found out first, tried to use him to lure us into a trap. When our men went after him last night, they were waitin’.”

“Any dead?” Polly asked, starting the kettle — acting as if she’d asked a perfectly normal question.

“Not any of ours,” John answered proudly. “They held ‘em off ‘til we got there.”

“Got a few ‘fore the rest went runnin’ with their cocks ‘tween their legs—“

“Shut up, Arthur!” Ada shouted when his lip began to bleed again.

Polly handed you a cup and you realized you hadn’t moved, still standing just on the perimeter of the kitchen. Tommy was still watching you as the family talked.

“And Russel?” Polly asked, pulling out one of the family books.

“Dead,” John answered, “Charlie already took care of him and the others. Left some of the boys to man the territory ‘til we can clean ‘em out for good.”

“We’ll need lodgings for our men in the area to establish a stronghold. And you’ll need to get to the other coppers on our payroll,” Polly added, scribbling in the book.

The conversation faded into the background as you met Tommy’s eyes again. Expecting the wildness of when you first walked in, you were surprised to see his expression softer now. You’d always been so good at reading people, but Tommy had been an enigma to you since the moment you laid eyes on him.

He stood, and the motion snapped your brain back to the company of the room. “Come on,” he said, walking toward you and reaching for your back, only to clasp his hand and pull it back to himself. His jaw clenched as he instead moved toward the door, “I’ll walk you home.”

You looked around, everyone sort of half watching as you and Tommy left the room. You hadn’t said a word since you left Tommy’s bedroom, and truthfully you’d have no clue what to say anyway.

Your mind was still trying to come up with something when you and your escort made it to your apartment, faster than you expected. Because it was still so early, the streets were as quiet and bare as they’d ever be. You were about to invite Tommy up to your apartment, not ready for your time together to end, when he finally spoke up, cigarette still between his teeth.

“Best to stay away from the shop for a while. Polly or Ada can bring you the books to audit here.”

Your brow furrowed as you crossed your arms. “Why?”

He took a puff before pulling the stick from his lips, his eyes looking everywhere but to you. “Because I say.”

“Tommy—“

“Because I fuckin’ say, alright?” Tommy’s eyes snapped to yours, the harsh tone in his voice forcing your back to straighten. “I pay you for a job and you’re gonna fuckin’ do it the way I tell ya, eh?”

The verbal assault had you stunned, but you quickly recognized his words for what they truly were. He was speaking to you the same as he had in the wagon knowing it’d upset you, but this time there was no sign of an apology, or something vaguely adjacent. He was purposely pushing you away, and the thought turned your confusion into anger.

Where had the vulnerable man who’d held you not more than five hours ago gone?

Throwing his cigarette butt to the ground, Tommy turned to leave.

“What the hell happened to you last night?” you asked softly, mostly to yourself.

He rounded back on you, his eyes wild once again as he raised his voice. “This is me, Y/N! This is who I fuckin’ am. Now you’ve seen me, and you’ll stay away when I tell ya to.”

Your mouth snapped shut as you held eye contact for a moment longer, despite the burn you felt behind your own. His turned from wild, to remorseful, to cold once more before he turned to leave again, this time not looking back.

Now you’ve seen me, you repeated his words in your head as you watched him walk down the lane. He thought you disapproved, or you were disgusted, with the surlier side of the Shelby business.

Was he wrong?

It wasn’t like you were sensitive or anything to violence. With the way it was woven into most forms of entertainment in your day, it was hard to avoid — whether it was in video games, tv shows, movies, or even sports, you were no stranger to both real and fake injuries. But there was something different about seeing the Shelby brothers in person all cut, bruised, and bloody, knowing how they’d gotten that way that made you realize how different this was from anything you’d been exposed to before.

And honestly, you weren’t sure how you felt about it. Of course part of you was scared, for both yourself and the people you’d come to care for here. Meanwhile, the other part of you tried to rationalize that this was the way of the world, or at least the Shelby’s world. You’d learned a long time ago that the world wasn’t black and white — that there were shades of grey that were circumstantial and layered in intent and values and point of views.

While you didn’t know yet the full backstory of how the Shelbys came to be where they were now, the little information you did know painted an understanding that part of the circumstances with Tommy was grounded in some way with survival against poverty, racism, classism. There was a road the Shelbys had traveled to get where they were now, and you knew that part of it was paved in violence.

You watched as Tommy finally disappeared from sight, swallowing thickly as you retreated with a shaky hand into the building.

——

The next week went by quietly. You’d followed Tommy’s instructions of not coming by the shop, throwing yourself instead into the pub. You found yourself reverting back to the habits you’d made prior to meeting Tommy — though this time you had one more thing to obsessively overthink about during the quieter parts of the day.

Luckily, the pub was busier than ever. Factory worker strikes were growing more rampant, and a common group seemed to find base in the Garrison booths right after the whistles blew. After a few days, you overheard one of the men call another “Freddie” and turned in time to see the greeting and identity of Ada’s mystery man and Tommy’s former best friend.

You didn’t let yourself linger, not yet sure what information Ada had told him about you, so you continued on with your business as usual. But you still allowed yourself a few stolen glances and discrete eavesdropping out of pure curiosity.

Aside from that, the holidays also played a role in the Garrison’s popularity as you geared up for New Years Eve, a night Harry anticipated would be three-times busier than it had the year previously.

The work was good though — not only did it keep your mind busy, but it kept your body tired, which made sleep come easier. That, and the fact that your dreams seemed to stop — something you didn’t necessarily notice right away.

And yet, even with all your work and distractions, you still found yourself every night expecting to see Tommy walk through the pub doors.

New Years Eve night was the first instance where you caught a glimpse of any Shelby family member since Christmas morning. The crowd was so thick both you and Harry found yourselves working behind the bar. You heard rather than saw Arthur barrel through the door, shouting something about needing a drink to wash away the shit show of a year. You tried to listen closely to the voices to see who was with him, but the crowd volume was too overwhelming to zero in on. Harry had jumped at serving the snug himself, none the wiser to your inner turmoil.

You were trying really hard not to act as pathetic as you felt when a body pushed through the wall of people against the bar. For a moment your heart leapt, thinking it was Tommy, but deflated when they fully turned to face you.

“Hey beautiful,” Benji greeted, wide smile on his face as he leaned against the counter.

“Harry’s already over there to serve you boys,” you answered, giving him the server-smile you’d been dawning all night and gestured toward the snug in between pouring glasses and trying to retain shouts of orders from the others at the bar competing for your attention.

He shook his head, “I just wanted to come say hi. Busy night, huh?”

The poor boy was trying to small talk while you were running back and forth behind the bar. You swallowed your annoyance with a mirthless laugh and shrugged your shoulders, “Whatever gave you that idea?”

He laughed, and you were sure he was saying something else, but the sound of John’s laugh through the snug window caused your attention to shift. You glanced in time for Harry to move out of the way of the window, eyes landing on Tommy, who was sitting between his brothers with a set of cards in his hands. When his eyes shifted, possibly to look through the window himself, you turned back toward the crowd of people. You didn’t want him to catch you staring at him, your pride still wounded from your last encounter.

Benji’s voice calling your name brought your attention back, nearly forgetting he’d been there. “Did you hear me?”

“Um, no, sorry Benji,” you apologized while waving an acknowledgment to the man who shouted for rum on the other end of the bar top.

He chuckled, “I’ll try again when the crowd lessens.”

Doubt that, you said to yourself as Harry fell back behind the bar with you. You chanced a glance toward the window, but the door was properly closed now, causing you to both sigh in relief and disappointment.

The night ended with the crowd shouting with the sound of the church bells signaling midnight and the beginnings of the new year. Last call came an hour after that. Without you realizing, the Shelby and Peaky Boys had slipped out of the pub some time before closing, and you felt your heart break pathetically at the realization.

Not that you had any expectations, but you’d come to enjoy the feeling of being a part of something recently. And to not even get a hello from any of them made you feel even lonelier than ever.

Well, not counting Benji. Who also hadn’t come back like he said he would.

And now you were officially living in the year 1919. For a brief moment when the realization hit you while cleaning up for the night, you nearly expected something monumental to happen space-time-continuum-wise.

But the rest of the week went by just the same as it had before New Years. You were five days into the new year when you got to talk to your first Shelby since Christmas.

Ada arrived at your front door Sunday morning with two company books concealed discreetly in a bag. You didn’t bother asking how she knew it was your day off and instead embraced her warmly.

“Tommy said to not let you and the book out of my sight, but d’ya mind if I sneak out here to see Freddie while you work?”

Your brow creased at her question, slightly surprised at the vote of no confidence from Tommy — as if you needed a chaperone to do the job you’d been doing for months now. “Oh, uh, no, that’s fine. I finally saw him at the pub last week, been meaning to tell you.”

Ada’s eyes widened as she grinned, pulling you to sit with her on your bed. “What’d you think? You didn’t say anything, did you?”

“Of course not, I didn’t even talk to him. Just overheard him in a booth with some other guys. He seemed nice though.”

“He is,” she sighed, almost dreamily, and you shook your head at your friend despite the smile on your own face. “I just wish he and Tommy weren’t still at odds. He still won’t even tell me what they fell off about.”

You hummed in consideration, “Would them being close again make it easier for Tommy to accept you being together?”

Ada shrugged, “Dunno. Possibly.”

“Well, don’t waste any more valuable time with me,” you gave her a friendly shove off the bed, causing her to smile again.

“Thanks, I’ll be back in a few hours!”

After she left, you settled at your small dining table and dove in.

The books were telling. The holidays seemed to be a very good time for the betting shop, which made sense you supposed with people trying their luck to make as much money as they could before the year end.

The family books, however, were even more telling. New contacts had made an appearance, both as payers and payees, most of which seemed to be located in Digbeth. By the books, it seemed the Peaky Blinders had officially expanded into the new territory and there was no sign of slowing down.

You finished the audit just as Ada returned, leaving again promptly and promising to see you later.

——

Another week went by, the pub crowd slightly smaller but still lively enough to keep you busy. Benji showed up again about half way through the week.

“I was hopin’ to take you to dinner sometime,” he finally said once you served him his drink.

You blinked, “Like, a date?”

Immediately you panicked — did people use the word date nowadays? It was the boyfriend conundrum all over again and you were kicking yourself for not having learned more about historical slang or word use.

Benji didn’t seem bothered by your use of phrase, instead shrugging. “Or we can go see a new picture.”

“Oh—”

“Or both,” he said with a chuckle and friendly smile. “What’ya say?”

“Um, I’m— I’m not sure,” you found yourself answering, surprising yourself.

Since your first meeting with Benji, you thought you’d be in this position at some point, and at the time knew firmly that you’d have to kindly turn him down or express your disinterest in anything romantic with this guy.

But now, you found yourself reconsidering. Benji hadn’t been anything but nice and friendly to you since meeting. Sure, the conversations had been flat, but that wasn’t necessarily his fault — you hadn’t really given him much to work with due to your own reservations.

And maybe you’d been too quick to judge with the whole stealing from the company thing. The optimistic (and pathetically lonely) part of you could convince yourself that his math really had just improved over the months, and he didn’t actually have any nefarious intent.

It didn’t hurt that he was quite handsome. You were surprised he didn’t have someone already.

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to actually agree to go out with him nor turn him down completely. “It’s just I’ve — I’ve got a lot going on right now.”

Benji nodded, still offering you a smile as he set down a coin for his drink. “Maybe another time?”

“Yeah,” you said noncommittally, finally giving him a genuine smile of appreciation.

He smiled back before leaving, giving you a wave as he walked out the door.

At his absence, you found yourself feeling guilty, thinking of what Tommy would think if he found out you were going on a date.

You shook your head — to hell with what Tommy thought. You couldn’t keep up with what may or may not have been going on between the two of you.

It was astonishing when you realized exactly how little time you and Tommy had actually spent together. The time span between that first night at the Garrison and Christmas morning accounted for less than five days. And yet within that time, you’d made out with the man four times and nearly slept with him twice. You felt more connected with him than you’d ever felt with anyone before. And not to mention you’d been tempted to tell him your big secret — hell, Christmas Eve night you’d basically shared the majority of it, just without the time travel aspect.

All that to say that the total time you’d spent with the man had been tiny in relation to the bigger picture, and yet you could not get him out of your mind. The longer you went without seeing him, the heavier your heart grew and the antsier you became.

What the hell was the matter with you anyway? The last time you’d been this strung out over a guy had been in high school when your hormones were running rampant and you had absolutely no self-awareness or all the finely honed self-respect you’d built up over the last decade. You weren’t a teenager — you were too old for these flighty and fruitless games. If the man didn’t want to be with you, (or if all he’d wanted was to sleep with you) he should just tell you.

And now he’d all but banned you from his presence it felt, and your feelings of hurt had officially transitioned into anger.

Why the hell shouldn’t you go on a date? If you were going to be stuck here, why not have a little fun?

“Benji?” You called, just as the door was starting to close. It opened, and he popped his head back into the pub, his brow up in question. “Dinner might be nice. How’s next week?”

——

That Sunday, you were surprised to see it was Polly at your doorstep with the books.

“Morning, love.” She greeted you, shoving the two books into your chest as she walked past you into your apartment. She took a seat at your dining table and began to take off her gloves with a huff, “Ada’s run off again, leaving the book transport to me. Not sure why I’ve got to stay here with you the whole bloody time, but when Thomas insists—“

“Did I do something, Polly?” You asked finally, unable to hold it in any longer as you sat down across from her and set the books on the table top. “It’s like Tommy doesn’t trust me anymore.”

Polly shook her head. “It’s just been chaos with the Digbeth move, that’s all. Half our men are split, leaving the betting shop more vulnerable than we’d all like. It’s nothing you did. Got any tea?”

Her words were encouraging, but the way she dodged her eyes and reached for her paper half way through still gave you that unsettled feeling. She lifted the paper to begin reading, a silent end to your conversation. Taking the hint, you silently poured you both some tea and began your work.

But the back of your mind still churned as you went through the monotonous steps of math and pattern checking. Despite Polly’s reasoning, you still felt like you were being punished for something. You felt a level of guilt beneath your mountain of other emotions because despite all the secrets you had shared with Tommy, there was a pretty big one that you still hadn’t shared. Perhaps he’d finally grown tired of waiting, or had officially decided against trusting you after all.

You physically shook your head as you moved on to the second book, shaking the thought away before you tailspun into a hole that you weren’t prepared to dig yourself out of while company was here.

The thought made you look up at Polly for a moment, who was still reading through her newspaper meticulously.

“Polly, can I ask you something?”

She didn’t look up from her newspaper, “If it’s about Thomas, I can’t help you. That boy’s as unpredictable as ever nowadays.”

“It’s not that. It’s—“ you hesitated, unsure exactly how to approach the situation. Polly lowered her paper and rose an eyebrow. “You told Tommy you thought I was born gypsy.”

She folded up her paper and set it on the table. “I did.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me yourself?”

“It wasn’t my place.”

Your brow creased, “But you told Tommy.”

“I made a calculated decision at the time.”

You hummed, nodding as you looked down, then back up. “I’m not related to the Delphi,” you said tentatively, watching her face as you went on. “At least I don’t think so. To be honest, I’m not even positive if I have any Romani blood in me. I don’t really know anything, still.”

Polly didn’t respond, instead sat there in silence as she waited for you to continue.

“You told Tommy that I had a gift. All because of my tattoo and because I guessed the date of the end of the war—“

“That’s not the only reasons,” Polly added, your eyes shooting up to meet hers. “I read your leaves.”

Your brow creased, “My, what?”

She nodded to the cup in front of you. “Your tea leaves. It’s always been one of my gifts to read tea leaves.”

“Perhaps you should talk to Pol,” Tommy’s voice from the other night triggered your memory. “She’s always been more in tune with that side of things, she could offer you some guidance.”

Your eyes drifted to the nightstand, where you knew the small box Madam Despoina had given you was buried beneath your clothes in the drawer. You hadn’t touched it since you put it there, but the square lump was the first things your eyes snapped to whenever you opened the drawer.

“Wait, isn’t there like an official process to reading leaves?” You countered. Teas and tarot cards were some of the maneuvers your mother had tried to learn herself — but of course when she couldn’t come up with the outcomes she’d wanted, she’d go out and pay ‘experts’ to do her readings for her. Still, she never found what she was looking for.

The years of built up distrust for anything divination relation was causing you to tense at the conversation, but you forced yourself to really listen to Polly.

“You always swirl your tea before you finish it, haven’t you noticed?”

You hadn’t — but now that you thought about it, you realized that you did. You hated the taste of the grains of leaves at the end of your cups, so you always absentmindedly swirled to try and get them to stick to the edges.

“What did you see?”

Polly began to explain a few of her early readings, how every sign pointed to heavy seer powers and a deep concentration to the far future, though something was always just off about every reading. “They began to change after the war ended, once you’d met Thomas. His changed too.”

You swallowed. “Tommy didn’t mention that.”

“I didn’t tell him.”

You asked why.

She chuckled, “It wouldn’t have meant anything to him. He doesn’t believe anymore. Deep down he might, but not enough to have convinced him to let you continue working for the company. That your time with us, with him, weren’t over yet.”

Despite yourself, you scoffed, “You sound like Madam Despoina.”

Polly smirked. “Did you find what you were looking for with the Delphi?”

“Sort of,” your eyes moved down to your hands. “Madam Despoina believes that speaking to my mother will help.”

“I thought your family—“

“Dead,” you answered. “Yeah. She gave me something she said can help me talk to her one last time. I haven’t — I can’t bring myself to do it.”

Polly hummed as she sat back in her seat. “We do believe that those who have left us can visit. Some have the gift to see them, even speak to them. But it can be dangerous. Once you let the spirits in, any spirits, it can be difficult to get rid of them.”

You nodded, taking her words to heart as you absorbed the information. “I— I’m not a fortune teller. But I do have some knowledge of the future. It’s— it’s complicated.”

Polly’s chin and brow rose. “Have you told Thomas?”

“Yes. Everything that I can tell.”

Polly nodded. “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about, love.”

You took a deep breath. “Then what’s with the freeze out?”

“It’s his way of protecting you, I assume.” Polly picked up her paper again. “You did react quite poorly Christmas morning — and the boys weren’t even that banged up. Still surprised none of them were shot. You’re going to need tougher skin if you choose to continue with this life. And I wasn’t lying before, the boys have been nonstop since the holidays. Poor Martha can hardly handle it.”

She lifted the paper between the two of you and you took the signal again to mean the conversation had ended.

You ended the final book audit having only run through what Polly had said twice. She rose to leave and collected her things. You were curious if she was going to grab your cup, but didn’t give it another glance as she walked toward the door.

She turned, “Part of tougher skin means defying Tommy’s orders every now and then. It’ll be just Martha and I tomorrow at the house with the kids. We miss you.”

With that, she gave you a pointed rise of her brow and left.

You smiled as the door closed, feeling rejuvenated. Fuck Tommy and his orders, you thought, lifting your chin up the same way Polly had. You had your pride, you had your own agency, and you could go visit your friends if you damn well wanted to. Two and a half weeks had been enough of a freeze out, you decided.

Tomorrow, you’d go back to the Shelby household. And if he showed up, you’d confront Tommy and tell him exactly how you felt.

>> next chapter

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nevadancitizen · 14 days

Text

-> YOU'RE OUT OF TOUCH – I'VE BEEN OUTTA TIME

synopsis: you died six months ago, but you've come back to haunt johnny. not as a ghost, no – as some twisted version of you that johnny still loves. too bad you don't still love johnny, or remember him in any capacity.

word count: 4k

characters: john "soap" mactavish, resurrected! reader

trigger warnings: talk of canon-typical violence, temporal weirdness, hurt + damn near no comfort

notes: first soap fic.. hopefully i've written him well!! also i couldn't resist incorporating madness combat in this somehow lol it's taking over my life (you don't need to know anything about madcom to read this, don't worry). also tumblr user nevadancitizen using the amnesia trope again? it's more likely than you think.

Somewhere in Nevada, a battered body is denied death, so that it may be granted, en masse…

And six months ago, somewhere in Russia, you were killed in action.

It was a single shot through the skull – nice, clean. You didn’t suffer. Despite your killer more than likely being a terrorist (or working for one), they did you right. It was probably unintentional, but they still did you right.

Johnny couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed, even to piss, for weeks after. He was completely numb to almost everything. The world passed by while he stood completely still, laying on his side in your shared bed, spooning a pillow that was rapidly losing your scent.

(He even tried spraying it with your perfume or cologne, but it didn’t work. It was too strong – it didn’t smell like when you wore it.)

Johnny thought all-too-often about what happened after death. He was ready to die, always has been, but he never really thought about what would happen if (or, more accurately, when) you died. He always cast those thoughts away, because he was done losing people. He was done with grief and screaming, pleading to God, and crying so hard he threw up.

But he eventually returned to his job. He eventually put you to rest. He prayed for the first time in damn near two decades that, if there was really an afterlife, that you were in Heaven.

(He just hoped that, whatever Heaven there was, it was good enough for you.)

But again, six months ago, somewhere in Nevada, a battered body was denied death, so that it may be granted, en masse.

It is a land without sun, without warmth unless you could find it in another body. It is a land without rules, without remorse, without regret.

It is a land of violence. It is a land that fits you well.

Despite being dead, you were sewed back together and cursed to live once more. Someone put a gun in your hands and told you, “Listen bozo, I don’t care where you’re from – just shoot!”

Of course, Johnny didn’t know this. How could he? He watched your casket be lowered into the ground. He knew it wasn’t empty – he had to confirm your identity in the morgue.

But he can’t help but feel his stomach drop when Kyle comes rushing into his office, pointing behind him and, in a panting breath, says your name.

Johnny immediately springs up from behind his desk and almost pushes past Kyle to get out the door. He turns down the hallway to the left, where he knows it leads to the hospital ward.

“No, Soap – Soap!” Kyle sprints after him, just barely catching his wrist. “Wrong way, man.”

Johnny stops and, in his stunned state, lets Kyle lead him down the hallway to the right, away from the medbay, away from where you were surely waiting for him, recovering.

Kyle leads him into an elevator, scans his keycard, and presses the button for -3. They’re both uncharacteristically quiet. It just faintly registers in Johnny’s mind that the floor -3 is below the parking garages, past where anyone typically goes.

(Past where anyone can hear screams ripped from tortured throats, really.)

When the elevator doors open, Soap’s greeted by a familiar sight. It’s a grey concrete hallway, with two soldiers on either side, guarding the way in. Doors line the hall, each one steel with a keypad to unlock it.

Gaz leads Soap down the hall and doesn’t stop for a while. Eventually, he stops in front of the last door and takes a deep, almost shuddering, breath.

Gaz inputs the code into the keypad and opens the door, nodding at the inside. “Come on.”

Soap, almost so quick he clips his shoulder on the doorframe, goes into the room. It overlooks an interrogation room, and it’s fit with a double-sided mirror, recording tech, everything.

Soap freezes when he looks into the interrogation room. It – it’s you, but… not you. You’re pacing, and Johnny can only stare. There’s a grey flush to your skin – no, your skin is actually grey – and bandages cover the back of your head, dirty and frayed, like you haven’t changed them in a while.

You’re angry, a far cry from the person Johnny knew you to be. Sure, you could be angry, and Johnny’s seen you angry, but this…

You’re panting as you pace, fists clenching and unclenching as your eyes dart around the room. Soft mutters and expletives leave your mouth as you look around, surely looking for a way to escape.

Johnny just keeps staring. You’re… alive? Yes, you’re not what Johnny remembers you to be, but you’re still alive.

“Fucking – goddamnit!” You bang your fist on the steel table, causing it to rattle. “I don’t have anything to tell you! You’re all cowards –” you turn to the double-sided mirror and point at it “– especially you, Sheriff! Don’t tell me you’re not back there!”

You immediately turn away, your hands coming to clutch at the sides of your head, your fingers digging into the bandages, almost ripping them. “I swear, when I get my hands on you…!”

“We don’t know what to do,” Kyle says softly. He looks over at Soap, his gaze obviously sad and sympathetic. “Do you want to try ‘n talk ‘em? Even if they’re feelin’ a tad… neurotic.”

Johnny can’t rip his gaze from you as you throw a steel chair at the wall, still cursing out someone named Sheriff and his lackeys. The chair bounces off the wall and one of the legs hits your shin, causing you to curse it out, too.

“Yes,” Johnny says quickly, decisively.

Soap shifts on his feet, oddly impatient, as he waits for Kyle to unlock the door to the interrogation room. As soon as he does, Johnny shoulders past him and into the room. He hears a faint click as Gaz closes it behind him.

You immediately whirl on Johnny, your eyes wide and your breath labored.

“You!” You point at Johnny like it’s meant to be some offensive gesture. “What do you want?”

You move closer, and Johnny catches sight of the dogtags hanging from your neck. You were buried with one, and he kept the other. He even gave you one of his own because, on that day, a part of him died with you. But… instead of two, you have four hanging from the metal chain.

You shove your finger in Johnny’s chest, your fingernail digging through the thin fabric of his fatigues. “Answer me!”

Soap immediately takes your wrist and cradles your hand to his chest. “Bonnie, please, calm down.”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!” you bark, ripping your hand away from him. “I just lost one of my team and you’re telling me to calm down?!”

“Your team?” Soap echoes.

“Deimos!” you snap. “You – you killed Deimos.”

You take a step back, your fists still clenched and your eyes still angry. “I saw your stupid fucking Engineer murder him. He was dead from the first five bullets, and you know he knew that! But oh, let’s just make sure he’s dead by unloading clip after clip into him.”

You heave a breath, almost growling. “Let’s desecrate his corpse. All because he’s a dissenter. Let’s make it oh-so-hard to bring him back.”

Johnny steps forward, just barely moving his foot, and you jump back like he took out a knife.

He breathes out your name, soft and unbelieving. “Are… is it really you?”

“Of course it’s me!” You turn and rest your hands on the steel table, obviously resisting the urge to bring your fists down against it. “Always has been, always will be. It’s always me.”

Johnny circles around the table and leans down a little, taking in your face. The grey makes you look dirty and unwashed, like you’ve got a layer of dirt on you that you couldn’t wash away.

You look up at him through your eyelashes. “I know you.”

Johnny’s heart leaps into his throat and, for a hopeful moment, thinks that you remember him, that this is all some sort of stupid trick, that you went MIA instead of being KIA, that this is really you. The you Johnny knows, the you Johnny loves. But his heart is crushed beneath your boot when you speak next.

“I know soldiers like you,” you say softly. “Soldiers, produced en masse, told to shoot first and die quietly. We’re both clones, you know? But there’s a difference in what we want.”

You stand up straight, glancing at the double-sided mirror before turning your eyes back to Soap. “You follow orders. When they say jump, you ask how high. But I…” you laugh beneath your breath. “I am fighting for change. Normality. You’re comfortable living in this… this chaos.”

“Bonnie, what are you on about?” Johnny reaches across the table, trying to take your hand. You snatch it away before he even comes close.

Gaz slides into the room, holding a tablet. You whip your head around and glare at him.

His eyebrows lift a little, and he raises the tablet, as if in a defensive manner. “Your tablet. It –”

You snatch it from Gaz’s hands before he can talk again. You set it down on the table and stare at it, waiting.

Johnny can just barely see the interface. The top of the screen reads COMBASIC .9(beta). It looks like some sort of chat room. A few messages pop up in quick succession.

FellowD9: GOTEM FellowD9: YOU WERE RIGHT FellowD9: HE WAS COMPLIANT 2BDamned: Neat FellowD9: CHECK MY SECTOR FellowD9: ANCHOR HIM NOW [user:FellowD9 IS OFFLINE]

The messages seem to relax you, even if Johnny has no idea what they’re talking about. You bring a hand to your forehead and laugh breathlessly, then set to typing.

CrosshairF6: lol hey im still alive CrosshairF6: aahw assholes gave me my tablet idk why CrosshairF6: check my sector & get me back 2BDamned: Getting Deimos right now, I’ll get back to you CrosshairF6: better do it right CrosshairF6: saw his corpse, looks like he ran through traffic [user:2BDamned IS OFFLINE]

Johnny watches as you tuck your tablet back in one of the inner pockets of your jacket, casting a suspicious glance at Gaz, like you expect him to take it back.

Gaz raises his hands and slips back out of the room, leaving you and Johnny.

“So.” You look at Johnny. “Why are you trying to act all buddy-buddy with me?”

“You’re… you were…” Johnny sighs, an overwhelming feeling settling in his chest. “Do you remember… dying?”

“Of course,” you say, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “2B brought me back.”

“2B?” Johnny echoes. “Like, the one you were talkin’ to? 2BDamned?”

“Yeah.” You move and lean back against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s all doctor-like, y’know? Brings us back when we need it.”

“And he’s… on your team?” Johnny asks. He feels a deep pang of… something in his chest when the thought of you actually being on another team, separate from him, settles in his mind.

You nod. “Yeah. 2B, Hank, Sanford, Deimos.” You tap the dog tags resting against your chest. “We’re a team. Some of us are on a subteam, but still. We’re a team.”

Johnny blinks hard, shaking the thought from his head. “Do you remember anything before you died?”

“Some, but… not a lot. Just blips of fighting, some soldiers, then Nevada.” You shrug. “2B says that happens sometimes.”

Johnny feels his tense shoulders relax, if only a little. “Any one specific soldier, bonnie?”

“No,” you say. You look away and fiddle with your dogtags. “But I’ve got the dogtag of someone named John.”

“John?” Johnny echoes, his heart picking up in his chest. “John ‘Soap’ MacTavish?”

“Yeah.” Your gaze fixes on him again, immediately suspicious. “How do you know that?”

“That’s me, bonnie.” Johnny laughs breathlessly, moving towards you. He makes sure to stay slow and cautious, just in case. “I’m Johnny. Your Johnny.”

You move along the wall, away from him, just slightly. You seem to bristle a little, and bring your shoulders up a bit. “You’re not mine. I don’t own anyone.”

“Not in the literal sense, bonnie,” Johnny laughs, resisting the urge to trail after you. “I’m yours, romantically.”

You bring yourself off the wall, taking a step back. It’s like you’re repulsed by the idea. “I’ve never been romantically involved with anyone. You think I’ve got time for that?”

It’s like Johnny’s been punched in the gut. Tears well in his eyes and he suddenly feels so fucking sick. His feet almost come out from under him as he stumbles to the door, shaking hands putting in the code before slipping out.

He could take the idea of you maybe not remembering him, sure. He could just re-introduce himself. He could take the idea of you forgetting the time you’ve spent together, because you’d remember, right? But the way you were disgusted by the idea of romance, the vitriol in your voice as you spoke…

Johnny doesn’t like the word ‘relapse’ because he thinks it holds too heavy of a connotation, but that’s the best way to describe what he did for the rest of the day, and into the early hours of tomorrow. He rotted in your shared bed, but instead of feeling numb, he felt his heart being wrenched by your hand, by your words.

He just laid there, looking at his sketchbook – a good one with thick paper. The one you’d gifted him for your six-month anniversary. It’s filled with drawings of you: candid ones, ones where he had you pose (even though you were embarrassed), ones of you and him, together, doing couple-y things.

He could only mourn what was lost, because you seemed to have absolutely no interest in recovering it.

A week passes before you’re able to be let out of your cell. You slowly lost the fire and brimstone that filled your heart as you realized that the 141 really did want to help you. You feel better now that you have a few people by your side, fresh bandages, and a renewed sense of comfort.

(But you forgave yourself for acting like that in the beginning because, in Nevada, no one is nice. Not without an ulterior motive, at least.)

You’re practically on a leash as Ghost leads you throughout the base. He doesn’t talk as he guides you through winding hallways and up an exhaustive amount of flights of stairs.

Eventually, he opens a door labeled ‘ROOF EXIT.’ He tilts his head towards the door.

“Someone waitin’ for you,” Ghost says gruffly. “And…”

He fishes around in his pocket and pulls out a carton of cigarettes. Your cigarettes.

Ghost takes your hand and puts it in your palm. “Don’t set anything on fire.”

You close your fingers around it and nod. “Got it, boss.”

Ghost starts back down the stairs, leaving you and the open door to the roof. You move through it and look around.

Johnny’s sitting, cross-legged, on the concrete roof, facing away from you. It’s dark – obviously, it’s night. You look up and take in the stars, and…

“You have a moon,” you say softly.

Johnny looks back at you, a tentative smile on his face. Like he’s scared to be too hopeful. “Yeah. We do.”

You hum and look at Johnny.

“Do you…” Johnny glances at the floor, then back up at you. “Do you wanna sit with me, bonnie?”

You slowly move over to Johnny and sit by him. You keep a healthy distance, but you’re still closer than you’ve ever been to him before.

“Those fags for sharin’?” Johnny asks, a teasing smile on his face.

You look down at the carton of cigarettes in your hand. You grip them a little tighter, causing the thin carton to crumple a bit. “Sure. Don’t know if you’ll like them, though.”

“Nonsense, bonnie.” Johnny bumps his shoulder against yours. “Let’s give ‘em a go.”

You smile and take out two cigarettes. You hand one over to Johnny. They’re hand-rolled and don’t have a filter, so they look more like joints, but the overwhelming smell of raw tobacco quickly quells that thought.

“Got a light?” you ask.

“‘Course.” Johnny reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small lighter. He lights his own cigarette, then pulls it away with a sputtering cough.

“Steamin’ Jesus, what is that?” He asks in between coughs.

You laugh, hitting your knee as Johnny reels from the taste. “It’s good, yeah?”

“Hell no!” Johnny wipes tears from his eyes and looks over at you. Despite his coughing, a soft smile spreads across his face at the way you’re laughing – loud, unabashed. Just like before.

You swipe Johnny’s lighter from his hand and light your cigarette, the cherry basking your face in a soft, warm glow. “Welcome to Nevada.”

“Let’s see that thing.” Johnny reaches over and takes the carton from your hand.

He turns it over, looking at it. The carton is worn, like it’s been refilled many times. There’s no warning about nicotine being an addictive chemical, just a grey box with a simple brand: G01 Choice. There’s a name scribbled on the back – Deimos, in all capital letters.

“Deimos,” Johnny says aloud. “The man died and you stole his cigs?”

“He’s not dead.” You take the carton back and tuck it into your jacket pocket. “Not anymore. Well, he’s died lotsa times, so I guess he’s an... honorary corpse.”

“An honorary corpse,” Johnny echoes, looking down at the cigarette in his hand. He puts it out on the concrete. “Just like you, yeah?”

You take a drag off your cigarette and blow out the smoke in a single, smooth stream. “Just like me.”

A silence settles as you look up at the moon. You can feel Johnny’s eyes occasionally flitting to you, then back up at the night sky.

“Your dogtags.” Johnny points in your direction. “Whose are they?”

You look down and tug on the metal chain, causing them to clink together. “Mine, yours, and my team’s.”

“Your team?” Johnny asks softly. “You never told me about them.”

“Yeah.” You look over at him. “I’m part of an extraction team. My partners are Sanford and Deimos.”

A pain, almost so real he thought he was actually injured, runs through Johnny when you say partners. The logical side of his brain chides him a few moments later because you obviously meant it in a militaristic sense, not a romantic sense.

“Can I see them?” Johnny asks.

You nod and take off the chain, then hand them to Johnny. He looks at the dogtags – he recognizes his and yours as being standard military dogtags, but Sanford and Deimos’ are much more… odd.

Sanford’s reads SANFORD / MELEE + EXPLOSIVES / G02 (NEG) / RETURN TO FAMILY. Deimos’ reads DEIMOS / FIREARMS + TECH / G02 (POS) / NO FAMILY.

Johnny tilts the dogtags so that you can see them and runs a finger along the lettering. “What do these mean, bonnie?”

You move a bit closer and lean in. “The first lines are their names, obviously. The second is what they’re proficient in. The third is what generation clone they are, and their blood types – there are only two blood types for second generation clones. And the last one is what to do with their bodies if they can’t be revived.”

“Wait, bonnie.” Johnny laughs breathlessly. “Clones?”

“Yeah, clones.” You tilt your head a little to the side. “What, you don’t have cloning technology here?”

“Of course not!” Johnny laughs.

You laugh and bump your shoulder against his. “You people are so primitive.”

Johnny smiles back at you and it’s like nothing is wrong. You both go quiet as you stare at each other until you look away.

“I, uh…” you clear your throat awkwardly. “I’m sorry for being so… abrasive. Earlier, I mean.”

“It’s alright,” Johnny says, almost too quickly.

You scratch your cheek and glance over at Johnny, then away. “But it’s not, is it? I should’ve handled things better.”

“Someone you know died right before we talked.” Johnny reaches over and, cautiously, puts his hand over yours where it rests on your knee. “It’s expected that you don’t act like yourself.”

Your breath hitches, and Johnny squeezes your hand reassuringly in response.

“But that’s the thing,” you say. “I’ve seen so many awful things before. People getting shot, stabbed, beaten, Hank tearing people apart with his bare hands. But, Maker…”

You drag a hand down your face, rubbing your jaw. “Deimos is young. So young. He’s only twenty-seven, and he always has a smile like he’s just tied your shoelaces together and is waiting for you to trip. And he’s so smart, even if everyone calls him a bit stupid. Yeah, he’s got a slower reaction time, but that’s what me and Sanford are for, y’know? He…”

You blink hard, trying to will your tears away. A soft, frustrated groan leaves your mouth as you duck your head and put your cigarette to your lips. “Don’t look at me.”

Johnny starts to pull his hand away, but stops when you squeeze his hand. Instead, he squeezes your hand back, averting his gaze.

To Johnny, it again almost feels like nothing ever happened. Like there’s no Russia, no Nevada, nothing besides you and him on this roof, together. But he’s no fool. He knows things have changed – that Nevada has changed you.

You breathe out a shaky plume of cigarette smoke. “I just want to go back.”

“But you’re here now, bonnie,” Johnny says. He tries to ignore the crushing feeling in his chest, tries to keep his composure for you. “Aren’t you glad you’re back?”

“I don’t know this place.” You look over at Johnny, your eyes rimmed with unshed tears. “You keep saying that we’re together, that – that this is my home. But how can this be my home if I don’t remember a thing about it? How can you be my boyfriend if I don’t remember a thing about you?”

Johnny exhales sharply, like he’s just got the wind knocked out of him. “Bonnie, please don’t say that. Please.”

“I know violence, and I know bloodshed,” you say softly. “I know Nevada. This place, this world…” You gesture vaguely with your cigarette still in your hand. “It’s not mine.”

“But there is violence here, there is bloodshed here,” Johnny insists. “Here, we fought together.”

“But I don’t remember us being together, in any capacity!” you snap. You take a breath and try your best to soften your words. “All I remember from before is just flashes. I didn’t remember your face. I just had your dogtag and a weird, empty feeling.”

Johnny sighs and feels tears welling up in his eyes. He can’t tear his gaze away from you.

“You really expected me to trace the bullet and sift through fleeting memories when there was an entire agency playing Pinkertons knocking down our door?” you ask softly. “2B was bandaging my head ‘cause he just finished playing around in my brains and Sanford was shoving a gun in my hands. They pointed me in a direction and told me to shoot. I didn’t have the time to remember you.

“I’m sorry, but I just didn’t.” You squeeze his hand before letting it go.

Johnny immediately scrambles to catch your hand in both of his, holding on desperately. “No, bonnie, please.”

A few tears slip down Johnny’s cheeks as he looks at you. Your face is a mirror of his own, just in greyscale. Your cheeks are stained with tears and your eyes are just beginning to get a bit puffy.

“If you know you’re gonna be leaving again, then just let me hold your hand,” Johnny says softly, his voice wavering. “Just for a few more minutes.”

You nod and, when you blink, a tear rolls down your already-wet cheek. “Okay.”

Johnny slowly moves so that you’re sitting shoulder-to-shoulder to him. He hesitates before resting his head on your shoulder. You smell just like how he remembers, albeit tinged with the acrid tang of G01 Choice cigarette smoke. You’re just as beautiful as the day he lost you.

“Okay.”

72 notes · View notes

tonberry-yoda · 10 months

Text

Interdimensional Hell - Miguel O'Hara

notes - FOR THE POLL!!!! This has been in the works for a while, but here it is! It's a long ass fic with my whole heart and soul packed into it (+ the beautiful addition of not being proofread lolol) and I am so exited to share! I hope my Miguel lovers enjoy this fic!! <3 word count - 4,060 (omfg this is my longest fic on tumblr LMFAOOOO) WARNINGS - lots of angst, not proofread, f!reader, mentions of a near panic attack summary - you were Miguel O'Hara's wife. You were more than happy to be with someone like him, but was unfortunately taken away from your family when your world was torn apart by what looked like a glitching videogame. Now you travel through dimension after dimension looking for your family and will stop at nothing to do so while also having some fun along the way

“Gabriella!” You were close to tears as your daughter ran to you, jumping into your arms.

“Mamma, did you see that?” she said with a bright smile, sweat beading on her forehead. “When I kicked the ball, it was like BAM and then it went FWOOSH and then we won!!”

“I did see that, baby. I am so darn proud of you.” You pinched her nose, giving it a little kiss as your husband walked up holding an ice cream cone.

“Did you see that, papa?” she asked as he handed her the ice cream.

“Of course I did. You are so talented.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. She thanked him for the cone and giggled as he threw her on his back for a piggyback ride.

“You got that on video, didn’t you, Miguel?” you asked, scruffing Gabriella’s hair.

“Yup.” he responded, bouncing Gabriella and telling her how proud he was of her. God, his smile was perfect.

You pulled out the camera from its bag and filmed your husband and daughter. Literally nothing could be better than this.

Gabreiella giggled and made fun of Miguel before slamming the ice cream in his face, the two breaking out in laughter. When he set her on the ground, he gave her a five second head start to run out in the field before he would come after her, telling her to be careful with the ice cream.

He looked up at you and you giggled. “Miguel, you’re face, love.”

“What? What’re you–” he chuckled as he wiped ice cream off of his face. “Did I get it?” he asked.

“Hold on.” You set down the camera and pulled a baby wipe out of your bag, dabbing it on Miguel’s face.

“It’s been five seconds now!” Gabriella shouted from the other side of the field.

Miguel kissed your cheek and dashed after his daughter. You smiled at the camera before turning it off.

Nothing lasts forever.

You heard that from everyone, but you hated that it was true.

Even the happiest month of your life can turn to shit really fast.

When the world started glitching, you thought you were losing your mind. You worked from home and Miguel was out with Gabriella for the day. You looked to the corner of your room and it… glitched. Like something out of a movie. You never told anyone, especially when it kept happening. You thought that no one else saw it, that it was your mind playing tricks.

But when it kept happening, you knew something was wrong.

And when the world ended, you were right, and you knew you would never see your family ever again.

You ran out into the streets and saw people running, the world behind them disappearing, and even some of them faded into nothingness. You wanted to scream, cry, anything. But you froze, watching the colossal whatever it was coming for you. And then you saw something else. It looked different than the giant glitching wall. It was small and no bigger than the gap under a bed. You jumped in without even thinking. You were going to die anyway, so why not be a little reckless?

As you felt like you were falling for days, you thought of your daughter. Why didn’t you go after her? You felt like a terrible mother and curled into a ball, crying. No one was coming to save you and you weren't coming to save anyone. The world wasn’t what it used to be a month ago, a week ago, hell, it wasn’t even this bad a day ago. You cried for your family, knowing that you couldn't do a thing for them and then everything went black.

—

“Is she alive?” you heard a voice say, but couldn't see where it came from.

“I sure hope so. I don't get paid enough for someone to die here.”

“Well check!”

You felt cold hands brush your forehead and you jerked awake, coughing and trying not to scream.

“Woah, woah!” you heard the voice from the start say. “Everything’s fine. We’re not gonna hurt you.” You saw that the voice came from a boy with bright blonde hair and a cybernetic eye.

The other one was a man with brown hair, who looked like he could crush you – tan skin and muscles bigger than you.

You went to say something, but glitched, making the two men jump back.

“Woah there!” the blonde one said. “You’re not from here, are you?”

You just shook your head and could already feel a headache forming.

“I don't have time for this,” the bigger one said. “I have a shop to run.”

“At least give the girl a watch! She looks stressed out enough and I think the last thing we need to do is have her glitching.”

“I think the last thing we need to do is deal with someone that isn't from here. That happens far too often, don't you think, Spike? You have too much sympathy for the outsiders.”

“And what if I do?” Spike asked, crossing his arms. “I don't think you have enough, Wade.”

Spike walked away from you and opened a large cabinet from above Wade’s head, pulling out a bright green watch. He slipped it on your wrist and proceeded to click a few buttons and everything tense inside of you strangely managed to slip away.

You took a deep breath and smiled at Spike. “Thank you,” you said to him. “It’s been a really long day.”

“I can tell,” he chuckled. “First time out of your dimension?”

You nodded and adjusted the watch.

“Well, make sure to keep that bad boy locked in place. Don't want to be outside of your dimension without one or else… well, think bad, but worse.” He sat in a rolly chair and spun to his computer. “Can you do me a favor, missy?”

“Anything.” you said. He had been more than willing to help you, so you were more than willing to do the same.

“Stand on that little circle over there for me.” He pointed to a large purple circle in the middle of the room and you tilted your head, but still walked over to it with no hesitation.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“I'm gonna scan you, but don't be scared. This bad boy will help you get home safe.”

You went to speak up, telling him that you weren’t so sure it was a good idea, but he interrupted you.

“Wade, help me out here! Let’s get her out of here.”

“Finally.” Wade scoffed. He walked over to you and held your arms up, strapping them to two mechanical devices on either side of you that then held your arms to make you in the shape of a Y.

“This won't hurt a bit, doll.” Spike said, clicking a button on his computer. A bright light scanned you up and down and you looked at Spike, who held his chin and tilted his head. “Huh. That’s weird. Let me try again.” He clicked the button again and looked at you with confusion. When the cycle finished, he looked astonished. “Babe, where did you say you were from again?”

“That’s what I’ve been meaning to tell you.” you said, shuffling in your spot. “My world was a big glitching mess. And then I found a little hole and appeared here. I don't know if I have a home anymore.”

Wade sighed and rubbed his hand down his face. ��Great,” he whispered. “This can't be good.”

Spike leaned back in his chair and looked at the confusion on your face. “This isn’t your fault, love. But bad news, you can't go home. Because uh… I don't think home exists for you.”

All you remember after that was crying. You sat on the floor after the devices let you go and Spike rubbed your back, reassuring you that everything was going to be okay.

Of course, you knew that everything wasn’t going to be okay.

You were already exhausted and you realized it hadn’t even been a day.

“So, what am I supposed to do?” you asked, playing with the watch you were given.

“I would be more than happy to let you stay here,” Spike said, rubbing your back. “We have an extra room, we just have to clean it out a bit.”

“I don't want to be a burden.”

“It’ll just be for a little while,” he reassured you. “Now, I know this cyberpunk city of ours can seem like a lot once you step out of this little shop, but I think after a little bit of time, you can find a job and even your own home.”

You just nodded. You didn't have a clue what the word “cyberpunk” meant, but it sounded interesting enough. After realizing that you were still on the floor, you finally stood up and looked around the little place you were in. There were light up trinkets and soft beeps coming from either side of the room. It was so overwhelming. At home you were able to just sit on a couch and watch TV and in here, it looked like the only place you could rest was a chair that could roll across the floor.

To get your bearings wherever you were, you opened the front door and were immediately overstimulated. There were loud sirens, people yelling, doors slamming, advertisements that were yelling about various products, etc.

You quickly shut the door behind you and Wade laughed at the expression on your face.

“What’s so funny?” you scoffed.

He just waved you off and Spike walked over to you. “Wade and I know exactly how you feel. We were just as overwhelmed when we ended up here.”

“You’re not from here?”

“Nope! So, don't worry, your reaction and overwhelmingness is completely normal. Do you want something to eat?”

You hadn't even thought about food, but when asked the question, noticed how hungry you really were. “Yes please.” you said softly.

Spike walked down a long hall and you followed, not wanting to be left alone with Wade.

“So what was your home like?” he asked.

“Normal.” you laughed. You really didn't know how to answer that question.

He laughed back. “Not like this at all, I'm guessing.”

“Not at all.”

“See, ours was kind of like this,” Spike said as you got to the kitchen. “It was very techy, so we immediately knew what to do when we started ‘glitching’ if that’s what you wanna call it. We also know how to travel interdimensionally. That's how we ended up here. We traveled outside of our home and never found a way to get back. That machine couldn’t even tell us. I think what happened to your home also happened to ours while we were gone.”

“That sounds awful.”

Spike laughed. “Yeah, definitely awful. We’ve traveled everywhere, it feels like, but we just never found home. This was almost the closest to it. It looks like home in the future.”

“That makes sense.” It didn't, but it did. You didn't know how else to share your sympathy with him, especially considering the whole thing felt like an awful dream that you would never wake up from.

“What are you gonna do?” he asked you as he slid over your plate.

“No clue,” you admitted. “Maybe it’s delusional, but I want to find my family.”

“You found a way out. So maybe they did too.”

Just those few words from Spike’s mouth gave you hope. Perhaps too much.

—

Learning new things is really difficult, but you found yourself learning how to travel through space and time to be a piece of cake, to your surprise.

That hope that Spike had engraved in you when you first met years ago was still stuck in you and would always be until you found your family.

Even if you had to search until the day you died, you would be satisfied.

The craziest part of the whole thing though was that you became someone completely different over the years. You found yourself learning how to make your own tech to make interdimensionally traveling easier and buying clothes that made you look much different than you did back at home.

But you were lonely.

You met so many lovely people on your journey through this new life you created for yourself over the years, but none of them would stay like Miguel did. You even eventually drifted from Spike and Wade, getting your own house and having your own machines.

You would curl up and eat dinner by yourself on the balcony, dreaming to be in Miguel’s arms and listen to him hum a song to you in his deep voice.

—

“Hey, Miguel.” Lyla said, blowing on her nails she recently painted. “Whatcha doin?”

Miguel rolled his eyes and sighed. “Working. What does it look like I'm doing?”

“It looks like you're pouting. Not working. Nice try, but you can't fool me, buddy.” Lyla smirked.

“I'm not pouting! Why would I be pouting, Lyla? Hm? Now could you please leave me alone? You’re ruining my train of thought.”

“Now that’s just mean.” Lyla pouted.

Miguel blew a piece of his hair out of his eye and tried to sweep her away, which ended up making her leave with a giggle.

He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair before turning back on his monitor to see your face.

“Miguel!” you giggled. “Smile for the camera.” You turned the camera to a happier Miguel. Someone who actually had a smile on his face.

A stranger.

Miguel quickly shut the monitor off before he would let himself be brought to tears. It was his fault you were gone. It was his fault he was in his current position. If he didn't fuck everything up and pretend he was your husband, none of this would’ve happened.

“Lyla, I'm going out.”

“Huh? Where?” She appeared with a digital Slurpee and tilted her head.

“Just out.”

“Bored outta your mind, big boss man.”

“Sure, whatever, just leave me alone.”

Lyla saluted and faded away. He didn't know where to go, but he would just go. With the power of the entire multiverse at his hands, it was hard to just find one place to go, but even so, it was nice to breathe some fresh air in other places.

Plus with the chance of seeing you…

He pulled the thought out of his mind. He watched his daughter fade away in his arms, there was no way that you were okay too. And god, did he hate himself for it. But even so, he repressed the feelings and journeyed to other universes, meeting other Spidermen and even greater foes – eyebags and all.

—

Where the hell am I? you thought as you ended up in a dimension unlike any you had been to before. It was so different from the others that for the first time in years, you actually had to pause.

You placed your hands on your hips and looked at the world around you. It reminded you of playing video games where you would go to other worlds and you yourself would change textures to match the ones around you. Unfortunately, the texture didn't go with you, so you were left as an actual human in a cartoon world.

The life you were living was definitely a dreamlike state and the thought of it made you laugh as you led yourself through the city.

This was the part you actually loved. You got to see what life was like for others through different dimensions and the struggles they had to deal with. Granted, it wasn't much different from your life when you weren’t forced to live like this, but either way, you still found it fun to see how different, yet similar it really was.

Sometimes you would end up in dimensions you had been to a thousand times or sometimes you would end up somewhere new.

Your favorite part though: everywhere had a Spiderman. And every Spiderman was just as unique as the last.

In this world, it seemed to be some pig, which was both hilarious and intriguing. You had seen a lot in your day, but never a pig Spiderman. You loved it though and seeing posters of him around this odd city made you laugh.

But you knew it was time to leave the moment you stepped in. You liked the crazy stuff, but this was a little too crazy for your liking.

Right as you opened a portal though, you heard a loud sound not too far away from you. You figured it was a fight that Spiderpig had gotten himself into, and were ready to leave, but you turned around to see something much crazier.

Not only was Spiderpig fighting, but there was another Spiderman with him. You couldn't help but stand in awe after you closed the portal you made.

He was dressed in dark blue and red and didn't look at all like the other Spidermen you had seen before. Something about him was not only different, but so so intriguing.

The fight didn't last long since the two were working hard to get it done quickly. So when they did finish, the tall Spiderman put Spiderpig on his shoulders and gave him a fistbump.

You had only noticed you were still just standing in the street and staring when the Spiderman froze.

You giggled nervously and muttered out a quick “good job guys” before turning down an alleyway so you could teleport out of there.

But right as you began down the alley, you felt something grab your wrist. When you turned around, it was that tall Spiderman, who tilted his head at you.

“y/n?” he said.

You took a step back. “S-Sorry?”

“Is your name y/n?”

You nodded and he pulled you into his arms before opening a portal very much like your own.

You ended up in a world with complete darkness, minus the bright yellow computers surrounding the walls. You looked at the place with curiosity, but were quickly pulled from your thoughts when you saw the Spiderman pacing the room back and forth and muttering to himself.

“Hey, are you alright?” you chuckled.

“How are you… How did you… Hold on, I need a minute.” He finally sat down and grabbed his chin. “Were you married?”

You laughed, thinking this was some sort of joke. “Yes, I was. To a man named Miguel. Why?”

“What the fuck?” he said under his breath.

“Excuse me?”

“How are you alive?!”

Just then, you recognized that voice. Everything from your past hit you like a semi and you fell to your knees, tears immediately filling your sockets.

“M-Miguel? Miguel, is that you?” you managed to get out.

The mask of his Spider-suit dematerialized and he looked at you with shock.

You looked at him the same and felt like you couldn't breathe. After all those years. After all that searching…

He ran to you and dropped on his knees, pushing your hair out of your face. “How did you…”

“How did you?” you giggled somehow, grabbing Miguel’s face and looking it over. Despite the eyebags and the new muscular features, that man was definitely your husband.

“I…” he started, but you pulled him into your arms. You hugged him until neither of you could breathe.

When you pulled away, you looked at him with so much excitement that it made him regret everything. He had lied to you for years and you were looking at him the same way you looked at your real husband who died.

“I can't believe you made it out alive, Miggy! Where’s Gabriella? I bet she’s all grown up and–”

“G-Gabriella’s gone.” The words felt like another 100 lbs weighed his chest down.

You looked at him with confusion. “She didn't make it?” you asked softly.

“No. She didn't. This is all my fault.” he buried his face in his hands.

“No it's not. How could any of this be your fault?” you rubbed his back.

“No, y/n,” he scooted back, every regret from his life filling him up and making him on the near edge of a panic attack. “This is my fault. I made this happen.”

“Miguel, I–”

“I'm not even your husband!” he cried out. He never felt like this before. He didn't even feel like Miguel. But something cracked in him when he saw you, and it was going to end up killing him if he didn't talk to you about it.

You laughed. “What? Of course you are.”

“Your husband died a very long time ago.”

“I'm so confused.” you admitted.

“I know. And I'm sorry.” he pulled you closer and sat down on the floor next to you. “Look, I was your husband. At least for a while. A couple months maybe. But your real husband… the Miguel O’Hara from your world… he died. I took his place. I wanted to be happy.” Slowly, the feeling of the near panic attack was going away the more he spoke to you. He explained everything. About how much he truly loved you and about how much he regretted destroying everything, including your daughter. He told you that he was selfish for what he did and admitted that if he could go back and never be with you just so you could have a fulfilled life with Gabriella and no Miguel, everything would be fine. He explained canon events and how the world worked for Spidermen like him and the rest of the multiverse.

Everything was so confusing, but based on everything you had been through, you weren't surprised.

You had seemingly loved a stranger for months and didn't even know it. But… he wasn't, that was the most confusing part. That man, Miguel O’Hara. Spiderman 2099. That was the man you fell in love with, even if you weren't a part of his dimension.

The whole situation shocked you to your core, but there was no going back now.

You laughed for some reason when he was done telling you everything. You really couldn't believe it. But again, you weren't surprised.

Miguel didn't mean to spill everything onto you, but it made him feel so much better. Tears were streaming down his face and he was trying to repress them when he saw how confused you looked.

“y/n, I am so sorr–”

You quickly cut him off by pulling him into your arms. Real husband or not, this poor man had to suffer through everything and now has the whole multiverse on his back to take care of because he feels like it’s his responsibility. He blamed himself for everything for years all because of a stupid accident.

But you weren't mad. He didn't know what would happen and all he wanted was to be happy. You didn't want to put more on him, so you just held him for a moment and let him sit there with you in silence.

Even if you didn't know this Miguel as well as you knew your husband, he was still Miguel.

“Don't blame yourself,” you whispered. “It's okay.”

He just pulled back from the hug and wiped his hair out of his face. “I'm sorry you had to live like you have been.” he told you.

“It was kinda fun.” You hugged your knees.

“The multiverse is definitely something, huh?”

You smiled and cupped Miguel’s face in your hands. You had been traveling for years all for this. Granted, you got a story out of it that you weren't expecting, but still. Miguel was in front of you again and you felt strangely at home.

You pressed a kiss to his nose. “I wanna try this again.” you said. “With us.”

“What do you mean?”

“First.” You pulled him by the front of his suit and pressed a long and needed kiss to his lips. He melted to your lips quickly, but the feeling ended quickly when you pulled away.

“What do you mean ‘try again?’ ” he asked.

“I'm y/n.” You stuck out your hand and smiled at him.

“I'm Miguel.” He took your hand and sighed with relief.

“Nice to meet you, Miguel. Maybe we should go on a date sometime.”

~~~~~

into the spiderverse masterlist | pinned post 2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

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justagalwhowrites · 9 months

Text

Yearling - Ch. 2: Escape

You wake up in an unfamiliar place. In your experience, that's never good. A continuation of Yearling from ch. 1 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Indications of past violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 3.5k

AO3 | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It was bright when you woke up.

That was the first thing you noticed. It was so bright you had to squint against it, the kind of brightness that was only there in winter when the sun was high and snow was on the ground.

It was the first thing that told you something was wrong.

It had been years since you’d woken up inside a bright room. They’d moved you - somewhere new - but you didn’t remember being moved. Didn’t remember much for what felt like a while. That wasn’t good.

Maybe they’d traded you. Also probably not good. Not that the people you’d been with were good - they were far from that - but they were the devils you knew. The thought of getting to know new ones made your stomach churn. It wasn’t safe here. Wherever the fuck you were, it wasn’t safe.

You were finally able to make your eyes focus and it was like the rest of your body came into focus, too. You were sore, you were sore fucking everywhere, like you’d just started competing in bronc riding and got thrown bad. Your stomach was fucking killing you so you looked down at yourself to assess it and realized that you were in a bed. A real bed. Off the floor, with blankets and clean sheets.

“What the fuck?” You breathed, adjusting the bedding so you could examine yourself and you realized you were in an oversized white t-shirt and cotton shorts. Nothing you’d owned, at least not recently. “What the fuck!”

You’d figure it out later. You lifted the shirt delicately. There were two large patches of white gauze taped to you and your skin was a whole lot cleaner than you remembered it being any time within the last year at least. Who the fuck had you and why did they want you clean? You’d obviously forgotten something. You scrambled for it, picking through your head, but it wasn’t quite there, hiding on the fringes.

You’d figure that out later, too. For now, no one had bothered to chain you up. They obviously weren’t expecting you to wake up anytime soon. Maybe they’d drugged you. That would explain a lot. It wouldn’t explain why but it would at least be something to go off of.

You carefully, quietly, sat up. Your abs were screaming, whatever injuries lay below the gauze pulling and tearing. You clenched your jaw to keep quiet.

There was a door, of course, but you weren’t about to go that way. Someone would be out there and it’s not like you had a fucking gun on you. There was another bed in here, too, but it was empty. Two wooden chairs, a side table by each bed, nothing that looked like you could really use as a weapon. There was a window above the head of your bed and across the room over the side of the other bed. Explained the light, at least. But it was strange that you were somewhere they didn’t want to keep the windows covered.

You crept to the window across from you and peered out. It was lower to the ground and would have been easier to climb out of but it opened to a street outside, a street that was damn near full of people. There had to be at least a dozen of them out there, just walking around, talking to each other. It was more people than you’d seen in years. You’d have no hope of slipping out past that many.

You went back to your bed and climbed on it, standing up to look out the higher, smaller window. That was better, opening onto a porch that looked out onto a more empty street. It would have to do, assuming it would open.

It did.

You pulled yourself up onto the window sill, your injured stomach on fire and you more fell onto the porch than climbed onto it, landing on the wooden boards with a sickening thud.

“Fuck,” you hissed and you got up again. The air was biting and cold and there were at least four inches of snow on the ground. And you didn’t have shoes. This was going to be a cold fucking run.

You crept along the wall of the building, some other room blocking the deck you were on from the main road out front, and tried to get a lay of the land. An idea of a way out, a place to hide, somewhere to steal some clothes, anything. You damn near cried when you saw it.

There was a horse paddock. It was close, maybe 100 yards away. You could see the back corner of it, a horse standing near that point, a bridle on.

That, you could work with.

You went down the steps to the yard, the snow so cold on your skin that it was like knives. You ignored it. You had bigger problems.

You stayed low to the ground, creeping forward toward the fence of the yard you were in. Thankfully, it was just post, low to the ground, and you were able to climb it easily. You scampered across the road and pressed yourself against the back of the next building, sticking close to the edge of it, working your way around it cautiously, ducking below windows, freezing and trying to stay out of sight when you heard voices. Your feet were fucking freezing.

There was one more street - empty at least - and you ran across that, too, until you were at the fence of the paddock.

There were two horses there. The one you saw before, at the back corner, who was now using a fence post to scratch its flank. The other was near the stable. There was someone with it, but they were behind the horse, likely tending it. The horse was blocking their view of you. This was going to be the best chance you had and it wasn’t a great one.

You looked at the horse and she looked back. She had a blanket on her back and a bridle but no reins or saddle. You swallowed past the knot in your throat. It had been a long time since you’d been on a horse. The longest you’d ever gone. You started riding before you could walk and, before about two years ago, you marked time since you’d ridden in hours or, at most, days. Now it was years.

But back in the saddle was a saying for a reason, right? It’d come back quick. You hoped.

“Hey pretty baby,” you whispered, climbing on of the fence and perching on the top post. You leaned forward and reached for her. She was a decent size, about 16 hands if you were guessing. Hopefully you could get her close to the fence and you wouldn’t need to try to get on her without a saddle while your stomach was injured. “Come say hi, you’re a good girl, I know you are…”

She sauntered over, her head bobbing and you smiled, flexing your fingers, coaxing her closer.

“That’s my good girl,” you let her sniff your hand and then she nudged it with her muzzle. You smiled, giving her a gentle pet. She came closer and you guided her into a good position, good enough for you to climb on her back.

She whinnied and you winced as you settled atop her, positioning your legs around her rib cage. She was warm and you could feel the power in her. You took a deep breath, your hand on her neck, closing your eyes getting a feel for her.

“Hey!” Someone shouted, snapping you out of it. Your eyes shot open. The horse that had been near the stables had moved and now there was nothing between you and the teenaged girl who was standing there. “What the fuck!”

“Shit,” you swore, leaning forward against the protests of your stomach and grabbing fistfuls of the mare’s mane, one on each side of her neck. “Time to go, girl!”

You squeezed her with your legs and she started off, only giving her half a second before you were urging her quicker.

“Who the fuck are you?” The girl snapped, starting for you.

“Shit!” You pushed her faster just as someone opened a metal gate near the stable. Well, at least you wouldn’t need to jump her. You gave her a last nudge and she took off.

“Close it!” The girl yelled. “Fucking close it!”

Whoever was opening the gate didn’t listen in time and you blew through it, just as a cluster of four people were coming in on their mounts.

“Will someone stop her!” The girl was yelling at the people on horseback now. You ignored her, steering your mount in the direction the other riders were coming from, urging her into a full gallop out onto the busy street.

“Move!” You yelled, pushing her at full tilt down the road you’d seen out the window before. There had to be dozens of people here, maybe hundreds in the whole town - wherever the fuck that was. You’d only been around more than two or three people at once a few times in the last 20 years, and that was at most two dozen. This had to be a QZ or something, there were so many fucking people…

People who were leaping out of the way of your horse, shrieking as they went. You weren’t sure where you were going but this was a busy road, there had to be a way out at least close to it.

You saw it then, a huge fucking gate made out of what looked like full tree trunks. It was opening. You turned the horse and pushed her toward the gate, leaning with her movements, moving so fast that the oversized shirt was pressed tight against your front, the winter air cutting into you deep.

“Come on baby,” you pressed yourself against her back, her neck, leaning into her movements, clinging to her with your thighs, desperate to hang on, desperate to push her faster, desperate to get the fuck away from here. “Keep goin’, just gotta get us outta here…”

The gate had barely opened enough for you to slip through and someone yelled “Woah!” As you blew past them.

“What the fuck?” Someone said as you road past, into the open country.

You were out. You were free.

And there was the sound of a horse behind you.

***

“What the fuck?” Tommy yelped, his horse bouncing and bucking as another horse blew past him at a full gallop through the main gate.

“Who the hell was that?” Joan, a woman who was out on patrol with them, turned her horse to get a better look. Joel turned, too. It took him half a second to place you but he did.

“Shit,” he muttered, turning his horse around and nudging him immediately into a gallop, taking off after you.

He wasn’t entirely sure why. All he could think of was the look in your eyes as you lay dying on the forest floor. How strangely scared he felt at the idea of those eyes being gone forever. How the thought of that still made his chest tight, even now.

He’d bring you back. Then it would be fine. That was all.

You were pushing the horse hard and he didn’t have a hope of catching you, especially not on a mount that had already been riding for four hours that day as he headed back in from patrol.

But Joel did know the area and you didn’t. He’d have to head you off, that’d be the only shot he had.

It didn’t take long. You came up on a path up the hill that led to the dam but it was the long way around. Joel knew the faster way, if he got there quick enough. He pushed his horse faster, heading for the short cut.

He beat you to the top of the hill and he positioned his horse to cut you off at the path. Joel didn’t need to wait long. You materialized out of the trees, the fog of your breath rising in front of you.

You were half naked, legs and feet bare, and there were patches of blood blooming on your shirt.

“Ain’t gonna make it far like that,” he said. You jumped, seeing him then, your horse stuttering to a stop, pawing the ground anxiously. “You don’t know the area but there’s nothing for you to clean out to stay alive around here. We’ve cleared out all the houses nearby, you won’t find any clothes or blankets or canned food. Definitely not gonna find a gun.”

“Don’t see how that’s your problem, cowboy,” you snapped. “If I wanna freeze and die it’s no business of yours.”

His chest got tight again, thinking of you dying. He shook himself mentally.

“Well since I’m the one who brought you to town and you’re on one of our horses,” he nodded to your mount. “Thinkin’ it is my problem and my business, Bambi.”

You narrowed your eyes, looking him over like you didn’t believe him. Or maybe didn’t remember. You’d lost a lot of blood. It’d make sense that you didn’t remember.

“Found you about 20 miles away from here,” he said. “You’d killed two men, you were shot. Me’n my brother brought you back to town, few days ago.”

You looked off to the side, your eyebrows drawn together. He nudged his horse closer to you and you jumped a bit on the back of your mount, drawing yourself in and back from him.

“The fuck do you want with me?” You snapped.

“Nothin’,” Joel shrugged. “Just tryin’ to keep you from dyin’ out here.”

“No,” you narrowed your eyes at him. “Not right now, I mean after. What, you want to sell me? Work me to death? Plan to whore me out, what is it?”

His stomach twisted at that, his eyes ranging over your exposed skin. From the look of your wrists and ankles, you’d been tied down for a while. And that didn’t take into account the bruises and scars. He tried to keep his face neutral, he didn’t want to spook you any more than he already had, but it was worse than he’d expected.

He hadn’t seen you since he brought you in. He’d taken you to the clinic, left you with the plenty capable Dr. Palmer and washed his hands of you. He’d done his duty, his good deed to help make up for all the bad. A drop in the bucket, but a drop none the less.

Joel heard that you lived and it was a nice thought. That he’d actually saved a life, especially the life of such a fierce and wild thing. It was like he’d done a favor for nature, helping something with her nails dug so deep into this life to live had to be an unquestionable good. You’d been built to survive things, of that he was certain. Your death would have gone against some grander plan for the world.

He’d seen some of what had been done to you when he’d found you. The mark at your wrist, the brand. The fact that you’d damn near clawed a man’s face off. You’d clearly been imprisoned at some point. He’d just assumed it hadn’t been for too long. Raiders never let anyone live for too long.

But something about the way you were asking told him it had been more than a few months. It would explain why you were so desperate to run that you’d do it half dressed when it wasn’t even 20 degrees outside. Put anyone in a situation like that and they’d be more than willing to die rather than face the alternative.

“We ain’t like that in Jackson,” he said, keeping his voice calm and gentle. “Just a town. We got about 300 people there, including women and children. It’s quiet, peaceful…”

“Yeah, and you’re out here runnin’ me down out of the goodness of your heart,” you rolled your eyes. They were still big, something soft and warm in them that was wrapped in barbed wire. There was an edge of fear in them, still like a deer in the woods when faced with a predator.

“Not much goodness to be had with me,” he shrugged. “But you took off on a friend’s horse. May as well bring you back with it.”

You clenched your jaw and looked away from him again.

“You broke out once,” he said when you’d been silent for a minute. “Sure you can do it again if it came down to it. Come back with me. Give yourself a few weeks to get back on your feet…”

“I’m on my fuckin’ feet,” you snapped, glaring at him.

“Are ya?” He nodded down at your shirt. The red splotches had grown. Judging from your small gasp, you hadn’t noticed. “Come back with me, see what it’s like. If you still wanna go in a week or so when you’re not bleedin’ out, we’ll set you up with some supplies and send you on your way.”

“A week,” you said. “And you’ll let me go.”

“Assumin’ you’re not still bleeding,” he shrugged. “It was a long ride back to town after I found ya, seems like a fuckin’ shame if you died because you were being stubborn after all that trouble.”

“Fine,” you said after a moment. “But I ain’t jokin’, someone tries to touch me and I’ll bite their fuckin’ finger off.”

“Fair enough,” he said, getting his horse to back up so you could come out from the trail. He shrugged out of his coat as you joined him. He held it out to you and you frowned. “Gonna freeze. Don’t be stubborn.”

You watched him closely and snatched it, pulling it against you as quickly as you could, getting back into your own space on the back of your horse. He watched you put his coat on, the sleeves too long for you, and barely caught you brushing your nose against the lapel. You looked at him, your eyes softer.

“You gave me this before.”

You stated it as fact, not a question.

“Didn’t want you freezing to death on me then, either,” he shrugged.

He led the way back toward Jackson, riding alongside you when he could. He didn’t trust you to not just take off on him. It was slow going, he could see you wincing as your horse found purchase on the trail on the way down. He had an idea of what it felt like to be on horseback when you had an open wound on your stomach. It wasn’t fun.

“What’s her name?” You asked after a while. Your voice wasn’t as sharp as it was before.

“Hm?” He frowned.

“The horse I’m on,” you said. “You just said she belonged to a friend of yours. Wanted to know her name.”

He smiled a tiny bit.

“Shimmer,” he said. “Name’s Shimmer.”

“Hey Shimmer,” your voice seemed almost impossibly soft compared to every other word you’d said as you gently stroked the horse’s mane. You were barely speaking above a whisper, leaning over your mount’s neck to get closer to her ears. “Thanks for trusting me, you’re such a sweet girl…”

She whinnied in approval and Joel smiled a bit. At least Ellie would have less of a reason to be pissed about you taking off on her horse, you were at least good to her.

You moved closer to Joel as the two of you rode up to the front gate. Your whole body was stiff, like a spring wound tight. An animal ready to run the second you found out which way the predator was jumping. An animal who thought Joel was less of a threat than whatever was in the town.

The gate opened and Joel led you to the clinic, coming to a stop out front. He looped a hand through Shimmer’s bridle and you watched him, your battered face drawn tight.

“Head in there,” he said. “They’ll get you patched up.”

You kept your eyes on him as you slid off the horse, like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Feel better, Bambi,” he said, giving you a nod. You kept looking back at him, cautious, as you went to the door and wordlessly went inside. He watched the door for a moment after it closed. Almost like he was waiting for you to come back outside and do or say something. He didn’t want to miss it if you did.

But the door stayed closed and he headed off toward the stable, glancing back over his shoulder, an odd feeling in his chest.

He’d done something good with you, he thought. Helped preserve something vital. You had to be a start to making up for all his wrongs. Now, he just had to leave you alone before he found a way to ruin it, add more shit to his column of ills.

It took him until he reached the stables to realize that you still had his coat.

Next Chapter

A/N: Leave it to Bambi to hit the ground running - literally!

Now that she's in Jackson, it's time to see just how she adjusts. And just how long our dear friend Joel is going to stay away from her.

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoy this adventure we're starting on together. I'm so excited to share it all with you!

I do have a taglist going below. Please let me know if you'd like to be added by commenting here! I am still having some issues where it's not letting me ACTUALLY tag some people. I'm not sure why but if it's happening to you, I'm so sorry!

Thanks for being here! Love you!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #slow burn #yearling #tlou #joel miller x original character

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ghostlyforxst · 1 year

Text

GENDER: Gender Neutral Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere Tendencies, Inappropriate Language, Snake creatures (nagas), punishments, and Mentions of Gore

CHARACTERS: Bakugo Katsuki & kirishima eijirou

WORD COUNT: 1k

A/N- it's random, short oneshots with headcannons. In my opinion, uhm, it helps get more written and more for you all to read. So, enojoy and posses my inbox with your ghostly desires!

Ps. @officialabortive asked for pt. 2! Letting you all know Tumblr is not allowing me to reply or comment on any post, I'm not ignoring yall! If you have question or anything, the best way to get ahold of me is through my messages or inbox!

The two serpents cradled you, brushing past the leafy undergrowth as both approached their nest. Your lip quivered, crying, and squirming in their grasp. You needed to get home, even if your parents were no longer with you, it was better than being with them.

"So restless," Kirishima cooed, "we're close to the den."

"I don't want to be at your stupid den!" You grunted, your fist pummeling against his chest. "I want to go to my home!"

"That's not nice," He glowered.

"You're not nice," you sneered, "you took me away from home and killed my parents!"

Bakugo whirled around and snarled, "You're acting like a fucking brat, brats get punishments and apparently that's what you need!"

*•.¸✧ PLATONIC YANDERE KIRIBAKU disciplining you by lashing you with their tail or leaving you out of the nest to suffer from the chilled air that nipped at your skin, teaching you that you need them—who's going to keep you warm if they're not there?

*•.¸✧PLATONIC YANDERE BAKUGO tends to chasten you the most, you reckoned, but both equally discipline you. Kirishima is just the more lenient one.

*•.¸✧ PLATONIC YANDERE KIRIBAKU pampering you after each punishment; cuddling, assuring each other that you won't do what you did again, tickling your face with kisses, and et cetera.

Their soft snores and murmurs were still perceivable, thankfully, since you had managed to detach yourself from the grasp of their twitchy tails. You smiled, short of breath, and tread towards the entrance of the hollow tree—this was your opportunity.

You peered your shoulder, their snoozing silhouettes had stayed motionless.

"It'll be okay," you whispered.

You stepped out into the night and made a run for it, haven't a clue which direction your massacred village was. You couldn't be bothered by that because you were going to be elsewhere, gone from their suffocating presence. You tore through the foliage, your bare feet becoming tender and your breathing becoming ragged, eager to escape. A heartening feeling fluttering within your chest, but then only to be vanquished when hearing the low hissing and crunching of leaves from behind. You yelped, bawling, being plucked from the ground.

"Where the hell did you think you were going, huh!?" Bakugo hollered, furiously.

"Let me go, Let me go, Let me go!" You screamed, repeating as you clawed at his hands.

"You'll learn to accept and love us as your parents, give it time." Kirishima assured, coming from behind Bakugo.

"No, the both of you are delusional. I'm not your son/daughter and you'll never be my parents, I hate you!"

Bakugo's chest rumbled angrily and Kirishima whined dismally. You knew after those words, you were in trouble.

*•.¸✧ PLATONIC YANDERE BAKUGO hauling you back to their den, scolding you the whole way, and tossing you roughly into their nest.

*•.¸✧ PLATONIC YANDERE KIRIBAKU punishing you by scourging you with the small of their tail, three lashes for each of them, and a scolding from Bakugo immediately followed after.

*•.¸✧. PLATONIC YANDERE KIRIBAKU never trusting you by yourself again, one is always with you or a person they trust is with you.

A month, a month of feeding the two nagas delusions of being your parents. Your spirit and resistance had been demolished. To them you were progressing, recuperating various of their affections. You haven't even tempted to make an escape again, being able to trust you to take you outside.

*•.¸✧ PLATONIC YANDERE KIRIBAKU sunbathing on a sizable rock, you snuggling between them. Even if you were drenched in sweat and complaining that you were hot, but that's if they did not feel like moving.

*•.¸✧ PLATONIC YANDERE KIRIBAKU floating in the river having you rest on one of their chest when the summer days were sweltering.

You and Kirishima splashing each other while Bakugo is preparing lunch for all of you.

*•.¸✧ PLATONIC YANDERE KIRIBAKU trying to teach you how to hunt, but your standing dumbfounded or crying because bakugo killed a rabbit.

You turned away, pushing Bakugo's hand away, refusing to eat the raw meat.

"You need to eat," Bakugo urged.

Three days, three days since you've been taken and three days since you haven't eaten. The two captures were worried, they could only get you to eat the fruit they've forage for.

"No."

"Why not!?" Kirishima asked, panicking.

"It's uncooked."

"Stop being picky and eat it!" Bakugo frowned, shoving the bloody meat towards you.

You turned a deaf ear and scooted away from him.

Bakugo huffed, "Fine, you can starve!"

*•.¸✧ PLATONIC YANDERE BAKUGO learning human recipes to be able to get your 'picky' self to eat.

*•.¸✧ PLATONIC YANDERE BAKUGO loving the pleased hums and praises you give him after eating his food.

*•.¸✧ PLATONIC YANDERE BAKUGO making sure his ingredient are the best and freshest for his little snakling. Kirishima will start their own little garden of vegetables and herbs, getting you to partake in it for some quality time.

You look between the two, watching as Bakugo and Kirishima bicker over a name for you.

You loured before suggesting your name, "what about Y/n?"

The two halted and pondered on the name before nodding their heads.

*•.¸✧ PLATONIC YANDERE KIRIBAKU agreeing on your name because that's what you wanted.

*•.¸✧ PLATONIC YANDERE KIRIBAKU before deciding on your was going to name you [favorite other name]

READER CALLING THEM PAPA:

*•.¸✧ CHILD READER conflicted with themselves, despising the uneasiness of being alone. Though calling out for Kirishima and Bakugo, but silence greeting them.

*•.¸✧ PLATONIC YANDERE KIRIBAKU coming back from hunting to find you distressed, triggering their primal instincts to protect and them hastily asking questions.

*•.¸✧ PLATONIC YANDERE KIRIBAKU baffled when you leaped into their arms, finally addressing them as your papas.

*•.¸✧ PLATONIC YANDERE KIRIBAKU feeling euphoric when hearing those words from your mouth and praising you there and then.

"Such a good little snakling you are, our baby."

"We're so proud of you!"

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soapymansuds · 7 months

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OKOKOK, I just saw a Reel that gave me this idea and it’s rotting me from the inside out so I’m giving this to you. You’re welcome ig?

Tags!!!! SWF, Ghost, Soap,Price, Gaz, Male Reader, Motorcyclist Reader, The circus??, Use of Y/N, He/Him pronouns, Spelling errors, Grammar errors, was written in the middle of the night, Author is still getting used to Tumblr formatting please be gentle with him, OOC

It had been a long few months. Between missions, paperwork, and training, the team barely had time to rest. So seeing as the latest pile of papers was dissipating and nothing particularly interesting seemed to be happening, Captain had an idea.

“You’re kidding, right?” Ghost chides from his seat in the commons with a disapproving tilt of his head.

“No, no I am not. We’re going to the circus.” Price grins, arms wide as if attempting to force the boys to accept the idea. “C’mon, we’ve been working so hard, we deserve a quick break, and this seems like the perfect opportunity. Nothing takes your mind off things like overpriced beer and overly fried foods.”

“Well I for one, m’excited! I havnae been to the circus since I was a tot.” Soap claps, standing to join his captain in rousing the troops. His first order being to clap Gaz on the shoulder in encouragement. He shakes his head with a chuckle but stands with them anyway sighing, “Hell, why not.”

They all stare expectantly at Ghost, who pinches the bridge of his nose with a shake of his head before standing up with a groan. “Fine.”

“Alright.” Price claps his hands in front of himself. “Let’s get going then.” He grins, squeezing Ghost’s shoulder appreciatively.

~time skip~

As they finish parking and piling out of the Jeep, Gaz takes a moment to acknowledge the obvious. “More of an arena than a tent, dontcha think?”

“More airflow I s’pose.” Soap shrugs, slinging an arm over Ghost’s shoulder as they find the entrance.

Once inside, the stench of grease and children floods their noses, but Gaz seems to be the only one fazed, with a gentle shake of his head as if he could shoo the smell away.

“Right, well I’m off to find the booze. Have fun lads.” Price grins, tipping his hat as he wanders off. Gaz is next as he spots the rows of carnival games, walking off silently towards the sharp shooter game.

“So what catches your eye L.T.?” Soap nudges Ghost, who seems uninterested in anything really. He shrugs as they keep walking, searching for something to stare at until he’s allowed to leave. The hum of a motor catches his attention as they near a crowd circled around a fence. The closer they get, the more they can see. A ramp, a hoop, a big metal ball, and a motorcycle. But to their surprise, the motorcycle seems to be driving itself, nearly hitting the ground and it spins in circles on its side. The bike is pearly white, prismatic reflections dancing in the sunlight as it moves.

“Oh! A trick rider! Always wanted to be one when I was young.” Soap pulls Ghost closer to the rail to get a better view. As they approach, they notice the rider. A man a bit shorter than the two, fully covered in red and black leather gear with a matte black helmet. His visor is golden and stretches oddly to his chin unlike a normal helmet. ( https://images.app.goo.gl/UKZg4c2wA4JpYGkt9 for reference)

He raises his arms at the applause, and despite not seeing his face, you can tell he’s smiling. Suddenly, the bike changes course, bumping off a ramp and steadying itself upright. It points straight at the rider and keeps moving like it’s going to hit him. He doesn’t seem to notice and the crowd erupts, desperate to warn him of the danger. As they start screaming, he looks over his shoulder, and within inches of his life, he grabs the bike by the handles. He bounces into the air, standing upside down above the handles. The crowd cheers louder still as he spins the bike around, and falls beautifully into the seat. He skids to a stop mere inches from the boundary. Mere inches from where Soap and Ghost stand. Soap’s grin, wide and dopey, seems to draw him in.

He takes a moment to size them up before nodding, seemingly to himself, and waving them in. Beckoning them past the border and towards himself as he turns the bike back towards the center of the ring. They stand for a moment, unsure what to do before he nods his head inward once more and they hop the steel rail.

He takes a moment as they enter to hype the crowd for their arrival as if they were planning to be their from the beginning. He then leases them to the huge metal ball, swerving in front of them to drop the ramp and ride in. They stand outside the dome, but Soap’s smile never falters. Even as the rider waves them into the sphere.

As they get in, the rider drops his kickstand and hops off the bike, both to close the door and to talk to his new “assistants”

He lifts his visor just barely as he turns back to them. “Alrighty boys! Welcome to the Doom Dome!” He raises his arms and the crowd follows with avid cheering. “There are a couple of rules, and most of them are Do. Not. Move. Got it?” He grins and it’s just barely noticeable under his visor.

“Sir, yes Sir.” Soap laughs with a goofy salute. Ghost simply nods. The rider tilts his head at him with a floppy smirk, trying to decide if he’s unamused or just the quiet type.

“Words, Big Boy. I gotta know you’re hearing me.” He extends a hand, an attempt at breaking the tension. “I’m Y/N. And you are…?”

Ghost seems vaguely taken aback by the statement, but shakes his hand on instinct, mumbling out “Ghost.”

“Ghost!” The rider calls at the crowd and the scream in excitement. “Anddd…?” He reaches for the other man’s hand, who takes it, grinning like an idiot. “Call me Johnny.”

“Johnny!” The crowd roars again. “Alright boys, I need you back to back. Can I put my hands on yah for a sec?” He hold his arms up just barely before both men nod at him. “What did I say about using your words?” He juts his hip dramatically, crossing his arms with a giggle. Both men respond “Yes sir.” quicker than even they had expected.

“Atta boys!” He grins, placing a hand on both of their chests and maneuvering them to be back to back. Once he’s satisfied with their position, he swing a leg back over his bike. “Now don’t move. Kay?” He gives them a thumbs up, which they return, and he slaps his visor down. He swings his arms up to instigate the crowd, successfully causing them to starts screaming. Ghost notices for a moment that the crowd has nearly doubled since they left it, and he finds himself grateful to be in here not out there. But the though doesn’t last long as a tire is suddenly directly in his view. It spins wildly for a moment before disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. He feels the wind as the bike loops around him, adrenaline playing with his nerves just slightly. He can feel the excitement radiating off Soap in waves, and as he turns over his shoulder, he’s sees the exact wide eyed slack jawed look he was expecting. Soaps eyes trace the biker’s every move like a dog following a treat and Ghost can’t help but chuckle. As he turns back to facing forward, he flinched back just barely, as a hand reaches off the bikes handle and reaches down to tap his nose lightly as he passes. He follows the hand as it reaches out for Soap, ruffling his Mohawk as he circles.

His hand lifts back up to the bike as he begins looping vertically. The motor roars in both their ears as the bike does loop after gravity defying loop and Ghost can feel himself grin at the dizzying sensation of it all.

As the bike slows down, eventually stopping in the same place it started, the crowd goes wild. He drops the kick stand again and opens the door of the dome, waving for Ghost and Johnny to follow him. They do as instructed and he leads them to halfway between the crowd and the dome. As he stops, he fidgets with the underside of his helmet before sliding it off completely.

Soap can’t help but stare at him, hair tussled from the helmet, smile stretched ear to ear as he takes both their hands in each of his and raises them to the crowd. As if declaring them victorious. They defeated the Doom Dome. The crowd continues to scream as he lowers both their arms and steps forward to thank them. Soap looks ver the smaller man to Ghost, who shares an understanding look. This guy was down right pretty and neither one knew what to do about it. But as the crowd dies down and wanders off, he turns back to them, grin as wide as ever.

“Y’all did great!” He laughs, picking up his helmet. “You ever done that before?” I tilts his head curiously and the boys can’t help but think he looks like a puppy. All dopey grinned and doe eyed.

Soap answers first. “Na, we’ve never been in a Doom Done before, but it’s been my dream since I was a wee tyke! Wanted to be jus like you when I grew up.” He laughs, ruffling his hair a touch.

“Woah! Y’all ain’t from around here, are yah? Is that Scottish I’m hearing?” His eyes grow impossibly bigger.

This time, Ghost speaks. “Yeah, we’re just visiting.” And Y/N’s head tilts towards him.

“Oh! Well it was real nice of y’all to stop by our little circus!” His eyes close appreciatively. “Hey, I tell you what. You boys seem nice. And you said you wanted to be a rider when you were a kid, yeah? Here. Have my number, in case y’all ever wanna learn to ride! I got a couple o’ old practice bikes in storage. I’m sure they’d be happy see some use!” He pats himself down a moment, before pulling out a pair of business cards and holding them out to each of them.

Soap takes it gladly, and while Ghost is vaguely more apprehensive, he takes it anyway was Soap beams at the card. “I think I’ll have to take you up on that!”

“Please do! I’ve got to skedaddle, but it was real nice meeting you boys! Come back any time, Kay?” He waves as he wanders back to his bike and walks it out of the arena.

~I don’t know how to end this, so this is it. Xoxo, K.O.~

#ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #ghost x male reader #soap x male reader #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #cod x male reader

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libraryofgage · 1 month

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Scream AU

I've been possessed recently by a Steddie and Buckingham Scream AU, which means I haven't written much for my Tumblr fics hfjkds

Anyway, to make up for it, here's a little snippet of the Scream AU ;)

This snippet is clean, but the fic itself is, uh, very Dead Dove hfjsdk

Still, this snippet does include discussion of murder with vague descriptions and cursing

-------

“Have you heard about Tommy and Carol?”

Chrissy presses her lips together in a thin line, focusing more on the breeze passing over her than Jason’s friend, David, sitting a foot away from her. Jason’s arm is around her waist, encouraging her to lean against his shoulder for the twenty minute free period.

On Jason’s right side, Steve Harrington is sitting with one leg on the bench and the other on the ground. It creates a space perfect for Robin Buckley to fit in. And she does. She slid into the spot like she owned it, and she’s now leaning back against Steve’s chest, a book in her hands that Steve reads over her shoulder. He never stops her when she turns the page, and Chrissy wonders if he’s actually even reading along.

Robin and Steve look good together. They fit as naturally as the sun that shines down on them, making Robin’s hair glint in a way Chrissy finds difficult to look away from.

“Yeah,” Jason says, shaking his head as he rubs circles on Chrissy’s waist with his thumb. “Fucking brutal, huh?”

“Dingus used to know them,” Robin says, her voice distracted as she turns the page.

“Used to,” Steve stresses, frowning slightly as he looks away from the book. “Haven’t talked to them much lately. Jason’s the one who's been hanging out with them recently.”

“What happened?” Chrissy asks, getting the feeling she doesn’t actually want to know. Still, she hates the idea of being left out even more.

David grins at her and leans closer, ignoring the way Jason tugs Chrissy closer and glares. “They were both found dead this morning,” he says, his eyes wide and gleeful. “Tommy was floating in the pool, Carol hung from a tree, and both of them were gutted.”

“Gutted?” Chrissy asks.

“Ugh, spare us the details,” Robin says, putting the book down and looking at David with a bored expression.

David doesn’t listen to her. “Yeah, gutted. Intestines and organs all falling out. Tommy’s were floating in the pool, though, made the water red and everything.”

A sick feeling stirs in Chrissy’s stomach, making her grimace as she looks away from David. She can’t help imagining the sight, nausea sweeping over her uncontrollably. “Dude!” Jason says, his loud voice making her wince. “Have some fucking class, yeah?”

“Sorry,” David says, raising his hands up and keeping his mouth shut for all of two seconds before saying, “I bet they were fucking.”

“What?” Steve asks, looking up at David like he’s stupid.

“You know,” David replies, “fucking. Everyone knows you shouldn’t fuck in a horror movie if you wanna live.”

“This isn’t a movie, dumbass,” Jason says, leaning even further into Chrissy’s space to flick David’s forehead.

“I’m just saying!” David says, rubbing at his forehead. “Everyone knows you shouldn’t have sex unless you wanna die. Look at Friday the 13th! Those counselors getting it on started the whole massacre.”

“So, what, some guy passed by Carol’s place, saw them fucking in the living room, and decided to get stab-happy?” Steve asks, his tone heavily implying David is, in fact, stupid beyond reason.

“Maybe he’s a horror movie aficionado.”

“Do you even know how to spell that word?” Steve asks.

“Do you?”

“How’d they even gut them?” Robin asks, her head falling back on Steve’s shoulder as she moves the subject along. Her neck stretches, and Chrissy focuses on following the line of it down to Robin’s shoulders to ride out the nausea. “Seems like overkill.”

“You cut them from the navel,” Steve says, his finger tapping against Robin’s knee as he looks across the courtyard. When Chrissy follows his gaze, she finds Eddie Munson sitting on a table, grinning at something one of his friends has said. “And I guess you’d go, like, side to side or something.”

Before he can say more, he grunts in pain, and Chrissy looks back to see Robin has roughly elbowed him in the ribs. “I said spare us the details, dingus,” she says, looking at him over her shoulder with a frown. Steve grins and raises his hands in surrender, shrugging once. Robin rolls her eyes and looks away.

Her gaze lands on Chrissy and she gets up, brushing non-existent dust from her clothes before standing in front of Chrissy. “C’mon, let’s leave the boys to their gross talk,” she says, holding her hand out.

Without thinking, Chrissy accepts it, allowing herself to be pulled off the bench. Robin grins as she drops her hand, unaware that Chrissy is inexplicably missing the gentle warmth of her palm. “I’ll see you in class, Jason,” she says, waving before following Robin.

They’re half-way to the building when Robin says, “You should just tell them to shut up next time.”

Chrissy shrugs. “I don’t know. It was gross but easy to ignore,” she says. A few beats of silence pass before she adds, “You shouldn’t be so rough with Steve. He might think you don’t like him anymore.”

Robin falters, whipping her head around to look at Chrissy. “What?” she asks, her voice high and slightly strained.

It makes Chrissy think she’s stuck her nose where it doesn’t belong. She bites her bottom lip, watching as Robin’s eyes drop to the action before quickly rising again. “I just mean, well, he’s your boyfriend, right? You shouldn’t hurt him.”

Another beat of silence passes before Robin starts laughing so hard that she doubles over. She wheezes, holding her stomach and nearly losing strength in her legs before she calms down enough to stand up straight again. “We aren’t dating,” she says breathlessly, her cheeks flushed as she looks at Chrissy. “First of all, he’s way too high maintenance. Second of all, he’s only my platonic soulmate. We’re destined to be best friends. Nothing more. Third of all, I’m a gold star lesbian, Chrissy. I’m not exactly looking for dick.”

Oh.

That’s…a lot to process. Chrissy blinks, letting everything run through her brain before she slowly nods. “Oh,” she says, her voice soft as she ducks through the door that Robin holds open for her. She waits just inside the school hall as Robin follows her in. “Sorry, I guess.”

“You’re okay with me being a lesbian?” Robin asks.

“Well, uh, are you gonna hit on me?” Chrissy asks back, making sure her tone is light and playful enough that Robin knows she’s joking.

Robin stares at her for a few seconds. “Only if you wanted me to,” she finally says, her tone surprisingly serious. Before Chrissy can respond, Robin smiles at her and easily changes the subject by saying, “Anyway, I’m kinda nervous after hearing the guys talk about Tommy and Carol.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s a little scary,” Chrissy says, her brain barely able to keep up with the change. “I’m not looking forward to being home alone tonight.”

“Want me to come over? I can bring a pizza and we can watch a movie,” Robin offers, her genuine smile telling Chrissy this isn’t a joke or some play on her comment about flirting.

It’s reassuring, actually. She wouldn’t want to invite Jason, since he’d look for reasons to have sex, and Robin is plenty nice. They’ve been hanging out more since she and Jason started dating. It was inevitable, really. Jason and Steve hang out because they’re on the basketball team together, so Robin and Chrissy would naturally cross paths.

“Yeah,” Chrissy says, her shoulders relaxing some as she smiles. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Totally,” Robin says, nodding once as her grin widens. “I’ll come over after work. I should be there around eight.”

Before Chrissy can say anything else, the bell rings, and she parts ways with Robin so she isn’t late to class.

#steddie fic #buckingham fic #steddie #buckingham #Scream AU #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #tbh tho it's really the steddie parts that are particularly dead dove so far #i watched scream and my brain chemistry was completely rewired #i'm problematic now #my writing

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