#Poly!Mayor Buckman and Granny Boone x Fem!Reader Oneshot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slashingdisneypasta · 3 years ago

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Poly!Mayor Buckman and Granny Boone x Fem!Undercover!Singer!Reader || Oneshot

Title: (Only) Ghosts Haunt Ghosts

Notes:

So this is another Period Post XD But this time I didn’t want smut (I know, shocker)- so I hit up my favourite ace couple! Yes, I headcanon them as (more or less) asexual. I think Boone likes to take care of her damn self, but hates the idea of anyone else touching her that way. And Buckman only appreciates anything ‘sexy’, in a purely aesthetic way.

I honestly don’t know how this was supposed to end, either. It was just a split second idea that came out in a haze before work after listening to some country music. So i hope the ending works *Sweatdrop*

ANYWAY, I love how this turned out so much I nearly didn't post it because I know people probably wont share my love for these two (In certain ways), but this is for the rare Granny Boone-Robert Englund-2001 Maniacs fans ^^

Also- its v long, so I put gifs.

Plot: The 1860's and 2020's collide here as Pleasant Valley's enigmatic couple find out more about their sweet Y/N, who survived the massacre but still came to a grizzly end a bit later - separated from them and all alone, -, that rattles their very bones.

Warnings: LIBERAL use of the time jump, so get ready to travel. Talk of confederacy (Not the ideas, just that the ideas were wrong) and probably historical inaccuracy. Lack of editing towards the end.

1859:

As soon as you stick your head out of the carriage, sweet Georgia breeze tickles your face and when you step out and off, your dress sways in it. You look around with a little grin, always happy to be home, and see all the familiar sights; All the flowers - Bachelor Buttons, Chickory, Petunia's... -, the trees... and town.

When you see two certain people who promised to wait for you to arrive before heading to the home coming party - where everyone else was, in that big hall across the square over there with no windows, - though is when a real smile rips across your face, and before your driver can even think about letting go of your hand after helping you down the carriage stairs, you're off.

You collide with Boone and wrap your arms around her, squeezing tight as she does the same; Hugging to her body and taking a deep breath so the scent of your hair once again fills her and sates her. "It’s been far too long, this time!" You both half-heartedly pull back, but don't let go of each other’s hands; Her grip like iron. "That one was far too long- what were y'doing over there?? George is sure you musta been performin' for every single individual home! Boy, your voice must be hoarse."

"Fine, fine! Next time won’t be so long." You give in almost instantly to her nagging- honestly because you agree. It was too long. As Boone nods, a pert, proud smile on her face, your gaze shifts to the man waiting patiently for his turn and another beam warms your face. He's running for mayor for the 6th consecutive term in a row so he's wearing his good duds- or maybe he's wearing them for you. You'd prefer to believe the former. "And what're you doin’ just standin' there like a lemon for?"

"Now, now, he's runnin' for mayor, Y/N! He can’t be seen engagin' in illicit activities with us like canoodlin’ out in the open like this!" Boone jokes, letting go of one of your hands when you give it a hard squeeze. "Gotta be wholesome, da'nt he?"

"Hmmm," You give George, who's rolling his eyes, a cheeky look. Your George wasn’t a cad, in fact sex had never been able to keep his interest for longer then 5 minutes, but he wasn’t snow white pure, either. "Since when~?"

Finally the man in question can’t hold his tongue anymore, and heaves a sigh at you two; Giving Boone a pointed look in a mockery of annoyance as he cuts you off from her with his body and you giggle uncontrollably. You missed this - them, - so much. Letters don't do them justice. They can’t imitate her hand holding onto yours or his creeping around your waist. "I was just being a gentleman and lettin' you two ladies say your hello's first but if you're gonna be like that, then,"

And then his eyes - blue and beautiful, - turn on your and he quiets your giggles by kissing you, and you let him dip you, and everything is perfect.

And it will be, until you have to go on 'tour', again.

1862

This time when you step out of the carriage it’s because you already saw it. You looked out the window as the carriage came to a crawling stop and your heart dropped so damn hard in your chest that you don't think it'll ever dislodge from wherever it feel, dark and deep. This time, you didn't wait for your driver to come around and open the door for you, or help you off the step. You threw the door open yourself and stumbled to the ground, legs a shaky, wobbly mess.

You've seen a lot in your line or work, but you never expected to see,

This.

Spit gets stuck in your throat and you choke, as you slowly drag yourself back up to your feet, turning around in a full circle to see the... destruction.

Pleasant Valley- gone. Just like that. You've lived here your whole life and you don't recognise this place...

Or the bodies.

Covering your mouth, a pathetic whine escapes; Tears filling your vision. How... how did this...

You'd been leading them everywhere else! Every other little, horrible hick town. Not yours! Not...

Suddenly, all too sudden and all at once, the realisation that two important people in particular are here somewhere. And they're dead. They're gone, and they can’t come back.

Before your driver can reach you and ask you to get back in the carriage, as you know he will, you're off.

Tearing through town, looking around in a blind panic, your heart beating harder then the wheel on a carriage might careen off in a horrible accident where the horses get stuck in the mud and everyone dies- for any sign of them. Golden hair or blue eyes. Golden hair or blue eyes. Golden hair or blue eye-

Your eyes slowly widen as they, quite by accident, slowly fall on them. It takes you a moment to realise what you're looking at, even, as you were just so panicked- but all that dissipates and becomes grief and horror when you do realise.

Everything stops. Or you wish it did. You wish everything in the world would stop in that moment and just let you fix this, somehow. Take it back, make it better. Bring them back to you.

But it doesn't and it make sit worse.

Slowly, like you don't know quite how to walk, you push forward towards their bodies- and immediately a horrid, ugly cry escapes you.

You're just starting to kneel down, when a commotion behind you catches your attention. You straighten up immediately and whip around, eyes wide and focused, heart beating so loudly that you can hear it in your ears. What is it?

There are men. Men, bearing the union flag on their arms. And they've got your driver; They've got Davis.

You just stay very still, stuck somewhere disgusting and traitorous and cowardly between grief and knowing these men don't know about your efforts for the Union army; Your involvement was top secret, it had to be. You cant convince them and you cant fight them off... What do you do. What can you do.

Just stand there like a lemon, hoping they don't notice you and Davis doesn't give you away. Stand there by your dead, mangled lovers and try not to think about the blood on Boones skirt or how theirs a gory hole where one of Georges eyes used to be. And try not to sob, because that would be too loud.

But, of course, one of them turns his head and his eyes land on you, and it’s over. A cruel grin takes his awful, evil face and he says something to his friends.

You don't even try to run, despite Davis screaming at you to, and let them grab you.

Now

One spring breaker, Jake, claps his friend - with benefits~ - on the shoulder as he looks around in wonder at the little show-town and all its lame actors. "This an elaborate fucken tourist attraction, man. Check it out!"

"I know, right! You seen that pic of Y/N L/N from Senior History yet? I think it’s a real 1800's painting." Wes, wearing glasses and itching behind his ear, flashes an uncomfortable smirk back; He didn't want to stop. This is the start of some terrible horror movie and now they've left the cars. If this was a movie - which he knows, realistically, it isn't. But is still nervous by the setting, - they would never get in it again.

They were in the pub now, and true-to-his-word, the painting did look legit. But it wasn't one they'd ever see in a textbook or on Google.

Probably a really good imitation, they think. You can commission people for that kinda thing.

Jake just shrugs though, as the both of them sit down at a table and keep looking around in awe. He never had an eye for art- or history in general- or school. Not compared to his nerdy boy-toy, anyway. But still, this place was really something. Looks old as shit. He's surprised the ceiling's holding up.

At the bar, the ears of two 'lame actor's in particular perked up. If they were alive, their heartbeats would've been beating so damn loud- that everyone in town could hear.

Neither Wes nor Jake even noticed them come up to them before the Mayor's hand is on Wes's shoulder- hard. It startles them and they look up, wide eyed, and see a forced warm, sunshiney smile on his kind face. Something about it unnerves Jake- he was always a great judge of character. He just felt things about people. Whether they were good, bad, or anything in between. And he had a bad feeling, about this guy.

"My apologies, fella's, but did I just overhear ya'll sayin' somethin' about our lil claim to fame there- Y/N?"

The way the mayor said her name so naturally, so informally, made Wes recoil. He always hated when people acted like historical figures were great friends of theirs, it was just weird. People referring to Al Capone as ‘Old Al’, as if the things he did to people were of no consequence, or Lizzie Borden- Liz. You can’t call someone you don't know, so casually, like that! Its cringe.

"Uhh... yeah! We- we just noticed that painting, over there." Wes nods- over to the opposite wall, where the painting sits over a big ornate fireplace. She's smiling in it at someone, sitting in a field somewhere - assumedly in or close to town, - picking flowers. Theirs another, purple skirt, not belonging to her own blue one, adorning the bottom of the painting that suggests that when the painting was made there was another woman with her- the person she was smiling at. Boone smirks at it, standing behind her husband. Sometimes when she looks at that painting its like you’re there with them in spirit.

As ironic as that is.

1850’s

"Shh, I'm making you a flower crown." You insist, holding out a firm finger to your friend without looking at her; A cheeky grin indented into your cheeks. Boone smacks it out of the air.

"You don't need to focus so hard on somethin' like that, come now. I'm tellin' a story. Now listen up. So, as I was saying, George is an imbecile, so- "

George, dragging a pencil across a yellowing page of parchment, doesn't even look up when he's insulted; Too focused on what he's sketching. "Now, now, I resent that statement... "

"-I should expect so!" Boone snaps back, before going on like there was no interjection. George chuckles, shaking his head. "So- hold on a moment. What are you drawing that's enraptured your attention so?"

"Y/N... " Still, he doesn't look up.

Your eyes snap open wide and you look up, voice going high as you're horrified at him. "What?! Stop that!"

"Aw, now, stop making that face. Smile for the picture, Y/N. What's his is mine and I don't wanna picture a' you scowling at me forever." Boone smirks, mischievously, and you just scrunch up your nose at her- but a little grin does grace your lips afterwards. Then she crawls over to sit beside her husband, peering at the picture; Imaging what kind of colour's she'll use when she makes it into a painting. "Not bad."

"Well, damn, a compliment love?" George finally looks up, giving his wife a bit of a love-sick grin. "Didn't think you had it in you."

"Oh, I do love you, George." She reassures. "But as your wife I feel it is my duty to make sure you know when you're being a buffoon- which is disturbingly often."

"Hm." He scrunches up his own face like you did, a dangerous tone in his 'hm', and looks back at his drawing. Boone returns her attention to you, a grin twitching at the left corner of her mouth.

"Smile pretty, flower."

George smirks ruefully at the page in front of him, only glancing up at you as your cheeks go pink. "Oh, doesn't she always."

Now

"And how'd you know about our Y/N, then?" The mayor asks quite bluntly- forgetting, for a moment, to play the polite, jovial mayor bit; To make conversation. That isn’t, or shouldn’t, seem like an interrogation or threatening at all. His eye seems to dig into them, though, coercing answers out of them with just a hard gaze that’s only vaguely disguised as interest- an afterthought.

"Uh... " How did they know about Y/N L/N?? Jake raises a brow. This is a little weird, even for an attraction like this. "History class. Senior year."

"Yeah, she's like, one of the Big Names in Civil War history. I did my end of year essay on her, actually." Wes pipes up. "Don't remember it all, but she was some woman, huh? Complicated, with all that undercover shit, but I contended that she was, in fact, a Union believer. What, uh, what... " Wes looks to Jake, who's pretty eyes are wide and who's mouth is tight, and who's face in general is just screaming at him to shut. up. Wes falters, seeing it, but lacks the grace to change his course. "... did you... think... ?" He tilts his head, awkwardly. Like a puppy.

Jake fights not to facepalm. Because that mayor's grip, on his chair now, is so tight its making sounds, and maybe Wes just couldn't hear it over his stupidity.

"Oh gentlemen. You must be mistaken there! Y/N was a Georgia peach- born and bred in the great south! No ‘if’s-and’s-or’-but’s’ about that!” George seems to be struggling to keep his reaction to the puny boy's words to himself, just the thought of Y/N being known as something heinous, something he fought so hard against, kills something in him. She’s gone- and no one should speak ill of the dead.

Boone steps up beside him, taking over where he chokes.

She sits down at the table delicately, taking her time to spread out her dress around the chair, before clearing her throat and turning her piercing attention onto the two boys. "Many apologies for my poor husband! He already drank a couple sherries earlier; This is a party, after all." Her eyes flicker up George, faking her own little benevolent wife bit and reaches over to pat his arm. "Now, honey, let’s not get worked up over ancient history," Her chest constricts at referring to her Y/N as history, and George sets his jaw angrily at it; But stays silent. "This is the annual Guts and Glory jubilee! Let’s be civilised folk, now, and have some fun instead!"

Jake nods, tapping Wes's foot under the table. A silent, affectionate gesture saying, 'No more Civil War talk p l e a s e. Jesus christ.' "Sounds good, so did you two see the game the other da- "

And he realises that his attempt at a topic switch was pathetic but the fact that Boone just entirely ignores the hell out of it is still a fucking shock. "So- tell me more about your take on our Y/N. I'm afraid I'm not a history buff like you and the mayor, but you make her sound so wonderful- I just have to know!"

Our Y/N. They keep saying that- 'Our Y/N'. It rubs Jake the absolute wrong way.

"Uhhh... well... " Wes looks to Jake, sees him shake his head ever so slightly, before looking up to the mayor, who's still standing stock straight behind Jake, before promptly taking out his phone; Pressing the Google icon. "Well, I have some sources here you can look at that'll prove my contention, actually- " Jake abruptly gets up from his seat, and offers it up to the mayor. Defeated.

"Well fuck, man. Guess we're doing this." He mutters so only Wes hears, rubbing a hand down his face. Then, to the old man, he says. "Why don't you take this seat, sir? I'll grab a chair from another table."

Immediately, like someone just pressed 'Next' on the CD remote controlling this man’s brain, Mayor Buckman goes from freezing alps and dark alley’s to sunshine's and rainbows again. "Why, thank you, son!" He doesneed a seat, after all- desperately.

While those two set themselves up, Wes shows Boone the letters of correspondence between Y/N and some Head's in the Union army. The screen light is harsh on her eyes, and it hurts, but she stays strong and squints. The more she sees of them, the more her heart squeezes terribly in her chest. It’s definitely Y/N's handwriting; She would know it anywhere. They had written plenty of letters back and forth while Y/N was on her singing tour's, supposedly sharing her voice all over the country; Detailing all the places she had been or would be going that Boone herself would never see, how much she missed them, about the people she met- and even some saucy chapters that Boone read over and over, and kept from George. They still had all those letters in a box under their bed, and she knew if she took them out now, and compared them, it would be unequivocal that they were written by the same hand.

How could they not have known about this? Boone looks darkly to George, who's now paying just as much attention as she is and has of course come to the same conclusion, and notice that - despite not living, anymore, - the man has gone pale. And slightly green.

"See, she might have been born in the South, but I think these show pretty well how devoted she was to the North. She even gives towns away for confederacy, knowingly causing the High-Up's that read her letters to send men to those spots and, uh... ya know. Take care of it." Wes looks up nervously at the two, and the Confederate flag eyepatch on one of them. He doesn't notice the way backs in old-style shirts and frocks, drinking pitchers and listening in with dog ears, all around them stiffen up. Jake does, though, becoming cautious.

Now the Mayor looks really green. She was what?

"But you know what's even more interesting about her? That makes me think that maybe you were possibly right- about her allegiances?" Wes goes on, stuck in his own little world now as his thumbs fly across the keyboard on his phone and he pulls up some different letters- all in the same hand. "These."

He shows them these, one in particular, and slowly both Boone's and Buckman's eyes narrow in recognition. At the top is a date, and then just below are the greetings not of a traitorous double agent to her boss, but of an excited woman to her far-away lover... or lovers. There are two names written after that, 'To dear', but can’t quite make them out as they're smudged, but it’s clearly a love letter to them.

It’s not as long as the others before, they find, as it’s just a draft of a letter they did in fact receive, just before their massacre. But it’s clearly something quite enlightening, and scandalous, for nosey researchers to gasp at.

"Y/N was in a polyamorous relationship! And look- at the address." Flicking to another picture, Wes licks his lips as he gets really excited. These words are also quite blurry, but clearly in the same handwriting. "You see that GA, there?? She was sending this to Georgia! A very confederate state- the one she grew up in, in fact. So, either she was having a poly affair with two other undercover agents, sending risky letters to them while on the job, or she was sending this to her two home-town sweethearts- which I think is a lot more realistic. I mean? Poly Secret Agents? Sounds like a bad movie to me."

Alright, this part George and Boone knew. But... is he suggesting... Jake speaks up before they can. "... Are you suggesting that she was only giving info to Union forces to distract from her little town, and her two ‘dirty little secrets’?" He asks, only half interested, and half bored; Using quotation gestures when he says ‘dirty little secrets. Wes had talked a million times to him about Y/N L/N, but this never came up before. He supposes Wes is a little weird about talking sex, or love, with him- the cutie that he is.

Wes nods. "Yeah! I mean- that's the theory that some people have. Right man?" He looks to Buckman, who seems to be jostled out of some kind of trance by it.

"Uh- Uhhh... yeah... " Yes. That has to be it. There ain't no dang way that Y/N gave them up. She loved them. He knows it- Boone knows it- its non-negotiable.

1850’s

The rest of the town thought you were just a close friend to the Mayoral couple - well, maybe they thought you were having an affair with George. But even that was more acceptable then what you really were, -, but your relationship had alwaysbeen more. Even before Boone and Buckman got married. In fact, it was literally a coin toss for whoever actually hitched George, seeing as you and Boone couldn’t wed and it was certainly against the – societal, - rules for more than 2 people to enter into a marital agreement. It didn’t mean that they were closer than you were to them or anything, it just meant that the town was expecting the probable future mayoral candidate to have a wife by his side. For appearances.

And, no, it didn’t always feel that way. Sometimes you did feel like a third wheel, watching them walk through town arm in arm without you- but then Boone waives you over or George flashes you a wink and you know you’re being silly.

You don’t really know, for sure, how it ended up this way? I mean you remember it all, as well as you can; Meeting Boone in school and finding you love the way she talks to you, specifically you, and later realising that how you loved her holding your hand far more then when any boy did it. And then meeting George bonding and with Boone over how charming he was- thinking for a split second that you were normal, and would just want him.

But you both just liked the idea of sharing him too much.

But- how you managed to get together, officially, and keep it safe and happy for as long as you have- is a total mystery. All things considered; Your love is a very risky thing to attempt… in the 1800’s. In Georgia.

But you did it and you’re not questioning it, lest it fall apart.

“What’re you thinkin’ about, Lovely?” Boone nudges your ribs with her elbow, talking only quietly, only under her breath, as you’re both supposed to be listening to ‘Mayor Buckman’s acceptance speech.

But you 2 had been his test dummies the nights prior so you already knew it word for word. You’re good.

You turn a cheeky grin onto her, speaking in a sickly-sweet tone. “Why, you, actually.”

And- also- other things.

Like how you have to keep them safe, whatever you do. Even though what you’re doing, when they aren’t looking, is right and they’re wrong and sometimes it’s hard to keep that totally clear when his knuckles graze your jaw and her lips are on your thighs- but you must keep working; Against them, in a way. But you also must keep them safe, at the same time.

Even if it’s wrong. Even if you shouldn’t.

And maybe that makes you bad, but you can’t bring yourself to care when she knocks her knee against yours and gestures for you to look up- and you find Buckman shooting you both an I know you’re not listening, sort of look, and you can’t help but giggle behind your hand at it, Boone making a face right back at him.

Now

“Well, that’s… quite a story, there.” Boone admits, finding herself to be a little bit out of sorts, as well. How could Y/N have been keeping something so… depraved… Boone practically lived with her in that apartment in the square. It may not have been seemly for George to stay over there, but she certainly could and she took full advantage of that fact, especially when he left them to fight in a damn war- All the time. Y/N never told her she couldn’t look through anything either- and Boone took advantage of that, too. How could she have hidden anything? She couldn’t… she was so open… Swallowing nothing from a dry mouth down a dry throat, Boone sticks her hands in her lap; Scraping her nails over the fabric over her dress. “And, um… How did it- How does it end, for our Y/N?”

Jake screws up his face. There it is again, even in a weirdly overwhelmed, overemotional tone, the woman is referring to this long dead woman as hers. Hers and her husbands, assumedly. What the hell?

George looks uncomfortably to his wife; Unsure. They’ve spent decades and decades long not knowing what happened to her. Does he want to hear this? He doesn’t even know whether it would be worse for her story to have had a happy ending without them or a melancholy one. He suddenly wants to cover his ears.

Wes’s face suddenly sobers, not-so-excited anymore. Not even a little bit- or at all, really. He looks to Jake, who looks uncomfortable himself and shrugs, deeply. “Oh. We don’t know for certain, because they never found the body and no one ever spoke of it. But uh, well, she, uh… She came home from a tour, one day. You know, from singing? You know that was her cover- her ah, ‘day job’?” They nod. “Well, she came home, and the story is that she found her town… liquidated… “Both Buckman’s and Boone’s brows furrow, at that. What a lovely way to say ‘Slaughtered’. “And the soldiers that did it were still there, and they obviously didn’t know that she was one of them, so they dragged her off-site and killed her, too. Probably buried the body somewhere.”

At that, Jake, who never manages to miss a chance to say something crass or unnecessary, pipes up with; “Some say she got eaten.” All eyes land on him; Too pairs dark and one wide. “I mean, cuz ya know… her body wasn’t found… Man this is a weird conversation for a fair.” He slumps in his chair, arms crossed and eyes rolling. “Y’all round here really know how to throw a shindig, huh?”

All-too-suddenly, the mayor pushes up to his feet; Bones creaking with the slow but forceful movement. “Well! I better go check on those morons givin’ your fancy-pants car a wash- make sure they ain’t scrubbin’ it raw or anything like that.” Boone’s surprised how he manages to joke so convincingly suddenly- because right now all she wants to do right, is take down that painting of you off the wall and search it for clues. Answers. She knows that’s crazy and idiotic and impulsive but she’s having trouble staying still.

Luckily, he’s got her, too; As he helps her up to her feet, saying something to the boys about her being tired after a long day a’ hard work, and bids their goodbyes as they manage their way out of the pub. Harper and Miss Peaches who are sitting at a table by the door, see them head off and waive- but all they get in response from their Mayor is a grimace.

They walk silently through the darkness outside.

Boone makes it in silence to their home, before turning around and promptly plopping onto the top porch step- where you used to sit and braid your hair out over your shoulder. She thought were so type of lady longing young men made poetry about. Soft, and yellow and bright, and made entirely out of a lovely kind of magic.

Now she’s thinking that maybe you were the kind of woman old fairy tales are made about. The beautiful, frosty, two-faced queen. Dangerous and complicated and full of a powerful mess.

She just wants to talk to you about it- all about it. Hear everything you didn’t - couldn’t, - say to her.

“… Should we get inside?” George asks, roughly. Coldly. And Boone doesn’t even look at him as she continues to glare at the dirt in front of her; Lost in thought so her voice comes out harsh.

“I’m not going in there.”

George is fine with that, thinking about the spirit of you, waiting in there. In every piece of furniture, and every smell. It would wrap around him and he doesn’t know what he would do. Crossing his arms, he takes a deep breath; His one good eye staring hard out into the stars.

Eventually, though, he sits down. His knees are tired and his weary heart is bleeding, and the hole behind the patch is aching. The floorboards creek but Boone doesn’t respond, at all.

Until she does. And she can’t stop. “… how could they spout all that bullshit about Y/N?”

He rinds his fingers through his hair. “I need a drink.”

“She hasn’t been dead 2 fucking centuries and they dare, to spread in-inconceivable, foolish, repulsive perjuries about that girl. What- why’re you getting up. George get back here- What!? You think they were right?!” Boone shoots up fast after her exhausted looking husband. As soon as they cross the threshold of their house, its like you’re with them and that’s both a comfort and unbelievably frustrating- because you can’t set this right. Tell them the truth. You’ve gone and left them to manage this, on their own.

George sighs, going straight for the liquor stand and pouring a brown liquid until he reaches the brim of the biggest glass he could fine- then handed that to Boone. He keeps the bottle and swigs straight out of it. Then he holds up a firm finger Boone’s way, as if asking for a just a moment- before swallowing and rolling his shoulders back. “To be quite honest, I don’t know.”

Boone’s eyes narrow, and she slams down the glass back onto the cart- getting sticky grog all over her fingers. “You don’t know!?- “

“And, neither do you, love.” That ‘love’, comes out tense and just bordering on insincere- like every time he calls her that. Boone’s teeth grind and she glares back under the duress of Georges most dangerous gaze.

“I know what I think, George.” She refuses to do the disguising-hostility-with-pleasantries thing, with him. Its bullshit and she, of all people, doesn’t deserve to cop it from him- she’s different. How dare he.

For a moment they just stare eachother down, or try to. But they’re an even match, and neither back off- not for good long minutes. Then, and they don’t quite know what happened, but one relaxes before the other - Buckman before Boone or Boone before Buckman? They’d both tell a different story, -. Shoulders fall and Boone chews the inside of her cheek, frustrated, while George sighs and picks up a napkin; Using it to wipe her fingers clean of the mess she made in her little spark of anger, earlier.

It was�� almost like you were really there. Whenever they would fight, you would be the one to de-escalate sparring matches between these two. You’d touch a hand gently to his shoulder, or tuck some hair behind herear softly, and with just a couple magic words they would figure it out or swallow the heat down. And that’s nearly what that inexplicable moment, felt like. Almost like you were haunting them- when they were the ghosts, here.

And they said, when they realised that you were really gone, that they would figure out how to calm things down themselves. But they never did.

Neither of them speak it out loud, but the feeling is there.

You’re with them, somehow.

“One day… we’ll get to ask her.” George says quietly, a rough tone in his voice still but calmer; Lacking any hostility, now. Boone grits her teeth, once again. The thought of seeing Y/N again now a source of stress rather then comfort. She bows her head, sighing through her teeth.

“… I still love her, George. I don’t wanna lose her.”

His grip around her hand is tight, now, finished cleaning them both up. “We won’t.”

… She nods, determined. If its true… they’ll fix her. They’ll fix it. They’ll do whatever they have to.

But first- Innocent until proven guilty.

#Poly!Mayor Buckman and Granny Boone x Fem!Reader Oneshot #Poly!Mayor Buckman and Granny Boone x Reader Oneshot #Poly Mayor Buckman and Granny Boone x Reader #Poly!Mayor Buckman and Granny Boone #Mayor Buckman #Granny Boone #Oneshot #Mayor Buckman x Reader #Mayor Buckman x Fem!Reader #Granny Boone x Reader #Granny Boone x Fem!Reader #2001 Maniacs #2001 Maniacs x Reader #Horror Villains #Horror Villains x Reader

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slashingdisneypasta · 3 years ago

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Poly!Younger!Mayor Buckman and Granny Boone x Fem!PleasantValleyResident!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Buckman, You’re Going Back To Jail

Plot: Basically ‘You’re Going Back To Jail’ from Bonnie & Clyde except Blanche is split into two (You and Boone). This is set before the massacre (You’re all also, like, 20 years younger. I imagine this happening long before Buckman ran for Mayor)

(For those who haven’t heard the song before) Basically, Buckman escapes prison and neither you nor Boone are about it and send him back- you love him, but you refuse to live in fear of the law.

Warnings: I think its pretty tame.

~~~

After a quick hug, because of course I missed him, I pull back up and, chewing on my bottom lip nervously, pick up a rag and start wiping down tables distractedly. Just for something else to focus on then what’s, unfortunately, but definitely, about to come out of my mouth.

This is going to be… awkward.

As Boone continues to excitedly assess her husband and dote on him, surprised as I am to even see him right now seeing as he’s supposed to be in prison, I start to speak up- albeit, quietly. And without looking at them; Rather the crusty bit I’m attempting to scrape off a table. First though I take a deep breath, to gather my wits. Okay, so… “… We can’t spend our whole lives hiding, George. Absolutely not.” I sigh silently, and stand up from the table- setting a hand on my hip, and shaking my head. Lord, this is awkward… But- “That ain’t no way to live. Its time to wipe the slate clean- ask the good lord to forgive.”

As Buckman tilts his head slowly to the side, evidently baffled by what��s coming out of my mouth and not quite putting two and two together yet- Boone steps back and sets him with a stern, non-plussed look on her face.

Setting her hands sternly on her hips like she’s scolding him, she bluntly translates for me: “George- you’re going back to jail.”

His expression immediately switches to one of total horror, looking between us- and I’d laugh at it if we were in another… less delicate… situation. He’s totally confuzzled. “What the hell are you talking about!?” He blurts, shrinking away from us a bit like we stung him.

Worrying my bottom lip again, I cross my arms. “I won’t be scared to turn a corner, or to open the front door.” I shrug. “When you’re on the side of justice, you don’t have to be afraid of the law.”

Boone nods, pleased with my words and determinedly crosses her arms over her chest. “Mhm, now you pull yourself together, because you’ve gone pale.”

“You’re going back to jail.” I reiterate, raising my brows at him- stern. No room for argument.

Again he looks between us, panicked. “Sweetheart- love- you don’t know what it’s like in there!” He points a thumb behind him, eyes wide. “It’s awful. Nothin but gruel every day, and- “

“- We know it’s hard to share a cell, when you got nothin’ to look at except prisoners who smell.” Boone scrunches up her nose, as if smelling it right now, but her eyes do soften slightly and she does uncross her arms.

I sigh, and uncross my own arms. “… But when you’re done, and you’ve served your time, we’ll still be young and in our prime.” I assure him, grinning a little and winking- hoping to get a bit of a smile out of him. He double takes, fighting against the urge to do so before shaking his head and moving forward, picking up Boone’s hand in his and gathering me up close to him. I sigh, resisting my own urge to relax immediately. Boone on the other hand purses her lips and looks perturbed, a lot better at itthen me.

“Ain’t been free more than a minute, ain’t had time to change my shirt. I’ve been dreamin’ of a hot meal, with you two as my dessert… ” Boone sighs and rolls her eyes at the low brow, slightly dirty remark while I avert my eyes from him turning my head to look entirely away before Buckman just takes a hand and makes me look back at him- realising of course that I am, as always, the less inclined to slapping him for these kinds of antics. His eyes are soft though, and I do feel guilty for wanting him to go back- but its right goddamnit! He’s going back!- “Bring your face close to mine and just let me inhale.” Okay maybe he can stay for a little bit-

Boone puts a hand gently on my arm - a reminder,- and I sigh, going stony faced again for my survival, and watching his hopes and dreams be crushed. She’s right. I know she’s right. Pullin myself together, I set him with a thin lipped look. “George, you’re going back to jail.”

He turns to plead to Boone, then. “But sweetheart- “

“We’ll call the sheriff and tell him you’re turning yourself in right after church, tomorrow.” She states, in deadpan as I nod. Good plan.

Buckman, again, promptly turns to me with his pleading expression as I’m the weaker link, but I cross my arms against him. I may be softer, and sometimes kinder, than Boone but that does not make me weak. She’s just a reallytough act to follow. “But- Y/N- “

“Its gonna be just as hard on me as on you, daddy!” Boone exclaims, earnestly. Her eyes challenge his, which are stuck in an unamused glower back at his wife, before sighing and looking around the bar for someone. Her eyes light up at someone close by, and before I know it- she’s dragging poor Miss Peaches over. “Ah! Miss Peaches! You know what its like havin’ a husband in jail- tell him how hard it is, not having Carl around.” Oh, good angle! Maybe if Buckman hears that we’re going to be so sad without him around, he’ll go a little quieter.

Immediately when Peaches sets her hands on her hips and rolls her eyes, though, I know this was a mistake. Evidently, so does Boone as she winces, looking away from the girl. I swear I hear her mutter a word no good lady should say, before face palming. “Are you kidding!?” Shut up, shut up, shut up!- I glance at Buckman to see his eyes narrowing, before slowly turning wide in horror as she continues to speak. “It’s a treatto get my nails done, and have time to read a book. Sure beats washing his long johns. It’s a pleasure not to cook- “

Rubbing her temples, Boone makes a disappointed ‘hm’sound. “Okay, that’s enough.” If it were anyone else, like Buckman or I, that tone would’ve had her slapping her jaw shut immediately.

But Peaches isn’t done, and she doesn’t seem at all bothered by the dark, carefully calm tone Boone’s using. I wince. “Thank God those prison walls are far too tall too scale- my darlin’s nice and safe in jail.”

Oh boy. The cherry on top.

I facepalm myself, as Buckman leans into me a bit more. “… I don’t want her comin’ round here no more… “Neither do I.

“Well,” Boone tries again, almost hopelessly. She looks to me and I just shrug, a look that’s just as concerned as she feels on my face. “Well… Trish’s husband’s been in jail for two yearsand she’s miserable, without her man!” Oh we’re doing this again? I can only hope Trish likes her husband more then Peaches seems to like hers.

Trish, at the same table as Peaches was, nods morosely. “Mhm!” Maybe… this’ll… be better? But neither Buckman, Boone or I have super high hopes, as we listen cautiously. I’m already wincing. “At first, I really missed him!” Boone immediately drops her face in her hands and deeply groans, and Buckman hides his face in my shoulder. Ohh, boy. “I thought I would waste away… But then I met his boy from Tucson, and he owned a Chevrolet.”

“Oh no… “It’s like a gosh darn train wreck.

“- He had a lotta things that my Joe lacked.”

“Okay Trish- “Boone tries to intervene again, but Trish just goes right on like Miss Peaches did.

“- Like teeth and hair and cash, to be exact!” I give a wobbly smile, because this is going so badly, to Buckman’s already receding hairline and sigh as he presses his forehead more firmly into my shoulder and grips the sides my dress tight in his fists. Good grief, how much worse can this get?

I raise a hand, in a ‘stop’ gesture, and try gently to deescalate the situation. “I think you’re done?- “

Trish smirks, but otherwise ignores me. “I now got lotsof habits I can’t curtail.” I wouldn’t sound so proud of that, girl, I think- rolling my eyes icily.

“Heavens to Betsy.” Boone and I both whisper, the urge to sock this woman in the throat strong as our poor, rejected prison bird of a husband continues to hide in the cotton of my scarf.

“I’ve got to keep him locked in jail.” Trish finishes, thank god, and all I can think is- jesus goddamn christ. You are a horrible wife- and, just, friend in general- Gosh, poor Joe.

“Keep ‘em inside- eh Trish? If we see ‘em once a month we’ll be more then satisfied.” Peaches pipes up again, giggling and making me wonder how exactly Boone and I are going to enact revenge on these women for making our lives harder, when Trish winks back at her, and nods.

“Aint that the truth! Oh- “For a second she has the brains to look sheepish under our burning gazes, before shrugging and flicking back some of her hair. “Don’t mean to be unkind. But can’t put a price on peace of mind.”

A few moments of silence between the five of us follows, in which I glare darkly at the girls, and pat Buckman comfortingly on the back as he refuses to let go - thoroughly paranoid now that we’re going to be glad to be rid of him, of course, - and Boone just stares at the ground. Thinking, I’m sure, how could this have gone so wrong? Idiots- all of them.And I totally agree. The rest of the bar goes on as it was, loud and bustling on a Saturday night. It’s giving me a headache.

Finally, Boone sighs and disentangled her husband from me, allowing me to stretch and shake out the discomfort from that position. She cups his face gently, tucking some blonde hair back behind his ear and looks about as gentle as she ever can, at him. His shoulder’s remain hunched up and stressed out.

“… We aint like these other women. “She assures, holding out one of her hands to me still standing back behind him and I take it; Letting her guide me to stand beside her and I give Buckman a comforting, sad smile. “We’ll wait till kingdom come… I want the world to see that I aint married to some bum.” Boone snaps the last bit, throwing a dig back at the girls. I smirk, before switching back to warm, soft grin- for Buckman’s benefit.

Patting a shoulder, I tilt my head to the side. “It’ll be hard for us, but we’ll come through!”

He groans, loosely crossing his arms and looking away from us. “I can’t believe what you’re askin’ me to do… “

Asking? What have we said that suggested in any way that we were asking him?-

“One thing’s for certain, our love won’t go stale.” Boone jokes, a dry chuckle escaping her as she lets go of my hand, in favour of looping her arm through the crook mine instead. She’s totally right. Our relationship isn’t clear cut- it’s never been easy. Especially with the town’s judgmental, prying eyes. But that hasn’t stopped us. This sure wont. I nod.

He huffs, but at this point is barren of fight and as his shoulders relax and go limp, I know we’ve got him. “I aint going back.”

Fake-sympathetically, I drop a hand on his shoulder. Then tighten my grip. “Oh, yes you are.” Boone nods in agreement.

“Yes George, you’re going back.”

Behind us, Trish and Peaches snigger at each other. “Tomorrow he’ll be back in jail!”

#Granny Boone #Mayor Buckman #Oneshot #Granny Boone x Reader #Mayor Buckman x Reader #Granny Boone x Mayor Buckman #Mayor Buckman x Granny Boone #Poly!Mayor Buckman and Granny Boone x Reader #Fem Reader

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