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hopefuloverfury · 4 months

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Hi moot! Hope you're doing well! <:)

Can i request about pilot harvey meeting the farmer (GN) ? (Those HCs about the bachelors archieving their dreams is living rent free in my head for a while )

Maybe harvey taking a break from aviation after an accident and spending some time in pelican town to rest ? 👀

It could be HCs or a little oneshot, whatever you're comfortable with!

(If Anything just sorry in advance)

Hey moot! This one was a monster, and it took me fucking ages(sorry abt that), but I hope you like it all the same!!

Bachelor/ettes Achieving Their Dreams is here.

3296 words, mentions of scarring, burns, fire, some swearing, and Pierre's relationship with Abigail is pretty... not nice. GN!Farmer, Pilot!Harvey. Half edited, so excuse any awkward phrasing or typos. I tried my best. :') This one is pretty lengthy, so it gets a cut. Enjoy!

When the creatures of the valley are sleeping, and the streetlights lining the town square still glow faintly, Harvey wakes up and starts his day.

Like clockwork, he rolls out of bed to wash the sleep out of his eyes and shock his body awake with a shower. It’s a routine he picked up in the early years of his career, when he was lowest in seniority and always stuck with the longest and earliest flights. Sixteen years later and he still does it, even though there’s no reason to wake up early anymore.

Hopping out of the shower at half past five, he wrings the water out of his curls with a towel, and plucks his glasses from where he left them folded neatly on a washcloth. He wipes vapor off of the lenses with it, holds them up to the light to make sure they’re dry, and then settles them on his nose.

The world turns clear, and a flash of pearly white at the front of his bangs catches his attention. Harvey frowns.

He’s lucky his hairline isn’t receding just yet, but he scowls at how his age is starting to show in the streaks of white, in sharp contrast against the rest of his chocolate brown hair. He flicks a dangling curl away from his brow, and leans in close to the mirror, eyeing his jawline in disappointment. He runs a palm over the curve of his cheek, and sighs.

He needs to shave again.

Well, need is a strong word, because he doesn’t—not anymore, anyway. But old habits die hard.

That takes at least ten minutes, and he’s been shaving every other day for half of his life, but he’s still nursing a nick under his jaw as he walks into the kitchenette. The apartment is cool compared to the sauna he’s made of the bathroom, and his skin blooms with goosebumps when he opens the fridge.

He drags out the almost empty carton of eggs from the back of the top shelf, and pulls a pack of bread from the other side. There are two slices left, not counting the ends. He sighs, and knows he’ll have to pick up groceries from Pierre’s in a few hours when the shop opens. Harvey digs the last of his coffee grounds out of the cabinet above the stove. He’ll need to pick up another bag of those as well, and his head twinges at the thought. His grocery list is getting longer the more he thinks about it.

He shakes the thoughts away. Coffee and food first, before everything else.

He fries up the last of the eggs, toasts and lightly butters the bread, and sits at his tiny dining table with a full mug. The window beside him is closed and the curtains are pulled, but the cloth is sheer enough that he can look outside and see the world slowly start to wake up. There are chittering finches in the tree branches, a brown rabbit hopping through the underbrush of Jodi’s backyard, and if he straightens up enough, he can see pure white gulls gliding over the deep stretch of blue beyond Pelican Town’s beaches.

He eats slowly, gazing out the window as the sun finally rises above the mountains and bathes the valley in soft yellow light.

Harvey smiles and pulls the curtains back. It’s still too cold to slide the window open—the valley is just three weeks out of winter, and you’d have to be a madman to subject yourself to the early morning chill—but the warmth of the sun should reach him through the glass just fine. He picks up his mug and takes a swig, settling in for his breakfast overlooking Pelican Town.

The peace is short-lived, however. By half past 8, his dishes are empty and clean in the rack adjacent to the sink, and his computer is on the table, open to a 3-day-old email from Steph, his coworker. He scrolls up to the beginning of the message and skims over it again.

Hey Harv, just checking in again. How are you doing these days? How are your arms? Has your back healed? I’m sure you’re following doctor’s orders, but I wanted to check in to be sure. By the way, I talked to Ricky yesterday, and he says he’s doing good, but he hasn’t heard from you in months. I don’t mean to pry, and you know I don’t mind the radio silence, but he’s your best friend, Harv... Reach out to him, will you? He misses you. We all do. Even the trainees have been asking about you (I think they just miss getting drinks on your dime though). Take care of yourself, maybe go outside for a bit, you old fart. I’ve heard the weather in the south is lovely this time of year. Send me some pictures, okay? Talk soon.

Harvey sighs and runs an exasperated hand over his face.

How is he doing?

His back still aches occasionally, but Caroline’s aerobics class helps with the worst of the pain, and the burns on his arms healed a long time ago. The scars are a nasty reminder, sure, but his skin doesn’t feel tender to the touch anymore.

Point is, he could schedule a physical tomorrow, and his doctor would clear him for flight by the end of next week—but that’s kind of the problem.

Harvey looks at his coat closet. In the farthest corner, hidden under his uniforms, his model kits collect dust. He threw everything in there when he first arrived in the valley, and he’s pretty sure he’d have to lean all of his weight back just to get the door open. He goes tense when he hears an engine in the sky, but he doesn’t look up anymore.

Harvey pauses.

When did he stop?

He glances at the time, and closes his computer with a sigh. His chair makes an awful screech against the tile as he stands, and he beelines for his dresser, yanking the top drawer open to grab the first barely presentable thing he sees. An old university t-shirt; one of the few with no holes.

He tosses it on his bed, swipes the top pair of jeans out of his hamper, and unravels his robe.

Harvey gets dressed quickly and only spares himself a quick glance in the mirror to check that everything is sitting fine. It’s certainly not the picture of professionalism expected by his employers, but they’re not here, so as long as he doesn’t look like he’s just rolled out of bed, that’s good enough.

Harvey slips on his most comfortable pair of shoes, shoves his wallet and keys in his pocket, and steps outside.

The sun assaults his pupils as he makes his way down the stairs, and he squints against the glare until his eyes adjust. It’s nicer out now, and he breathes in the sweet smell of tulips—Evelyn’s flowers of choice this year for the planters lining the square. The dogwood trees are also blooming, leaving the cobblestone littered with white and pink petals. Harvey closes his eyes and inhales slowly, feeling peaceful.

“Shit!—”

Harvey jumps, his eyes flying open in surprise at the sound of wood thunking against glass, heavy like a gong. A few birds leap from their perches in the trees, and a squirrel dives under a bush. He turns to Pierre’s, searching for the source of the sound, and finds a stranger with a giant crate in their arms, fighting to balance it as they reach for the doors.

Harvey realizes that it is not one, but two crates.

Stacked on top of each other.

One of them is starting to tip over.

“Woah, woah!” They yelp, and Harvey moves without thinking.

The grit of the wood presses against his palms as he heaves the top crate out of their arms, and he looks at the stranger with a smile.

“Uh, hello,” Harvey says. They blink, perfectly silent, and he grimaces. “Sorry, you looked like you were going to lose it.”

It’s not as smooth as he’d like, but it does snap them out of whatever trance they were in.

“Oh, no! Thank you for saving it, it would’ve been bad if I lost that one. It’s, uh.” They smile, and there’s an anxious edge to their voice. “That one’s full of eggs.”

Harvey blinks down at the crate, and then the pavement. “I can’t imagine the mess that would’ve made.”

“Yeah, I don’t think Pierre would ever buy from me again.” They wince. “He probably wouldn’t let me near his shop at all, actually.”

“That man does know how to hold a grudge.” Harvey glances at the doors, the glass glinting and reflecting the bright morning sun directly in his eyes. He blinks hard, willing the after images away. “I’m just here to pick up some groceries, but would you like some help bringing these in?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to, but I’d be very grateful if you did, stranger.” They smile. Something warm settles in his gut at the invitation.

“My name is Harvey,” He says sheepishly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Harvey. I’m the new farmer.” Harvey doesn’t bother mentioning he never met the old one. They nod at the dirt path leading to the bus stop, and he glances over his shoulder. “I moved into the farmhouse down the road a few weeks ago.”

His eyebrows wrinkle a bit. “You moved in a few weeks ago and I’ve only just met you?”

“I’ve been pretty busy. The farm wasn’t in the best shape, so I’ve been clearing the land, and trying to raise enough money to restore the farmhouse.” The Farmer lifts the crate in their arms a bit. “Hence the crates.”

Harvey looks down at the crate in his arms. “How many chickens do you even have? There’s like fifty eggs in here.”

“I started off with two, but I’ve got eight now. They make a lot.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Harvey readjusts the crate, a burn building in his arms. He’s surprised it took so long, though. Maybe the aerobics class is doing more for him than just fixing the back pain.

Harvey nearly topples backward as the front doors swing open, but rights himself at the last moment. The crate of eggs remains safe in his arms, even though the glare that Abigail fixes him with makes his knees weak, and the sword strapped to her hip doesn’t help, either.

“Harvey,” she grits out, and he thinks it might be a greeting?

He doesn’t have the opportunity to reply, though, because she levels the farmer with an even nastier scowl, and storms off toward Marnie’s. Pierre appears just then, keys in hand and a matching scowl on his face. Harvey doesn’t have to wonder where Abigail got it from.

“Fucking brat,” Pierre spits, jamming the keys into the front doors to unlock them as Harvey and the Farmer share an awkward look.

“Uh, rough morning, Pierre?” The Farmer asks.

“That would be the understatement of the fucking century, Farmer.” Pierre waves them in, and Harvey follows dutifully. The general store is always warmer than it is outside, and in the winter that’s a boon, but right now Harvey can already feel sweat clinging to the nape of his neck. He rolls his shoulders back, and that helps only marginally. “What have you got for me today?”

“One crate of eggs, one of produce.”

“Good. Set them both on the counter. I’ll get my scale and ring you up.”

“Yes sir,” The farmer heaves their crate onto the counter beside Pierre’s register, and Harvey sets the eggs beside it as gently as he can. When he looks up, the door to Pierre’s home is swinging shut.

“Wow. This spat must’ve been really bad if Pierre is cursing,” The Farmer muses, crossing their arms and leaning against the counter.

“I've never seen him this angry.” Harvey heaves a breath. “I wonder what happened this time.”

“I'm not close with either of them, so I couldn’t guess.” The Farmer shrugs.

“I didn’t think you were,” Harvey whistles. “Certainly not Abigail, with the way she looked at you. What did you even do?”

The Farmer sighs. “Lewis thinks it’s because she wanted to buy the deed to the old farm, and is pissed that I got it through birth.”

“And what do you think?” Harvey asks.

They shrug again. “I’m not about to hunt her down to find out.”

“She’d probably cut you down if you did,” Harvey says grimly, shuddering at the memory of the sword gleaming on her hip. The Farmer chuckles.

“She could certainly try.” The Farmer rolls their eyes, a smug smile playing on their lips, and Harvey suddenly gets the sense that he is very, very out of his depth. They look at him curiously after the silence stretches for a few moments longer than necessary, and Harvey swallows hard.

“Groceries.” He says intelligently, and the Farmer’s eyes slowly crinkle at the edges.

“That is what you originally came here for.”

“I should go do that.”

“You should.” The Farmer nods, their smile unmoving, and Harvey stiffly makes his way to the end of the first aisle.

He can feel the Farmer’s eyes on him the whole way, his eyes skimming the shelf as he tries very hard to ignore the prickling heat climbing up his neck. He slips out of sight, rubs the back of his neck as the feeling disappears, and starts looking for his coffee.

The door in the far corner of the shop swings open again, and Pierre waltzes back into the store with an easy smile on his face. Harvey really should be used to the mood swings by now, but when Pierre’s entire personality changes with the breeze, the whiplash is enough to leave everything spinning.

“Sorry for the wait, Farmer. My scale wasn’t where I left it.”

“Oh, no worries, Pierre. I’m in no rush.”

“No offense, but I don’t believe you,” Pierre jokes. “You’re always in a rush.”

“Not today, thankfully. I’m spending the rest of the day at the beach.”

Harvey hears Pierre clunk his scale on the counter. “The beach? It’s still a bit too cold to take a dip, isn’t it?”

“Oh no, I’m not going swimming, I’m fishing.”

Harvey’s never been the type to eavesdrop, but the store is small and they’re not even ten feet away, so he doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter, does he?

He frowns. It’s a poor excuse and he knows it.

He refocuses on the bags in front of him, and sighs. Pierre has a small selection of coffee, and it’s expensive, but it’s better than Joja. Harvey shudders. He would rather pour hot wax on his own tongue than buy coffee from Joja.

Harvey grabs two bags of beans, stands up, and plucks one loaf of plain white bread from the top shelf. He glances down at everything in his arms. He probably should’ve grabbed a basket.

“Alright, that's the last of it!”

“Thank you, Pierre, I appreciate it.” Harvey perks up.

“Oh no, it’s no trouble at all. Your farm is already doing a lot of good for the local economy, even with that cursed Joja Mart across the river.” Harvey nearly snorts. No one in town is as vocal about their hatred for the big blue building as Pierre.

“Give it time, Pierre. It’ll close down eventually.”

“In a perfect world, it never would’ve opened in the first place.”

“Have a good day, Pierre,” The Farmer calls over their shoulder, and Harvey tenses when he realizes the sound of their steps is getting closer. Harvey looks up, and the Farmer is smiling at him, half concealed by the rack as they peer around the corner. “Hey.”

“Uh, hi again.” Harvey manages a tiny wave past everything in his arms, and the Farmer’s smile widens.

“Just wanted to thank you again for the help,” The Farmer says warmly. Harvey opens his mouth to reply, wanting to say something about it being no trouble, but they’re already dipping out of sight. Regret sours in his throat.

But then they’re reappearing a moment later, still leaning past the corner of the aisle like they’re in some goofy movie poster, with a basket hanging from their hand. “Need a basket?”

Harvey wonders if the twitch of his lips is visible under the fluff of his mustache, and walks up to them. “I do, thank you.”

“I think this is the least I can do, considering.” The Farmer holds it out to him, keeping the handles out of his way as he dumps the bags of coffee and bread into the basket. “I would’ve lost a lot of income if you hadn’t lent me a hand when you did, so thank you.”

“It wasn’t any trouble.”

“Maybe not, but I appreciate you all the same. It’s nice being out here, surrounded by people who actually give a damn about each other.” Harvey stares at them in surprise. “Even the nicest people in Zuzu wouldn’t have given me a second glance.”

“You’re from the city?”

They nod. “Not by birth, but yeah. I was living in Zuzu for a few years until now.”

Harvey takes in their sunkissed skin, and the sturdiness of their arms. They look like they’ve been in the fields for years. “I never would’ve guessed.”

“That’s probably a good thing.” They hold his basket out again, and Harvey takes it.

“Thank you, Farmer.”

They smile, and the flecks of dirt on their face catch his eyes like diamonds. “You’re welcome. Have a good day, Harvey. It was nice meeting you.”

“You too,” Harvey mumbles as they finally leave, the bell above the doors cheerily punctuating their departure.

It takes him a long time to shake himself out of it, but he manages eventually. Harvey plucks a few extra things off the shelves, and when his basket is appropriately heavy, he makes his way to the counter where Pierre is busy separating eggs into cartons.

“Morning, Harvey,” Pierre greets him familiarly, and Harvey nods his head.

“Morning, Pierre.” Harvey clunks his basket on the counter. “Can I get two cartons of eggs too, please?”

Pierre checks him out quickly, and Harvey is out of there two minutes later with his arms full and his wallet a little lighter.

He climbs up the steps to his apartment, and pauses at his door. He looks up toward the bus stop; squints hard to see past it. The trees block most of his view, but he can still make out the hint of open farmland between the branches. Harvey blinks and turns to his door, his keys jingling obnoxiously between his fingertips as he unlocks it and steps inside. He’s being weird.

He sets his bags on the kitchen counter and starts unloading his groceries.

Later, just past noon, Harvey is sitting in front of his computer, once again failing to type up a worthwhile reply to Steph. He gets a sentence down, maybe two, and then he’s grumbling to himself and deleting everything again. And again. And again.

And again.

Harvey thunks his head against the tabletop in defeat, and groans loudly.

“This isn’t working,” Harvey mumbles, as if the world needed any confirmation.

He sits up, his forehead aching faintly, and looks out the window. Beyond the square, beyond the thick line of trees, he can see the ocean glittering under the sun, deep blue and endless.

All it takes is a tug in his chest, and Harvey gets up, puts his shoes on, and walks out the door.

#stardew valley #sdv #harvey #sdv harvey #pilot!Harvey #sdv farmer #gn farmer #asks #requests #moots <3

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wri0thesley · 1 year

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I’m obsessed with all the jing yuan brain rot today. Just imagining chubby, short-life species reader who finds the dozing general so, so charming. He’s always so busy, but he never fails to make time for them. Drinking tea alongside him in the afternoon false-sun, barely awake as they feel him shift next to them. Mimi snuggled up between them, and the finches chirping nearby. Reader can’t help but wish the moment would last forever.

Sadly, they don’t have forever.

And even if they did, they don’t think a great general of luofu, especially one so intelligent and handsome as master Jing Yuan, would dare want them. After all, few have wanted to appreciate them properly. If the general were ever to show his favor, they’d be far too embarrassed to admit that they have no experience. No way to know how to please him.

But even that is getting ahead of themself. The general deserves someone as wise, worldly, and beautiful as himself, surely.

And yet, reader has no idea that the general has had eyes on no one but them since their first meeting. It’s so rare for someone who lives among long-life species to get to show someone the ropes. Especially someone as tantalizing as dear reader.

ARHRGRRHGH. banging my head against the wall. all of the little moments that you write off as him being kind, not realising that he only ever finds this time out of his schedule for you.

you're the only person he allows to spend his leisurely afternoons beside him - the only person he lets fuss over him a little, though usually he would try and run from anyone. the only person his finches sometimes hop from his shoulders onto - one of the only people who can call mimi and she will come. you don't notice because you're so caught up thinking that of course he doesn't want you that you cannot see what is right in front of you.

the way he rests his chin on your shoulder and hums. the way he smiles at you. the charming way he pours you tea and insists on showing you around the luofu and the way that anyone who has perhaps made an unkind remark or two about you or your body or the way that the general spends so much time with you is soon reassigned to a less pleasant job.

he can tell you are inexperienced - the shyness of your words, the twitch of your lips, the way sometimes he catches you looking and he can practically sense the heat that rises to your cheeks. all of those things are so terribly sweet to him. it eats at him that the two of you cannot have forever when he has so much to teach you. he could retire right now and happily spend the next hundred years buried between your thighs teaching you all of the pleasures his mouth and fingers and cock could bring you--

but he does not have forever. you are clearly far too shy (how adorable) and nervous to make the first move - but jing yuan is a general, a strategist, and he has plenty of plans to put into motion that will get you right where he wants you.

(breathless, gasping, moaning, panting, bare and caged beneath him).

#nat.txt #not sfw text #hsr posting #chubby reader posting

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elizaditton · 11 months

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Too Small To Be Afraid (Chapter 10)

Links:

Cover / Master Post / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

- - - - - - - - - -

Biology is easily my worst subject, but it's made a thousand times more difficult by the feeling I get when my deskmate stares at me from above. At least, I feel like he's staring at me. I haven't been able to catch him yet.

As the teacher rambles on about the makeup of DNA, I begin to doodle absentmindedly in my notebook. A paw here, some jagged fur there, and before I know it I have a crudely drawn Catmium from Stranded. That's when it hits me. That weight. I slowly turn in my seat and look up only to lock eyes with my deskmate. My face gets hot and my heart bangs against my rib cage. I immediately turn back towards my desk. So he was staring at me! Was he staring at me the whole time?! Is he still staring at me?!

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of my deskmate scribbling in his notebook. After a moment, he slides the notebook beside me and taps the page. I hesitate, but end up looking at the notebook.

Is that Catmium?

What?! What does he mean 'is that Catmium'?! I know pertheans have better eyesight than humans, but could he really see a little doodle in my notebook?

My deskmate taps his fingers on the desk, like he's waiting for a response. What should I do?! I cover my drawing with my hand and pull my notebook closer to me, and hopefully out of the boy's sight. I decide to try ignoring him in hopes that he'll just leave me alone. Fortunately for me, it seems to work as he eventually pulls his notebook back towards himself with a sigh and starts erasing what he wrote. I peek behind myself once more to look at him. His eyes are drooping and his brows are upturned. I bring my focus back to the lesson being taught and decide to pay my deskmate no mind.

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

Koronian was the longest class of the day just because I knew it would be the last one. At long last, the day has come to an end and I can say 'nokyer' to this school! Well, at least until tomorrow.

"That went by way too fast," my deskmate says as he walks down the hall. "What do you think?"

I sit still in his hands, yet my heart beats just as fast as when I first laid eyes on him. I keep my head down in silence, ignoring him, hoping he'll stop trying to talk to me.

"Miss Finch? Are you alright?"

"Derrick! Over here!" yells a familiar voice.

I look up and across the hall to the balcony, where Brittney is jumping up and down. I let out a sigh of relief upon seeing her, although seeing her boyfriend standing beside the balcony sends shivers down my spine. Brittney looks so alive and full of energy while he just looks to be... stoic. Maybe even a little dead inside. I have no idea what she sees in him.

My deskmate rushes to the balcony upon hearing Brittney shouting.

"Not so loud," he whispers.

"Oh, right!" Brittney says, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Here, Miss Finch," my deskmate says, placing a finger in front of me, "let's get you onto the balcony."

I reluctantly wrap my arms around his finger, the sheer size of it still somehow managing to take me by surprise. Really, how can anyone be this big? My deskmate lifts me up and places me on the balcony beside Brittney. Once I let go and he removes his hand, all I can think about is bolting for the nearest exit. I know that I shouldn't, however, as that would definitely alert my deskmate to my fear. So instead I stay put, keeping my head down lest I look up at the boys in front of me and faint.

"How was your first day back?" my deskmate asks.

"Boooring! I'm already missing New Year's break," Brittney says.

As Brittney and my deskmate get to talking about their day, the boy beside my deskmate remains silent. I've witnessed him staring at me on more than one occasion. Could he be staring at me now? My hands shake and my legs wobble. I don't want to look, but not knowing for sure is killing me! I slowly tilt my head upwards until I'm looking at the perthean boy right in his narrowed eyes. Yikes! He was staring at me! My gaze shoots to the balcony floor as my complexion turns a bright red. My mind starts racing. What could be the matter? Why would he just stare at me like that? Is he mad at me? Could I have done something wrong?

"What about you, Kaylin?" Brittney asks.

"Oh, me? What was the question?" I respond, snapping out of it.

"Do you have a favorite subject?"

"Oh, uh," I say, pondering for a moment. I'd never really picked a favorite other than art, which this school doesn't offer. "English, I guess."

"That's a good one!" My deskmate says. "I want to teach English one day, maybe in another country."

"I thought you wanted to teach Koronian?" The boy beside him asks.

"I did, but human languages are pretty cool," my deskmate says. "Besides, it would help the rest of Perthea to become more acquainted with humans."

"Awesome!" Brittney exclaims. "Well, although I could stand here talking to you guys all day, I do have a rail to catch, so I better get going."

My heart plummets to the floor. She's going home? So soon? And leaving me here by myself with these two pertheans?!

"I-I have to go, too!" I sputter. "My dad wants me home to help with dinner."

Again, Dad could probably care less if I was home any time soon, especially since it's only three o'clock. If it means I'm hanging around pertheans more, he probably wouldn't care if I'm not home until dark.

"Come on then," Brittney says. "We'll walk out together. Bye, you guys!"

As Brittney and I head for the exit beside us, I let out a sigh of relief. It's over. It's finally over.

"Wait, Miss Finch!" My deskmate says. "There's something I wanted to ask you."

I stop dead in my tracks. With Brittney already through the exit, I'm left alone with the two perthean boys. I turn around slowly, my entire frame trembling, and look my deskmate in the eyes. I swallow hard.

"Y-yes?" I ask.

"It's just that... since we're deskmates now, I was thinking we should do something to get to know each other better. Maybe tomorrow, if you're not busy... I mean, if it's okay with your parents..."

As he rambles on, I wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to stop the shaking. Can't he get on with it already?!

"Do... do you want to maybe hang out sometime?" He finally asks.

Everything stops. All I can hear is the sound of my own heart beating a thousand times per minute.

"I-I..."

I stumble backwards, feeling for the door. Me? 'Hang out' with a perthean?! Never!

"No," I finally say, turning around and running through the door as fast as my legs can carry me. I have to get away. Now.

"Oof!" Brittney says as I bump into her from behind.

"Sorry," I say, still shaken up. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"And here I was talking to myself, thinking you were behind me the whole time!" Brittney says, looking me up and down. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I— well, no."

Brittney's eyes soften. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I sigh as we walk through the hall together. "I guess," I say, rubbing my arm as the shaking starts to subside. "My deskmate asked me to hang out. I was barely able to tell him 'no' and make my escape! I'm relieved I was able to get away."

"You just told him 'no'? That's it?"

"Well, what else was I supposed to say? 'Never'?"

"Kaylin... I know things must be hard for you because of your fear," Brittney says, "but you might want to try and think about how you handle it. You might end up doing something that comes off the wrong way and really hurts somebody."

My heart sinks in my chest.

"So... are you saying what I said was wrong?" I ask.

"Not what you said as much as how you said it and what you did. You ran away, didn't you?"

"Yeah... but what if he didn't like my answer? What if he grabbed me and forced me to hang out with him?"

Brittney glances at me over her shoulder with one eyebrow raised, almost as if to ask why in the world anyone would do such a thing.

"It's just— I was scared, okay? I still don't know him and I don't want to get hurt," I say.

"I know. And there's nothing wrong with that," Brittney says. "But try to remember that your actions, whether you intend them to or not, can affect others. Especially your deskmate."

"Right," I say, following her through the elevator doors and down to the school lobby.

#too small to be afraid #tstba #perthea #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing

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newsies-newsreport · 1 year

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99 things I've noticed in newsies live, but I'm autistic, Part 1:

Feel free to rewatch newsies live and play bingo

1. For some reason, Jack and Crutchie seemed to be sleeping on the fire escape or the roof of some kind

2. The lighting is amazing! The blue lights with an orange background (which is kinda like Jack is blue and Crutchie is orange) but it also show sunrise.

3. This is so random but I know they make the newsies shave their facial hair to seem younger but they made Jeremy Jordan shave under his arms as well.

4. The watch me stand bit is the only part of the musical for the next 30 minutes Andrew isn't smiling

5. Sky and Ben's voices

6. Mush/Nick checking out Albert's/Sky's ass.

7. Finch appears out of nowhere just to yell at Albert

8. Sky seemed to have trouble with his suspenders so they just cut half of it out

9. Buttons had his hat in this back pocket idk if that's important

10. Mike and Ike switch hats and so do Henry and Mush on the other side

11. Crutchie polishing his crutch with his vest

12. Why does Mush have a stick?

13. Buttons scratching his head, the dude has unlimited fleas

14. Buttons just letting the newsies do whatever, also Chaz having to flitch his eyes when Iain throws his had over his eyes, like he's going to hit him

15. Anthony hitting Chaz's head so gently, like bro, what happened in rehersals for them to be so gentle with the dude

16. Specs jumping off the platform

17. Jack tieing Crutchies shoe and sniffing his feet

18. Crutchie stealing Finch's slingshot and shooting him, when Finch comes back to get him, Jack spins him.

19. Tommy boys little skips before Finch's line

20. Henry just disappears from beside Jack as a guy does

21. Smalls and Blink carrying Crutchie, plus, Andy Richardson and Julian DeGuzman are some of the shortest newsies, they were quite literally the exact same height.

22. Iain Young is so much taller than I thought, when you see them all line up before the bridge, you notice he's just as tall as Jordan and Jeremy. Also his hair is so curly I love it

23. Crutchie helping out give out the coffee

24. So unrelated, they probably didn't give Kid Blink an eyepatch because it was a safety hazard. With all the dancing

25. Elmers voice and character in general, he's obviously supposed to be one of the younger newsies

26. Ben's voice

27. Also, Jojo, aka Joshua Burrage just looking off into space, I think he was either looking at a specific audience member or the exit, dude wants to escape

28. Buttons still has fleas, someone help that dude lmao

29. The twins have 0 lines in the whole musical other than ensemble singing

30. Elmer again, just him.

31. Sky's curtain bangs

32. Jeremy encouraging Jordan before his big tumbling solo

33. Also Jordons face omg he's so sweet

34. Jacks goofy walk

35. Why did he punch Crutchie???

36. Crutchie punching Jack back is so funny

37. The twins are quite literally gone, like, they disappear so much in the musical, do they play another character I haven't noticed yet or???

38. Smalls on Henry's back

39. I just noticed which one was Oscar which one was Morris, I always assumed the one with the vest was Oscar cause he was taller and Oscar is the oldest? But no, the one with the suspenders is Oscar, and I swear I'm not the only one that has made that mistake.

40. Jack grabbing Oscars hat

41. Fun fact, Oscar and Morris are Weasles nephews.

42. Literally all Oscar did was push Race slightly cause he was in his personal space, and Morris decides to throw Crutchie to the ground for no reason, Oscar then has to rush over to stop any fight between Race and Morris because his brother was being a moron. Poor Oscar ends up with a crutch to the shin even though he did nothing wrong. Poor bastard did nothing wrong so far lmao.

43. Romeo grabbing his shin like he's the one that got hit

44. Albert carrying Crutchie

45. The Delanceys run into eachother and Oscar let's Morris go down the stairs first.

46. Jack joining in on the jumps

47. Did Les steal a newspaper or a bag, I can't tell? Nvm he just took a bag

48. Albert just disappears after he gets his paper, he also didn't pay.

49. Jordans (Specs) face during 50/50 bit

50. Micheal Dameskis little part in the reprise, literally he's so talented

51. Also Finch in the background already selling

52. Nunzio never finished Pulitzers hair, he just went on to his beard

53. The jazzy twist on "once again is mine" is literally so satisfying

54. Some of the newsies gambling

55. Race just reading in the background

56. When Jack is hugging Miss Medda and they zoom into Les and Davey you see a newsie walking with a woman, it seems like they cut abit of it because it changes character, I can't tell which newsie but I think it's Kid Blink

57. Also Mush just there moving scenery

58. The bowery beauties flying kisses to Davey is literally so cute

59. Davey and Jack looking at eachother when Medda mentions she knows the governor, like "Does she mean-" "Yep-"

60. How does Kara move up and down ladders with that huge ass skirt

61. Katherine gestures to the audience when she says, "go tell them" because the audience are the only people that seem to care about Jacks story

62. Jack starring at Katherine's ass when he said the view is better

63. Jack drew on a news paper

64. Mike and Ike cartwheeling into the darkness and don't come back until seize the day

65. Davey wasn't even late?? Like they didn't even put up the headline?? In Carrying the banner they didn't even let in the newsies before they put up the headline

66. Oscar and Morris actually interested in the conversation cause they probably don't have a mother either

67. I imagine alot of the newsies can't read or do math so that probably why Albert both read and explained how the prices went up

68. Jojo being the only one that doesn't seem to care??? Like he's smiling even at Crutchies "sleeping on the street" comment

69. Specs Fidgeting with his bag

70. Tommy boy making sure he does have a shirt on, not Jack gaslighting him

71. Tommy boy also running away from Les

72. You don't see it but Mush hits Race with his hat, you see him take it off after Race says "can't you smell smoke" then it zooms on Jack and you hear a hitting sound then you see Race holding his arm when he walks back to Jack

73. Les escaping from Davey

74. Also why did Davey try and leave??? Where was he gonna go??

75. I like how the newsies suddenly change their minds and agree to be part of the strike when Jack calls them membership when before they really didn't want to

76. (Skipping world will know) Mushs face when Davey say "Auspicious" also one of his legs on the chair, like dude, sit on the chair

77. Jojo has a rip in like trousers

78. Tommy boy putting on his hat just to not go to Brooklyn, Mush and Buttons doing the opposite

79. Crutchie playing dead

80. Davey not doing anything

81. Davey saying "i got to take care of my mom"

82. All the boys checking out Kathrine, especially Albert, like, dudes putting on his entire rizz

83. Ben/Race checking out Kara/Katherine's ass

84. Tommy's reaction to being called a ragamuffin

85. Specs saluting Kathrine

86. Race checking out her ass AGAIN like dude

87. Tommy nodding alittle when Kathrine asks if they think they have a chance, but the dude was one of the scabbers

88. Albert just being completely dead inside

89. Jesus christ are Nicks eyes blue like, you can see them from here

90. Kathrine still checking out Romeos ass

91. Also I just realised that Romeo doesn't even know the story of Romeo and Juliet so doesn't understand his nickname

92. Smalls pulling himself up on the table

93. Everybody excited about being on the front page, Albert: 😐

94. Not Jack trying to Rizz up Kathrine

95. It actually works at some point

96. Is Jack drunk, like, is this an acting choice by Jeremy or is the character actually drunk?

97. Kathrine is so cute, like, her character is so badly written but Kara made her amazing

98. Skip to before seize the day. "Them brooklyn boys is big" "yeh and Spot-...was impressed" I swear they are making fun of his height here

99. "Are we?" Finch really doesn't want to be part of this strike

#newsies #newsies live #jack kelly #musical theatre #crutchie #davey

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card-queen · 11 months

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9 Lines, 9 People (Tag Game)

Finally getting around to tags~

Tagged by @the-down-upside-finch over on yon post

I finally got around to reworking my Chapter 1 with a looser grip on viewpoint so I can make the reader suffer in advance, so here is part of that new beginning which was ironically, 9 lines.

She stared at him, watching as the light of his eyes faded into nothingness. He was gone and she had learned nothing. Had she been wrong? S̨aera Dauz̨ eased herself into a corner of the tent as the clawing pain of her injuries had grown too intense to ignore, her eyes not once leaving the now dead body of Prince Rhian of Ethelia. She sat still a moment, her entire being ink black against the blue of the Ethelian uniforms and the deep red blood staining every corner of her vision. Frustration knotted her brow as the many irritations she had pushed aside now grew to annoyance. Disgust touched her nose as the stench of the bloody campsite stole her focus. S̨aera sat amongst a gathering of dead men who had tried to aid her, never knowing that she would be their death. Her body, racked with pain, begged to be healed and yet S̨aera remained resolute in her mind, obsessing over what must have going wrong.

There's a non-zero chance that I'll be coming back to this with a chainsaw to fix it up later but honestly, it was struggle enough just to start the new beginning and add the other viewpoint segments.

Hooray for progress, no matter how small right?

Tagging: no one. It Write Month so I don't feel right tagging anyone. But if you see this and want to be tagged: BANG. Yer tagged!

#memories of aether #writeblr #writing is suffering

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auspicious-manner · 2 years

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Hey loved your Riff story! Could you write a story with Race from Newsies, where they hate each other and it gets on everyone’s nerves so Jack partners them up to sell papers. And she gets hit on by one of the Delaney brothers and race gets jealous. And then a romance blossoms from there? I know that’s a lot lmao, Thanks! 💛

thank you so much omg! i love this idea, who doesn’t like a good enemies to lovers story? also, i wrote this with ben cook’s race in mind :)

racetrack x female reader

warnings: minor harassment from the delancey brothers

Dynamic Duo

•

“everybody up, it’s pape-sellin’ time!” jack yelled throughout the lodging house, banging on the sides of each bed as he passed.

Y/N sat up in her bed, lethargic from just waking up and hair completely tangled. she sat on her top bunk as she slowly allowed her mind to follow in the footsteps of her already awake body.

once she felt ready, she climbed off her bed and went to go look for clothes to wear for the day.

Y/N didn’t mind being the only girl newsie as much as one would think. she didn’t mind the work, and when she did it with her good friends jack kelly and albert, her boring job was then made much more exciting.

about two years ago, when she had just entered her teen years, Y/N’s family told her that they couldn’t afford to take care of her anymore. so, they packed her a bag with a few articles of clothing, a dollar, and some small personal belongings. as much as she despised her parents for doing this, she couldn’t blame them. she wouldn’t want herself either if she was using up a lot of money.

she was left on the streets of new york for three days before jack found her in an alley, using her old clothes as a blanket for warmth. jack took her in, introduced her to the boys, and he never asked if she wanted to stay with them and sell papers; he told her she was going to. Y/N was thankful for it, jack was welcoming to her and gave her a job and a place to sleep.

“racer,” jack started, standing in front of his bed. Y/N peered over and saw race still cuddled up under his thin covers, sleeping away the morning. Y/N rolled her eyes. race’s childish and immature personality was one that she was never able to get used to. she surely wasn’t race’s biggest fan.

“racer!” jack yelled, banging on the side of the bed. “i don’t think you wants to go a day without work, get up!”

race woke up shocked and rolled out of bed, falling onto the ground from his bottom bunk with a thump. a few of the newsies laughed, and race got up and dusted himself off. “i was havin’ a good dream, that’s all. didn’t want it to end.”

Y/N gazed at race for a moment too long, and race wasn’t having it. “what’re you looking at me for? take a look at yourself, your hair looks like a bird’s nest.”

Y/N was about to storm over to him, when she stopped and placed her hands on her hair. race was right. she had a large nest of bedhead looped around her head.

she looked back at race. “thank you for informing me, i seriously had no clue. you know race, you truly are a lifesaver.” Y/N said, sarcasm thick in her voice.

race glared at her. “just thought i’d let you know.”

after that, the morning went smoothly. she got ready in her traditional newsies clothes, tied her hair into two braids, and placed her newsies cap on her head. before the newsies went out for the day, jack called everyone together for a quick meeting.

“alright newsies of manhattan, we’re switchin’ things up for the time being. i’ll be pairing you up with new selling partners.”

Y/N smiled, excited to hear her new selling partner. she knew it most likely wouldn’t be jack, even though the two were super close with each other. jack was one to pair people up based on who he thought would sell the most papers, not necessarily who they were close with.

“elmer and jojo, you’re partners. davey, les, and finch. crutchie, buttons, and romeo. mush and specs. albert and sniper. race and Y/N. henry, you’re stuck with me. if i didn’t call your name, stick with whoever you’ve already been sellin’ with. youse all dismissed, go sell some papes.”

everyone who was paired up happily joined their new selling partner, and Y/N and race stood shocked by their pairing.

“jack, what the hell?” Y/N said, catching jack before he found henry. “you know damn well race and i don’t get along, what’s this all about?”

race had then made his way over to jack as well. “yeah jack, Y/N’s the only newsies i’ve ever disliked, and you know that.”

jack looked between the two of them. “look, i’m sorry guys, but you two could learn a lot from each other while sellin’. racer, you’re great at makin’ up headlines that sell. Y/N, you’ve got the stamina for sellin’ through tough days that any newsie would be jealous of. i paired you two up so your strengths can work together, and you can hopefully settle this conflict the both of you seem to have. now, get to work.”

jack made his way over to henry, and the two walked out of the door, leaving Y/N and race by themselves. “this ain’t gonna be fun.” race said.

“nope.” Y/N said back, leaving the lodging house with race on her tail.

the pairing followed the crowd out to the stand where the delancey brothers and wiesel stood selling the papers.

as they made their way up the line, Y/N could tell the brothers were watching her closely. oscar would turn his head and say something to morris, and morris would look her up and down. it made her infinitely uncomfortable, and she tried her hardest to ignore it.

“are the delancey’s lookin’ at you or me?” race asked, whispering so only Y/N would hear.

“me. i know they are. they’ve been doing it for the past few days.” she whispered back.

race nodded, staring the delancey’s down. once they arrived at the front of the line, the delancey’s gave her a smile. “how’s the only girl newsie doing on this fine mornin’?” oscar asked, gathering up some papers for her.

“i was doing just fine until i saw you two.” she replied, waiting for oscar to give her the stack.

“just tryin’ to make conversation, darling.” morris said.

Y/N rolled her eyes and took the papers from oscar and left, race not far behind her.

the two found a spot to sell, relatively close to the brooklyn bridge. they stood a few feet apart, as silent as can be.

“i can’t believe jack paired us up.” race finally spoke.

it took a moment before Y/N realized race was speaking to her. she turned to look at him, and then turned back. “me neither. he knows we don’t like each other.”

a man walked by, and race took this as a good selling opportunity for him. “religious group attacked by mob, killing four! you heard it here first, biggest story of the week!”

the man hurriedly gave race a nickel and took a paper, and left as quickly as he came.

“that was nowhere near the actual headline.” Y/N said, glancing down at the headline plastered on the papers, which read, “flower shop victim to robbery”.

“exciting headlines sell more papes. you gotta do what you gotta do.” race said back.

they went silent again, selling a few more papers between the two of them as the morning went on. by midday, the two had comfortably sold about half of their papers each.

race sighed after hours of silence between them. “how did our hatred even begin?”

Y/N thought for a moment. “i wasn’t a fan of your immaturity from the beginning, and you weren’t a fan of my competing good looks.”

race scoffed. “that wasn’t it. you joined two years ago and had a superiority complex because you were the only girl and jack’s newest best friend.”

“i didn’t have a superiority complex. maybe you were just out to get me or find a reason to hate me because i was a threat to your number one seller spot.” she fired back.

“i could say the same about you.”

the two paused. “well, i’m willing to be the bigger person and settle this feud once and for all. this duo is going to be exhausting if we don’t work this out. i promise to stop having a ‘superiority complex’ if you work on your maturity. deal?” Y/N spit in her hand and stuck it out for race to shake.

race considered the offer and rolled his eyes. “fine. it’s a deal.” he spit in his hand as well and the two shook hands.

the rest of the day went smoothly for race and Y/N, and they were able to strike up conversations that weren’t insulting or threatening to the other person for a change. and, jack ended up being right. they both sold all of their papers an hour before the end of the day, a feat that rarely happens.

once they made it back to the lodging house, jack approached the two. “seems like you two didn’t tear each other apart like you both expected.”

race looked down at Y/N, and gave a gentle smile. “i hate that you were right, jack.”

jack smiled, patting both of them on the shoulders. “youse should both trust me, i’m the leader for a reason.”

after race and Y/N parted ways, albert found her. “how’s my friend doin’ this evening? how was sellin’ with you-know-who?” he asked, slinging his arm around her shoulder.

“you know, it could have been worse. we’ve both mutually decided to put our hatred aside.” she said.

albert sighed. “finally. it was getting tiring hearin’ about your dislike for him.”

Y/N laughed and gently shoved him. “shut up, ‘bert. i had to release my anger to someone, jack never liked when i did it to him.”

night fell over new york city, and the newsies got into their beds to sleep until the next morning.

after race and Y/N’s initial pairing, two more full days of selling went by. some of their conversations during the day felt forced, but the uncomfortable feeling both of them got as a friendship was slowly building faded away as time went on.

like race the night before they were paired together, Y/N had a dream one night. part of her knew it was just a dream, and none of it was real, but it was too nice for her to interrupt.

she dreamt of feasting on all her favorite foods that night. chicken, bread, sweets, and more. it was delicious. she looked to her side and saw a head of blonde hair. is that…race?

“Y/N, wake yourself up you lazy bum!” someone yelled, causing her eyes to shoot open. she laid there for another second, allowing herself to come to.

“wakey wakey!” the voice said again, this time whoever it was started shaking her violently.

“god dammit, i’m up!” she looked over and saw it was race, a cigar hanging out of his mouth. she covered her eyes with her hand tiredly. “racetrack, i hate you.”

“no you don’t, we settled that a few days ago, remember?” race said, smiling.

“any more of this and i’m taking back that promise.”

race climbed down from the ladder by her bunk bed as she sleepily climbed down the ladder after him.

she got herself ready for the day, and met up with race as they walked out of the lodging house together.

after getting in line for papers, Y/N noticed the same thing she had been noticing for the past few days. the delancey’s were, once again, eyeing her.

“can’t those guys take a hint? you don’t want them.” race said. “i mean-uh…you don’t actually want one of them, right?”

Y/N giggled. “no, of course not. they’re assholes.”

“right, assholes.”

once they both got to the front of the line, the brothers said nothing, which was abnormal. every day up until now, they would always say some kind of smart remark. but not today. they just stared her down as she gave wiesel her money and took her papers from oscar.

“that was odd.” Y/N said to race.

“no kidding. i don’t trust what those two are up to.” race said back, uneasy.

they made their way to the same selling spot, a block away from the brooklyn bridge. the energy between the two had shifted, and both of them liked it. their friendly conversations weren’t forced anymore, and in between yelling fake headlines to the masses the pair grew to genuinely enjoy the other’s company. they talked almost nonstop that whole day.

Y/N realized she had judged race too soon. his childish behavior was a front for him, and beyond his immature exterior, he had a big heart and could hold a good conversation.

as for race, he came to realize Y/N was just misunderstood. being left by her family caused some abandonment issues, and it makes sense as to why she latched on to jack so closely when she first came to the newsies. he had saved her from living on the streets.

later into that day, Y/N felt a little something more. was it a fondness for her newfound friendship with race, or was it feelings? she hated that she couldn’t tell, and she hated the fact that if it was feelings, she caught them very quickly. catching feelings at all was a new experience for Y/N, let alone catching feelings within four full days of selling. she knew that the chance of race feeling the same way this early on was slim, so she decided to keep it a secret for the time being.

by the end of the day, they had became each other’s good friends. jack and albert were still Y/N’s best friends, but she felt comfortable saying race was slowly making his way up on her radar. they walked back to the lodging house together laughing about something race had said, and chasing and shoving each other like friends would do.

night fall was coming once again. after a day of hard work, she decided she wanted to visit her old home. she did this every once in a while, just to get some closure on her family whom she still loved. she couldn’t help it. she knew her parents made her leave for a good reason, they needed the money. yet, she didn’t have the guts to see them face to face again. she always thought about knocking on their window to just say hello, but she could never bring herself to do it.

once they arrived at the lodging house, Y/N turned to race. “i know it sounds crazy considering they left me to live on the street, but i’m going to go visit my parents. i do this occasionally, just to bring myself some peace.”

race’s smile fell, and he took his cigar out of his mouth. “i can come with you if you want. i don’t know if it’s the safest idea to go out at night by yourself.” race said.

she appreciated that race was protective, but she knew she was capable of holding her own. “race, i’ve done this before, i promise i’ll be fine. i won’t be gone for long, their place isn’t too far away.”

race sighed, and before Y/N could react, race wrapped her in a tight hug. Y/N was slightly taken aback, but she placed her arms around race a moment later. it felt nice, and the longer it went on, the darker the blush grew on her cheeks.

race pulled away. “stay safe, okay?”

“always.”

race smiled and pat her shoulder before going into the lodging house.

the walk to the building wasn’t too long, about a 15 minute walk. once she arrived, she climbed up the fire escape to the window and peered inside.

she noticed a small light was on in the kitchen, and she saw her mom and dad. she smiled to herself.

but, as Y/N looked closer, she saw that her mom was holding something in her arms. she focused her vision on the figure in her arms, and it clicked. her mom was holding a baby.

a wave of hurt fell over her, and she stepped back from the window. her parents never wanted to get rid of her for financial reasons, they wanted to get rid of her because they wanted a new child.

tears welled up in her eyes, and she quickly and quietly climbed down the fire escape, running through the streets of new york as she uncontrollably cried.

she had just about made it back to the lodging house when in the distance, she saw two tall figures. her running came to a halt as she realized who it was. the delancey brothers.

“oh my god.” Y/N whispered to herself. she quickly tried to hide in a nearby alley to wait for the two to pass, but her efforts were no good.

“well well well, if it isn’t the only girl newsie.” morris said, rounding the corner of the alley.

Y/N wiped the tears off her cheeks and tried to run the other way, but couldn’t when oscar came around the other side of the alley.

“please don’t hurt me, i just want to get back to the lodging house.” she pleaded.

“we don’t want to hurt you, we just wanna talk.” oscar said sweetly.

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “talk?”

“we both think you could do much better than hang around all these garbage newsies all day. being a girl amongst the guys, one of them is bound to catch your eye. we’re here to save you from that.” morris said, stepping closer.

“i don’t need help, i’m happy with my life with the newsies.”

the brothers laughed, both stepping closer to her. she stepped back, hoping to avoid both as much as possible despite being in between the two.

“give one of us a chance. we’d make it worth your time.” oscar stated, winking.

footsteps sounded from outside the alley, and when they rounded the corner, race’s blue eyes immediately met Y/N’s. she then sighed out of relief.

“get away from her. she doesn’t want either of you.” race angrily said, stepping closer to oscar.

“why don’t you let her decide?” oscar said back.

all eyes turned Y/N. “i don’t want either of you.”

the brother’s smirks both fell, and Y/N took this as an opportunity to run out from both of them and behind race.

the brothers quickly approached the two of them, and race grabbed Y/N’s arm and yelled “run!” to her.

they both took off towards the lodging house, the delancey’s not far behind them. they quickly made their way into the house and locked the door, just as the brothers ran into the door. realizing it was locked, they pulled on the door handle, swore, and walked away.

race and Y/N stood out of breath together. once they regained their energy, race turned to her.

all he said was a simple “are you okay?” and Y/N broke down, running into his arms and crying once again. this time, it was race’s turn to be taken aback, but he held her close.

after a few short moments, race pulled away and held her at arms length. “that’s it. from now on, you’re going nowhere alone. the delancey’s won’t bother you again.”

“it’s not just that. i saw my parents, and they had a new baby.”

race’s eyes widened. “but they sent you away because they couldn’t afford to keep you anymore, right?”

Y/N shook her head. “that’s what they told me. apparently it wasn’t true.”

race hugged her again. “i’m sorry, Y/N. i am so, so sorry.”

the pair stood in the same position for a few minutes, before turning around and seeing almost the entire gang of newsies staring at them. they both were lost in their own worlds with each other, and never noticed everyone was staring at them shocked. Y/N found jack and albert in the crowd, sad looks on their faces.

jack caught on, and said, “alright, let’s disperse this crowd. give the two some room.” the room full of newsies all went back to what they were doing.

“want to go back to my bunk?” race asked quietly. she nodded and followed him to his bed.

they both laid down, Y/N tucked comfortably under race’s arm and next to his chest.

“can i tell you something?” she said quietly. she looked up at him from by his shoulder, and race looked down at her nodding. their heads were mere inches apart.

“after being confronted by the delancey’s about dating one of them, i came to the conclusion that the only person i can see myself with is you. i like you, race. it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but i need to know. do you feel the same?”

she held her breath, scared of what race was going to say. race sat looking at Y/N shocked. he sat up, bringing her with him. just as she began to think of the worst outcome, race leaned down and kissed her.

after they pulled away, race said, “does that answer your question?”

Y/N smiled and closed her eyes, resting her head on his shoulder. “yep.”

#ben cook #racetrack newsies #newsies imagine #newsies #racetrack higgins #race newsies #newsies x reader #newsies fanfiction

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rainieclown · 3 years

Text

DEADLY OBSESSION

michael myers x reader - chapter one: new neighbours

you've been in the haddonfield memorial hospital for what felt like forever with ptsd from a robbery gone wrong when a new patient gets thrown in next to you. he's quiet, perfect company if it weren't for the high security around him.

tags: medication, hospital settings, this is before michael gets out of the hospital, orphan! reader btw, it's spoken about more in detail in the fic, michael being a mute for a while, he does speak in this tho, smut, first times, michael being inexperienced, creampie, biting/marking, big dick michael energy, hymen ripping btw

warnings: ptsd themes, therapy, mentions of murder and depression, eventual smut, loss of virginity, mild blood, slight breeding kink on michael's end

a quick note!

if anything related to the ptsd the reader experiences is incorrect/wrong please let me know so i can correct it and learn! i am researching this so i can to write it with the accuracy it deserves<3

three sharp knocks wake you from your nightmare, you sigh at the sight of the ceiling of your hospital room. bland, the room is so incredibly bland. "y/n, medication time!" the nurse that takes main care for you chirps happily through the door, and you let out a wheeze as you sit up and pull on a shirt. "coming." you say, voice monotone and small. opening the door, you see the nurse with a tray, but what does capture your eye is the guards standing by a door nearby. "miss burnham, what's going on there?" you quirk a brow, taking your sertraline from miss burnham as well as the glass of water. "oh it's just a new patient, don't worry." the nurse brushes your question off with a kind smile as she takes the now empty glass back. "come on, breakfast then art therapy!" she beams, gesturing for you to follow her. you glance at the door again, before leaving with miss burnham.

breakfast is bland too, no sugar in the porridge, no fruit, no juice. it's so distastefully bland that you want to push it away but you don't want to get told off for not eating by mrs finch who was the more strict nurse that worked on supervision in the more social places, most of the time anyway. miss burnham sits across from you, reading over your schedule from her clipboard. "so, after art therapy is your free period, what do you want to do then?" she asks, looking up at you. "can we watch a movie with the others?" you ask softly, and miss burnham's eyes brighten. "you want to socialise today?" she beams and you sigh, taking a sip of water. "sure." you say softly, glancing around the cafeteria. "that's amazing, that will make outstanding progress!" she smiles, resting her cold hand on yours but pulls away when you flinch. "sorry, i forget." she says softly, but you sigh. "it's alright." you say, spotting a scruffy teen who looked to be the same age as you being directed to an empty table.

miss burnham hums and turns to see what you're looking at. "oh, that's mr myers, he's your new neighbour." she says when she turns back to you. "he looks interesting." you say, observing the cuffs on his wrist. myers plops down at the table, ignoring the bowl they put in front of him. "hmm, stay away from him. he seems to be under high security." miss burnham says, turning back to look at myers. the boy's eyes flicker to yours and your breath hitches, a sense of mild panic rising in your throat. "if you're done, we can go to the yellow room to do some painting with doctor piers." burnham says softly, pulling your attention back to her. "sure.." you mumble, and follow her out the door, past myers who watches you the whole way.

doctor piers is a happy man who greets you loudly. you don't like his suffocating energy, so miss burnham sits you down in your quiet corner and gives you your sketchbook. you sit quietly and draw things from your childhood, things that make you happy, all while miss burnham actually colours in a colouring page with the pencils you use. you felt peaceful with her by your side, she was like your big sister considering she was close to your age. "ooh, i like him." miss burnham smiles, tapping her nail next to the rough sketch of snufkin from the moomins. "thanks..." you reply quietly, letting the nurse push the pencils to you so you can colour him in.

for once, you don't feel alone... don't feel isolated with your thoughts and bad memories. miss burnham is your safe place, your new family. "so, y/n. are you interested in anyone in particular that you want to befriend?" miss burnham asks, the scratching of her pencil on paper stopping as she leans forward as if the two of you were gossiping about crushes. "not really... just think it's good to try and ease myself back into being around people other than you." you shrug, putting the green pencil down to pick up a yellow one. "that's still good. do you want to try and finish the drawing of him." she asks, flipping the page carefully to the recreation of that fateful night. your breath hitches as you stare at the charcoal drawing of the man standing over your mother. "what else do you remember, if there's anything else?" burnham asks, watching you carefully.

it comes back in waves, it was supposed to be a robbery, your family was in the wrong place at the wrong time, the blood spatter, the ornament that was used as a weapon dripping with the red substance. tears fill your eyes as you let out a shuddery breath. "no." you say firmly, wanting to push the book away. "are you sure, you haven't drawn any facial features for him.. it will help the investigation a lot." your nurse reminds you, and your hand tightens on the pencil. "i don't want to!" you snap, getting up abruptly, chair screeching back. "okay, okay. deep breaths." burnham stands too, fighting the urge to gently rub your arm soothingly. "i don't want to think about it." you hiss, storming off. nurse burnham calls after you, and doctor piers looks up to see you making a run for it. "y/n, wait!" he tries, but you swerve him and run out the door.

nurse burnham can't keep up in her high heels, and you outrun her easily, making your way to your room after losing her. you're alone again, and you catch sight of myers, sat in his room just as alone as you are. the guard is talking to doctor loomis, a man who gives you the creeps. seeing an opportunity to get past, you slip into your room quickly, once again isolating yourself. in his own room, michael had spotted you through the glass on his door, and he walks up, peering into your room as best he can. "hey! back up, myers." the guard bangs his door, now without loomis's presence, but michael doesn't move. he's unfazed by the guard's aggressive nature. the noise spooked you, you looked like a deer in headlights as you stare back at him.

you seem... disturbed by something, and that upsets michael. the feeling in his chest, to grab you and hide you from the world grows at the look in your eye. michael's hand finds the door, and he yoinks it open once the guard unlocked it in an attempt to push him back into his cell. "hey! what're you-?" he cuts the guard off, knocking the man out easily. his body hits the floor as michael opens your door easily. you gasp, back hitting the corner of your wall as you tried to make yourself as small as possible. "please, don't hurt me! i didn't do anything!" you yell, and michael shakes his head as he closes your door. "leave me alone." you repeat the three words like a prayer, voice quieter as your hands grip your hair with stress. "i'm not going to hurt you." michael rasps painfully, shocked at how deep his voice had gotten in comparison to the last time he spoke.

his words don't seem to get through to you, and he grows mildly annoyed. eventually, michael sits next to you and pulls you into a tight hug, hoping it would help as he had no idea what to do. you yelp in surprise, breathing slowing with confusion as you look up at the brunette with furrowed brows. "i-.. what..?" you stumble for words, but michael doesn't say anything, his empty eyes observing you. "thank you..." you mumble, once you calm down, and michael nods. "what's your name..?" you ask quietly, and michael continues to stare before answering.

"michael." he rasps, pointing at himself. "nice to meet you, michael. i'm y/n." you reply, eyes averting from his anxiously. michael sits with you as you start thinking. more intrusive thoughts break in, and you can't help the small whimper that escapes you as you rub your forehead. michael tilts his head, observing you. "sorry... it's just..." you sigh trying to find an explanation that didn't include what you thought of. "do you ever get intrusive thoughts?" you ask, finally looking at michael. the other teen nods, and you deflate with relief, he'd understand you. "they suck, don't they?" you chuckle half-heartedly, and michael shrugs. "oh, do they not bother you as much?"

he doesn't reply, and you nod slightly. "want me to show you around? i need to take my mind of things." you suggest, getting up and looking at the boy on your floor. michael seems to think for a moment before nodding and following you. you step over the guard carefully, and gesture for michael to follow you. the click-clacking of heels makes you grab the other teen's hand as you pull him around a corner. "shh! they'll be looking for me." you can't help but smile at the make-shift game of cat and mouse. it's been a while since you got to play games. michael blinks at you, letting you lead him around. "this is the rec room, it's the best room here. if you have a free period this is the best place to go. they let you watch anything they have." you smile, creaking the door open carefully.

doctor addison spots you and rushes over. "nurse burnham is looking for you." he whisper yells and you nod. "i'm showing the new guy around so shh!" you say, putting a finger up to your mouth. "it's good to see you getting out of your comfort zone. if i see her i'll tell her you're helping doctor loomis." he winks, and you smile slightly. "thanks addison." you say, pulling michael away from the room. "who's that?" michael's deep voice makes you jump. "oh, doctor addison? he's so cool, he'll give you snacks for after hours." you smile up at him, and michael notes the personality of the doctor. easy target to begin with. "you've seen the cafeteria so let's go to the gardens next." you say, peering around a corner carefully before ducking back, your back bumping into michael's chest. "my nurse is coming, quick, we can hide in here!" you whisper yell, pulling michael into doctor addison's office.

you close the door carefully, and michael observes the room. the decor is very vintage yet comfy, it suits the doctor quite well. you press your ear to the door carefully, listening as miss burnham speaks to doctor addison. you gasp as michael pulls you from the door, hand grasping your wrist. "are you alright?" you ask carefully, looking up at the brunette who didn't seem bothered. he shrugs, simply holding you near to him. your presence stirred something in him, and he didn't know if he should kill you or hold you closer. michael spots a candle stick, and his eyes dart from it to you.

michael lets out a silent breath as he decides on the latter, tugging you into his chest. your breath hitches as you hit his large frame, and your eyes come back to him. craning his head down, michael buries his face into the crook of your neck. you make a small noise, unsure of what to do as he takes in your scent. "uh... michael?" you furrow your brows, hands raised awkwardly as you didn't know where to put them. "shh." he hushes you, hands finding your hips. "what are you-?" your question is cut off by his lips grazing your neck, and it all clicks into place.

your body froze up, michael made a silent note of this. "i- uh.." you stammer as he continues to kiss your neck. "fuck, michael. we shouldn't do this." you say softly, glancing to the door. michael hushes you as his teeth nip your skin, he was testing the waters with you. your knees felt weak as your eyes fluttered shut. it had been so long since you had got to do anything like this, since you got to feel like a teenager. your hand find's michael's fluffy hair as you move his head closer to you.

taking the small success, michael sinks his teeth into your neck fully. the feelings in his chest explode as he finally marks you, suckling the dark bruise onto your skin. you whimper at the feeling, your other hand resting on his chest. eventually, his lips move again, and they find your jaw. you hum, letting him press closer to you as his lips kiss up your your own. when your lips meet, michael's inexperience really shows, he doesn't really know what to do so you take the lead.

eventually, his lips copy your movement as his hands tighten on your hips. you hum into his mouth, fingers gently stroking his scalp as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. it felt right, and you didn't know why. eventually, when michael pulls away, you gaze into his eyes and notice the scar over his right one. "oh, what happened?" you ask, fingertips gently grazing over the scar on his eyes. upon closer look, his iris was paler than the other, and you guessed his vision was poor from the one eye. you're not able to get a closer look as michael kisses you again. you hands cup his face as you melt into him, lips moving against his fluently. michael moves with you, and you gasp as your lower back hits the desk in the room. the other teen's strong hands lift you and plop you down so you're sitting on the hard wood of the table.

your arms wrap around michael's neck to kiss him again, and he's happy that you're slowly beginning to show interest in him. you make a small noise as michael pulls your legs around his waist, standing between them with his pelvis pressing against yours. teasingly, you shuffle your hips against him as you kiss him again. michael growls softly, grinding into you as he grasps your thighs roughly to stop your movements. "i've never done this before." you admit, keeping him close as he hums. "me neither." he shrugs, kissing you again. you feel eased by michael's lack of experience, it felt like the two of you were experimenting together and that comforts you.

eventually, michael's fingers find the waistband of your pants and you whimper as he tugs them down easily. "no underwear?" he chuckles softly, and your cheeks heat up. "some of us don't have that luxury." you mumble, averting his gaze. "it's fine." he shrugs, fingers brushing over your slit. you gasp at the feeling of him spreading you open, and can't help but move your hips against his digits. his middle finger teases your wet hole, and you whine when he collects some of it to bring into his mouth. you feel slightly embarrassed as he suckles your pleasure off his finger with no shame before moving his hand back down to rub his fingers over your slit again.

your smaller hand finds his, and you guide his fingers to your clit with a small moan. catching your meaning, michael's rough fingers start rubbing small circles over your bud. you gasp, back arching into him as his fingertips stimulate you. "fuck, michael!" you whimper, hands grasping his shirt to pull him closer. he hums at your words, moving so his thumb abused your clit whilst his fingers slowly pushed your hole open. you whine as his fingers press into you, your hymen stretching uncomfortably. "michael, please- i need you." you whimper, letting him lay you back on the desk. removing his hand from you, he pulls down his own pants, erection springing free.

you freeze slightly at his size, unsure if he'll fit. michael notes your uneasiness as rubs your outer thighs softly. you smile nervously as his tip rubs against your cunt, your hands grasping his anxiously as he slowly pushes into you. you wail as his cock rips your hymen, and michael smiles as your blood slowly smears his cock. "it hurts!" you whimper, grabbing his arms tightly with discomfort. michael shushes you, and gives you small kisses until you stop whining. once you've settled around the intrusion and your pussy adjusts to his dick, you give him the nod to say that you're ready. michael slowly pushes in so that he's fully sheathed before pulling out half way. you whimper at the feeling, pleasure slowly overtaking the dull pain you still felt.

eventually, michael finds a medium pace in you, smiling as his cock bobs through the skin of your stomach. you whimper, holding michael's arms even tighter as he fucks into you. "oh fuck..!" you yelp as his tip protrudes from your abdomen. "sh." he replies quickly as your back arches off the table. "fuck, michael- oh!" you press your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans as he speeds up. eventually, his hand moves and starts rubbing fast circles on your clit. you gasp and keen loudly behind your palm as your thighs tremble around his hips. michael grips the flesh of your outer thighs tightly as he adjusts your legs towards you at an awkward angle. despite the weird position, you moan loudly as his cock pushes deeper into you, his tip kissing your womb.

michael hums at the feeling as his hand gets tired of stimulating you, so as a substitute, he brings his hand down onto your swollen bud harshly. you wail at the sting of his slap, pleasure rolling through your body. taking that as a good sign, michael waits before slapping your clit again harder. unexpectedly, you cum on his cock as you shudder and tremble under him. your cunt squeezes michael's cock tightly, preventing him from moving. the way your gummy walls grip him as you twitch around him is too much, so michael pushes into your womb so his cum filled you up.

you gasp at the feeling of his hot seed spilling into you, and michael seems to be loving it because when you come down from your high and loosen around him slightly, he's fucking his cum into you. you can't help but let out a small noise with every thrust, whimpering when michael stops, satisfied with how deep his cum had gone. your womb drinks up his seed nicely as you let michael grab your hands to pull you up into a sitting position. slumping against him, you nuzzle into his chest, your eyes becoming droopy with exhaustion. he grins at your sated state, pulling your pants up for you. once he is dressed as well, he picks you up carefully to bring you back to your room to rest.

michael ignores the nurses who try to stop him, marching past them as he carries your sleepy form to his room instead. he didn't know much, but he did know that only armed guards as well as doctor loomis were only allowed in his room for safety reasons and it was his best bet of keeping you with him. carefully opening his door, he closes it behind him with his foot and watches as the nurses stand anxiously peering through the window. he puts you down carefully on his bed, letting you settle as he sits down. his eyes find the nurses, one of them had left, probably to get security or doctor loomis. rolling his eyes, michael moves his attention back to you. you had already dozed off, and michael looks down to your stomach. the idea of you being swollen with his child excites him, a true marking. however, his hatred for children conflicts that, and he feels slightly frustrated.

three sharp knocks on the door can be heard, and michael lazily looks back over. doctor loomis is standing there, and he looks furious, but michael will stand his ground for you.

#michael myers x reader #michael myers #halloween resurrection

154 notes · View notes

sp00kworm · 3 years

Text

Black Oak (Part 2)

Pairing: Alcott Glyn (Headless Horseman) x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Body Horror, Murder

PART 1

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The police arrived about an hour after you had woke-up the whole village screaming. Peswick was far away from the nearest city’s response, and you sat shivering, wrapped in a blanket from the house, clutching it close as Mrs Shaw rushed to bring you a hot drink. She and her husband were dressed, but neither went into your house. They rushed back home, bringing you a cup of tea from their own kitchen along with a foil blanket for the shock. You weren’t allowed to touch the body, and you tried to ignore the swinging noise of the corpse as you sat perched on the front doorstep to your home, sniffling into the cup of tea. The police took off their hats as they stepped past your gate, and you watched as the crime scene investigation and forensic van pulled up behind them. The two officers nodded at Mr and Mrs Shaw before smiling as best they could.

“Would you like to come with us, please?” The male officer asked gently, “Lets go inside and we’ll get your statement of events, okay?” The female officer with him looked back at the tree and swallowed hard as Forensics suited up to remove the body and take evidence.

“Come on, Sully.” He ushered his companion as he helped you to your feet and nodded to your neighbours. He whistled and smiled as he opened the door for you, “Nice old place you’ve got here.” He complimented kindly, the corners of his eyes wrinkled with crows’ feet, “Mrs Finch used to live here. Are you a relative?”

You shook as the officer led you gently into the front room, “It…She was my aunty, distantly.” You whispered as you eased yourself back onto the sofa, clutching the lukewarm tea tightly, as though it was a lifeline in your grasp.

“She was a kind woman. Made a lot of oils out of her garden, but she had nothing but trouble and vandalism with this place. Kids used to make a mess of the sides of the house regularly.” He tipped his head to the wall where the fireplace was, “It was always on the chimney. She never did anything, but the kids called her a witch and all that trollop.” He shook his head.

“You haven’t introduced yourself.” Sue gave him a lopsided smile as she pulled out the clipboards full of paperwork to be completed.

“Ah, so I haven’t!” The officer dipped his head, “I’m Officer Perks.” He pointed to the blond woman with him, “And this is my partner Officer Sullivan.”

You nodded shakily licked your lips, “It was nice to meet you. Thank you for coming. I know...Its far.” A breathy sigh left you as Sullivan took out her pens from her vest and smiled.

“We just need an account of what you did this morning and if you knew the victim.” Percy offered as he sat on your couch, “Spare no details. Even something small to you might be important to us.”

Conflict burned in your throat and gut as you thought about what had happened, “I don’t remember anything of relevance from last night. I spent the night in bed. I’ve only just moved in, so I was exhausted.” You took a shuddering breath and continued, “I went out this morning to the tree and…and I looked up… and he was hanging there, without his head.” You looked into the tea in your hands, noting that it was now ice cold.

“How long have you been here?” Sullivan asked as she shorthand filled in the details on the paperwork, “You said you moved in recently?” Perks looked from the paper to you and smiled reassuringly.

“I moved in yesterday afternoon.” You whispered and Sullivan gave you a pitying look.

Perks shifted against the cushions, “Did you have anyone with a grudge against you or motive from where you used to live?” He asked.

“No one that I know of.” You answered as you put down the cup of tea, fighting the tears and upset.

“Okay so what time did you find the body?” Perks asked. You took a deep sigh and continued to answer the police officer’s questions well into the afternoon.

Perks and Sullivan could drink their weight in tea, it turned out, and you offered them many drinks over the course of the few hours. They had a couple each, pens scratching papers as they took notes and an official account of the events for the records. You looked out of the window as Sue and Percy signed the bottom of the page. Crime Scene Investigations were hoisting the body down from the thick black branch of the oak, working to preserve the noose he was swinging by. Three people held the corpse up as they cut the rope carefully, keeping the knot intact and bagging the rope before they got the body down into the bag on the stretcher.

“He’ll need to go to pathology to determine cause of death…though I think I have a pretty good idea.” Sullivan whispered, trying not to be heard as she eyed you sat across from them. Perks rolled his eyes and elbowed his colleague.

“Here. Let me draw the curtains.” Perks stood and reached for the curtains before drawing them over the forensics team dragging the body into the bag, impassive to the blood that stained their tunics and gloves.

“I think we have everything.” Sullivan announced as she stood up and took hold of both their mugs, “I’ll put these in the kitchen for you.” She offered with a small, pathetic smile.

Perks nodded his head as Sullivan as she left towards the kitchen. You heard her bang the cup on the countertop before you tugged the blanket closer and shifted uncomfortably.

“Thank you for your cooperation today.” Perks took his hat and tucked it under his arm, “I know these kinds of cases are very difficult to talk about. I have this card for you.” He held you out a green printed business card, “That’s the helpline for a couple of organisations and the other side has someone you can seek out if you would like some help talking through all this.”

You looked at the numbers vaguely before nodding and placing the card on the coffee table, “Thank you.” You replied quietly before Perks replaced his hat on his head.

“We’ll see ourselves out. Thank you once again and good afternoon.” He looked at his watch before he opened the lounge door and quietly exited.

Sue scoffed at him in the hall, “Come on. We’ve got these reports to write up.”

“Coming, coming.” Perks grumbled, “Nothing wrong with being nice. They just witnessed a damn corpse…” The voices trailed off as the front door closed behind the two of them with a bang.

Silence.

You looked to the curtains and stood up, letting the blankets finally fall from your shoulders as you fisted each side of the heavy curtains. They were old and embroidered with curling leaves. You tugged them open with a heave and watched the police vans trundle away back down the old stone roads, back towards the hills where they had come from this morning. With a deep breath, you tied the curtains back before taking one last long look at the gnarled, black oak in the garden, and heading towards the stairs for a shower and to get dressed. You hoped that a shower would wash away the sticky feeling of malaise on your skin and mind. Hot water usually purged bad thoughts, or so you hoped as you tried to erase the memory of the swinging corpse from the shrivelled branches of the old oak tree.

You shivered through the house after your shower, wrapped in a jumper and heavy jeans as you tried to navigate the halls without looking out into the garden. The memory of the body lingered with the burning feeling of the heavy box in the other room, filled with an old skull. It was a skull inside. A perfectly preserved ivory skull. The teeth were yellow with age on the enamel, and you looked to the table where the muddy box sat with the key in the lock. The headless creature had moaned and groaned as its head screamed from the other room. You turned and looked at the ornate metal decorations before daring to turn the key again. The lid popped open and flew back to reveal the skull again.

It sat perfectly still on the cushion, staring at you with empty eyes. With a deep breath, you dared to reach out and touch the skulls surface. It didn’t move. No magical energies tore out of the eye holes. It was perfectly still. It was just a skull. But the memory of it screaming and cursing inside the box was burned into your memory and you carefully picked the skull up, cushioning the bottom of its jaw before your strokes over the place where the eyebrows had once been when it was a man. It had to belong to the headless horseman, but why your aunt had it locked away in her home was another question entirely. You held the skull up to your eyes and peered into the bone of the eye sockets as you pondered your decision. There was a glimmer of gold inside the mouth which caught your eyes, and you dared to open the jaw wide enough to snatch at the shiny object. It was a single heavy golden coin which had been wedge between the back teeth. You looked at the old print and then quickly replaced it, wedging the jaw back shut as you placed the skull away on its pillow.

It sat and stared at you, and you stared at it, wondering what happened last night as you clutched at your head and sighed. You slammed the lid closed and snapped the lock closed before you placed the box in the centre of the table.

“What the fuck were you up to aunty?” You asked the air as you rushed to the kitchen to make yourself another drink. As you set the water to boil you continued to curse, thinking about the headless man who what invaded your home chasing the poor man who had ended up hanging from the tree in your front yard. The head had screamed ‘witch’ from its confines, but you had no knowledge about what it could mean. You took the hot water and made a drink before looking at the last few boxes of unpacking and scoffing, deciding that the day would be better spent researching what had slaughtered the man and hung him from your tree.

The village library was barely a few bookshelves put together and you sighed looking at the poor collection of books before you dated to approach the old librarian sat next to the desk. She had her own book open, some trashy romance novel set in the Victorian era, and she looked engrossed as she flipped the page and took another bite of her current tea cake.

“Hello?” You asked quietly in front of her.

The librarian jumped in her seat before she clutched at her chest and adjusted her glasses, “Dearie me! You scared the soul right out of me, love.” she took a moment to take a breath and close her book before she stood with a small wince and smiled, “What can I do for you?”

You could see the questions burning in her eyes. She no doubt knew you were the new person in town, and about what had happened at your home.

“I’m looking for some history books about the town. I wanted to try and get to know the place, but I don’t think there’s anything on the shelves.”

Her face pursed a little before she smiled again and pointed to the last one of the small walls of shelves, “There isn’t a lot but there’s a couple of books on the bottom shelf of the end one. For the records and such I’m afraid you will have to ask at the village hall. Rose keeps them in good nick there, lovely woman she is.”

“Ah, thank you.” You returned her smile and left her to her book as you went to the last set of shelves in the wall and started to rummage through the folklore and history books.

There wasn’t a lot, she was right, and you sighed after about twenty minutes of pulling out books. You tugged the last, thick history book from the shelf and dusted the cover to reveal a history of the local mines and hills. It wasn’t what you were looking for. You peered at the shelf again and huffed before there was a glimmer of silver lining at the back of the bookcase. You squirmed your hand to the back and plucked the small book from behind the tattered paperbacks. It was a pocketbook, stencilled with an old name in cursive, faded and marred with cage.

‘Maria Theresa Glyn’

You dusted the front and followed the name before looking around and tucking the book into your bag. You felt bad just taking it, but obviously the Librarian had no idea it was there, and the name was familiar to you. You remembered the coat of arms on the old teapot. If this was the diary of someone with the same name it might have clues, or so you reasoned as you plucked a few books from the shelf and took them to the counter after replacing the rest.

“Did you find what you were looking for, pet?” The librarian asked as you placed the books on the counter. She smiled and pulled out an old paper ticket to write your name onto. She poised the pen over the paper, and you told her your name before she copied it onto another for you and jotted the book codes down. She tutted at the date stamper and fiddled with it to get it to the correct date. Obviously not many people used the library.

“Yes, I found a few interesting things to have a flick through.” You told her as she stamped the tickets inside the books and stacked them in front of you.

“Well, you have fun...and be careful, huh? There’s a lot of weird and wonderful things that go on around here. It would be a shame if you forgot that, and something happened.” She smiled sweetly, but it sent shivers down your spine.

“Thanks. I’ll try.” You smiled awkwardly back at her before you took your arm full of books and made a quick exit back into the chilly air.

The village seemed to watch you as you wove between the avenue of trees, crunching autumn orange and brown leaves underfoot. The chill in the air mimicked their icy feelings. You were the outsider among them, and soon enough they’d come to hound you out of their home. You only hoped to solve what you had seen. There was no way a headless man was riding around taking heads...right? You tried to console yourself as you made it to your home, and past the gnarled black tree in the front garden. It was twisted and old, and the branches seemed to creak as a greeting on your return. A glare silenced it, or so it seemed, perhaps it was just the wind dying, but the tree went silent as you walked up to the door with your keys in hand. The door swung open when you unlocked it and you clutched at your books as the wind howled into the mouth of the house, screaming down the hall like a ghost before you kicked the front door shut, shivering. The old back boiler chugged in the background as you kicked off your boots and placed the books in the lounge on the small table by the chest.

When the chest remained still and silent you left to place away your bags and get a drink. You returned, rubbing your eyes as you opened the little journal you had found. It was penned with ink and quill, that much was obvious, and you ran your fingers over the woman’s name again before you touched the crest and went to find the teapot. You grabbed the porcelain handle and placed the two together over your lap. They were the same. The Glyn coat of arms. You placed the teapot down and opened the diary to look at the first passage. It was dated back three centuries ago, back when the alliance was beginning to form between the different races, monsters and humans alike, though you could tell this village hadn’t had such luxury. The entire populace was human, apart from the dairy farmers four miles outside the walls of the village. They were large goblins of some kind, cave dwelling and gangly limbed from years in the dark, but you had only seen them.

The first passage was written in neat, printed cursive, echoing the care the woman had taken to write her feelings and events down.

‘Today is the day of my birth. My birthday rather. I was given this journal by the kind Mister Glynn, as a gift, and so I find myself beginning to write down the events of my daily life, so perhaps I can look back on it and reminisce when I am old and grey.

Mister Glyn is a kind soul. He is part of the King’s Royal Entourage and the Commander of a large cavalry unit. Why he is in this small village is unknown to us all, but my father suspects it is because of the Wood Witch. Perhaps he has been tasked with taking her head? It is rumoured the armour he has is enchanted against such magic, but I feel as though those are rumours made about a dangerous and powerful man to excite fear.

He is nothing but polite to me. I suppose my father will want to marry me off to this one as well.’

The passages were perhaps a couple of pages maximum, and you flicked through the dates quickly, watching her words change from cold and indifferent to soft and loving of the man see always called Mister Glyn. It wasn’t until a year later in the diary that you saw his true name.

‘Alcott escorted me to the capital atop Mallor, his beast of a horse, though the creature seems to like me now that I bring him sugar lumps. Alcott wished to show me the city and its fruits though there is rather less fruit and more muck and grime. I am used to mud on my shoes, but I despised the odour of the place, much to his amusement. As I write, I can hear him snickering at me across the table.’

There was a few blotches of ink and another set of handwriting.

‘She stood in a man’s excrement.’

Their trip seemed peaceful, and Maria even attended a gathering at court. It seemed well until you found the final page in the diary, written across a page in shaky ink.

‘They took his head.’

There was no fond farewell at the bottom of the page or a cursive signature. It was stark and naked on the yellowed paper, like a bad omen forever preserved. You ran your fingers over the words before you flicked through the last pages seeing nothing but blood splodges and blackened dark blood at the corners. It smelt faintly of rot, and you recoiled from the smell as you looked at the empty bare pages. The back of the book was burned across the inside of the cover. It was mysterious but it seemed like Alcott Glyn had been killed. But by who? You had no idea but as you looked at the chest again and thought of the head inside you shuddered.

Alcott Glyn. There had to be a grave. You tugged your bag open and stuffed the book inside before you rushed out of the door, locking it quickly as you rushed towards the little church. It was at the top of the hill, sat in a mound of earth, subsiding on one side with props and scaffolding to try and hold it up. It wasn’t used anymore, the town hall was used to any religious needs, but it was haunting. The stained glass was dirty, and the front doors bolted and chained to prevent anyone entering. You rushed around the side of the church and looked at the dates on the graves and the dates in the diary. It had to be the 1700s. You thought back to your history lessons and tried to recall the date of the alliance war. 1774. You rushed around the small paths and glanced at the years, 1770, 1772, 1773... you looked at the gap where the 1774 stone should have stood. There was nothing, just unchurned earth and a set of roses growing from the floor. A troubling feeling settled in your gut as you meandered down the path to the back of the overgrown graveyard. There were old stones, crumbling and forgotten under blackberry vines and leaves. It was chance that you leaned down next to a short stone and looked at the faded name.

Alcott Glyn.

The name was chipped and faded, like the memory of the man. Vines grew in wild abandon over the grave, and the blackberry vines had taken over the base, winding around the whole stone with wide dying leaves. It was perfectly hidden and forgotten about. The village’s little secret in the secluded corner of the graveyard, forgotten and buried. Or apparently, not buried completely. The earth was turned over, like something had ruptured from the ground and burst free. It was a long patch of upturned soil, as long as you were tall, or even longer, and the earth and stones were wet, fresh with the rain from the evening and being upturned, as though someone had run a plower through it. Carefully, you ran your fingers through the earth, feeling the soil between your fingers before you took a steadying breath.

“Someone came out of this…” You breathed into the chilly air, your breath making mist with the cold as you stood and looked over the grave. You said it again before turning and bolting from the graveyard before the night could fall over the village.

When you reached home, you threw your bag onto the couch and grabbed the chest, prising the lock open to peer at the skull inside. It was sat, still as a statue, on the cushion, with the glimmer of gold between its jaws. You lifted it from the cushion, carefully, pulling it up to your face level as the sun set over the horizon, bathing you in a golden glow with the skull clasped between your hands. There was nothing but the distant hum of the hot water pipes in the old house to answer your stare. The skull did nothing. It sat in your hands as the sunlight died over the horizon and the night began to settle in. In your gut, disappointment settled with the cold reminder that you were holding a dead man’s skull. A real human skull. Carefully, you placed it back down on the cushion and sighed as you went to draw the curtains, ignoring the creaking of the gnarled oak tree outside your door.

The wind blew as you looked back at the head in the chest, positioned slightly skewed on the cushion. You chewed your lip and sighed before you stood over it again.

“Alcott Glyn.” You whispered to the skull. Nothing. The old electrics flickered for a moment, dimming before they brightened again. Silence, except for the hum of the back boiler. The breath you had been holding escaped and you turned away with a grumble before the lights surged bright and yellow, like the sun, before the bulbs exploded in a sudden thunder of noise. Glass shattered and flew across the carpet in a shower, and you gasped, covering your ears before you looked back at the cushion.

The head was sat, jaw agape, with two lights in the blackened sockets, rolling side to side. The little lights rolled like stoned before they settled on you and the open jaw began to jitter, chattering the yellowed teeth together loudly. The skull didn’t move, just snapped it’s teeth like a scared dog before it stopped, and the eyes dimmed. It was only a moment of silence before there were three heavy pounds on your door. With a gasp you rushed to draw the curtains, and gazed upon the creature stood on your doorstep, his steed kicking and throwing it’s head by the twisted roots of the black tree. The body stood there, breathing, its undead chest moving as though it needed the air.

“Alcott Glyn.” You whispered again with a dry mouth. All the moisture dried up from you and you tried not to shake as the skull slammed against the side of the box, it’s eyes glowing.

It shook and chattered its teeth before a voice screamed from between the open jaw, “Let me in, witch!”

Fear twisted your guts as you rushed to slam the chest shut on the screaming skull. It chanted inside the decorative metal, hollering about burning you at the stake before you took it to the front door. The horseman slammed his fist on the door again, repeatedly, as though he was going to tear it open, and you shivered as your fingers shook by the latch and keys.

The horseman began to bang repeatedly and the head in the chest slammed around, shaking your arms as you struggled to keep hold of it. You took a stuttering breath and unlatched the door, turning the keys before you wrenched it open. The headless horseman heaved puffs of misty breath up from the stump of his neck, his trachea flexing with the movement as the nerves of his spinal cord twitched and thrummed behind it, imitating life in his corpse body.

“Witch!” the skull screamed again, his head you realised as you stepped back, and the creature followed. His boots left muddy smeared marks on the wooden floors, and you looked down to see the crushed blackberries over the soles. Your heart pounded as you realised, he had crawled from the grave you had sat by earlier.

“I saw you by my grave. I will not do business with you again.” His voice came from his body this time, contorted and dark as it leaked from his lungs like a wisp.

“Business? What business have you?” You asked, voice shaking with fear.

The skull laughed in its box, a malicious and evil noise, dark and tempting, as though you were truly stupid for asking, “What business did we not have? Have you forgotten in your age, crone? Death and blood, that’s what you wanted, and I delivered it.”

“Who did you have the deal with?” You steeled yourself.

“You, you pathetic soothsayer.” He droned before his dead fist slammed the door closed, “Now give me my head. Our bargain is met.”

“I am not my aunty.” You tried, “I have no deal with you.”

The horseman stopped, his body stiffening as his horse brayed and screamed outside, kicking its hooves at the black oak with a great smash. The tree shook, shedding twigs, but didn’t fall. He stalked closer, the bulk of his frame blocking out the light from the moon and the electric fitting overhead.

“But you have my head.” The skull whispered from inside the box before he grabbed for the chest. He touched the metal of the latch and screamed, the noise escaping the corpse before you and the skull inside the box. It was an ear piercing, unholy noise which burned your ears and made your head swim in agony. The horseman clutched at his chest and the stump of his neck, his gloved fingers pressing into the gored wound of his neck as he wobbled towards the wall and grasped at it for balance.

“Fuck.” You cursed before you whipped the chest open and grabbed his skull by its eye sockets, hanging it over him as he slid down the wall and screamed again in agony, twitching against the wood.

“If I give you your head, horseman, will you indebt yourself to me? Your previous contract will be null, and you will only serve me.” You announced.

The horseman writhed before going deathly still. He laid like a corpse for a moment or two before shakily he braced his arm against the floor and pushed himself up. With a shudder he got onto his knees and kneeled before you, his neck dipped to expose the sore, congealed wound of his decapitation.

“I... I will serve.” The horseman gurgled.

“Then I give you your head to end your torment, Alcott Glyn.” You promised before you held his skull between your palms and lowered it to the spinal column of his body.

There was a great groan as the spine extended from Alcott’s body and snapped to the skull, holding it in place as the eyes burned bright with purple light, the colour of blackberries, rolling in his skull as he reached and clasped at the bone, howling as light burned from the base of his neck and enveloped his skull with a whoosh of purple fire. The fire abated quickly as the moonlight disappeared behind the curtains and the skull shimmered as muscle and tendons swarmed the bone, linking and covering the surface before the he howled, and skin crept from his neck to his face, covering the surface in a perfect alabaster coating. His eyes however, remained voids of black, the centres beautiful blackberry lights in the dimness of your home. Black waves of hair grew from his head, dripping over his shoulders like ink as he howled, leaned against the old wallpaper. They finished growing with a crackle of fire, purple flames licking at the ends before it disappeared, leaving a heaving, black eyed creature curled against the wooden floor.

Your mouth hung open as you watched the horseman shake against the wood, heaving as he reached to clutch at the hair that draped from his previously naked skull. The inky waves slid through his gloved hands and was quickly marred with dirt and blood before he peered at you through the curtain, looking at you with the purple lights in his irises which were sunken back into his skull. His lips parted before he took a deep breath, wheezing out dust and muck, coughing like a goose before he kicked the chapped skin and crawled closer to your feet. He only looked at you, staring before one gloved hand whipped out and snatched your ankle, holding it tightly in an iron grip.

“Bound to your bloodline again...” he growled, “Humiliating.” Before he pushed himself back and stood, swaying on his legs like a new-born deer as his balance came back to him. Having a head was a heavy burden.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” You breathed as Alcott slammed the side of his head and beat dirt out of his ears.

“Of course, you don’t. None of you ever do. Now I’m bound here to you until the day you drop dead and rot. Why can you never let me die?” He growled in a worked-up fury, flinging his hands to the windows before he stalked to the door, his boots slamming against the wood. He swung it open, and his mount brayed in greeting, throwing its giant head back before it caught sight of you and snorted, bowing it’s neck like a graceful Swan.

“You are all the same!” The horseman shouted before the moon was revealed, a cloud moving away from its white surface. He shuddered and you watched the skin on his face disappear with the muscle, revealing the purple lights in a bare, burning skull. As the cloud recovered the moon, the base of his neck flared with purple smoke and fire, revealing the scar where he was decapitated, and his face reappeared.

“I gave you your head back, Alcott!” You shouted after him.

The horseman shivered and turned back to you, looking at you with his haunting eyes, both hands gripping the pommel and stand of the saddle, “How do you know my name?” He whispered in questioning.

With a small breath, you locked your lips nervously and ducked back to the table, grabbing the little diary from you bag before you stood on your porch and held it out to the wraith, “Maria wrote about you.”

He growled and snatched at the book, and you let him take it with a painful smile, “I know the townspeople killed you. They betrayed you. I don’t know what happened to Maria.” You confessed.

Alcott opened the diary and flicked through it before he looked at the night sky, “She lived in mourning the rest of her life. They institutionalised her after they found her carrying my head, wailing through the town. She died, high on cocktails of medicines, with her head buried in the soft soil of a flower bed.”

The revelation was something of a shock and you looked at the undead man in front of you with a bitter, pitying look.

“You watched her die, didn’t you?” You asked, barely above a whisper.

The horseman scoffed, “That was the curse after all. To terrorise the town for their betrayal. But not her. I used to try call to her from the window, but she never could bare to look at me. Eventually they gave her more cocktails and she stopped coming to the window all together.”

“Jesus Christ.” You cursed.

“Such foul language.” Alcott sneered as he snapped the diary shut in his gloved hand, “She died from the madness and grief. That is the fault of the town and its yet another reason to run into each of these homes and tear their heads from their bodies.” Alcott spat furiously. As fury overtook him you could see the white scarred seem of where his head had been replaced burning with smoke the purple fumes puffing from it like a new wound before his neck popped and cracked, sending his head to the left, hanging on by a thread of flesh to the other side. You let out a screech and clasped your mouth as the horseman gurgled and reached for his head, grasping it by the hair before he groaned and dragged it back into place, snapping the vertebrae back into place with a twist and a squelch of bloodied tissue. It cracked again quickly, and Alcott held the top of his hair tightly with a groan as the smoke poured from his mouth and his head twisted backwards like a ghoul, spinning on his neck before it snapped again and came free, rolling over the floor to your feet as a skull. The flesh and hair melted in waves of muck from its surface, and you shakily took hold of the skull again.

The horseman stumbled left and right as he reached towards you for his head.

“MY HEAD, WITCH!” He howled at you, but you dashed back up the porch steps and held it protectively.

“You are under my command. Anything against my wishes is against our contract...so you lose your head. Do you hear me horseman?” You blagged, hoping you were right, “So there will be no killing.”

“Evil, corrupt creature. I'll hang you by your feet and bleed you from the neck!” Alcott threatened as fire and smoke poured from his throbbing trachea. The smoke puffed before he went sent to the floor in agony, the black oak behind him creaking and swaying left and right as though the roots were snaking towards him. Sure enough, the ground rumbled, and the black oak’s roots exploded from the ground, snagging the horseman by his wrists and ankles hoisting him into the air as the branches hissed and his mount, Mallor, brayed and screamed, blood spraying over the fence from the horses broken throat.

It was a curse. You should have expected as much, but you shook as the tree cinched the man’s limbs, holding them tight before it pulled, making him scream in agony as his joints were pulled tight.

“Stop!” You screamed, and the tree stopped pulling, holding the horseman aloft still as it swayed and bent towards you, its branches touching your head as though trying to figure out who you were.

“He is mine.” You told the tree, “He will obey and submit to the laws of his contract.”

The tree groaned, it’s roots wiggling in the cold, hard earth for a moment before it dropped Alcott like a sack of grain and settled down quietly, smacking at the horse inching closer to its trunk.

Alcott touched at his neck as he rose, swaying as he cracked and snapped his joints back into place like a disjointed puppet.

“Are you going to play nice now?” You asked as the man wheezed in front of you. When he nodded you offered him his skull back and watched the skin and flesh cover its surface again before he snarled behind his curtain of overgrown hair, blackberry-coloured lights burning the void of his eyes.

“You truly are her kin if that disgusting thing listens to you.” He snapped as he headed for his horse and mounted the saddle with a quick bounce on one powerful leg, his thighs locking tight around the beast’s sides as it bucked and brayed. Alcott turned his horse and tipped his head with a wave of purple smoke and fire, “Call on me then, witch, and see what havoc I can wreak for you.” Alcott laughed bitterly as he turned Mallor onto the cobbled drive and rode onto the road, his face becoming bone and flesh intermittently as the clouds passed overhead.

“I’m not a witch!” You screamed after the horseman, but he was gone into the mist and the trees, unlikely to have heard you cursing against the stairs of the porch as you collapsed.

#headless horseman x reader #alcott glyn x reader #headless horseman x gender neutral reader #headless horseman #alcott glyn #dullahan x reader #dullahan #dullahan x gender neutral reader #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster boy #monster bf #monster boyfriend x reader #monster reader inserts #reader inserts #my writing #original works

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i-write-newsies · 3 years

Text

A/N:

(Y/N) - Your Name

(L/N) - Last Name

(N/N) - Nickname

(H/C) - Hair Color

(D/N) - DEEZ NUTS!! /j Deadname

(E/C) - Eye Color

(H/L) - Hair Length

(Y/A) - Your Age

Ships Included:

- Jack x Davey

- Spot x Race

- Finch x Smalls (Platonic)

- Albert x Elmer

-Katherine x Sarah

- Spot x Reader (Brotherly Platonic)

- Race x Reader (Brotherly Platonic)

Summary:

You have always dreamed of living in the world of your favorite characters, to escape from whatever rotten life you have and make friends with the people you love. One day, fate decides to give you a chance. But when you're not prepared to be rushed into that universe, it becomes a roller coaster of balancing good and bad emotions and events.

Good luck, Reader!

!!TW!!

~ SELF HARM

~ TRANSPHOBIA

~ MAJOR INJURY

~ ABUSE

~ ARGUING

(Y/N) POV:

I'm (Y/N) (L/N). I'm (Y/A) with (E/C) eyes and (H/L) (H/C) hair. At least it used to be (H/L). I cut it all off today. I can tell my mom just found out because of the loud cursing and stomping. "GODDAMMIT, (D/N)!!" she yells. What scares me the most about this situation is the fact that I'm kinda used to this. I hear her coming up the stairs to my room and rush to the door and lock it. As expected, the door handle starts rattling violently, "(D/N) YOU LET ME IN RIGHT NOW, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SH!T!" She starts banging on the door, stressing the lock.

I sigh. Today was one of the worse days. I slip on my noise-canceling headphones and press play on my musicals playlist, consisting of:

- Waving Through A Window

- On My Own

- A Little Fall Of Rain

- Angel of Music

and of course...

The entire Newsies soundtrack.

By the time I get to 'Seize the Day', it's twilight outside. I lift one of my headphones to check if my mom is gone. I hear nothing. I look out the window and don't see her car. Perfect.

Unplugging my headphones and letting the music play, I walk over to my dresser, open it up, and reach deep in the back. Aha!

I pull out some bandages (A/N: DO NOT ACTUALLY BIND LIKE THIS OK BYE). I take off my shirt and try not to look in my mirror, fearing what sort of feminine body I may see. I start wrapping my chest to the point that it gets a little hard to breathe. This kinda hurts, but my dysphoria is stronger than my need for comfort and, let's be honest, safety.

Slipping my shirt back on, I look into the mirror and smile, satisfied with my flat chest and somewhat choppy short, (H/C) hair. I jump onto my bed and plug my headphones back into my phone which is now playing Santa Fe. Santa Fe honestly makes me think. I'm only, what, (Y/A)? And I still go through all this BS. I need out. Somewhere my mom can't tell me I'm female. Somewhere like...Newsies. I mean, Race is canonically trans, right? Not to mention all of them are definitely fruity. They'd accept me. The fresh, bandaged cuts on my arms are the only things keeping me in reality right now

As the song ends, I realize that I've been crying. God, why am I stuck in this wretched place? The question as well as thoughts of Newsies reverberates in my skull, a sort of white noise until I fall into a much-needed sleep.

"Aye, kid! Watcha doin sleepin on the street?"

"Especially in a place this..."

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

Jack POV:

I yawn, rubbing sleep from my eyes as the circulation bell drones on an' on. I let my eyes adjust to the view of the sunrise from my penthouse in the sky.

As I try to get up to get ready, a pair of arms drag me back down. "Jackieeee" a half-awake Davey groans, "come back down, it's freezing up here." "Dave, we gotta get to work. The boys can always count on me being at the gates early, so if you don't get up, I'm leaving you behind." This seems to wake him up a little more, "Alright, alright fine." he shivers as he gets up. I throw him his top shirt and vest and he desperately claws them on to gain warmth. Carefully, we climb down the ladder.

"What'd I tell ya, Dave? Even in the middle of summer, the night's always freezing." Davey rolls his eyes and does a little shiver "I know, Jackie, now c'mere and warm me up" I grin and move in closer, holding his hand, as we start walking to the gates. "Still not warm enough!" Davey said in a singsong-ish voice. I sigh and feign annoyance, leaning in to give a short but sweet peck on the lips. I think he's satisfied now. We're not usually this lovey-dovey, but I think we're both touch starved and subtly begging for a hug.

Davey, being the amazing boyfriend he is, stops by Jacobis to get us some breakfast. "Dave, you really don't hafta-" "I insist, Jack. After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day," he says in an almost snobbish voice. I give him a small smile. That's my smartass Dave.

As we get to the gates, I notice a small figure leaned up against it. By now, the sun has come up some more over Manhattan 'n Dave 'n I don't have to walk as close to warm ourselves up. The figure seems to be sleeping, a newsies cap over their eyes. I think it's a kid. Maybe a new newsie looking for work?

I crouch down in front of him lift his hat, and start tapping his shoulder, "Aye, kid! Watcha doin sleepin on the street?" "Especially in a place this..." Davey notes. The kid seems to wake with a start. He rubs his eyes, and I chuckle a little "Whatsa matter? Ya look like youse seen a ghost." He doesn't seem to find this funny and repeatedly switches from looking at me then Davey with some confusion and shock in his eyes.

"I um-" he stutters over his words, "Aye, aye, kid, calm down, you ain't in trouble or nuttin." He takes a few deep breaths. "Okay... I'm (Y/N). I'm just freaking out because This isn't where I fell asleep, and- and I just- feel like I know you..." "Well, (Y/N) it sounds like you're one of da Newsies now," I say with a grin, "Now, we gots ta give you a nickname, we rarely eva call someone by their real name, 'cept Dave 'n Albert of course," The kid stays silent, clearly still shocked from waking up in a foreign place. "I feel like I know you.." he says, barely discernible. "Maybe ya do, maybe ya don't, Dave here's the only one good with faces." The kid looks up at Davey, who seems deep in thought, "(N/N)" he exclaims, "Ah, sorry, what I meant was your nickname should be (N/N)!" "I like it! But why (N/N) exactly?" I question, "Well, *insert reason why here*" "Well ain't you a clever boy, Dave!" I say, ruffling his hair. Davey shies away, "Jack! Now I have to fix my hair!" he complains, "Sorry, sorry." Davey then leaves to fix his hair in front of a shop window nearby, leaving me and (N/N) alone.

(N/N) seems to want to say something, but as soon as he opens his mouth, he shuts it just as quickly. I try to fill the awkward silence, "So, what's wit' da bandages, kiddo?" He freezes, "Nothing, just a ploy to get people to buy more papes..." he trails off. I have a feelin' he's not tellin' the truth, but I go along with it anyway, "Ha! What an idea, I wonder how I neva thought a' that before." he smiles, seeming satisfied with the praise. Davey returns from the shop window, "Alright! Ready to start the day?" (N/N) nods, and so do I.

Newsies start gathering, some glancing at (N/N) and some anxiously peering through the gates. I look at the headline for today: New Newsie Price! "Aye, Dave, you seein' this shit?" "Language- and yeah... what in the world was runnin' through Pulitzer's head when he thought of this??" I look at (N/N), whose mouth is a thin, pale line but whose (E/C) eyes are glinting with determination. "Heh, kid, what's that look for?" He looks at me, a little startled, but quickly regains that same tough expression, "I have a feeling that this ain't some silly little joke. And I'm worried 'bout the kids that may get hurt in the crossfire." I laugh, "Youse just bein dramatic! Surely, they wouldn't be as dumb as to underpay their own employees." I walk over to Weasel and slap down a penny "100 papes please!" "That's gonna be dime, Kelly."

My heart almost stops, and it takes all my strength not to break down in front of the boys. I fake a laugh, "Surely you're joking." "100 papes costs a dime, take a look at the headline." I hit the money box out of anger, "Then we'll just take our business to Brooklyn." Someone pipes up, "The same thing's happenin' there." "Then we'll go to Rushing!" Specs jogs over, seemingly out of breath, "I'll save ya the walk; it's the same everywhere."

Fuck.

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Y/N POV:

A sharp pain in my chest temporarily distracts me from the situation at hand. Ah. I almost forgot. I still have to bind. This sucks. I feel a pair of eyes on me and turn just in time to see Racetrack Higgins avert his eyes. I give him a confused look and turn back to Jack singing "The World Will Know" I forget all about his weird staring and get back into the determined beat from before.

Soon, the newsies and I make our way to Jacobis for some...water I guess? I do happen to have some extra money in my pocket so I think I can treat all the boys to some seltzer. I sit down on a hard wooden chair in a slouch. The room is buzzing with excited talk of the strike. I give a small, sad smile. These boys have no idea what they're getting themselves into. Crutchie sits next to me serving a wide smile just as Jacobi enters with a tray full of waters, "And here's one for you, and for you, and for you- who's the big spender that ordered everyone seltzer?" shyly, I raise my hand, "That's me, sir." "You know these cost a quarter each, right?" I pull out a handful of quarters with a cheeky smile "and I got more where that came from." The boys go wild, "Where did ya get all that money, kid??" Davey, being the concerned mom, asks "Please tell me you didn't steal that." I shake my head, "I used to live comfortably, but my mom kicked me out for...reasons." my grin falters for a second, but no one seems to notice.

"Well!" Jack stands on a table, "Here's to the strike! And, of course, (N/N)" He gestures towards me with a wink as everyone cheers. As Katherine enters, I start to zone out and stare at a speck of dust on the ground. After all, I know the plot all too well. I perk up, though, as soon as Jack asks who's goin' to Brooklyn. My hand shoots up, "I nominate me and Race!" I exclaim. I look over at Race, who's staring at me, blushing and jaw dropped a little. I grin at him and look back at Jack, who's a little shocked. "A-alright! Me and Dave'll take the Bronx, I guess."

*Timeskip to after the restaurant scene*

I walk down the Manhatten alleys blindly, no clue where I'm going, when I hear someone come up behind me. "Hey, (N/N)! It's me, Race." I smile weakly, "Oh, hey." "I always sell my papes at Sheepshead in Brooklyn, so I know where to go."

It's almost completely silent except for the clicking of our shoes on the paved roads. "So... how'd ya get here as a Newsie, (N/N)?" "Well, Jack 'n Davey found me sleepin' on the street just this mornin'" He laughs, "Wow! So you got used to the Newsie life real quick!" "Yeah, I did.." I let out a small chuckle as well. Race pulls out a cigar and clamps it between his lips and goes to light it but hesitates. "Uh- Wanna cigar?" "Wow, Racetrack Higgins giving me one of his own cigars? I'm flattered!" I joke, "But, yeah, I need smoke." He digs into his pocket and hands me another cigar, "You eva' smoked before?" he stares at me as I put the cigar in between my lips. I grin sheepishly, "No." "Okay, maybe we should stop for a second. Coughing while walking ain't the most fun thing in the woild."

We lean up against a wall as Race lights first his, then my cigar. I inhale and immediately spiral into a coughing fit. Race smacks my back, "You good, (N/N)? I ain't neva' seen a fella cough that hard on the first puff." I roll my tear-filled eyes and continue coughing.

Once my coughing fit subsides, I feel a wave of relaxation. "God I should do this more often." I groan, Race grins, "Yeah, once you get past the whole blowin'-your-brains-out part of smokin', it's real nice. Anyway, shall we continue?" he gestures to the streets ahead. I nod my head and take another puff, "Yeah, it's gettin' kinda late and we do NOT wanna wake up the Spot Conlon." Race nods in agreement and we hurry along. Even though I know Spot is kind of a softie, that doesn't stop me from being intimidated by his prowess.

We reach the Brooklyn lodging just as Race's cigar burned out. Race takes a deep breath and gives three solid knocks on the door. A kid younger than me answers the door, "State ya business" "I'm here to let Conlon know about some very important news." The kid squints his eyes but responds "I'll ask him if he's willing to meet with anyone right now. Who should I tell him is askin'?" "Race. Higgins." He says somewhat awkwardly.

The kid closes the door. Race and I stand quietly waiting for the OK to see Spot. Suddenly the door swings open to reveal Spot. "Ra-" he notices me and coughs, "I mean- Higgins, would you like to step in to discuss the important news?" I almost laugh at the way he went from totally in love to distinguished gentleman. I shoo them away, holding in laughter, "don't worry, I'll wait out here and give you lovebirds some space." (A/N: or should I say sprace) I see them both go tomato red.

I sigh as they head inside. I take a drag from the cigar and start thinking. How did I end up in the newsies universe and act this calm about it? This feels so surreal. But I want to stay here forever. Far away from my sh!tty mom and all my responsibilities.

Lost in my own head, I barely notice as Racetrack storms out of the lodging, clearly pissed. "C'mon (N/N), we're leaving." he grabs my hand and angrily powerwalks to the next street over. Once we're there, he lets go of my hand and sighs harshly, walking slow. "I assume it didn't go well?" I ask, already knowing the answer. "Not. Well." "Wanna talk about it?" he shakes his head and starts walking "No, thanks. I think we's better get to bed before Jack gets worried." he stops. "Do you have a place to sleep?" I look down, "Not really..." "Well!" he grabs my hand again with a big grin, "Looks like youse bunkin' wit' me." I start to protest, but realize it'd get me nowhere with this stubborn SOB, so I let myself get dragged along. Oh, well. I might as well get rest for the strike tomorrow, goodness knows I need it.

As I settle down into the rough sheets, the gentle snoring rocks me to sleep with thoughts of the strike. One thought flashes through my mind before I fall asleep; God help us all.

I wake up to someone poking my face. My eyes flutter open and I almost fall off the bunk at the sight of Race's face right in front of mine. "JESUS CHRIST, RACE, YOU SCARED THE SH!T OUTTA ME!" He backs off, putting his hands up in surrender, "Sorry, sorry, it's just that Jack said you had to be up and out in 10 minutes so we can have an organized strike or whateva'" Race rolls his eyes, "I'm startin' ta think that Davey's rubbin' off on 'im a lil' too much."

I groan, tempted to slide back under the covers, but get up anyway. I slept with my clothes on so I don't have to do anything about that. As I look into an old, rusted mirror and comb my fingers through my now tangled hair, I feel another sharp pain in my chest, accompanied by a dull throbbing. I really should have taken off the bandages while I slept, but now it's too late. I take one last look in the mirror and, ignoring my eyebags, quickly head out the door to join the others. As I get to the gate, everyone's waiting with anticipation, faces grim but hopeful.

Everything happens in a blur. One moment we're striking, and the next we're beaten into a pulp. I manage to soak a Delancey in the eye when suddenly a familiar sharp pain fills my chest and wince, faltering. Morris takes this as an opportunity to knee me in the stomach, forcing me to the ground, where their take turns kicking my chest and body with those damn steel-toed boots of theirs until my clothes are torn and the cuts on my arms reopen. Suddenly, there's a small crack as my body swells up with pain and the taste of metal enters my mouth. I let out a blood-curdling scream as the pain registers in my brain. In my blurred vision, I see the Delancey's walk away, ready to torture their next victim; Crutchie.

I try to get up and reach out, try to scream at them not to hurt him, but all I can do is weakly move my hand in their direction and spit out blood. Suddenly, a small but rough hand reaches out and drags me into an alley. "Dammit, (N/N) what were you thinking?! Fighting in a gawddamn binder, and a makeshift one, no less!" "R-..Race..?" "Not now, (N/N) I have ta get youse to safety foist." I watch as he chews on his nails in thought, "Dammit! The only way back to tha lodge is through the Delancey's again!" He sighs. "Brooklyn it is..." He gingerly picks me up and carries me as fast as possible to Spot's turf.

Setting my feet on the ground and propping me up against him, he bangs on the door. "Spot!" Please! This is serious, I need your help!" I can hear the tears in his voice. Spot flings open the door, obviously very concerned. He's confused for a second, then looks at me and his eyes go wide. "GET THE MED KIT AND A COT OPEN, WESE GOT SOMETHING HORRIBLE THAT'S HAPPENED" he yells behind him. Race, now more calmed down, takes me in his arms again, but seems to refuse to look at Spot, who looks away as well, but more in shame.

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Race POV:

I watch as some of the Brooklyn newsies take (N/N) and lay him on a cot, anger surging through my veins. I take a deep breath "I'll take care of him. You guys don't have to worry about it." As they leave the room, I look down at (N/N) and can't help but feel guilty. Like this is my fault. I only got away with a black eye, but he got all this?

I regain my composure and start by taking (N/N) shirt off. I can already see the bruises starting to form and cringe. I take off his binding bandages and see his chest expand immediately. Poor kid. He must have been hurting in more way that just one. I take the gauze from the wooden box and gently wrap his torso with it. Maneuvering around his arms, I notice something. The bandages on him arms. When he was wearing them before, Jack said it was a marketing ploy, but now I see red bleeding through the white gauze.

I unwrap (N/N)'s arms and gasp. Hundreds of tiny, but deep cuts litter his forearms and wrists. F#ck. He was hurting so much more than I could have ever known. I wrap them with fresh gauze and treat the rest of his wounds, stepping back to admire my handiwork. That's when I start to cry. Full-on tears falling, face in hands crocodile tears. I turn my head with a start to see Spot, standing over me with a hand on my shoulder, looking apologetic "I'm so sorry..." Suddenly this sadness turns to rage. I grab him by the shirt collar and drag him outside to an empty alleyway. "SORRY?? SORRY, MY 4SS! (N/N) AND SO MANY OTHER 'HATTEN NEWSIES ALMOST DIED OUT THERE BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T WANT TO JOIN UNTIL YOU KNEW WE WOULDN'T "CAVE" WELL, WE DIDN'T CAVE, AND LOOK WHAT F#CKING HAPPENED! AND DONT YOU SAY SORRY TO ME AND EXPECT ME TO FORGIVE YOU JUST BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, THAT'S FOR CROW TO DECIDE." Spot seemed silent at first, but now I could see his anger building up; "WADDAYA THINK WOULD O' HAPPENED TO MY BOYS, HUH?? I WANTED TO WAIT TO SEE IF WE WOULD BE THE ONLY ONES FIGHTIN IN THIS BATTLE AGAINST PULITZER."

I open my mouth then close it. He has a fair point, but doesn't he trust me and the udda newsies not to bail in their hour of need? I sigh, pinching my nose. "I'm sorry Spot, I just-... I just wish you trusted me a bit more..." I look up at him to see tears in his eyes. "OH, SPOT HONEY, ITS OKAY, I'M NOT MAD, DON'T CRY, DON'T CRY" I shush him, pulling his head into my chest, which isn't tough considering his height.

As he lets go, the adrenaline rush from today dies down. God, I'm so tired. My knees nearly buckle and Spot notices, "Aye, aye! Tony, you doin' okay?" I nod at him, but the bags under my eyes are making them droop, "Race, honey, you need to get some sleep, okay?" I shake my head but soon fall into Spot's arms as my legs give way. "Fine..." I mumble. I can feel him grinning, "Good, we gots an extra bed for youse to sleep in." I sigh, grateful. I can feel Spot picking me up, the rhythm of his boots tapping along the ground, a pause and shift as he opens the lodging door and kicks it closed behind him as I fall asleep.

I wake up in a cold sweat. (N/N). I need to see (N/N). I need to check if he's okay. I climb out of the bed Spot laid me in and let my eyes adjust to the dark before maneuvering around all the other sleeping kids. I make my way as quietly as possible to where (N/N) is resting. I crouch down and take his hand in mine. How could I let this happen? And how did I not notice his suffering? I press the back of his hand to my forehead, closing my eyes. My body is so tired right now, but my mind is too tortured with guilt to let me sleep.

By the time my thoughts finally leave me alone, the sun is rising in the sky. I'm finally drifting when- "Race?" I turn my head to the voice, "Oh, jesus, you look horrible!" Spot exclaims, "did you even get any sleep last night?" I shrug, to be fair, I lost count of the hours. Spot sighs, "Race...go sleep. At least for a few more hours. I can watch (N/N) if that makes you happy," I nod, rubbing my eyes. I stumble back to my bed amongst all the Brooklyn newsies and fall asleep the moment my head hits the pillow.

My mind dreams of talkin' cigars and bloody bandages. I see Crow propped up against the wall, smokin' a cigar. "(N/N)! (N/N)! Oh my god, I'm so happy that you're okay!" (N/N) doesn't answer, I slowly starts walking towards him, "(N/N)...?" he starts laughing. Softly at first then roaring, and the laughing turns into a heavy coughing fit. As (N/N) coughs, red smoke pours out of his lungs and clouds my vision. I swipe at the air, trying to brush away the fog, "(N/N)?? (N/N), where did you go?!" suddenly, the smoke clears and I see (N/N) bruised, damaged, bleeding body at my feet, I gasp and step back. (N/N) slowly turns to face me, and in a painful, teary, almost sickly whisper asks, "Why did you let this happen?" Tears start spilling down my face, "I- I didn't me-" "You did this to me Race. Race. Race. Race! Race! RACE! RACE!--

Spot POV:

--RACE WAKE UP!" He wakes up with a gasp. He looks around wildly, tears dripping from his chin. I've never seen him like this. He must care for him like a brudda. To be honest, I'm worried as well, not only about (N/N) but now that we know 'Hatten isn't gonna back down and we join the fight, what's gonna happen to the newsies in general? Kids could get hoit. Bad.

"Spot?" Race starts sobbing, clinging to my shirt fabric, "Please...tell me it'll be okay..." I can't. Race, I don't know if it will. I almost start sobbing on the Spot ( A/N: heh...), but I hold my composure and smile at him, "It'll be okay, Tony...we're all gonna be fine" He seems to believe this, at least a little bit. "Now, don't you gotta meet up wit' da udda newsies?" He retracts his head from my chest, eyes wide. In a nasal voice, he goes "AW SHOOT, I 'MOST FORGOT" I watch him with a small smile as he rushes to get dressed like the goof he is. God, I love 'im.

Race POV:

Silence. I got there too early. Fuck. I can't just be alone with my thoughts, but at least I have some extra money to... I don't know? I walk up to the bar, where the owner of Jacobi's is cleaning out glasses. I sigh and sit down, "Got anything to help forget? At least for a little while...?"

"Ain't you a little too young for that, kid?" I give him a look and push my money over the counter to him. He quietly collects it, "So what can I get ya?" I'm silent for a bit "Fireball." I say with some demand in my voice. He disappears behind the counter and comes back with some shot glasses and a Fireball bottle, pouring it out into the glasses as I watch. I notice as he sighs, "Feel betta, kid." Can't promise that.

I pick up a shot glass, watching as the orange liquid spins around in it. I take in a breath of spicy cinnamon before letting the liquid slip down my throat, leaving a trail of a burning sensation. Soon, one turns into another, and another, and another and before I could comprehend it, the room starts to spin and blur. Eventually, the room fills with newsies, mumblin' 'bout how crappy the strike went. I do my very best to fit in and not act drunk, but the time zooms by and I find myself singin' 'bout bein' the king o' new york. At some point in the blurry memory, Katherine suggests getting drunk and I throw my hands up and cheer. More free Fireball! But then she clarifies that it was a metaphor, to which I am very disappointed.

The rest whizzes past me and soon I'm stumblin' my way to Brooklyn. I knock heavily on the lodging door, then lean on it. Unexpectedly, the door opens and I'm left to fall flat on my face at the feet of my boyfriend, Spot Conlon. "Race! Darlin', you okay? Youse fell flat on ya face!" He extends a hand that I receive and pulls me up. I giggle, "Ahhhh, my Spotty! Always carin' 'bout uddas. Pshht! Yeah, I'm fiiiine." I flop my hand down to wave off his concern. He wrinkles his nose, "You reek of cinnamon....and alcohol." He widens his eyes and I let out anudda giggle, "Race! Tell me you didn't jus' get drunk!" he whines, I grin, "Okey, 'you didn't jus' get drunk'" I imitate him in a deep voice and he sighs, "Jesus Christ, Racer.." he grabs my hand pulls me inside, eventually laying me on a bed, face red with a giggling fit. "Goodnight, my liege," I giggle some more, "and you my Prince," he gives a small smile before covering me with a blanket. I fall asleep before it's up over my shoulders.

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I wake up with my head feeling like it's going to explode.

Fuck Life.

I groan and sit up. "Mornin' Sleepin' Beauty" Spot smirks and hands me a cup of water, "Shut the fuck up" I whine and grab the glass, "Ooh feelin' feisty today, huh?" I shoot him a look that could rot a squash with one gaze. He holds up his hands in defense, "Alright, alright, my bad," He shrugs. I sigh and take a sip of water, which turns into me chugging the whole thing. "You betta get ova this hangover fast, hon" I groan, not ready to do anything at all today, "We gots the meetin' wit' Jack."

End my life.

"No, I don't think I will," "fuuuuck did I say that out loud?" I let out a small wail, and Spot chuckles a little, though you can tell there's somethin' on his mind still, "Yeah, ya did sweetheart." I grumble something incomprehensible and look down, red. He smiles, "Get dressed and drink as much water as possible, okay? We can't have you hungover for the big meeting, right?" I nod...which causes my head to hurt. Ow.

I sigh and decide to take my sweet time getting dressed. This sucks. "Spotty!" I call, then cringe after a new wave of pain hits, he pokes his head through the door "Yeah?". "I don't have the energy to deal wit' all dese gawddamn bandages. Help me?" He blushes a bit but agrees to help me bind. All I focus on is not hurting my head again. Spot ties the bandages and stands back to admire his handiwork but quickly notices my cringin'. "Do you want somethin' cold?" he asks gently, I nod as gingerly as possible.

*Timeskip to after the newsies meet n greet bcuz I'm power-finishing this at 12am and my mental health is steadily declining*

My hand shakes as I bring a fresh, unlit cigar to my lips.

Jack. That sellout, that traitor.

A sharp pain knocks me out of my angry thoughts. Ah. I burned myself.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, "Racer.." says a gentle voice, "You okay? that's your 3rd cigar in the past 2 hours or so." I look up to see Finch leaning over me as I sit on the ground, a concerned look on his face, "You're gonna run out all too soon" I give a bitter laugh, "Yeah, I guess I will." Finch can see that there's not much he can do to help me. He gives a weak smile and turns to walk away.

I see Davey run off somewhere. I wonder where they're going? I sigh and turn my head back down to the ground. Who cares? Without a leader, the strike'll just fall apart and Pulitzer'll win. Who was I kidding when I bragged abt being da "King o' New York"? I'm just some nobody kid without a nickel to my name. The bigger guys always win, so what's with me tryin'?

Jack POV:

I can't let any more kids get in this much danger. I visited (N/N) today. I found out about all his... injuries, as well as whatever he was born as. He's been through so much before all this, he doesn't deserve it.

It's my fault for being so ignorant. For not noticing anything was goin' on. My fault for inciting this stupid strike. For getting all these kids hoit. and Crutchie...poor Crutchie, locked up in that godawful place. I know he ain't helpless, 'e's a cheeky little bastard, I'll give him that, but the Refuge breaks down even the biggest of smiles and smothers the brightest of people. I will never forget that hell I went through. I went in a cheeky fightin' kid with a deep, strong flame, and came out with the embers barely glowing. It took years just to spark it up again. I'm terrified as to what'll happen to him.

I lean over the railing of my penthouse, not even noticing as it shakes and squeaks, making way for a young boy a little younger den me. "-Jack! JACK!" "Jesus Christ, yeah??? Oh, it's you, Dave..." I look away shamefully, he's probably here to chew me out and tell me we're done and gone. "What the hell was that?" I wince, I knew it. "Waddya mean 'what the hell was that?'?" "You know what I mean, JACK KELLY." I'm fucked. "YOU BETRAYED US FOR MONEY?!" "I WOULDN'T HAVE FELT PRESSURED TO IF I WADN'T DEALIN' WIT' A FLAKER!" Davey gives a bitter laugh and balls up the front of my shirt in his fist, tugging me towards him. "Ohoho! And if I wasn't your 'best friend' you'd be lookin' at me through one swollen eye!" "Oh, yeah? Well, don't let that stop ya, huh? Gimme your best shot!" something soft roughly pressing against my lips. The only thought at the moment is; 'Well, this is new... and passionate, 'specially from Dave' there's a heavy, awkward silence.

I back away from him, knocking over my drawings in the process. One specific drawing rolls out seemingly by fate. It taps on Davey's shoe and he looks down. His eyes widen a little as he reaches down to get it. "Is this.. the Refuge?" he puts a hand over his mouth, "weren't you stuck here once? Rats, cockroaches everywhere, 6 kids to a bunk? Holy fuc- I mean fudge." If the moment weren't this tense, I might've laughed. "Jack..." I feel a hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready." I shake my head and he drops his arm understandingly. "Either way, we could use this. Heck..." Davey seems deep in thought before his face lights up, "We could make our own newspaper!" I look at him in disbelief, he notices, and speaks again "think about it, Jackie! Kath's a real talented writer! This art could change the perspective of hundreds! We could write to tell all the workin' boys to go on Strike tomorra'! And we could expose Snyder in the process!" Hey, that's not too bad..."But, Dave, how're we gonna print it?" His face falls, "I didn't think about it...we're banned from every printin' press in New York.."

Oh no. Ohhh no. "No. Noooo." I whine, Davey chuckles, amused "what?" "I know a printin' press that no one would ever think of!" Davey grins, "Then what are we waitin' for?" He puts my drawing back into the case, and slings it over his shoulder, getting ready to climb down. Suddenly, a thought strikes me, "Wait-" "Yeah?" "Dave- what are we exactly? Like I know how we act to each other n' everything, but we've never really said out loud what we are..." Davey giggles, "Jackie-" "No! Tell me right now, are we... in love? Boyfriends, I guess?? Or am I just something for your own experimentation?"

He cups my face in his hands, "Jackie..." he kisses my nose, "Of course I love you! And yes! We are in love! Dating! Boyfriends! Whichever way you want to define us!" Soon we're both grinning ear-to-ear and blushing. "Now!" he exclaims, hopping up, clearly on a high from the whole kiss and convo, "Let's get to it!" I laugh and stand up as well, following my over-enthusiastic boyfriend down the ladder. As Davey said; Let's get to it!

(Y/N) POV:

'My head hurts...' I think groggily. I try to open my eyes, but my vision is blurred and wonky. I sit up. Nevermind. Everything hurts. As my vision starts to clear, I see a very tired Spot Conlon sitting in a chair in the corner of whatever room I'm in rubbing sleep from his eyes. He fixates his eyes on me for a second, and I can see the sleepiness and confusion in his eyes turn into shock and joy. "(N/N)! Ohmygod! I'm so glad you'se awake!" I can see him go to wrap me in a bear hug before holdin' himself back after he remembers all my injuries. Wait. My injuries. "Does this mean you know about...?" I vaguely gesture to my arms and Spot nods sadly, "And..." I cringe and gesture to my chest, now only lightly bound with medical tape, but tighter than needed for a typical injury. I smile to myself. That must've been Race. He's like a perfect older brother, not only thinkin' about my physical health, but also my mental well-being.

Spot notices the look on my face and sees me lookin' down at my chest, he chuckles, "Yeah, Race decided on that. He wanted you to feel as comfortable as possible while you heal." I start grinning even harder. Spot spoke up again "Don't forget that even boys born seen as boys don't have perfectly flat chests, so binding as tight as you did wasn't necessary or safe, for that matter." I give him a look, is Spot really trying to be the cis savior right now? He gives me a look right back, "What? I know what I'm talking about." He lifts his shirt up to reveal two scars on his chest. I gasp, "But you're only *insert years/months* younger/older than me! How did you even know that this was an option, as well, how did you do it?" He smirks, pulling his shirt back down, "Thought so. Anyway, I don't really know. I needed them off desperately and randomly thought of it. As for the how, Buttons is AMAZING with scissors and blades. Like, scary amazing." He shivers. I blink. Damn.

He gives a shy grin "Do I really pass that well?" I look at him enviously "Of course! But... how do you look so...masculine?" "Well, I tried my best to copy the behavior of other boys I saw. And the whole working out didn't hurt." I nod, taking a mental note. Behavior, got it. Can't promise sticking to a workout, though. Spot scoots closer, taking my hand in his, "But the most important thing to understand is- behavior, body type, and a powerful reputation doesn't define being a true boy. What does is what's in here-" he taps my head, "-and here." he points to my heart. Spot looks me in my eyes, "You could wear dresses, skirts, use a 'girly' name, hell, even go by she! and you'd still be a boy in my eyes." I feel my eyes water, and Spot opens his arms to me with a sincere look. I fall into his arms and cry tears of joy. Spot and Race are the older brothers I never had, helping me at every fork in the road of my transition.

(A/N: I noticed that a big issue in trans fanfics was that the cis person was always the one to condescendingly teaching the helpless trans kid how to bind properly. I decided to make both of your mentors trans, had them both know what they're talking about, and made sure that you weren't completely useless or clueless, only that you needed guidance seeing as (Y/N) is a trans kid with no former knowledge about his transition. As well, I kinda wanted this fic to be of help to any newcomer trans men. Anyway, on to the last of the story!)

"So how are your ribs feeling?" Spot asks after we both calm down, "A little sore, but pretty much moveable. Is it really this painful to bind? I mean, the past few weeks I had the binding stuff on was my first time." "It shouldn't, I mean, lookit Race. He seems energetic and flexible even when he's binding." I think he sees my insecure face because he speaks again, "What I mean to say is- if you have more experience binding, you'll know how to mix mental and physical comfort. Either way, what fucked up your ribs wasn't the binding, it was the Delancey's. Not saying the way you were binding wasn't bad and wouldn't have caused lasting damage, of course."

I see Spot have a flicker of thought behind his eyes, he pulls out an obviously stolen silver pocket watch with the initials H.A. engraved on it to check the time. "Almost time..." he mutters. I give him a suspicious look, "Almost time for what...?" he looks sheepishly at the ground, "Nnnnnothing." I let out a noise halfway between a snort and a scoff, "Uh huh." "Fine." he sighs, "All the newsies and workin' boys is comin' together today. We'se hopin' ta finish up this strike Once And For All."

"Let me guess, I shouldn't go because I'm still healing." He nods, "Spot!! I need to do my part in this strike! I can't miss the most important day of my life." he gives me a weird look, "You don't even know what the outcome'll be, plus I promised Race that you wouldn't get hurt." "Please, I've been bedridden for WEEKS. And I won't get hurt" I protest stubbornly, he sighs exasperatedly "FINE, but I'm gettin' you right outta there at the foist sign o' danger, okay?" "Okay!" I say, content with the compromise. "We should prolly get you up and used to legs again before the strike--" my stomach rumbles harder than Les when he sees the chocolate croissants in the Pastry Shop window, and that's seriously saying somethin', "--and something to eat, too."

Spot holds my hands as I get out of bed and basically learn to walk again with wobbly legs. You could just paint my back with spots and call me a baby deer. Once I get my legs to work with me, Spot leads me to a tin tub. I give him a 'seriously?' look, "What am I doin', goin' ta church?" he laughs sarcastically, "Ha, ha. (N/N), you haven't cleaned yourself since the last time you were conscious. I also need to refresh your bandages since those haven't been touched since Race changed them in the foist place." "Fiiiine" I growl.

Spot unwraps my arm and chest bandages, but when it comes to me taking off the rest of my clothes, he looks away (not even for my privacy, but just because he is highly repulsed to the idea of naked bodies) I add enough soap suds on top of the water to cover my body so he's comfortable.

He grabs some soap and lathers up my hair with it, soon rinsing it. He also lathers and rinses my face, removing the built-up dirt, grease, and sweat, which accumulated surprisingly quickly for only spending a month, or was it two, here. Spot brings out a small piece of scrap fabric and a bottle of some liquid, then gently grabs my arms. "This might burn a little," he said empathetically. He dampened the cloth with what I am assuming is disinfectant and started pressing it against my healing cuts. I tried to hold in my pain but let out a small hiss when the cloth reached the deeper cuts on the backs of my arms. Spot stopped temporarily, letting my arms adjust to the sting a little, before continuing. Once he's finished, he hands me the soap and leaves the room to let me bathe myself in peace and picks up my dirty clothes and old bandages. "Holler if you need anything!" he yells on his way out.

I create a lather in my hands and stand up so I can actually wash my body. The air is chilly compared to the bathwater, so I do my best to be quick as I let my soap hands travel gingerly over my body. I look down, and for the first time in a long time, I don't feel ashamed. Spot words echo in my mind as I smile softly; 'You could wear dresses, skirts, use a 'girly' name, hell, even go by she! and you'd still be a boy in my eyes.' I guess, for now, I'm confident in my masculinity.

I sit back down, enjoying the warmth, and rinse myself off. I step out of the bath and look at the grey-ish brown-ish water. Ew, was I really that dirty? As the cold air envelops me once more, I realize I don't have a towel. Or clothes. "Spot!" I call out, "Yeah?" I hear a faint voice, "I need a towel and some clothes!" I answer. There's quiet, then a series of rustling sounds that slowly get closer. The door opens a crack and I see a tan, muscular hand slide a pile of clothes and a towel in my direction. I smile gratefully, "Thanks, Spotty!" "Aye! Only Race can call me dat..." "Okay, fine."

I dry my hair as much as possible, before continuing to my body. There's not much actual rubbing rather than patting because of my injuries, so when I get my pants on and slip my button-down onto my shoulders, they get a little damp. "Spot?" I call out again, "Do you think you could help me with my bandages?" "'Course!" He casually picks up the chest bandages and binds it pretty much perfectly- Tight enough to make a difference in my chest size, but loose enough to let my ribs heal. Spot then starts re-bandaging my arms, "Can I ask you a question, Spot?" "Sure, (N/N)" he says nonchalantly, "Why is it you are repulsed by fully naked bodies, but you're perfectly casual and fine about helping me bind my chest when I'm half-naked?" he clears his throat as if he was ready to spin a whole story, "Well, Race used to live with me and we started trusting each other a lot more than when we first met. He trusted me enough to teach him the best way to bind, and he trusted me enough to feel comfy without a top on when around the house, so I'm kinda desensitized. But when it comes to people being naked or bein' overly suggestive, I just..don't like it. At all."

'Asexual,' I think, 'Knew it."

"Anyway, you ready to fight off the bulls and get our rights back, (N/N)?" He stands up and offers a hand to help me up, which I receive. I catch my reflection in the dirty bathwater. I can see crystal clear, that I am dapper, strong, and ready to kick some Delancey ass.

But first, Lunch.

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

I arrive at the strike on Spot's shoulders, hyped for the happy ending they all worked so hard for. Spot sets me down gently and scans the crowd for someone. It seems he found them because his face lights up. I see Race run over to us. "(N/N)! Oh my god, I'm so fuckin' glad that you're awake! Especially today of all days!" however, his enthusiasm is soon replaced with concern, "But is ya sure yer okay? You must've woken up just today, so are you feeling good? Yer injuries don't hurt too bad, you're not dizzy, hungry, thirsty?" "Calm down, Tony, I gave him a bath, changed his bandages, gave him food n' water, even a pep talk, so you don't need to worry!" Race takes a few deep breaths, "Okay, okay, yeah I'm fine. But that's great!" He engulfs me in a firm, but gentle hug. I look around the crowd and see some familiar faces, Katherine seems to have brought another girl with her, who I'm assuming is Sarah, Davey's sister. I see Albert and Elmer tightly holding each other's hands. I see Finch and Smalls exchanging jokes as a form of distraction. I look back at Race and Spot, who are being so romantic, it's almost gross. Almost.

The adrenaline still hasn't left me so when people start getting as excited as me, it just hypes me up even more. We look up at the window of Pulitzer's office and see Jack and a few others standing there, waving. I wave back vigorously. Not too long after, Jack, Davey, Pulitzer, and The Governer appear on a balcony, Jack at the front. "Newsies of New York City..." cue the pause for dramatic effect, "WE WON!!" The crowd of newsies roars with joy. I watch as Crutchie limps out and beats Snyder's ass as the abuser is dragged away, I don't understand why so many people see him as an angel, it's obvious that he's a cheeky lil' rat bastard.

Suddenly, it's like everything is in slow motion. I look around once more and see Katherine and Sarah kissing, same with Albert and Elmer, Finch and Smalls are hugging each other tightly. I look back up at the balcony and see Davey and Jack gettin' it ON. I look once again to Spot and Race, who just finished kissing. Spot reaches down and hoists me onto his shoulders to cheer. And as I take in this momentous victory one sense at a time, I realize in a moment of pure bliss-

I finally found my true family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word Count: 8190

(A/N):

This took VERY LONG (approx. one month, I just finished after working from 9 pm to 5 am) I know it was supposed to be a simple one-shot, but since there was no one to help narrow down and shorten the plot for me, I got carried away. I am, however, pleased with the length of it. This may be the longest fic I've ever written. As well, I hope any underlying advice or tips mentioned in the story helped you to understand/realize something.

I would love it if you were to vote, give me some constructive criticism, and/or request something for me to write! Don't forget- I live to write that one fanfic you can never find.

Love y'all!

~ Race

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percywinchester27 · 4 years

Text

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-43)

Word count: 4.1K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Angst, mentions of PTSD, heartbreak, feels, fluff, spoiler warnings in the tags (it’s no biggie, but in case anyone wants to still check out ;))

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: This is one of the most crucial chapters for this series. I hope you guys like it cause it’s definitely a favourite of mine :)

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23. Shout out to my best girl. I owe so much to you, Athina. You’re my sunflower <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

The crack in the ceiling was wider than you thought it would be, staring at you from up there, like a river and its rivulets, but disconnected from the source, dried up before reaching the sea that was its destination. Just aimlessly stuck in the middle.

There was an urgent knock on the door. Wiping your eyes, you called, “yeah.”

Madison poked her head through the door. “Can I come in?”

“Umm yeah, sure.”

You sat up in the bed.

Madison came to sit by you on the mattress. You didn’t look up at her, afraid she would see your swollen eyes.

“I know you don’t like to share your problems with anyone,” said Madison. “But I’m here. Just in case you want to talk about what’s hurting you. I haven’t seen you out and about in a while, Y/N.”

Her voice was gentle.

“I can’t tell you what’s wrong because I don’t know what it is myself.”

“Is it about Sam?”

“It is and it isn’t.” Choosing not to elaborate, you drew into yourself against the headrest. This wasn’t about Sam. This was about you being unable to understand your own damn mind and it was hurting Sam- so much. The muteness of his eyes was haunting you… and then there was Max- the sweetest little soul in this world. Every time you thought about him, you wanted to all but break down. What was wrong with you? Because something had to be wrong if you couldn’t accept that boy with all your heart.

You didn’t deserve to be a mother. This was why you could never be one.

“Come down for a bit,” said Madison, tone sympathetic. “All the guys are downstairs at Pam’s. She said something about ‘welcome to the apartment’ free pizza ritual.”

“You go on. I don’t feel like it.”

She looked like she wanted to insist, then decided against it. “If you change your mind, don’t forget your sweater. It’s a chilly evening.”

After Madison left, you couldn’t bear to lay in the bed. The crack in the ceiling was twisting your heart. Outside, the sky was darkening quickly, earlier than it should have.

Walking into the kitchen, you filled the coffee pot with water. Just as you were about to place it onto the machine, the doorbell rang. You knew in your gut who it was, just the way one knows what's coming when the sea starts to recede.

Sam looked distraught. Gone was the carefully concealed blank look from the day before. Today, he had abandoned all attempts to hide his emotions. He wasn’t dressed for work either. Just jeans and plaid, with a bunch of papers rolled in his hands.

Without a word you stepped aside to let him in. Sam sat down on the sofa, looking about himself as if hoping that someone or something would save him from what was about to happen. Again, you simply knew.

“I messed up bigtime, didn’t I?” You whispered, taking a seat opposite him.

Sam, who was decidedly staring at the floor, shook his head. “You didn’t mess up anything, Y/N. You-” His voice broke and he visibly made an effort to speak again. “You tried harder than anyone should’ve had to… and God, this is going to kill me.”

“What is…?”

Sam braced himself. “I love you, Y/N. You have to know that. I would gamble my life away without a second’s thought if it meant I could spend even some of it with you as truly yours. To have you in my arms and not think about whether it’s the right thing to do. But I can’t gamble away Max’s life like that. He’s suffered so much already. I can’t have him start believing with all his heart that you’ll be his mother only for you to compromise. Worse, if a few months down the line, you decide you don’t want to do this, he’ll be shattered. I can’t do that to my boy.”

A single tear rolled down your cheek.

“I know you love him. I’d have to be blind not to see that. But I don’t know if you can love him without a doubt in your mind. I don’t want you to have to adjust into a mother’s role for him, if you aren’t ready. I know you- the guilt of it won’t let you breathe. And asking you to do that just so I could live out my fantasy of a perfect family… won’t be fair to you or Max.”

He flattened the papers in his hand on the table before you. One word glared out of it, strong and bold- Divorce.

He took a ragged breath, then spoke in a fragile voice. “It’s still your decision to make- whether you want to sign these papers or not. If you do, we’ll walk out of your life this time. I haven’t committed beyond this semester to Stanford- another month. Take that time and decide what you really want.”

None of it was surprising you. Not his words, not his actions. Just like that tsunami, you had seen this coming the moment you didn’t respond to Max’s call. Still, the words weren’t sinking in. They were floating in the space between you and him.

“I promised to wait for you… I promised to give you all the time you needed,” he whispered. “That was a selfish promise. There’s nothing else for me now except that wait… but I can’t drag Max along.”

You mutely watched him draw out a pen from his pocket and start flipping through the pages, signing them as he went. The hard matt shadow of the pen scratched at the illusion like quality of the situation. The on and off gold glint pushed at the awareness further. You knew that pen. You knew that it was partly made up of obsidian and you knew the inscription on it- It’s not time to worry yet - Atticus Finch

Sam closed the papers shut and put the pen back in his pocket. You saw him swallow hard and raise one hand towards you in yearning, longing, before rigidly bringing it back to himself. He might have said something more, softly, eyes roving your face, but the words didn’t register, just the utter helplessness in his voice. With one last look, he got up from the chair and left.

The door banging on the frame made you flinch.

It’s not time to worry yet.

We’ll walk out of your life this time.

Drops were beginning to fall on the balcony outside, getting bigger, hitting faster, water dripping down on your carpet through the open window. You sat there, looking at the papers in front of you, not making a move to close the shutters.

The shrill ringing of your phone made you jump up once more. Mechanically, still in a daze, you answered the call.

“Hello. Is this Ms. Y/N Y/L/N?”

A pause.

“Hello?”

You answered. “Yes, speaking.”

The voice said, more relaxed. “I’m Melanie Hawthorn from Acton Griswold. This is regarding your application for the position of a paralegal at our firm. We are very pleased to offer you the said position. Please get in touch with the HR to set up a meeting to discuss the terms of employment. An email with the details is being sent to you shortly. Will you be able to provide me with a tentative date?”

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Uh… anytime this week is okay.”

“Thank you. We’ll be in touch.”

*Click*

It’s not time to worry yet.

We’ll walk out of your life this time.

Next second, you grabbed the papers on the table and then you were running, not caring that you were dressed only in your shorts and camisole, not caring that you were bare foot or that it was raining outside- only that with each passing second, Sam was walking away from you.

How many times had you done this to him? Ran away as he watched you go. Once? Twice? Thrice? And yet, here you were unable to bear a single step he took in the other direction. For once in your life you weren’t running away, you were running towards.

Taking the steps two at a time, you ran, almost tripping on the last one, as you passed the safety of the awning and into the thundering rain, your feet slipped on the shabby pavers of the meadow. From here, you could see Sam, slowly walking past the statue, his shoulders were slumped, feet dragging, soaked through and through.

Splashing water with each step, you closed the distance between the two of you. Sam turned around at the last minute. His face made you falter. That was the look of a man who was being burned alive at the stakes. He looked at you and broke down- not tears, but sobs wracking his body. Sam collapsed on the parapet of the statue. The only other time you had seen him lose it completely was in the hospital, telling his brother how he couldn’t face you and tell you that you could never be a mother again. Only you could bring him down on his knees like this- then and now.

Sam put his face in his hands, sobbing into them- lost and broken.

You stood over him, motionless.

“I know why you did it.” The words fell off your lips like cracks of thunder. Maybe low and muted, but with the same devastating power. “I know why you really drafted the papers.”

In your room upstairs, Sam’s defeated eyes had narrated a different story than his words. The words made sense, his reasoning perfectly logical- he wanted to protect his son from a woman who wouldn’t commit to being his mother. Except, you knew Sam. In the past few months, you had re-learned the workings of his soul. He would only pull something this drastic if he firmly believed it to be the only way to do right by both Max and you. No matter if it was at his own expense. The divorce papers weren’t an ultimatum, or a deadline as they appeared to be. They were Sam’s way of offering you an out from this situation with your dignity intact. He was shifting the blame of the failed marriage on himself, ready to face Max’s disappointment and anger, only so you wouldn’t have to live through the guilt of your choice.

Max would see it in black and white. His father had decided to divorce you, just like his father had forbidden him from seeing you after the play-date. Max would yell and curse and be livid, but just like before, he would accept Sam’s decision and eventually forgive him for it. But if Max found out that you were the one unwilling to become his mother, he might never forgive you. With his last act, Sam was sparing you the pain of betraying Max, the pain of seeing the accusal in his eyes. How much exactly did Sam love you? Because this amount of love was unfathomable. It should’ve destroyed his mind!

No one should have to make such a sheer sacrifice for being the good one. No one should have to suffer so much, so quietly. Especially not Sam.

“All these years that we’ve known each other, you’ve never let me thank you,” you said, only determination keeping your voice steady. “Not when you opened doors, or pulled chairs in restaurants, not when you held my hair as I threw up in the toilet at three in the morning because of sickness. You used to tell me we were married and it was your job to look after your wife. You said you weren’t doing me a favour and I stopped thanking you.”

Sam looked up finally, the rain making his tears invisible, but not his anguish.

“Then I saw you here… I can’t possibly tell you how it felt, seeing you in the class. Bumping into you in the corridor and knowing you still use the cologne I gifted, knowing you remembered the taste of my cookies. I was terrified of returning your coat back to you, scared that you’d outright banish me from your life. You brought me home when I was drunk, you pulled me out of the water when I could’ve died and held me through a night of torture. And you didn’t let me thank you for it. It wasn’t a favour, you said. It was your job.”

“But you did me one favour today, Sam Winchester,” you said, getting down on your knee on the coarse ground and holding up the drenched papers to him. “By giving me this, you did me the biggest favour of my life.”

Sam’s face was a mask of shock. You reached out and placed your hand against his cheek. “You showed me exactly what I stood to lose.”

The rain was falling mercilessly now, hitting your skin like shards, running down your bare arms in rivulets.

“Chirp wasn’t the name of our baby… it was the name we gave to our hopes and dreams of the future. I felt that dream die inside me, Sam. I felt him go… and I swear if it wasn’t for you, I would have died that day with him. And that fear… of ever feeling like that again, it kept me under for so long. I was barely there… you kept more of me alive than I did, myself, through that cologne, the pictures… that pen! And you gave me the biggest joy I’ve ever known- that little boy.”

Silent tears glided down Sam’s eyes, still indistinct in the rain. He looked so vulnerable, as if the smallest of winds could shatter him.

“I was scared that I might lose him, Sam. Just like… our first baby. I couldn’t save him, and if anything ever happened to…” you shook your head, refusing to complete that thought. “I would die. Not even you could bring me back then…” Taking in a deep breath you continued. “By handing me the divorce papers, you just reminded me that if you leave with him, I can never lay a claim on Max. I’ll lose him either way… I’ll lose my little Chirp all over again, and I can’t do that. He’s my boy.”

Taking his face in both your hands, you gave him a little shake. “Max is my boy, you understand? He’s my little Chirp.”

“You… You’ll come back?” Sam spoke at last. The disbelief in his voice was painful.

Letting go off his face, you grabbed the wet papers in both your hands and tore them into four pieces. “I’ve been thinking I was jinxed all these years. I was so convinced that I never let your love sway me. But now I can see it’s not true. Because no one who’s jinxed would find someone like you! And I found you twice. I don’t need a damn month to figure this out. I know what I want. I want you! I want us.”

He shook his head, refusing to believe. Afraid to hope again.

You grabbed his face, forced him to look at you again. “I just got a call that I’ve been hired at Acton Griswold. You know what’s the first thing I wanted to do? The only thing I wanted to do? Was to run to you! Just like seven years ago, barefoot in the rain. You make me feel eighteen again.”

You looked him deep in his anguished eyes. “I love you, Sam Winchester. I don’t know how you can’t see that. It’s in the whisper of my every breath, the subtext to my every word. And we… we’re still a lot like us, aren’t we? No, we’re better. We have Max now. We’re a family. Please… Please believe me.”

Sam slipped on the ground next you, on his knees and pulled you to him, crushing your lips against his. His strong arms corded against your back, slipping and sliding against the wet silk of your tank top. It had turned transparent, clinging to your body.

“I believe you,” he whispered desperately against your lips. “God, I believe you.”

You tangled your fingers in his wet hair, kissing him like your life depended on it, the worry, uncertainties, ebbing away from your body, a fierce, wild joy replacing it.

“Say it, say it again, please,” Sam begged in a coarse, broken voice, but it wasn't hopeless anymore. It was ringing with the same ferocity that you felt.

“I love you, Sam. I love you so much.”

He made an animalistic sound and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you impossibly close, his lips fast and urgent against yours.

Someone whistled loudly from behind.

Breaking off the kiss, you turned in the circle of Sam’s arms to see Kevin standing under the stilted awning of the building with a shit eating grin on his face. Others were slowly coming out from Pam’s apartment.

You ignored him, threw your arms around Sam once more and began kissing him. He didn’t let go of you either… not until a shiver ripped through your body. As the high of the adrenalin came down, you suddenly began to feel the cold. Sam tightened his grip on you.

“Oye! Get a room, you two!” Meg shouted. “C’mon, now! Keep it PG 13.”

“Don’t let go,” you pleaded.

“Not a chance,” said Sam. He put a hand under your knee and in one fluid motion hefted you into his arms, not breaking off the kiss.

More cat calls and hoots followed in the background. You could hear Jack howling with laughter, as Sam walked back towards the building carrying you.

“Oh, enough staring at those two,” Kevin said. “C’mon, get out there in the rain. You know the rules. Everyone who loses the bet has to get wet. That’s all of you bitches except Maddie and me. Out now!”

He’d won the bet after all.

Pam blew a raspberry at him and climbed down the steps just as Sam passed her.

“Ah, the sweet, sweet taste of vindication,” Kevin gloated.

“Ah, the acrid, acrid stench of snobbery,” Meg hissed, following Pam. “Don’t go back to the flat anytime soon, Maddie.”

You were hardly paying any attention, as Sam walked you up all the way to your flat. Once inside, you barely made it to the bathroom, before he had you pinned against the wall, lips still urgent, hands roving under your wet camisole. The sight of his closed eyes, the wetness of the rain and tears still clinging to his lashes was like a slow fire inside of you, burning low but not easing- the sweetest of torments. His fingers found the buckle of your bra and you felt him fumble with it, then hesitate.

You grabbed his hand behind your back and held it there. “Don’t stop. Please…”

“Y/N…” He groaned, the need acute to the point of a primal hunger in his eyes. You could see yourself in his lust-blown, dark irises- barely recognising that girl or the hoarseness of her voice as she begged. “Please.”

That was all Sam needed as he grabbed the edge of your top and tore it apart into shreds. At the same time you pushed back his shirt, and then tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. Sam didn’t waste another minute before pulling you back into a kiss. He tasted like the wildness of the rain and the bitterness of coffee.

You reached out behind you to unbuckle the bra and let it fall to the ground. Sam shuddered when you leaned into him next. skin touching to skin- wet and slick. “Y/N…”

He hoisted you on top of the bathroom counter. His hand slid down from your shoulders, over your breast, the thumb skating right across it and then further below into your shorts. You looked at him in the moment- a short second, an eternity- saying everything you ever wanted to without a word, listening to everything he wanted to say without a word.

“I need you…” you whispered, head rolling back, chest heaving with loud, ragged breaths, as his pants fell to the floor in a heap of wet denim. He hooked his thumb into the waistband of your shorts and underwear, and tugged them down your legs in one motion.

He put his forehead against yours, catching a breath, bracing himself. This was it. Moulding his lips against your, and biting down on the bottom lip, he pushed inside.

A whimper left your lips, the corners of your eyes starting to sting again. He was as essential to your existence as breath itself was to living.

It was hard and fast and desperate- your teeth scraping against his ears and jaw, fingers digging into his back, and biting his shoulders to muffle the screams. You didn’t say anything coherent except wanting him to go harder and faster… and being ecstatic when he did. You lost count of the number of times you called out his name- in yearning, in commands, in pleas and in prayers till you were both a tangle of bodies on the floor of the bathroom, coming down from the high together.

The rain splattered on the glass panes and you held on to him… letting go now would be a sin. You didn’t know how long you stayed there. Eventually Sam lifted you again, walking you into the shower. Still together, the shower barely lasted five minutes. Once on the bed, he would have let you rest, but you didn’t have it in you to be separated from him now. It would cause physical pain.

So, you drew him back upon yourself. This time it was slow… lazy, languid... relearning the patterns and shapes of each other. You memorised the exact curve of his lips, the hardness of his abs, running your fingers through the soft smattering of hair on his chest.

As for Sam? He was treating you like a mirage that could disappear any given instance now. It broke your heart that the slight wildness in his eyes wasn’t giving way to his usual calmth. The vulnerability of his every move made you want to weld yourself to him, body and soul, so he would never feel this way again- as if he was living on borrowed luck, that anytime now this could be snatched away from him.

You must have told him you loved him several times in the course of the hour, and yet, each time you said it, you felt his heart jump up in his chest under your fingers. Sam. Your Sam.

It must’ve been hours later, when you heard the main door of the flat open and close. Your room was submerged in darkness, neither of you willing to move away first.

With a sigh, you raised yourself on your elbow to turn on the light, it bathed Sam in a warm glow. Bending down, you kissed the tip of his pointed nose, and then his eyelids, one by one.

“Max?” You said.

Sam cleared his throat before speaking. “He’s staying over at Jody’s.”

You frowned.

“I wasn’t expecting to be in any shape to look after him tonight,” he explained. “It would’ve been me and a bottle of scotch. Couldn’t have him see that.”

You kissed the hollow under his neck this time. “Will you do something for me?”

“Anything,” he promised.

“Don’t tell Max. I want to be the one to tell him.”

His galaxy eyes melted. “Of course. Whatever you want.”

“So you can stay tonight?”

“If you want me to.”

It occurred to you that this wasn’t a one time thing. This was the rest of your life now. Sam was your husband. You had the right to keep him here with you for today and everyday. No more sneaking around, no more doubts. Just you, him and your little boy.

A surprised giggle bubbled up your lips and soon turned out into full laughter, tears rolling along the sides of your eyes.

“Something funny, Mrs. Winchester?” Sam asked, amused, his eyes soft.

You shook your head, burying your face in his chest. “Nothing. I love you.”

His heart skipped a beat again. You felt lips ghost over your hair.

“I love you, too, Darling. More than life.”

*****************************

A/N 2: Sometimes one hard push is necessary to make people realise just what they might lose out on. I’ve edited and re-edited this chapter so many times, I’ve lost the count. It was the make it or break it chapter. It had to be worth it.

Hope you guys liked it as much I do <3

Please do let me know if you liked this part. Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated.

Adding the Gif credit here cause it won’t let me link it before the cut

Only two more chapters to go! :’)

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