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i-write-newsies · 3 years ago

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..."

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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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mypunkpansexualtwin · 3 years ago

Text

Pegoryu week 2021 is here and I have two whole entries that are gonna be done on time! The rest will happen, I promise, they'll just be late.

Anyways! the fic is under the cut and the link is in the reblogs as per usual. Hope y'all enjoy!

“Man, y’know you don’t hafta let Ann bully you like that, right?” Ryuji whispered over to Akira and reached for the flower poking out of his hair. To his surprise, Aki actually batted his hand away with a huff and tucked the thing a little more tightly behind his ear.

“First off, I do have to let Ann bully me. And then I bully back. That’s just what our friendship is,” he explained, not bothering to lower his voice while the girls were off getting more drinks. Not that it woulda made much difference, he was a pretty quiet guy even when he was being obnoxious. Usually. Ryuji cringed as Aki noisily sipped the meltwater from the bottom of his glass and held up a second finger. “Second, I like flowers, thank you very much. And thirdly,” almost against his will, Ryuji’s eyes tracked the swipe of Akira’s tongue across his lower lip as it shifted the straw from one corner of his mouth to the other before he continued, “red’s my color.” Ryuji swallowed.

“Y-yeah. D’you gotta chew your straw like that, dude? It’s kinda... gross.” Gross. That was the word he was trying to hold onto in his brain with both damn hands. Gross. It was gross, dammit. The straw chewing and the obnoxious slurping were habits that usually grated on his brain worse than a Metaverse confusion-and-psychic-attack double whammy. Today, though? Today he barely noticed it, he was too distracted. Maybe it was the heat or the jet lag, or the fact that seeing all these American girls with bikinis and curves that made Ann look downright bland by comparison meant that his brain had glued itself into the gutter. The fact that he almost never saw Akira with his glasses off sure as hell wasn’t helping either, considering the damn things had to be for everyone else’s sake. Under the scruffy nerd look Akira Kurusu was as much of a damn pretty-boy as Yusuke Kitagawa or that asshole Akechi with those effin’ eyes. That was an objective fact that even a guy as straight as Ryuji could see. Hell, if it weren’t for the glasses he’d probably be Shujin’s favorite bad boy--regardless of which way any of the students swung--instead of Ryuji’s fellow delinquent outcast. This wasn’t news to him, but for some damn reason something was different today.

Today, some goddamn wire got crossed in Ryuji’s brain and he kinda wanted to beat its ass. Today, he’d lost track of how many times he’d caught himself staring at those stupidly long eyelashes that any of Ann’s coworkers would kill to have, and the way they cast soft shadows over those perfectly smooth cheeks. Or the way Akira’s usually dark grey eyes looked almost silver in the sunlight. Or how they’d crinkle just a little at the corners when he smiled that soft little hint of a smile that already did weird, mushy things to Ryuji’s guts on a normal day. Or the way his lips were just a little fuller than either of the girls’ were but just as soft-looking. Ryuji wondered if maybe he used some kind of lip balm or something, but one without any color. If it didn’t have any color, would it at least have a flavor--

...Anyways.

Ryuji had decided to blame it on that damn flower. Akira stared at him, a little confused, the straw still resting on his lower lip as he breathed out a quiet, “huh?” Then he glanced down at his mostly empty drink and then frowned sheepishly as the realization hit him. “Oh! Sorry, I know that drives you crazy.” Oh right, Ryuji had asked a question and had already forgotten. Akira set the glass on the table next to where Ann had given up and dropped the other hibiscus she’d been hellbent on putting in Ryuji’s hair. He had enough time to grimace at the sad, mangled end of the straw--and the thoughts his traitorous, overcooked brain conjured up about where it had just been--before Aki reached out, swiped the other flower, and tucked it next to the other behind his ear.

If Yusuke were there (because that was what Ryuji needed, more clueless pretty-boys punching holes in his sanity), he’d have his hands up in that finger-frame thing he always did when he was planning out a painting in his brain. The artist would be ready and raring to try and turn Akira into his latest masterpiece... that he’d end up bitching about not being good enough to capture right a week later. That wouldn’t be Yusuke’s fault though, Akira was just weird like that; in every picture of him he just looked like Some Dude, like a background character in his own life, Guy With Glasses #3 or something. But right now, right in front of Ryuji he looked… compelling, or some shit like that. Pretty as a damn painting that you couldn’t help but stare at for a while and contemplate your life, ‘cause that was easier than tryin’ to understand what was in front of you.

“Seriously, Aki?” Ryuji sighed at the second blossom now peeking out of Akira’s unruly frizz. He shoulda kept his damn mouth shut, let Akira keep chewing on his damn straw and drive him crazy in the annoying way and not… whatever this was. It had to be the heat. Ryuji was secretly dying of heatstroke, that had to be it.

“Red. Is. My. Color.” Akira crossed his arms and pouted, and Ryuji had to bite back a laugh at how his best friend had puffed out his cheeks while he sulked. Cute, but a safe kind of cute. Like back at the buffet, in that open kind of way that made Ryuji wonder what Akira had been like as a little kid. That looked like his opening to get things back on track, back to something resembling their usual dynamic.

Ryuji cracked a grin and flicked the bottle that everyone had passed around earlier. “Yeah? That why you didn’t put any sunscreen on, you gonna be the first guy to pull off havin’ a sunburn?” Akira deflated slightly, then snatched the bottle off the table and-- Oh goddammit.

That had backfired spectacularly. Genius move, Sakamoto. You can’t quit ogling your best friend like some kinda weirdo, why don’t you convince him to oil himself up! That’ll help! Effin’ brilliant. Ryuji hastily turned around in his chair and fixed his eyes on the shoreline. He occupied himself with trying to guess how quickly he could sprint to the ocean, and for once he hoped that the water would be cold cold. The girls walking by, all dressed in bikinis that’d look small on skinny little Futaba and were probably held onto those insane curves with more wishful thinking than fabric, might as well have been invisible to him. Since he had apparently pissed off god or something, all he could think about was Akira, very intentionally just outside the edge of his vision, slathering his chest in sunscreen. His incredibly flat chest; if he’d at least had enough bulk on him to have pecs or something, that might have taken some of the sting out of his stupid brain fixating on his leader instead of any of the women who looked like they’d walked straight out of his dreams. Ryuji was gonna set those stupid flowers on fire when he got his hands on them.

He swallowed around a mouth that had gone dry and tried to break the awkward silence that had settled over them. At least, Ryuji sure as hell felt awkward, Akira was usually fine with a little quiet and didn’t seem bothered at the moment. Still, Ryuji had to do something before he went crazy. “Man, I thought Ann was impressive, but compared to these foreign ladies… eh.” Akira snorted somewhere behind him.

“I’m sure she appreciates the break from being leered at,” he deadpanned. “Do you not have anything better to do than check people out?”

Ryuji’s stomach dropped a little as he whipped back around to shoot Akira a dirty look. Sure, he’d felt pretty obvious, but he hadn’t actually been obvious about staring-- Wait. Aki meant the girls. False alarm, no need to panic. “Man, shut up. And don’t even try to tell me you don’t agree. Like, these ladies are massive, the girls back home don’t even compare!” Ryuji snapped. Someone had to be appreciating all these beach babes, otherwise what even was the point of staying out when it was so damn hot?

Akira actually paused and glanced over at Ryuji with a weird look on his face before he sighed and shook his head. “I’m not really interested, honestly.”

“Man, I am gonna rip that tongue outta your head!” Ryuji exclaimed. Seriously, all those lovely ladies going unappreciated had to be some kind of crime. An international one. It was probably too much to hope Ann or Makoto would be taking up the slack, wherever the hell they were. It was apparently definitely too much to hope that Akira would let that comment pass; even if he was quiet, the guy almost always needed the last word.

This time, it was muttered irritably under his breath. “Yeah why don’t you come take it, then?”

...What?

“What?!” Ryuji didn’t even bother turning around, he just broke down laughing. “What the hell does that even mean, dude?”

“You heard me,” Akira sounded serious, except for where the last word turned wobbly at the end. And then he dissolved into his own fit of laughter, snorting once before he continued, “I don’t even know, man. I just kinda blurted it out.” The two of them cracked up a little longer, glad to be back to something a little closer to normal--and Ryuji didn’t think Akira’s laugh was cute, it was quiet and dorky and weird, definitely not cute--before Aki caught his breath and then stretched. And sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“You alright, man?” He may not have been able to see Akira’s face with the two of them sitting facing in opposite directions, but Ryuji still caught how his leader had winced when he tried to raise his arm over his head.

Akira nodded. “Slept weird on the plane.” He rolled his shoulder again, then tossed the sunscreen to Ryuji. “At the risk of putting you in tongue-ripping range, can I ask you to get my back?” Ryuji was already up and moving his chair behind Akira, always eager to help his best friend.

“Sure thing, dude.” He had the bottle open and hovering over his hand before his brain caught up to him. Wait. Shit. Bad idea, bad bad idea! If he’d gotten all weird about Akira doing this for himself, how was Ryuji gonna survive getting his own hands involved, especially now that he was thinking about it? But he’d already agreed and if he backed out now, Akira would ask why. He sure as shit wasn’t gonna explain that.

“Earth to Ryuji?” Akira turned his head to peek back at him and… Welp. Apparently this was just Ryuji’s life now. The image of Akira looking over one bare shoulder with those damn eyes just barely visible past the flower petals, his face a little bit pink from the sun overhead, and his lips all flushed and swollen--because, oh right, when Akira didn’t have something to chew on, he’d worry at his lips instead--was seared into Ryuji’s brain. Straight or not, that picture just lived in his head now. And apparently so did about half of his blood, mostly in his face. And the other half… Again, he wondered again how cold the water was. Act natural, Sakamoto.

“Uh, sorry dude. Bottle was stopped up, I got it now!” He laughed nervously as the bottle squirted into his palm with a loud ‘pbblblblt’. Definitely no awkwardness here, no sir. Just a totally normal assist with sunscreen between bros. He was fine. He definitely wasn’t red enough in the face to look sunburnt. Deep breath. He was cool.

...God, he was gonna throw those stupid hibiscuses into the ocean. Hell, from this angle, he could probably grab them and slam them into one of the mostly-empty drinks before Akira could stop him. And Aki wouldn’t want to put them back in his hair after they were all covered in sugar water, right? It was a flawless plan. Ryuji was a damn genius.

He was just gonna finish putting on the sunscreen first, ‘cause he was courteous like that. No sense in letting Akira get a weirdly shaped sunburn because he chased Ryuji down for a couple of damn flowers. That was definitely the only reason he was still rubbing his hands down (and down and down) Akira’s back. Smooth and pale and soft, but surprisingly well muscled underneath, Akira’d been holding out on him while they were training. And those damn dimples on his lower back. Had he been wearing his trunks that low a minute ago? Ugh. Ryuji would definitely be going for a swim after this. He winced as he ran his hands back up over Akira’s shoulders.

“Shit, Aki, I think I found that knot in your neck. No wonder you couldn’t do this yourself,” he muttered and dug his thumb gently into the muscle. Akira sucked in another breath through his teeth, but tipped his head forward and let Ryuji work. The damn thing was probably about the size of a ping pong ball, and Ryuji couldn’t help but feel a little guilty every time Akira tensed up or hissed under his breath when Ryuji dug in a little too hard. And a lot guilty at the temptation to just bury his hands in his bro’s hair. But finally, after the longest two minutes of his life, the knot released and Akira…

Akira fucking groaned.

Ryuji was done. He reached out, snagged both of those stupid red flowers--and a little bit of Akira’s apparently insanely soft hair, oops--and stood up to walk away, ignoring his friend’s protests. The ocean could have both of the damn things, and Ryuji right along with them. He was done. Unfortunately Ann and Makoto had chosen that exact moment to return with fresh drinks, cutting off his escape route. Effin’ great.

“Aaannnnnn, Makotoooooo,” Akira whined as he draped himself dramatically over Ryuji’s shoulders, halfheartedly reaching out to try and reclaim the hibiscuses. “Ryuji deflowered meeee--” Makoto’s face fell into the most unimpressed look any of them had ever seen from her, Ann snorted loud enough that it sounded painful, Ryuji about jumped out of his skin with an indignant yelp that probably could have been heard back in Tokyo, and Akira continued whining undeterred, “--make him give it baaaack.”

Ann had doubled over cackling, and didn’t seem to care that she’d just sloshed about a quarter of one of their drinks onto the sand when she did. “I- I don’t- *snrk* I don’t think it w-works like tha-ha-ha-ha-at!” She managed despite howling with laughter so strong that it looked like she was gonna fall over. Makoto had set her two drinks down long enough to drop into one of the empty chairs and bury her face in her hands with a long, drawn out sigh.

“Why are you two like this?” She glanced up long enough to shoot that tired, unimpressed look up at Akira and Ryuji.

“Hey, don’t look at me!” Ryuji all but shouted as he shrugged Akira off of him and started stomping down towards the water, flowers still crushed in one fist. “This is all on him this time!”

God, Hawaii was off to one hell of a start.

#my writing #pegoryu #persona 5 #fun fact this is kind of a deleted scene from wingman #because apparently that's just 90% of what I write these days is wingman stuff #have I mentioned wingman y'all should read wingman

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orangeoctopi7 · 4 years ago

Text

It’s Fine (It’s not fine)

@forduary week 1 is Hurt/Comfort. The one’s definitely more on the hurt side of things, but I promise there’s some comfort at the end!

Stanford Pines is six years old. He’s in his bedroom, reading quietly. He’s just getting to the climax of the adventure story he’s reading when his brother Stanley crashes into the room. It wouldn't normally be a problem, Ford is really good at tuning out the world around him while he reads, but Stan is complaining loudly.

“I’m booooooard!” The boy moans, grabbing onto the post of their bunk-bed and dangling off it dramatically.

“Whaddaya want me to do about it?” Ford asks in irritation, not looking up from his book.

“Let’s go play on the beach! Or go to the comic store! Or… or something!” Stan suggests. “Anything but just sit around here doin’ nothin’!”

It was a hot summer afternoon. Ford didn’t want to go down to the beach or the comic store when he knew for certain anywhere they went today was bound to be crowded with people. He just wanted to sit and read in his room and enjoy some time to himself.

“Can’t you go by yourself?”

“Are you kiddin’? Ma would throw a fit!”

Ford heaves a long-suffering sigh, places a bookmark to hold his place, and snaps his book shut before thumping it down on his bed.

“Well we don’t hafta go if ya don’t wanna.” Stan says lamely.

“It’s fine.” Ford assures him.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s fine.”

* * *

Stanford Pines is ten years old. He’s at recess, trying to lie low. Stan got held back for the whole half-hour because he’d been caught trying to sneak the class pet, a newt, into his backpack. This of course leaves Ford at the mercy of Crampelter and his thugs, who have little to no mercy on any given day.

“C’mon freak, fight back!” The towheaded bully taunts him, holding Ford back by the forehead as he tries to struggle past the blocking arm for his backpack, held just out of reach. “I know I seen you taking boxing lessons back at Mel’s Gym!”

“It’s ‘I saw’ or ‘I have seen’, and just b‘cuz I’m taking lessons doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to pick a fight I know I can’t win!” Ford protests.

“Pfft, you’re no fun.” Crampelter scoffs, before grabbing onto one of Ford’s hands while he continues to reach vainly for his backpack. “But y’know what does sound fun?”

“Let go of me!”

“Seeing how flexible your extra fingers are!” Crampelter starts to push Ford’s pinky finger back with his thumb, stretching it to its limit.

“Stop it! That hurts!”

But Crampelter just keeps pushing and pushing until Ford is sure some tendons are going to pop, when a shrill whistle echoes across the playground.

“Hey! Crampelter! Drop the freak!” The teacher on recess watch commands.

The bully finally lets go, and Ford stumbles to the ground, holding his injured hand close to his body.

“Here, lemme look at that.” the teacher pulls Ford’s hand away to check it. “Eh, ‘snot bleeding or broken, you’re fine.”

As they walk back from school that afternoon, Stan rants over and over that Crampelter Will Not Get Away With This, plotting various methods of revenge, most of them too fanciful to ever come to fruition.

Ford is silent the whole time, his gaze turned towards his shoes.

“Hey.” Stan suddenly stops his ranting and places a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.”

“It’s fine.” Ford mumbles.

“I promise I’ll try not to get held in for recess again.”

“I said it’s fine.” Ford assures him, knowing that hoping Stan won’t get held back from recess again is like hoping it won’t snow in January. Technically possible, but highly unlikely.

* * *

Stanford Pines is fourteen years old. He’s a freshman in highschool, and he and his brother are in detention after he was caught letting Stan look off his algebra test.

It’s not that Ford has anything against sharing his answers with his brother. It’s not like he has any sort of moral high-ground here. It’s just that Stan is always so carelessly obvious about it!

“I said I was sorry, alright!” Stan hisses at him, trying not to draw the teacher’s attention.

“We’re not in middle school anymore, these things actually go on our record now!” Ford hisses back. “You have to be more careful!”

“Well maybe if you would actually slip me your paper instead of making me crane my neck over your desk! Nobody’s gonna notice if you hand your test in two minutes before everyone else instead of five!”

“That’d be even more obvious! Maybe if you wore your glasses for once!”

“Maybe I would, if you could hold your own in a fight!”

“What does that even have to do with anything!?”

“You don’t wear glasses in a fight, genius! That’s just asking for them to get broken! And I know I’m always having to step in and save your skin, so why would I even bother wearing them in the first place?”

“Hey!” The teacher overseeing detention snaps at them. “No talking!”

The boys shut their yapps and go back to studying, or at least pretending to study.

“I’m sorry.” Stan murmurs, once he’s sure the teacher is no longer paying attention to them.

“It’s fine.” Ford grunts back.

* * *

Stanford Pines is 17 years old. He is begrudgingly walking down to the beach with his brother.

“C’mon Ford, it’s October, there’s only a few more days of weather nice enough to work on her left! And the dumb science fair isn’t until April!”

“I still have so much research to do before I can even start!” Ford complains. “Not to mention procuring parts, testing different models--”

“That all sounds like stuff you can do once it gets cold.”

“I should be in the building phase by then!”

“Alright, look,” Stan jabs a finger in his brother’s direction. “If you wanna spend the last few warm days of the year cooped up in the library, that’s your problem. But I’m gonna enjoy the sunshine and the beach, and finish fixin’ up the Stan’o’war. We’re so close, I can practically taste the treasure and babes!”

“...Fine.” Ford grumbles.

“No, no. You go do your nerd thing. I’ll put the finishing touches on this thing we’ve been working on together since we were pipsqueaks.”

“I said it’s fine.”

* * *

Stanford Pines is 17 years old. He’s just come back from the most humiliating moment of his life (thus far). He confronts his brother, the offending evidence crinkling in his clenched fist. Stan tries to play it off like it’s not a big deal. Like he expects his brother to say It’s Fine.

It is most definitely not fine.

* * *

Stanford Pines is 20 years old. He’s showing his new roommate around their humble apartment.

“I really ‘preciate this, Stanford.” Fiddleford McGucket tells him for the sixth time that day. “Most folks wouldn’t offer to put their TA up in their apartment, ‘specially not when you’re lucky ‘nough to get yer own place!”

“Well, I’ll be starting the Doctorate program myself, next year! That makes us equals, in my mind.” Ford says proudly. “And I’m happy for the company! The only reason I have the apartment to myself is because my last roommate and I parted over… differences.”

“Heh, you too, eh?” McGucket chuckles. “Least you weren’t kicked out, like I was!”

“Why were you kicked out?”

“Oh, several reasons. I think the robot in the kitchen was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

Ford laughs. “Well, I for one would love to have a robot that does our dishes and cleans the counters.”

McGucket grins and leans against the table.. “See, I knew we’d make great roommates!”

Unfortunately, McGucket’s leaning is more than the wobbly table can take, and it tips over on its side, scattering textbooks and papers everywhere. The two friends begin cleaning up the mess, McGucket apologizing profusely.

They’ve almost finished putting everything back onto the table when Fiddleford picks up an old photo of two little boys standing before a derelict little boat.

“Well bless my soul! Is this you, Ford?”

Ford’s heart skips a beat. He hadn’t realized he left that photo lying on the table!

“Ah, yes, that’s me. That was the day I decided I wanted to be a researcher--”

“And lookit this little fellah next to ya!” Fiddleford interrupts Ford’s soliloquy. “He looks just like you! I can’t believe I’ve known you for three years, and you never told me you had a twin!”

“Er… it just-- it never came up.”

“How in tarnation does yer own twin brother never come up?” Fiddleford asks incredulously. “So, what’s his name?”

“Stanley and I are not on speaking terms.” Ford says stiffly. “I haven’t spoken to him since I was a teenager.”

A multitude of expressions dance across Fiddleford’s face before Ford can hope to interpret any of them. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He finally says.

“It’s fine.” Ford says tersely, snatching the photo back.

* * *

Stanford Pines is 21 years old. He’s trying to get a good night sleep before his first dissertation tomorrow.

Trying being the operative word.

The past year rooming with Fiddleford McGucket has been great, for the most part. Ford loves spending time with an intellectual equal. McGucket accepts all of Ford’s idiosyncrasies, and Ford accepts all those of his friend.

Well, almost all of them.

It didn’t take long after they started rooming together for Ford to realize one of the several reasons McGucket had been evicted from his last apartment had nothing to do with his penchant for robotics, and everything to do with his penchant for late-night banjo playing. As much as it cut into Ford’s sleep schedule, he didn’t have the heart to complain to his roommate about it. He knew he had plenty of his own bad habits that were difficult to deal with, like his coffee addiction, his antisocial behavior, his tendency to start a project and just leave it laying wherever he was around the apartment, and his few dozen subscriptions to cryptozoological newsletters.

The digital clock on Ford’s bedside table reads 2:20 AM when the music finally, thankfully stops. He sighs and turns over in his bed, hoping to finally fall asleep.

When he wakes in the morning, groggy as a hung-over sailor, Fiddleford at least has the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, did I keep ya up last night? I kinda got lost in the music an’ lost track of time.”

“It’s fine.” Ford mutters as he pours himself a large mug of the strongest coffee he can brew. This is the first roommate he’s gotten along with since… since he started college. He can put up with this.

“Well, if’n ya need me to, I can start headin’ up to the practice rooms in the assembly hall fer my jam sessions--”

“It’s fine.”

* * *

Stanford Pines is 31 years old. He’s spreading thick globs of slimy aloe vera on his hands. He’s been letting his muse take control of his body while he sleeps for about a week now. Bill says he’s not used to the limits of a physical human body. He’s injured Ford’s body just about every night so far, but last night, when he picked up the hot coffee pot by the pot instead of by the handle, was the worst by far.

“This keeps on happening, Bill. You need to be more careful.” He gently chides his muse.

“WELL HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT’D HAPPEN? WHY DIDN’T THE IDIOT WHO DESIGNED THAT THING INSULATE THE WHOLE CONTAINER INSTEAD OF JUST THE HANDLE? YOU COULD DESIGN A COFFEE POT WAY MORE EFFICIENT THAN THAT!”

Ford smiles, blushing. “Perhaps I’ll get around to modifying it someday. But for now, as I was saying, could you please be more careful with my body at night?”

“HEY, YOU’RE ACTUALLY LUCKY THIS HAPPENED. IF I HADN’T DROPPED THAT POT, I WOULD’VE TRIED DRINKING IT THE SAME WAY I DO IN MY NORMAL FORM, AND THEN YOU’D PROBABLY BE BLIND. SO WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT IT, YOU SHOULD BE THANKING ME!”

Ford pales. “Er, perhaps I should help you practice using my body first, just to decrease the risk of that sort of thing.”

“OH, I’M SORRY! DO YOU NOT WANT MY HELP? DO YOU NOT WANT TO ACHIEVE GREATNESS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE?”

“No! No of course not! That’s not what I meant!”

“DON’T FORGET, I’M DOING THIS FOR YOU, SIXER! I’M AN AGELESS BEING OF PURE ENERGY! THE ONLY REASON I’M HELPING YOU SPEED UP THE PROCESS ON BUILDING THE PORTAL IS BECAUSE I KNOW HOW PATHETICALLY SHORT YOUR MORTAL LIFE IS. YOU’RE JUST GONNA HAVE TO TRUST ME. OR ARE A FEW BUMPS AND BRUISES TOO MUCH FOR YOU TO HANDLE?”

“Of course not! It’s fine! I’m fine!” Ford insists, finishing bandaging his burns.

* * *

Stanford Pines is… probably 45? He’s not quite sure. He’s lost track of time after traveling the multiverse for so long, especially after the Do-Over Dimension.

He’s making his way through a crowded alien market, hoping to find something he’ll be able to use in his Quantum Destabilizer, and also hoping not to be recognized by any bounty hunters. It’s annoying, having to wear a hood and goggles and mask everywhere he goes, but that’s just the way it has to be now.

It’s fine.

It’s only until he can complete the Quantum Destabilizer. After that… it didn’t matter what happened after that.

It’s fine.

* * *

Stanford Pines is 62 years old. He’s sitting in a hospital bed. Despite what that may suggest, his life has finally taken a turn for the better. Bill is gone, Weirdmaggeddon is over, and, miraculously, no one died. Stanley was going to be ok. The kids didn’t hate him. He’s achieved his goal of destroying Bill Cipher, and survived! He’s fine. They’re all incredibly, wonderfully, fine.

The doctor is giving his vitals one last check before officially discharging him from the hospital. It’s obvious that under normal circumstances, Ford would not be leaving the hospital any time soon, but thanks to the incredibly persistent insistence of his family, and the fact that the hospital is already absolutely filled to the brim with people who were injured during Weirdmageddon, and the fact that Stanford was instrumental in stopping Bill, they’re making an exception.

“Alright, you’re free to go!” The doctor finally says, handing his clipboard over to Ford to sign.

“Hooray!” Mabel cheers as her uncle signs his exit papers. “Now you’ll be able to help us set up for our birthday party!” She slings an arm around his neck to hug him, completely forgetting about the thin layer of bandages around his neck. Ford can’t suppress a yelp of pain.

Mabel reels back, hands flying to her mouth. “Ohmigosh, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine.” Ford forces a smile.

“I wasn’t thinking!”

“Mabel, really, it’s fine.”

“Ford.” Stan says firmly. Ford recognizes the expression on his face from the last few days. It’s the look he gets on his face when he’s remembering something painful. “You gotta stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” He asks, confused.

“Saying ‘It’s fine’ when it’s not.”

Ford raises an eyebrow. “Stanley, it was just an accident. It really is fine.”

“Oh, yeah, of course this was…” Stan stammers, apparently coming back to the moment. “Mabel’s not-- this was just an honest mistake. But you say… uh, or at least, you used to say that a lot. Even when I could tell it wasn’t really fine. You gotta stop that.”

Ford shifted in his bed uncomfortably. “I’m just being polite.”

“There are ways to say things aren’t fine while still being polite.” Dipper points out.

Ford can feel himself flush. “I’m not good at that. I always come off as rude… or angry.” Saying it’s fine is just easier. He can just move on and forget about it. Control his emotions. Remove them from the equation for the time being, process them later when he’s alone, so nobody gets hurt.

Stan takes a deep breath before he speaks again. “You just gotta trust us, that we’re not gonna leave you just ‘cuz you get angry sometimes.”

Is that really what he’s been afraid of this whole time? That certainly seems to be a part of it, but not the whole. All the same, he does at least feel that he can trust his family. And he can try to be more honest with them when something is bothering him.

“I think I can do that.” he says as he gets up from the hospital bed, ready to go home.

#Gravity Falls #Stanford Pines #Fanfiction #My Writing

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solalunar-eclipse · 4 years ago

Text

Scars You Can’t See - Chapter 11

Chapter title: Improvements

Word count: about 3400 words

Author’s Note: Wow...the fact that this fic has only two chapters left is crazy to think about. It’s going to be finished within the next month or so...whoa.

First | Previous | Next

...

Rouge cringed as bright sunlight stung her slowly opening eyes, dragging her forcefully out of what had honestly been a pretty great sleeping session. Suddenly, though, she shot upright, remembering-

Wait- G.U.N. had found them- Shadow and Omega--

Oh, right.

The bat rubbed at her eyes to try and get rid of the spots still dancing in them, before looking around and taking in the clearing surrounding her. She was truly safe now and on Angel Island.

Rouge just...needed a minute to remind herself of that.

She figured that she also owed Team Sonic at least a year’s worth of favors for busting them out of that awful situation. Chaos, she’d thought they were all done for at first, even with Omega’s best efforts.

Speaking of that team, she suddenly felt a rush of wind at her side and turned to see Sonic himself kneeling next to her, looking worried. “You good there, Rouge?” he asked, resting a hand on her shoulder in concern.

“I’ll live.” she said warmly, grateful for his attention. “Doing better than yesterday, that’s for sure.”

Sonic’s expression changed into a hopeful grin at that, his shoulders sinking slightly in relief. Rouge knew that he really tended to worry about the people he cared for when they weren’t doing well, so she was pleased to see some of the stress leave him now.

“How’s Shadow? And Omega?” the bat asked quickly, wanting to make sure her team was alright.

“Okay, well, Omega’s over there sucking the life out of Tails’s portable generator,” Sonic said, and Rouge followed his gaze to see exactly that. Her robot friend gave a thumbs up when he noticed her attention, before lifting the generator and walking over to greet her.

“This power is strong for such a small device. Much better than that pathetic excuse for voltage the rooms provided.” he said, by way of a greeting. Rouge grinned in response. Omega had never really seen the need for pleasantries with his friends when he could just get to the point instead. (They already knew that he cared about them anyway.)

“How do you feel?” he asked, sitting down and staring at her. The robot clearly wasn’t going to take an “I’m fine” for an answer, so she sighed. “Tired, mostly. Are we sure we’re totally safe out here?”

Omega looked like he was ready to smirk, if he could. “You missed the fun earlier when the blue hedgehog discovered that we are in the middle of the largest ocean on the planet. He was not happy about our isolation.”

Rouge had to restrain a cackle at that when she turned back to the (suddenly several shades paler) hero in question. “Water…” he groaned. “So much...water…”

“You’ll be okay, hon,” she said, a little bit of sympathy softening her tone. “There’s still plenty of room up here to go running around.”

Sonic’s eyes widened. “Oh right! I didn’t tell you about Shads!” His ears drooped slightly after that. “He’s...he’s still asleep near the Master Emerald.”

Omega cut in there. “His vital signs are completely stable. He is merely exhausted.”

Rouge sighed, frowning slightly. Was telling him to do that Chaos Control really-

“You made the best decision you could under the circumstances.” the robot said insistently. “Stop questioning yourself or I will have to make you comply with force.”

Rouge stuck out her tongue at him, before getting up to go walk over to the altar and see her other friend. She hadn’t taken more than a couple of steps, though, when she found that her head had begun to ache horribly- leftover effects from the stress, she knew. There was always a price to pay for missions.

She was vaguely aware of Sonic darting to her side, but she straightened up, ignoring the pain for now. If there was one thing she had to do, it was to check on Shadow.

The hybrid was still on the altar, barely having moved from his original position. Someone had folded up a blanket and put it beneath his head, at least. Knuckles was pacing around and around the Master Emerald, clearly driving himself to distraction considering all the possible ways in which Angel Island could be threatened at this very moment.

Rouge sat down next to Shadow for a moment, checking to make sure he was alright before rubbing one of his ears slightly. The hybrid purred a little in his sleep, making Rouge smile and Sonic mask a squeal with his hand. “Awwwww…” he whispered, staring down at Shadow with wide eyes.

Meanwhile, Rouge got up and walked over to lean on the giant Emerald, smirking as Knuckles completed another circuit around the altar- only to bump right into her and look up, startled. “Rouge! You’re awake!” he exclaimed, before pulling her into a tight hug that squeezed all the air out of her lungs.

“Babe,” she wheezed, trying to adjust. “Honey, I missed you too, but I kind of need to breathe to live? So if you wouldn’t mind…”

“Oh- right- sorry,” he said, loosening up and clearly embarrassed. “I’m just so glad you’re alright.”

Sonic gave him a look from over the top of the giant gem. “Says the guy who didn’t want to head off to Central City at first.”

“Come on, man, give me a break! You know how much G.U.N. wants to get their hands on these artifacts!” Knuckles exclaimed, sounding irritated. He glanced back at Rouge nervously, though, clearly more than a little embarrassed about his hesitance.

She wasn’t going to hold it against him, though- he’d been trained since day one to practically worship the island and all that it held, and putting it in harm’s way must have taken a lot out of him. “It’s okay, just remember to try and keep from being uptight all the time, alright?” Rouge asked gently, wrapping an arm around his waist and leaning into him.

Knuckles blushed as red as his spines. “Thanks, Rouge...I’ll try.” he said, pointedly ignoring his friend’s knowing grin.

“Awww, Knux, aren’t ya gonna kiss your giiiiirlfriend?” Sonic taunted, knowing just how to frustrate the echidna (and fluster him more).

“Shut up!” he bellowed. “It’s none of your business what we do or don’t--”

Rouge had kissed him on the cheek, and his voice immediately seemed to fail at that, breaking off into absolute silence. She snickered quietly. Knuckles’s shock whenever she did this never stopped being fun.

A low groan sounded behind them. “Urgh...Chaos, is this what I hafta wake up to? Move y’r PDA somewhere else, Rouge.”

Shadow’s words were slurred with exhaustion, but nobody seemed to care. Rouge dashed over to his side faster than Sonic (not too surprisingly- the hedgehog seemed to have frozen the second Shadow started speaking).

“How do you feel, hon?” she asked him gently, all the while monitoring him for any sort of abnormalities.

“Feels like I’ve been run over by a truck ‘n launched out of a catapult into the side of a mountain.” he grumbled. “Everything’s aching…I’m so tired. Let’s...let’s not take out any more military bases for a while, ‘kay?”

Rouge grinned at him. “Sounds good to me, hon.” She began to pull him up into a reclined position so that he could see better. The bat could also hear Omega’s steps in the background as he hurried over (which for most people was a speed-walking pace, but he was doing his best).

“Just relax for now, Shadow. You and Sonic brought us somewhere safe, so we can just rest, alright?” she added, and felt him do so almost immediately.

Omega arrived and put a hand on Shadow’s shoulder, his giant metal fingers nearly engulfing half of the hybrid’s arm. “Hey, Omega.” he said wearily, smiling faintly up at the robot.

“You are safe now. I will make sure that nothing bad happens to you or Rouge so long as we are here.” he said, sounding determined and just a little bit violent.

“You did a pretty good job of that back in the field.” Shadow said, apparently far too tired to hold up his usual aloof attitude.

Omega stood up and assumed a slight power pose. “Of course I did. I am awesome.”

Sonic took the robot’s place quickly, taking Shadow’s hand in his own. “If anyone comes anywhere near this island, I’ll help Omega take them out. You’ve done more than enough, Shads.”

The hybrid tried to maintain a cool, calm expression, but it quickly softened into gratitude. He struggled with his words for a moment, clearly uncertain about how to react to Sonic’s determined kindness. Eventually, though, he settled for a simple “Thank you, Sonic.”

Rouge didn’t miss the way Sonic’s smile became wider and more genuine at that, nor how he squeezed Shadow’s hand briefly before releasing it. “Anytime, nerd. Anytime.”

Shadow mock-scowled at the hero before settling back against Omega, who had sat down behind him. Rouge noticed how he struggled to keep his eyes open, so she settled down next to him and made shooing motions with her hands. “Alright, alright, let the guy rest! You said yourself he doesn’t have to work anymore, Sonic.”

The hedgehog in question walked off reluctantly with his friends to the first tier of the altar, looking back at Shadow once before giving the team some space.

Rouge sighed, settling back against Omega and trying to find a position that didn’t leave metal poking into her back. He could be comfortable if she sat right- especially since he was warm- but she had to work a little to find the right spot. Her own eyes closed a little, and she leaned against Shadow as the faint buzz of stress and her exhaustion battled it out inside her head.

She suspected that her instincts would give her trouble for a while, but it would probably be manageable now that they were safe. Things were looking up now for real, and that was great.

And then Sonic’s phone rang.

“Wha- huh- you have your phone on??” Shadow yelped, sitting upright immediately. “Why didn’t you turn it off?”

“I had to keep up with everything!” Sonic exclaimed, his eyes wide. He held the phone as far away from his body as he could, as though it might burst into flames at any moment.

“Alright, alright, everybody calm down!” Rouge shouted, directing all attention to herself and bringing complete silence to the clearing.

This role was what she was used to.

“Alright, first off. Sonic, do you recognize that number?” she asked, as everyone gathered back around.

He frowned, looking at the ‘missed calls’ screen now that the ringing had stopped. “N...no…..wait, actually, I think I do! But who…..”

The hero’s eyes widened. “Oh. Wait. What’s the president want with me now?”

“Wait, is it really her?” Tails gasped.

Omega glowered at the phone. “She probably wishes to know if we are with you.”

Everybody jumped again when the phone started ringing once more.

“Well….I guess I’ll just answer and tell her I don’t know where you are?” Sonic asked, moving to tap the green button.

“No!” three separate people yelled at once, making him drop the phone in surprise.

“Well, what should I do then? Just, like, ignore her?” the hero said, exasperated.

Tails shook his head patiently. “You remember that app I put on your phone, Sonic? The one that hides your signal location?”

“Ohhhhh,” Sonic said, clearly realizing why it would be a very good idea to use said app. “Right! Let me turn that on.”

“And don’t forget to use the super-scrambler I made for you!” Tails reminded him, sounding an awful lot like the real older brother of the two at the moment.

“Fine, yeah, I remember what you said,” Sonic muttered, sounding a little irritated. He cringed a moment later, though, looking up his friends. All three of them were clearly tense once again- not ideal when they were in the safest place they could possibly be. “Sorry, I know this is important and all. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, hon.” Rouge said soothingly. “You have it all up now?”

“Yeah, I-” Sonic was cut off yet again by his ringtone.

He took one deep breath before pressing the button.

Everybody else remained absolutely silent. The wind rustled through the trees as his phone connected to the other end of the signal.

“Uh….hey there.” the hero said, his voice sounding far more wary now. “What’s up?”

Shadow facepalmed silently beside Rouge, who clamped a hand over her mouth to stop any potential laughter.

Sonic quickly switched the call to speakerphone so that everybody could hear the president talk.

“Hello, Sonic.” she said politely, her voice warmer and more friendly than any of them had expected. “Are...any of the members of Team Dark there? I’m not asking for G.U.N., I promise.”

Rouge gave the phone a skeptical look. Not asking for G.U.N.? Doubtful.

“Nah, not here.” Sonic said easily. “Whatcha want with them?”

The bat could hear the faintest hint of harshness in his tone, hiding beneath the cool front he put up. Apparently the hero hadn’t quite gotten all of his frustration out just yet.

Clearly, the president could hear it too, because she sounded a little awkward when she next spoke. “Oh. I...I actually just wanted to tell them something important. Is there any way for me to get in touch with them?”

Sonic glowered at the phone. “I can tell them whatever it is you wanna say.” He was practically growling by this point, clearly working hard to keep his emotions under control.

Rouge cringed at that- now everyone would know that Sonic had a direct link to her team. Not good.

“Alright then...” Strangely enough, the woman on the call still sounded stressed. Shouldn’t she be pleased that she’d gotten some sort of a lead instead? That was what this was for, right?

“Can you tell them, then...just let them know that I’ve signed off on an order temporarily shutting down all of G.U.N.’s operations, okay? And that the commander has agreed to comply with it? Will they get to hear that?”

Rouge, Shadow and Omega all stared at one another.

What?

“Yeah- yeah, they’ll hear the news.” Sonic said, his eyes as wide as they could get. “Uhhh, why exactly did you do that?”

Now it was the president’s turn to sound irritated. “What do you mean, why? Not only are there protests and riots in the streets, but I’m horrified by what they’ve done, as I’m sure you are too! The leaders in both houses of government and I have completely agreed that G.U.N. needs to be closed down until we figure out what to do with it.

“I’ll be putting my voice in for total reform, and a consideration of permanent closure, but there are those who’ll argue with me, of course. I’m still going to do what I can for Team Dark and for those who’ve been hurt by G.U.N., though.”

“Wow.” Sonic said softly, stunned. “That’s...that’s impressive.”

“No.” the president said decisively. “It’s the least I can do to make things right. And, if you see Shadow…”

“Yeah?”

“Can you tell him that I personally apologize for everything that happened on Space Colony ARK? I had no knowledge of it until that video was released...but still. I wish there was something I could do to let him know how horrified I am by what he was forced to endure.”

Shadow stared at Rouge, who honestly couldn’t do much more than stare back, her thoughts racing by at a pace to rival her friend’s speed. G.U.N. wasn’t chasing them anymore? They weren’t even allowed to hunt them down? It almost sounded too good, too easy to be true.

“I’ll tell him. I promise.” Sonic said, his voice just a little shaky.

“Thank you, Sonic. Take care.” she replied, before ending the call.

“...whoa.” he breathed.

“What just happened?” Shadow ran his hands through his quills, as though he hoped it would help him sort out the events that had just taken place.

“Is this even real?” Knuckles asked skeptically. “It could be a prank…” They all knew he’d been the target of too many falsehoods to trust most people by now.

“Voice patterns match previous speeches given by the current president.” Omega said, making everyone’s surprise grow even more.

“So what...they’re just shutting down?” Tails looked confused.

“Most of them, yes.” Rouge said, taking a deep breath and beginning to work through her own swirling thoughts. “There’ll be some agents who don’t agree with what’s going on, but that’s to be expected. The commander is a big fan of rules, so he won’t ignore an order directly from the government. G.U.N. should be shut down...so the question is how safe the United Federation is for us right now.”

“So? Is it safe?” Sonic asked, looking hopeful.

The three members of Team Dark locked eyes. Rouge sighed. “Not quite. G.U.N. hasn’t actually been fixed yet and there’s going to be plenty of agents who are less than happy about this development...especially when it comes to us escaping.”

“There’s still a chance they could use their various connections to order some sort of attack on us that couldn’t be traced back to them...it’s unlikely that the commander would go for it, but others might. None of us need any potential assassins sneaking into Club Rouge in the middle of the night.” Shadow muttered, staring down at the grass.

All three members of Team Sonic cringed at Shadow’s wording. But then, Sonic sat down next to him and put an arm about the hybrid’s shoulders gently, giving him the option to push it off if he needed. “Don’t worry, Shads, you can stay here as long as you like.”

Knuckles glared at him. “This is my island, Sonic! I get to decide who stays for how long!”

Rouge raised a brow at that. “And do we get to stay, then?”

“...yes.” the echidna grumbled defeatedly.

Sonic’s answering smirk got him chased all around the clearing and the surrounding woods as punishment...if you could call it punishment when he was laughing and dancing and skipping over boulders all the way.

Rouge looked over to see Shadow leaning back against Omega again, looking tired but surprisingly calm and...was that a smile she saw?

“Feeling good there, hon?” she asked gently, leaning on him (and purposefully making their height difference obvious).

He rolled his eyes but still leaned into her shoulder, bringing a smile to her face as well. “Better than the last time we did this, that’s for sure.”

Rouge felt Omega’s arms tighten around them and looked up to see his eyes dim slightly in thought. After a moment, though, they brightened again, and he spoke.

“Original objective: make Shadow feel better. Status update: partially completed. Notes: cortisol levels lowering but still above recommended levels. Remaining irregular behavior due to exhaustion. And...outcome regarding G.U.N appears to be positive so far. This mission appears to be an overall success.”

He pulled them both a little closer, clearly not planning on allowing the two to escape his hold any time soon.

“Awww…” Rouge said gently, but Shadow was already falling asleep.

“Ngh. Stop making fun ‘f me.” He nudged her shoulder with his head, completely failing to do anything other than make the bat's smile grow warmer.

Within moments, he was completely passed out, and Rouge and Omega shared a look. “Do you regret any of the difficulties that this mission has created?” the robot asked, seeming curious more than anything.

Rouge looked over at the sleeping hedgehog next to her, a small smile spread across his face as he rested safely with his closest friends and family. There wasn’t any pain waiting for him in his unconscious now, and while there might be in the future, it could be handled with care and time.

She grinned up at Omega then, her smile wide and genuine.

“I don’t regret it at all.”

#shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #e 123 omega #scars you can't see #sycs #sol's fanfiction #still getting used to tumblr formatting so this took me a while ugh #just to clarify: an election took place in between shth and now #really though it's crazy to think that the fic's almost over!#i'll have to go back and look at the post date of chapter 1 sometime #also i have discovered the secret to not feel nervous about posting #run out of time and panic-format it until you hit post five seconds before you have to do something else #:/#as always though i'm open to constructive criticism!#hope you enjoyed reading and have a great day

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elysiashelby · 4 years ago

Text

In Another World - T. Shelby Imagine Ch. 12

Paring: (Eventual) Thomas Shelby x Aliena Welsh (OC)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Word Count: 10,468

WARNINGS: Angst, Alcohol Consumption (borders abuse), Cursing, FIGHT SCENE (Detailed), Existential Crisis, Mentions of Blood & Bones Breaking

Summary: Aliena’s 18th birthday has arrived, but her mental health isn’t doing so well. She’s feeling more distant from the Shelby’s and in her role in their universe. Aliena has been partying a lot, drinking a lot of alcohol. How is that affecting her?

MASTERLIST CHAPTER 11 CHAPTER 13

A/N: This chapter has a fight scene. It’s mildly detailed, but be warned. Thomas does interact with Aliena in this chapter, however; it’s not a huge part of this chapter. Along with the previous chapter, this chapter centers on Aliena. Also, she’s still very depressed. BLACK LINE BREAK INDICATED START AND END OF FIGHT SCENE!!

Me nose was runny and tears slipped out of me eyes. Cassie was holding back me hair and rubbing me back as I vomited me guts out. I sniffed as I fell to me side. I got a hold of the handle and flushed the toilet.

“Tank you.” I said.

Cassie nodded with her squinted eyes and her lips pursed. “I got you, honey. I got you, Ali.” She was rubbing me arm now and didn’t let go of me hair.

Slowly and not steadily, I stood up. Cassie followed me and didn’t let go of me hair. I turned on the faucet and rinsed me mouth of the taste. As I bent down to spit out the water, I felt a familiar tug on me hair. I raised me hand and tried to whack her grip away. She finally fuckin’ let go.

I gasped for air, looked to me side, and reached for me toothbrush.

Cassie cackled while walking over to the toilet. She put the lid down ‘n sat on it. “Not regretting leaving that here now, are you?”

I rolled me eyes as I brushed me teeth. “Nevah did, ya divvy.” I spat out the excess before going in and brushing me tongue as well.

Anyway after all that, Cassie and I walked out. There was people asleep across the floor, on couches, on chair, ‘n even tables. Me hand flew to me mouth and I felt nauseous again.

“Cassie, we’re not fucking home!” I turned ‘round and clutched her forearm with a fury.

Cassie had the same flabbergasted look on her face.

“We fuckin’ fell asleep in the loo!”

Cassie started gagging and I tsked as I stomped me foot.

“You brushed your teeth with somebody’s else’s toothbrush!” Cassie whispered-shouted.

I whimpered while stomping me feet. “I know I did.” I marched over to Angie and smacked her shoulder. “Angie, wake up! Wake up, we have to go!” I began shaking her.

She protested in her sleep, but eventually she couldn’t take it anymore and shot up.

“All right!” She yelled. “All right, I’m awake.”

“Thank you.” I said with some snap in me tone. I looked over to Tina and luckily, Cassie saved me the trouble of waking her arse up.

“Thank ya Jesus! Let’s fuckin’ go!” I shouted. Some people fucking whined in their sleep while others glared at me. I fucking glared back. The four of us stumbled our way ‘til the front of the house.

“Wait!” Cassie shouted.

I looked back at her and contorted me face in confusion.

She trailed off to the phone while saying, “I have to call Simmons .”

Collectively, we all groaned.

I cradled me head and then let it drop limply. I must have stood there for .5 seconds before I huffed. “I’m waiting outside. Join me if you want!” So, I walked outside and sat down on the steps.

It was fucking freezing! I really hafta to start bringing coats.

“Fuck, Ali! Aren’t you fucking freezing?” Angie asked me as she sat beside me.

I scoffed while rubbing me arms up and down furiously. “Yes, of course, I am.”

Angie opened up her fur coat and ushered me to get in. I did so without hesitation. She shivered as I stole her warmth. Then, we started giggling.

“Fucking London winters!” I shouted. This caused Angie to chuckle.

I could hear the doors open and close at the same time as a car engine did. I looked back to see Cassie and Tina walking out, heels in hand.

“He’s here.” Cassie announced while walking past us.

Angie and I got up and followed suit. I don’t remember the drive because I fell back to sleep. Once we got to her place, we all decided to take a shower. I was made to go last since I had just flopped on the bed and closed me eyes.

I wasn’t asleep, but I didn’t want to be awake either. Tina came and shook me awake when it was me turn. I rolled up, grabbed some towels, and walked into the bathroom.

I turned on the water ‘n made sure it was scalding hot before I stepped in. I sighed in pleasure as I was enveloped in its heat. I ran me hands over me hair and down me neck.

Tommy’s been busy as was the whole family. Finn’s abar to turn twelve, but he’s growing fast. His baby fat is going away and he’s stretching out.

God, was I teased when I came back bladdered the first night I went out! They all had a laugh. Arthur’s booming laugh made me wince which made more snickers go ‘round. Tommy even teased me abar calling him pretty.

“Me eyes still pretty, Aliena?” He asked me.

I tried smacking him, but he swerved and ran off. As much as me head was pounding, we- I was still happy.

I sighed as I lathered me body with soap.

I still feel lost. I’m stuck cleaning and collecting payments from families. I only did that gig every two week, though. So, I took up another job and started helping Polly with the finances. I just double checked her math and did some of me own. The latter was only if we were swamped, though.

I wasn’t getting paid for that either. Two pound was enough, Polly warned me. I didn’t fight it. I saved up a lot of money. I just wasn’t out enough to spend it on much, but now that I am— it’s slowly decreasing.

I huffed as I washed out the shampoo from me hair.

Finn is ‘aving trouble reading, finally. That coupled along with his growing desire to be apart of the family business, he’s getting even more discouraged abar school. Been hanging ‘round with Isaiah Jesus, who was five or six years older than him. Isaiah is a nice enough boy. Honestly, I don’t care what they do. They’re not me own children, after all.

I looked down at the water spiraling into the drain.

That’s a blag. I care deeply with what happens to that kid. Poor thing.

I sighed while turning off the shower. I wrang me hair multiple times to get out as much excess water as I could before bunching it up in a towel.

I didn’t like feeling like a freeloader in that house. It was just wrong. But I couldn’t deny that I loved the days like this where I knew I had no responsibilities because I already took care of them.

I would just sleep in bed. Or, like last night— party ‘til I blacked out. I also started writing again. Some original fantasy story. It was more for the 2000s, so I didn’t dare let anyone read it. After all, they wouldn’t understand some of the jargon I used nor the types of technologies.

Once I was done drying off me body, I began to lather me legs in lotion.

I was partying a lot! Like a lot. I can’t tell you how many times between December 16th and now, that Tommy had carried me off to bed.

I kept telling him that he didn’t have to do that, but he insisted that he was doing it so I wouldn’t get sick. I’ve never not slept with blankets before, so I couldn’t disagree. I mean I did it when I was a child, I’m sure. But, I don’t remember if I got sick over it. I was sick a lot as a child.

I tucked in me towel and walked out. “I’m still alive.” I announced while walking over to me backpack.

“Good. I was afraid you died in there.” Cassie chuckled at her own joke, which made me smile.

I just yanked whatever I could out of it since it was holding everything I needed. New undergarments and clothes. Once I put on me panties, I dropped me towel so I could put on me bra.

I finally looked up and watched as they talked amongst themselves. I tugged me hair towel off and patted me hair dry.

“Hey, Ali. Your birthday is coming up. How do you feel about a party?”

With me back bent as I was drying me hair, I asked. “Where at?”

They collectively began to hum as I began me fight with jeans. I always had to jump once they got to me thighs.

“Well, I wanted to throw you a party at my house.” Angie said as her hands joined in on the conversation.

I froze, instantly. I literally stopped putting on me shirt. “You mean at your mansion?”

She nodded with a sheepish smile on her face.

I let me shirt stay stuck above me bust as I rushed to Angie. I hugged her as she giggled.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I chanted.

“Um, you’re welcome. I guess. I mean, I’m not doing this for a thank you. I want to throw a big party, that’s all. You’re one of my best friends.”

I squeezed her tighter before letting her go. “Still, thank you. ‘Cause you don’t have to throw me a party at all.”

I gave her a big-toothy smile before I launched to kiss her cheek.

I went home the next day, fully sober. Don’t worry, yesterday was a rest day for me liver. Didn’t exactly want to die of a failed liver so soon. What am I talking abar? It’ll catch up to me later in life like with the boys.

Knowing me own luck, its gonna catch up with me sooner. Just watch.

I walked through the door and locked it behind me. It was seven, so I knew that Polly had to be up.

“Polly, I’m home!”

“In the kitchen, love!”

I walked in the room and there she was sitting with Ada and Karl. I cooed at the sight of him. I made grabby hands which made Ada chuckle. She passed him into me arms and I sighed.

“Hello, little one. How are you? Oh, you’re getting heavier. Mummy’s been feeding you right!”

I began to pepper his face in kisses which made him smile.

“So, Ali. Polly’s been telling me that you’ve been to the big city with your friends. How are you liking it?”

I slowly took a seat before answering her. “Um, it’s not bad. I mean, during the day it’s beautiful. Perfect for people visiting, but at night-!” I scoffed while laughing. “It’s like everybody’s morals are gone with the light.”

Polly chortled. “So, like here except you get the same during the day too.”

I rolled me eyes before blowing a raspberry. Karl giggled so I did it again. I looked at Ada and asked, “So, you and Freddie have any luck finding a flat?”

She looked down, picking at her nails. So, that’s a no.

Ada scoffed. “It’s just so much harder than we thought. Things are really heating up within the group and Freddie’s friends can’t take us in because money is tight right now.”

I furrowed me eyebrows. “It is?”

It seems that I stepped on a landmine ‘cause there was a sparkle in Ada’s eyes. And so, she went on a rant abar communism. I only half paid attention, to be polite. Though Polly and I shared multiple judgemental glances at each other.

Karl, eventually, started to get fussy and I gave him back to Ada. Said he was probably hungry.

Polly cleared her throat when Ada stopped talking. “So, Ali, your birthday is coming up. What do you want to do?”

I hummed in thought. “Well, um, one of me friends offered to throw me a party at her place. So, I’m not sure. Plus, everyone is so busy. I don’t want to impose on anything.”

“Well, then. Guess a little celebration at the Garrison the day before wouldn’t be so bad, right?”

I whipped ‘round to see Tommy leaning against the entrance of the kitchen, taking a drag from his ciggie.

I stopped getting after him abar them a while back. Didn’t see the point anymore. Especially now since I smoke too from time to time.

“No, it wouldn’t.”

He nodded. “We can see you drink in action. Wonder how many glasses of whiskey ‘till you feel a buzz?”

I felt me cheeks heat up as Polly and Ada snickered. I went to strike him ‘n he just lifted his arm.

I sighed and leaned on me head with the support of me hand.

“Where am I needed today?” I asked, slightly already exhausted.

Polly hummed as she quickly swallowed her sip of tea. “I’ll be needing your help in the shop. Come on.”

I bit me lip, in order to stop the sigh that wanted to escape me mouth. I looked over at Tommy one last time, who was still looking at me.

I spent the whole day running ‘round for Polly. Counting up money, retrieving money from the boys, and putting it away in the safe. I didn’t know the combination. I was just tossing it in.

When she didn’t need me help, I was to go and make dinner. I did, in fact, make lunch as well.

As I was doing that I went and called Cassie.

“Hello!” Cassie answered with a sing-song tone.

“Hello, Cassie.”

“Oh! Ali, what’s going on?”

I shook me head, even though, she couldn’t see it. “Is nothing. So, the Shelby’s are throwing me a little gatherin’ at the Garrison. You know the bar that Arthur owns now. And I was wondering if you and the girls can make it?”

I heard Cassie hum. “Well, I don’t see why we couldn’t. I know I’ll be there, but let me ask them and I’ll call you back.”

“Okay.”

We hung up and I refocused on finishing dinner. She called me back a little later saying that they agreed to come. Now, all that was left was for the day to come.

Today we were celebratin’ me 18th birthday. I’ve been with the Shelby’s for a year and 11 months. On me first 18th birthday, I was given a car. I wonder what I’m getting this year. Prior to the whole Kimber operation, I had been drawing a lot— but since, I stopped. I still have loads of paint and a single canvas left.

I just hoped that they don’t give me the same thing.

I wasn’t woken up the same way like last year either. It was the sun that woke me. I opened me eyes and laid in bed. I looked at the door in silence then turned away.

I could feel it in the air. Today was not going to be a good day.

I huffed while shutting me eyes close tightly. I slowly got up and turned ‘round so me feet where almost touchin’ the floor. I took a deep breath and let me feet touch the ground.

I figured since we weren’t gonna be at the bar ‘til late at night. I was expected to still do me regular duties. I mean, after all, tomorrow was me birthday. I threw on a simple dress and boots then headed downstairs.

I started working on breakfast. For who? I don’t know. Maybe just for me. I could hear the bustling of the shop. Men shouting.

This empty room. This empty, vacant room with only me filling it.

I closed me eyes and clenched me fists. The stinging pain of me nails diggin’ into me palm distracted me from crying. I shook me head and quickly plated me omelet. The chair scraped against the floor as I pulled it out and then I sat down.

I stared at it and stared.

I’m not that hungry.

“Ali, what’re doing?”

Me head snapped up and I locked eyes with Tommy. I blinked furiously before shaking me head a little, ‘n it really was just a little.

I gulped before taking me fork, cutting a piece, and placed it in me mouth. “I was thinking.” I said with a little scoff, a goofy smile on me face. “Didn’t realize I was thinking that hard.”

He tipped his cap at me with furrowed eyebrows and squinted eyes before he walked off.

I watched him and then dropped me fork. It didn’t taste of anything.

To avoid causing up a stir, I scarfed down the rest of that omelet and then went abar me way.

I went outside and pulled down the laundry. I tried keeping me head clear of everything and anything. But it was impossible. I kept making up plots in me head. I was just so bored without anyone to talk to.

‘I miss the kids.’ I caught meself thinking. I sighed while I clutched the basket closer to me body. I looked away before looking back ‘n walked back into the house. I had to start folding.

Once I folded the clothes, I placed them in the room of their respective owners and then went back downstairs to clean up the place. I was in the middle of sweeping when lunch came ‘round.

I did the usual and brought the boys and Polly their meals. Esme was at home today. However, there was one odd man out, Tommy. He was probably overseeing the designs of his office. They were going to start building soon. He said it would take anywhere from four to seven months.

So with me basket like little red riding hood, I had to go on an adventure to take Tommy his lunch. When I got there, he dismissively thanked me. He literally didn’t even pick up his head, just took the bloody sandwich.

I didn’t even roll me eyes as usual. Didn’t see the point. I just went on me way.

There was this pit in me stomach. It was making itself known more and more by the second.

I gasped in pain and leaned on a wall for support. I started smoothing me stomach by rubbing it harshly. But then I could feel the stares, so I stood up and began on me way again.

By the time I got back, it was already late afternoon. I had to hurry up with the sweeping, dusting, and then beginning to polish the silver. I was not going to be able to finish that today!

I bought meself a type of curling iron and was dying to try it out. It was Tina who suggested it to me. Well, it was curling tongs but I was willing to burn meself to curl me hair.

I picked out a pale-blue, dyed Burberry lace dress for tonight. I’ve been dying to wear it! I had a pale blue undergarment set to match. I put on said undergarments and dress, then worked on me hair.

I got burned a couple of times, but it was worth it. The waves I’d get from having a bun just weren’t the same. I decided against makeup today. I just put on some chapstick and waited for night to roll ‘round.

I kept meself busy by writing. I was on a sex scene for me story. It just kept me mind busy and away from negative thoughts. I didn’t stop writing ‘til there was a knock at me door.

“Ali, dear, are you ready?”

I slammed me journal shut and shoved it in its drawer. “Yeah!” I called out. “I’ll be right out!”

“Okay.”

I got up from me seat and rushed out. I guess from the way I opened me door, Polly flinched. I gave her a sheepish smile.

“Shall we head out?” I asked.

She nodded while giving me a smile back. “Let’s go, love. I suspect the boys are already there. Starting without us.”

I scoffed. “Oh, Pol. I wouldn’t doubt it.” We shared another smile before we headed down the stairs arm in arm.

“Aliena, have you met a boy in London?” Polly asked.

I shook me head. “Nah.” I took me coat off the hook, put it on, and managed to tug out me hair.

“Why not? I’m sure there’s hundreds of men out there that want to talk to ya!” She asked as we walked out the door, locking it behind us.

I tucked a piece of hair away from me face. “I mean, yeah. I have talked to men at the clubs.”

“But none of them worked out.”

I shook me head. “They all seemed to want one thing, you know. The ones that did seem sweet, fuckin’ turned ballistic on me at some point in the night. Then the real gentlemen just-!” I sighed. “There was just something missing.”

Polly sighed while patting me forearm that she was holding. “Yep, that’s men for you. Dogs that think with their cocks.” She sighed. “Well, there’s no rush. Take your time. Find someone you’ll want to spend the rest of your life with. But not too long, I want to be around to see that little one.”

A genuine smile and giggled let me lips. “I promise, Polly.”

She pinched me cheek as we walked.

“Is Ada and Freddie coming?” I asked.

She shrugged. “No idea. Last time we talked Ada said she wanted to come. But, with the new baby and the fact they’re practically still newlyweds because of all that’s happened— they probably would rather stay in.”

I half rolled me eyes. “You mean Freddie suggested that Ada stayed home.”

“Most likely.”

We both grumbled at that.

“Is that how married life is, Pol?”

She looked at me then looked away. “It’s not everything. It’s a part of it. Compromise. Ada can’t very well expect to go out whenever she wants. She doesn’t have a babysitter to take care of Karl, and you can’t bloody well expect the father to help.” She scoffed again.

Sounded like she was reminiscing.

I hummed and said. “True.”

We arrived at the Garrison, soon enough, and I opened the doors for her. It was just polite. Right?

We immediately went into the snug where the whole family was excluding John’s kids and Ada. So, really. It was just Arthur, Tommy, John, Finn, and Esme. Yes, Esme was here.

While it did irk me that she was here instead of taking care of the kids, it was not me decision to make. They had their own parenting style. And, Esme was not a bad person.

They cheered as we walked.

“Oi!”

“There’s the birthday girl!”

“Happy Birthday, Ali!”

I smiled while taking of me coat. Arthur came ‘round and helped me. I quickly thanked him and then found a spot to sit in.

Tommy stood up from his seat and reached over to me. “No, come on.” He said while pulling me up. “Up you get. Finn, go and get the cake.”

Finn was actually smiling rather than grumbling abar being made to get the cake. I covered me mouth with me hand in embarrassment. But went along with it, nonetheless.

Finn came back in balancing the cake in one hand as he had to close the door behind him. Polly took it from his hands and set it down on the table. Arthur and John were working on lighting all the candles.

The air was somewhat awkward yet filled with excitement at the same time. It was weird.

As Arthur lit the last candle, they started singing. It was happenin’ all over again. I was covering me mouth with me hands and doubling over.

“Happy Birthday, dear Aliena. Happy Birthday to you!”

“Blow out the/your candles.”

I leaned down and thought abar it. ‘I wish I find happiness here soon.’ Then, I blew them out. They cheered and Polly was the first to hug me.

She whispered me a happy birthday in me ear before pecking me cheek and moving out of the way. Finn was next to wish me a happy birthday. I squeezed him tight while swaying us side to side. John stole me from Finn’s grasp, as always.

“Happy birthday, Ali. Is that a wrinkle I see?”

I gasped horrified and smacked his arm just as fast. He fucking cackled as he flinched.

“Don’t listen to ‘em, Aliena. Happy birthday, Songbird!” Arthur roared as he brought me in for a hug. He shook us with made me make the sounds to match. I wasn’t expecting him to shake me.

Esme squeezed her way over to me and she wished me as well. We exchanged a quick peck on the cheek before I was left with the last one.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” I teased while leaning back, me hands on me hips.

Tommy rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face. “Happy Birthday, Ali.” He hugged me and as I went to part from him, he kept me there. I felt him lean into me ear and I bit me lip harshly so I didn’t flinch. “For your present, I-!” He sighed into me ear, and I couldn’t help but flinch. “I, for lack of better words, added a headstone for your father. Happy Birthday, Aliena and I’m sorry.”

This imaginary romantic atmosphere was instantly shattered by the mention of me father. Great job, Thomas!

I smiled and thanked him as we parted. I made me way back to me seat.

“Right!” Arthur shouted. “I say we get to opening these bloody presents. Get it out the way and drink Aliena till she drops!” He raised his mug to me while taking a drink of his bevvy.

I squinted at him while titling me head. “Fine, let’s get them out of the way!” I slid a box over from the middle of the table and began ripping it open. I shimmed the lid off of the box to reveal shoes.

“You’re gonna need a good pair of dancing shoes, if ya expect to be dancing ‘round clubs all the time, Ali.” John said with a cigar between his lips.

I plastered on a smile and thanked him. I set in under the table and dealt with the rest of them. Arthur bought me more canvases. Something abar that made me laugh. I should expect canvases for all of me birthdays.

Once I sobered up, I opened up the last big box on the table. It was a coat from Polly. I faked a squeal, hugged her, and thanked her incessantly. It’s not that I didn’t like the coat. It’s just I never asked for one, either.

Then, there was this little box. I tugged on the ribbon and shimmed the lid off of it to reveal a rather expensive looking necklace. The snug quieted down and we collectively tried to find the culprit. Our eyes locked on the boy who was smiling the brightest.

Without a care in the world, Finn wished me a happy birthday. Cue Polly smacking him upside the head.

“Finn, where’d you pinch that from?” Tommy asked while rubbing his bottom lip.

Finn, who was shielding himself from the last of Polly’s blows, answered. “Some jewelry store in London. Think it was called Madison. It’s not a big deal.”

All us shouted that it was indeed a big deal. I covered the box and pinched the bridge of me nose.

Polly sighed. “No point in worrying now. I’ll be reading the papers in case people are looking for it. For now, give it to me. I’ll hide it away. It’s no good to be wearing that around here or right now.” She held out her hand for me.

I instantly gave it to her. I looked over at Finn who was looking rather ashamed. “You better beaut, you.” I shoved his face away, playfully.

A small smile graced his face.

After that debacle, I ate a piece of me own cake while drinking gin. It’s been the first time in a long while that I’ve managed to get the chance to talk to everybody like this.

Made me really think abar how much I matter and how much I don’t. How much doing over Kimber changed this family. They were all busier. I wasn’t. They wouldn’t have done this if it hadn’t been me birthday. Well, they wouldn’t have invited me and Polly. It’s a fucking boys club in this family. Well, they did invite me in the past— but that’s all it is now, the past.

I downed a glass of whiskey and felt it burn me throat. I was getting used to it. I mean I started to drink at least twice a week. I could only limit me vices so much. It’s torture enough as is that I’m holding down the urge to smoke a ciggie right now. But, I am exposed to all the second hand in the air.

“So, Ali. How are you feeling?” Arthur asked me as he was leaning close to Tommy. As if they had a secret bet or something. I knew what he meant by the question.

I shrugged me shoulders as I smiled. “I feel fine. Warm and fine.”

He scoffed and nodded before turning his head toward Tommy’s ear.

I rolled me eyes and went back to me conversation with Polly. We were talking abar how we were gonna get a grip on Finn. It’s sad that it took that child to do an actual robbery before anyone decided to listen to me. But, at least it’s happenin’ now.

After that I went on a conversation with John, who also asked abar me love life. It was getting so annoying to repeat the same damn things! Then, Esme had to add her two cents in and I couldn’t “snap” back in fear of getting on the wrong foot.

“I think you should experience life as is. Settling down is something you do later.”

I widened me eyes and put on a polite smile, but still had to bite me lip. Didn’t she have an arranged marriage ‘cause she was too wild. I nodded and then moved back to where me seat originally was.

One minute turned into five which turned into ten.

Were these bitches really not going to show up?

I looked ‘round to see everyone engaged in some kind of conversation. The boys were playing a card game while Polly and Esme talked. I was the odd man out. Just nursing me fucking bevvy.

I don’t want to admit it, but this set up right here was hurting me feelings. Never liked feeling excluded.

I took another glance at them again as I trailed me finger ‘round the rim of the glass.

I didn’t mean to do it, but I began thinking abar how it would be if I wasn’t here. Would they still have met up today? Under the circumstance of a nice day to relax after work. Did me presence actually affect anything? Why was I here? What was me purpose here? Am I supposed to help someone in the Shelby family?

Am I supposed to prevent the second war from happening? Was this a blessing or a curse? Was this a curse?

“Ailena! Aliena, hun, we’re here!” Cassie shouted from outside the snug.

I shot up from me chair, whipped back the door, and threw me arms ‘round her. We both laughed and swayed a little.

“You came. You fuckin’ slags. I thought youse weren’t gonna show.”

Cassie laughed while petting me hair. “We thought you were home then we had to ask around where this bar was. We’re not from here idiot.” She knocked on me head as if she were knocking on a door. “We weren’t going to find this place if no one showed us it before.”

I pursed me lips. As I dropped me hip to the left while knocking me own head. “Oops, my bad.” I took Cassie’s hand in mine and ushered her into the snug. Angie and Tina followed suit. “Shelbys, meet my friends. This is Cassie Johnson, Lady Angelica Sallow, and The Honorable Christiana King. Friends meet the Shelbys. That is Arthur, Thomas, John, Finn, Esme, and Polly Gray.”

Cassie uttered a “hi,” while waving with a smile. Tina just waved and smiled.

Angie pushed her way through and greeted Polly. “Good evening, it’s so nice to meet you all, finally. Aliena has said all good things.”

Polly shook her hand, but I knew that face. She was studying her. I cleared me throat and clapped me hands.

“Well, I wouldn’t want us to be all cramped up in the snug. So, we’ll be out there! Okay? Okay.” I grasped Angie’s hand and dragged her out of the snug.

“It really was nice meeting you all!” She shouted before I slammed the door shut. “What the ‘ell, Ali? She didn’t even get to say anything.”

I rolled me eyes. “Believe me, that was probably a good thing.” ‘She was sizing you up,’ was left unsaid. I flicked her forehead before leading them to the bar top.

I waved Harry over who looked like he was stammering for words. He leaned down to the men sitting and said something to them that made them leave. I smiled and took a seat there.

“Anything I can get for you ladies? On the house. I know it’s our special Aliena’s birthday.” Harry said as he leaned against the top.

I smiled and said. “Can we get four gin and tonics, Harry? Thanks.”

“Coming right up.”

I turned ‘round so me back was against the top. “Thank God, youse came when ya did. I was dying of boredom in there.”

Cassie scoffed. “Maybe you should just-!”

I held up me finger, effectively shutting her up. “I literally just said that I was bored. I didn’t say I was being abused.”

Cassie tsked while rolling her eyes which made me smirk. Tina cleared her throat before she spoke.

“So, that was the Tommy, you’re always talking about?”

Me eyes widened to the size of saucers as I shushed her while me head did a full 180. “Don’t go announcing it to the whole fucking bar, Tina!” I looked ‘round a bit more before I leaned over Cassie and whispered. “But yes, that’s him.”

“He looks really intense. Is that your type?” Tina asked, unfazed.

I looked away before answering her. “Yes and no. He’s my type, obviously, since I have a crush on ‘em. But, the only thing he and the other men that I’ve been enamored with is high cheekbones.”

She oh-ed and nodded.

“Here you ladies are!” Harry said as the glasses clinked against the bar top.

All four of us grabbed our drinks.

“Toast!” Angie shouted. We held our drinks in the air. “Today, we celebrate our little Aliena turning 18 a day early. Let’s try not to not drink too much ‘cause we are gonna party like it’s the end of the world tomorrow! To Aliena.”

“To Aliena! To me!”

Then, we drank as much as we could before having some sort of reaction. After that we paired off, I was talking to Angie.

“So, what happened to that guy you left with some nights ago?” I asked Angie as I took a sip of me bevvy.

She sighed as she used the straw to stir her drink. “It was a complete waste of time. In all honesty, I’m beginning to lose hope. I might as well just give up and let my father match me off.”

I shook me head furiously. “No! No, Ange. Don’t give up. What are you? 19, 20, you still have time to look. If you were 30, I’d be saying otherwise— but you’re not. You’ll find a guy when the time is right.”

Okay, I’m not bashing 30-year-old single people. Angie is expected to marry off at an early age in order to comply with the societal norms of the 1920s. Besides, she and her father have this arrangement that if she doesn’t have anyone she wants to marry for love by that age— then he has the right to marry her off.

She groaned while supporting her head with her hand, her elbow on the bar top. I rubbed her back up and down.

“You’ll find your Mister Right, Ange. I just know it. Hey, maybe, you have already met him.” I attempted to lighten her mood. “Either way. I think it’s too early to call it quits. Maybe we stop trying to find the love of our lives in clubs, eh? Try a cafe or a country club, instead?”

Angie turned her gaze to me and we shared a giggle.

“Eh?” I tried again.

“Yeah.” She whispered. “Yeah. You’re right.”

I smirked as I put me hand down and used it to bring me drink to me lips. “I know I am.”

I had two more gin and tonics before I felt that I was out of it. I was shoutin’, for sure. I was borderline slurring yet me sentences were still understandable. I had, technically, pre-gamed ‘cause the boys were trying to drink me under the table.

I had stumbled out of the loo when I was attacked by me friends.

“Aliena! Ali!” They shouted.

I shook me head as I gripped their arms as they did mine. “What?” I shouted, confused.

Tina shoved Cassie forward who was cradling her cheek, but her lip was bleeding too. Me eyes widened and I immediately started inspecting it.

“What the fuck happened?”

Cassie looked away before looking back into me eyes. “I was talking to some guy. He came up to me at the bar. Then, this girl came up to me and just slapped me. She said that I should go to hell for being a homewrecker. That she bets that I’m nothing but a prostitute.” Cassie choked on a sob while rubbing her eyes. She smeared her eyeshadow ‘n mascara, making her look like a raccoon. Just like how I first met her. “Seems like they’re together or something. But I didn’t know. He came up to me. I swear. He came up to me. I would never flirt with a taken man, Ali.” She hiccup and whimpered.

I looked back to see Angie arguing with the girl. I could feel me blood boiling. I was filled with rage. That bitch made me Cassie cry.

“Ali, she was wearing rings.” Tina pointed out, her voice strained. She motioned toward Cassie’s busted lip.

I titled her head down to get a good look at it. Then, I began to shake me head softly before I muttered, “I’ll take care of it.” She should’ve known who she was hitting before she’d done it. Should’ve hit her unfaithful man instead of slapping me best friend.

I grabbed a drink that was idle at the bar top. Angie and the girl’s arguing got louder. I saw as the woman began to raise her arm, her fist clenched.

“Oi!” I yelled. The girl twirled ‘round and I threw the drink in her face before punching her straight on the nose. She gasped in pain as she went to cradle her nose. I gave her a moment to recuperate.

Let’s have a fair fight now.

She looked up at me, her nose bloody. “You crazy fucking bitch.”

“A fucking bitch who’s friend you messed with, dumb cunt.”

She growled before she launched herself at me, rather pathetically. I grabbed the hand that tried to slap me and gave her one instead. I managed to get both of her arms in me hold, I titled me head back, and head butted her.

Fuck did that bring tears to me eyes.

She fell to her knees as I let go of her arms. Instead of cradling her head, she wrapped her arms ‘round me legs and forced me down.

I groaned on impact, but quickly shot up and punched her. She yelped and went to clutch her face.

The fact that she managed to make me fall pissed me off even more.

I grabbed a wooden chair that nearby, raised it in the air, and started beating her with it. She whimpered with each hit and started wailing.

I didn’t care. This felt good. This felt cathartic. Why was me heart beating so loud? Why was I fighting off a smile? There was this cracking sound and before I knew it, the blood from her nose splattered across the floor.

Her arms finally came up to protect her head, but that didn’t deter me. She turned over on her side, but I still didn’t stop. I gave one good strong swing and she left out a blood-curdling scream just as there was an audible crack in the room. Did I manage to break her arm?

“Ali! Aliena!”

Me head shot up and I didn’t raise up the chair again. Thomas stood there with his hand out, signaling for me to stop.

“Enough.” He breathily pleaded. “Enough now.” He took a hesitant step toward me, as if I were a fucking animal.

How fucking insulting!

I couldn’t help it. I was just so mad. I raised the chair and slammed it against the wall of the bar top. I could hear people gasp. All that was left in me hand was one of the chair’s legs.

I panted for breath. “There. Now that’s enough.” I ran a hand through me hair, effectively getting all me hair out of me face. The girl was whimperin' incessantly. It was so annoying. I kicked her softly as I stepped over her body and told her to shut up.

“Come on. Let’s go.” I called out to me friends. I could hear their shuffling behind me as I continued walking on.

Just as I was abar to pass Tommy, he caught me arm.

“We’re gonna talk about this at home.” He whispered. His tone stern and chastising.

I tsked and yanked me arm away from him. I marched on and caught the eyes of me employers. The look in their eyes were mixed with astonishment and disapproval.

I rolled me eyes, hard before I opened the doors with bang.

“All right! Show’s over. Go back to what you were doing.” I heard Tommy yell.

I started walking faster. When I realized me friends’ heels were clacking behind me, I turned ‘round and waited for them. I rushed to Cassie and hovered me hands over her inflamed cheek.

She caught me wrists and held them tightly.

“We need to get some ice on it. We can’t have it bruising.” I muttered while inspecting her face again.

Angie scoffed. “What the fuck was that, Aliena?” Her face was contorted in some weird mixture of anger and disbelief.

“She got what she deserved. The dumb-arse raised a hand to Cassie expecting no repercussions. I decided to give her some.” I said with a booming voice.

Cassie shook her head. “What about your hands?” She asked as she gently took me hands in hers and started to inspect them. “You punched her good. Are your knuckles swollen?”

I shrugged me shoulders. “Don’t know. I feel quite a bit of pain, though.”

Angie groaned loudly. “Of course you would feel pain. You broke her nose, Ali! You headbutted her and then beat her with a chair.”

Me head snapped toward Angie. “Thank you for the play-by-play! What’s your deal?” I asked.

She scoffed again as her hands began to join the conversation. “What’s my deal? Aliena, YOU BEAT THAT GIRL WITH A CHAIR!”

“IT WAS AN OLD WOODEN CHAIR! Look at the end of the day, I would have done that for any one of youse. She fucking busted Cassie’s lip over a man. A man, Angie! So, I busted hers.”

Cassie sniffled loudly. “Thank you.” She whispered. “Thank you.” Cassie hugged me tightly and hid her face in me neck.

It has something to do with her past. But, I wasn’t going to out her to the rest of the girls— just because they couldn’t understand.

Tina waved her hands between Angie and I. “Angelica, I’m sorry but I’m with Ali.”

Angie scoffed as her eyes bugged out of her head.

Tina continued. “Maybe the chair was excessive, but we’re all drunk. We’re drunk! That fucking bitch just straight up slapped Cassie while she had her rings on, and...and-! Belittled her! That’s not right!”

“Tina just because we are all a little drunk does not excuse violence. I was handling it!”

I scoffed and ran me hand through me hair again. “Sure, you were handling it alright! Then, why did I have to stop her from hitting you?”

Angie averted her eyes. “She wasn’t-!”

“Yes, she was and you know it. You must have seen her cock her arm and/or at least see that her fists were clenched.”

Angie looked down at the cobblestone. “It just felt a little excessive.” She whispered as she hugged herself.

So, the leader of this pack has a little bite.

I sighed while pinching the bridge of me nose. “I admit the chair was a little over the top. I just got so angry and…” Me voice trailed off. “I’m sorry for, I don’t know, upsetting you. But what I’m not sorry for is defending you and Cassie.”

We left it at that and regrouped at the house. We talked abar it a little more before I poured everyone some water and distributed the bread. Cassie insisted on icing me knuckles, so I let her. When it was ‘round two in the morning, Cassie called Simmons.

I was hugging me arms as I watched them pile into the car.

Angie’s head popped out as she said. “Remember I’m picking you up at four tomorrow, all right!”

I nodded. “Yeah, I got it.” I laughed as her head disappeared back into the car. I faced Cassie. I couldn’t help the pitiful gaze on me face.

“Thanks again for, ya know, fucking her up for me.” Cassie whispered as she picked under her nails.

I winked at her. “We’re crazy together, remember.” We shared a laugh and then a hug. But after, she climbed into the car and I waved them off. I looked ‘round and then ran back into the house.

I already had a plan. I was just going to go to sleep to avoid a very uncomfortable conversation that I did not want to go through again. It was too unpredictable.

Was I going to be confronted by just Tommy or is Polly going to be there too? Would it be a fucking family meeting? Might as well be, they’ll probably just harass me individually.

Oh fucking well!

I raced up the steps and slammed me door behind me. Me chest heaved up and down as I tried to catch me breath. I realized that I didn’t put makeup on tonight.

I’m a fucking genius!

I ran to me bed, jumped in, got comfy, then closed me eyes.

“Oi! Wake up! There’s no avoiding this, Ali.”

I jumped awake. Me heart was in me fucking throat and I threw a glare at Tommy.

“Leave me alone!” I sluggishly demanded as I went to turn ‘round in me bed.

“Aliena, there’s no avoiding this so let’s get it over with, yeah.”

I shut me eyes tightly before letting out a big sigh. I rubbed me forehead before I yanked me blankets off me body. I heard Tommy walk out rather than see it. I got to me feet and walked after ‘em.

As I extended me right hand fingers’, they throbbed in pain. I’m sure if Cassie hadn’t hounded me to ice them, they would be in much worse condition.

We walked all the way into the family meeting room that was in the betting shop. Lights were lit, people in their usual spots. Esme wasn’t here, though.

That’s nice.

Polly with hands on her hips walked ‘til she was at Tommy’s side.

“You wanna tell us what that was all about?” She pointedly asked me.

I sighed while I rubbed me forehead again. “The woman hit Cassie. This man came up to her and started chattin’ her up. Turns out the fella was taken. The woman directly confronted Cassie as the problem. Called her names. Called her a homewrecker and said she was a prostitute. That’s when she slapped Cassie with rings on her hand.”

They all just stared at me blankly.

Well, fucking say something! Say it wasn’t me own fight! Say that they could’ve started this and not the woman. Say that I did a good job, or I had no right doing what I did! Say that I was out of control. ASK ME WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME!

I looked down at the floorboard. “I knew it wasn’t me own fight, but Cassie is me best friend. And I wasn’t thinking clearly. I had tossed back like three gin and tonics after drinking all that whiskey in the snug. It won’t happen again.”

Tommy sniffed, flicked his nose, then spoke. “Right, guess that’s it then. Don’t let it happen again, Ali.”

Me head shot up and I blinked a lot.

That was it?

I just nodded and headed up the stairs. As I gently closed me bedroom door behind me, I slid down it with me hands hiding me face. Me body shook violently as I inaudibly sobbed.

I woke up with a headache. Not a hangover, but a headache. Luckily, I had a day off today. Afterall, today was me actual birthday. So, I turned ‘round and shut me eyes. I wasn’t going back to sleep, I knew that wasn’t happening— but I just didn’t want to get up yet.

Me hand was throbbing. I tried clenching and unclenching me hand as a way to soothe it. Just like the day before, I took me time getting up. But, I didn’t start getting ready.

I took off the dress I fell asleep in and picked out me fuzzy black sweater and grey joggers to match. I ran a hand over me face before sighing and dropping me hip to the side. I racked me hand in me hair, pushing it away from me face, and then walked over to me desk. I opened the drawer and pulled out me art book.

I tossed it on me desk and flipped it open to a blank page. I just sat there and pondered abar what I should try drawing. I blew a raspberry before I snapped me fingers as the thought came to me.

I was gonna try and draw Tommy using watercolours.

I spent the whole morning working on it ‘til I couldn’t stand the ache in me stomach anymore. I sighed while racking me hair back again. I got up and walked downstairs.

I was fairly greeted by the shouts of men coming from the betting shop. I walked to the kitchen and grabbed the bread nonchalantly. I cut meself two slices, kept the knife in me hand, then grabbed the jam with the other.

I sat down with one leg tucked into me thigh on the chair while the other was bent. Grabbed the knife ‘n began to spread the jelly ‘round as I yawned. I took two bites before I decided I desperately needed water to wash it down.

I strolled over to the cabinet and pulled out a glass. We drank from the tap, so that’s what I did. As I was drinking me water, the front door opened.

For fuck’s sake.

I silently prayed to God that it wasn’t who I thought it was. And sure enough, Tommy Shelby came into view. I mouthed, “Fuck,” before sitting back on me chair. I could feel his eyes on me. I kept me gaze locked on the table.

Tommy cleared his throat ‘n I instinctively raised me head. Tommy grabbed his cap off of his head ‘n held it in one hand as he pulled out a chair. He groaned softly as he sat down.

He tsked. “So, Ali. You wanna tell me what yesterday was really about?”

I blinked. “I already told you what it was abar.”

He titled his head and his lips pursed a little. His eyes flickered to mine.

Was he trying to say something with his eyes? ‘Cause it felt like it. It was like he was begging me to tell him me troubles. But, I didn’t want to.

“Are you sure, Ali? You’re tellin’ me you did all that because she roughed up your friend.”

I rolled me eyes as me tongue prodded the inside of me cheek. I kept quiet before scoffing. “She just caught me on a bad day. I was already drunk ‘n agaited. Angie said something that ticked me off earlier. And I think me Aunt Flo is abar to make a visit, so yeah.” I smiled at him mockingly before I took a big bite of me scran.

He studied me face for a little more before he tapped his finger on the table and rose up suddenly. “Right.” He muttered before he left the room.

After that interaction, I scarfed me scran down and went back upstairs. I worked on me painting ‘til it was four. I heard that familiar honk and cursed in surprise. I was lost in painting. I scrambled ‘round to collect me things. I was going to stay over the weekend.

Her incessant honking was raising me blood pressure and I fought back the urge to shout at her. I was zipping ‘round me room gathering everything. I slug me backpack on and flew out the door.

Just as I was grabbing me coat, a voice caught me. “Aliena, love. Are you sure this is a good idea?”

I stilled and looked at Polly. “How do you mean?”

She looked at me with a concerned face. “Should you be partying with what happened yesterday?”

I averted me eyes. “It’s me birthday, Pol.” I whispered.

She didn’t say anything in response.

I looked up at her before taking me coat hurriedly off the hook and running backwards. “Love you, Pol! Bye!”

As always, Cassie was waiting for me outside the car. We hugged and then climbed inside of the car. We brought up what happened again ‘n really cleared the air.

I just wanted it to go away, ya know. Be forgotten. It literally happened yesterday night. It wasn’t going away anytime soon.

When we got to the flat, the girls wasted no time pushing me into a chair.

“What are youse doing?” I asked through me laughter. I noticed there were other women in the room as well.

“I hired these women to do our hair and makeup. I want you to look your best! I even hired a photographer. But first, the dress you will be wearing!” Angie divulged as she walked over to the closet. She reached inside and pulled out a silk green dress.

It looked exactly like the one Kiera Knightly wore in Atonement. Me own gasps were not the only ones heard throughout the room.

Tina came into me view and took the dress out of Angie’s hand slowly. “I showed my family’s dressmaker the drawing you drew of me in this dress. I asked them to make one just like it. I wanted you to have the real thing.” She walked over to me and I took the dress into me hands as she held onto the hanger.

I stroked the fabric, silk. “Oh, Tina. It’s so beautiful. Just how I-!” Just how I remembered it. I hummed with a painful smile on me face. I hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.” I whispered in her ear.

Cassie clapped her hands. “Alright. Let’s get dressed before we get our hair and makeup done.”

We did as she suggested. Once we were all done changing, we sat down on the chairs where the cosmetologists were standing patiently. In a very movie-esque fashion, the cosmetologists flapped open their smocks and draped it over us, simultaneously.

Angie was sitting in the chair beside me.

I looked over at her. “Angie, you didn’t have-!”

She held up her hand, effectively shuttin’ me up. “I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. So, let’s all just enjoy this.”

The cosmetologist began by curling me hair in loose waves and then proceeded to give me a faux bob. Something I could never achieve if I did this by meself. I struck up a conversation with her and she was happy to give me some tips.

I looked at meself in the mirror. I couldn’t believe how me hair looked. I looked like I finally belonged in this era. I couldn’t stop the Cheshire-cat grin on me face. But I had to relax it as ordered by the cosmetologist.

When it was all said ‘n done, they women left and I opened Cassie’s present. She got me an amethyst earrings and necklace set this time for me ma’. When I started to tear up, the girls rushed to me and begged me to stop before it could even begin. That got a laugh out of me.

The earrings were Long Cluster Gemstone Earrings and the necklace was silver with an amethyst teardrop. I rushed to put them on and then it was time to go.

God was Angie’s mansion intimidating. Even more so that it was filled with people from high society that were unfamiliar to me. I knew I was going to meet with a lot of people tonight.

The party was in a light swing when we arrived. I stuck to Cassie like gum on a shoe. While I desperately wanted to find a table and stand ground there or find some secluded place so that I could relax, I was stuck with Cassie— greeting her other friends and acquaintances.

It was so embarrassing when they asked abar me family. Only to tell them that I’m an orphan and I met Cassie when I was giving her directions. I didn’t miss the faces. The faces of people who sneered at me. Teased me for me status behind me back. Made stories up abar why they were keeping me ‘round. Maybe even for the dress. It was a 1940s style dress, I think.

I didn’t expect to feel this way. I thought I could move past it, bury it all down. But, I was finding it harder to do than expected. Still, I kept a polite smile and dug me nails into me palm.

When the mansion was packed, Angie ushered me to the stage where the band was playing. She made a big spectacle of it.

“Everyone, I gathered you all here to celebrate my good friend, Aliena Welsh’s 18th birthday.” She clapped which was mimicked by everyone in the crowd.

For pride, I suppressed the need to cover me face and spazz out. I kept that tight, polite smile on me face.

“Bring out the cake.” Angie shouted. On her orders, men in tuxes— the stewards or butlers or manservants— rolled out a cake and left it in front of us. Angie guided me where to stand. “We’ll sing Happy Birthday on three, everyone. One, two, three!”

A whole crowd was singing happy birthday to me. It was absolutely mortifying. I kept me gaze as Cassie, who was singing with a thumbs up. She knew I was freaking out.

When the whole singing was over with, I made the same wish I did yesterday. I walked off the stage with Angie. I rushed over to Cassie and hide me face in her neck.

“They were all looking at me.” I whimpered.

She rubbed me back. “I know. I know, honey. How about we get a piece of cake, eat, then get fucking drunk. Huh? Sound alright?”

I looked up at her and nodded. So, that’s what we did. We ate a piece of cake and marched over to the bar.

“Oooh!” I exclaimed. “Let’s play a drinking game!”

Cassie furrowed her eyebrows. “What game?”

“I think it’s called blowjob.”

She gasped while slapping her hand over her mouth. “Oh my god! Ailena!”

“Look we order three shots each and whoever drinks it the fastest without using their hands wins. You game?”

Cassie looked hesitantly. Her hand covering her mouth to hide her smile. “Fine! What the hell, right? You’re the birthday girl, after all.”

I cheered and called over the bartender.

We could only play one round of that game. I got buzzed fairly quickly since it was vodka. But we settled for beer.

We danced, sat down, drank, smoked, and eventually I got so drunk that I started dancing modernly. I was swaying me hips while holding a bottle of whatever, dancing to the music in me head.

I felt hands wrap ‘round me arms. I turned ‘round to see Angie.

“Angie!” I squealed before going in to hug her. She giggled before titling me head back.

“Aliena, you need to slow it down.”

I blew raspberries. “I’m ‘aving fun. ‘Ave fun with me.” I kept her hand in mine as I leaned away and started dancing again.

Angie sighed while clutching her forehead. “Fine, I’ll have fun with you. Just! Stop dancing like that!”

I shrugged me shoulder and stilled instantly while a piece of hair fell into me eyes. “Okay.” Then, I pulled her to the bar where we chatted and drank.

I don’t know where I was. I was just extremely nauseous. I used the walls to support me as I stumbled along. The entrance doors were in me sight. I walked faster and felt me mouth water. I immediately doubled over into a plant and vomited.

When I was done, I stood straight while wiping me mouth. I gathered what was left in me mouth and spat it out. I whimpered as I clutched me tummy.

I stumbled down the steps. Me legs were shaking like leaves. I groaned and plopped down on them. I bent over and started taking them off.

“Fucking devil shoes.” I grumbled. When I was done, I wobbled me way back up to me feet and walked further out in the backyard garden area, place, thingy.

I chortled at me thoughts.

When I got tired of walking, I sat down on some undistinguishable patch of grass. I was surrounded by acres of sophisticatedly cut grass.

I used me arms to support me as I leaned forward. I picked at the grass for a while ‘til it hit me.

I just threw up in one of Angie’s plants...

Stutteringly, me arms gave up on me and I was laying down. I raised me arms to cover me face as it started to contort. A sob escaped me lips. Me shoulders shook violently.

I’m turning into an alcoholic. I drank ‘til I threw up in me mate’s flowers.

What’s wrong with me!

TAG LIST: @amirahiddleston @nemesis729 @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @tlfshelby1 @halepea @lilymurphy03 @marsfireeyes @masumiyetimziyanoldu @i-love-superhero

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x oc #in another world #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine

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livesincerely · 4 years ago

Text

it’s beginning to look a lot like... ch. 2

Also on Ao3. Chapter one here.

00000

The Third Christmas

“You’re making the left side all crooked!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are, it’s all ugly and lopsided!”

“Well, maybe if you’d stop hogging all the blankets⁠!”

“Well, maybe if you’d shut your face⁠!”

Jack’s got one eye on the chaos currently taking place in the living-room-turned-construction-site, the other on the pot of Easy Mac he’s got working up on the stove. The boys are in the middle of building the Christmas Pillow Fort, though it’s been stop and start all morning, with the two of them pausing every few minutes to argue about how the other is doing it wrong.

Jack only tried to intervene the once⁠—Tony and Charlie had called a temporary truce to team up against him instead, shooing him away with the explanation that he’s too lame and too tall to help and that ‘we’re not babies, Jack, we got it!’ Though, given that their efforts have since devolved into an impromptu pillow fight, with shouts of ‘you suck,’ ‘your face is stupid,’ and ‘because Jack said so!’ punctuated by the soft thuwmp of cushions hitting bodies, Jack thinks he can be forgiven for assuming they might’ve needed his help.

But all in all, this Christmas is looking to be one of the best ones yet, and certainly the best one that the boys can remember. Jack had finally turned sixteen at the beginning of the month, and though it was late in the season, he’d managed to pick up some temp work covering holiday rush shifts at the grocery store, so there’d been extra money for better presents and better food this year. And, judging by the wide smiles and overjoyed thanks he’d received when handing over the presents this morning—Two presents each for both of them! Jack had actually managed it!—the boys were more than pleased with their haul.

Though, really, if Jack’d had it his way, he’d of already been working somewhere—an actual part-time job, not just scrounging for seasonal work—but Snyder wouldn’t let him start working until his last birthday, afraid that if Jack had a job too young it would ‘make him look bad,’ the bastard.

Because the underfed children in his care were nothing to worry about, obviously.

Jack’s distracted from his lunch efforts by a sharp rap! rap! rap! of knuckles knocking against the front door, followed by a pause where he thinks whoever it is must’ve tried the doorbell, only to realize that it doesn’t work. He wipes his hands on a dish cloth and turns the burner down, figuring that Tony and Charlie won’t be able to kill each other in the time it takes for him to answer the door, probably, and wanders over to check it out.

He can’t imagine who’d be knocking on Christmas of all days, and especially in this weather, but when he opens the front door he finds Davey standing on the doorstep, bundled up in several layers with a large canvas bag thrown over one of his shoulders.

“Dave!” Jack says, startled but pleased. “What’re ya doin’ here?”

“Hi, Jackie,” Davey says, voice muffled by the scarf covering the bottom half of his face, bright blue eyes peeking out from underneath a woolen hat. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Jack greets back automatically, then flushes, shaking his head. “Or, no, sorry, Happy Hanukkah.”

It’s hard for Jack to read his expression but he thinks he sees Davey’s eyes crinkle up at the corners⁠—an indication of a smile. Jack’s heart does a funny little hop-skip in his chest.

“Thanks,” Davey says.

“Here, come on in,” Jack says, opening the door a little wider.

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude⁠—”

“You ain’t intrudin’,” Jack insists. “And besides, we’re lettin’ all the warm air out.”

“Oh, well, thanks,” Davey says, stepping into the entrance hall.

“Can you stay a while?” Jack asks, eager to keep Davey in his space for as long as he can, a soft feeling fluttering in his stomach. “I can take your coat, fix you somethin’ to drink, or get you a snack if you’re hungry?”

“That sounds nice,” Davey says, and he sounds like he really means it. “But I can’t stay for long. I had a hard enough time convincing my Ma to let me come out in the first place, what with the snow and all. If I’m not home soon she’ll be worried.”

“Oh, okay,” Jack says, disappointed, and then feeling stupid that he’s disappointed in the first place. What, was he gonna serve Davey up a bowl of Easy Mac? Show him the wonders of the pillow fort?

Davey, thankfully, doesn’t seem to notice the dip in Jack’s mood. “I just wanted to make sure I got these to you,” he says, letting the canvas bag he’s carrying slip off his shoulder and into his hand, holding it out to Jack in offering. “I didn’t want to bother you over break, but you weren’t at school on Friday.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jack says lamely, not wanting to get into how Charlie and Tony’s school had a half day on Friday because of the holiday, forcing Jack to cut class so he’d be able to pick them up on time. “What is it, my makeup work? Thanks for pickin’ that up for me, I really can’t afford to miss any more English assignments.”

“No, it’s not that,” Davey says. “Or, well, actually it is, but it’s not just your homework…”

Davey keeps talking but Jack doesn’t hear the rest of the explanation, though he doesn’t need to once he peers into the bag. Because it’s stacked full of presents, each wrapped in shiny blue paper dotted with silver snowflakes, tied neatly with white ribbon.

“Merry Christmas?” Davey offers, and he looks a little uncertain, fidgeting nervously with the fringe on his scarf.

“You got me a Christmas present?” Jack asks, numbly.

“You and the boys,” Davey confirms with a nod. “Just a little something for the holiday.”

“You didn’t hafta do that, Dave,” Jack says, still not quite processing. “I don’t wantcha to waste your money on me.”

“I know I didn’t have to,” Davey says. “I wanted to.” Then he reaches out and swats Jack across the shoulder with his gloved hand. “And it’s not a waste of money, it’s a gift.”

“But…” Jack’s face feels hot, some mix of surprise, embarrassment, and joy. “But I don’t got nothin’ for you.”

“Jackie, just take the presents,” Davey says, in that fondly exasperated tone that Jack has quickly gotten accustomed to over the last few months, “and don’t worry about it. I wanted to. And it’s not like I need a Christmas present.”

“But Hanukkah—“

“—Isn’t the same thing,” Davey interrupts, kindly but firmly. “We exchange presents, sure, but Hanukkah isn’t, like, the Jewish version of Christmas. Really, don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks, Davey,” Jack says, and his voice a little raspy as he chokes back a sudden wave of emotion, but if Davey notices he’s nice enough not to mention it. “Hey, are you sure ya can’t stay for a sec? Race and Charlie would love to see ya.”

But Davey shakes his head. “I really do need to get home,” he says, apologetic, turning back towards the door. “But tell them Merry Christmas from me, okay?”

“Will do,” Jack says. “And tell your folks Happy Hanukkah from us.”

“I will,” Davey says with a soft smile. “Have a good break, Jackie.”

Jack really wants to hug him, but he can’t with the stack of presents in his arms. He settles for a nod and a sort-of wave. “You too, Dave.”

Jack stands there for a short while, watching Davey’s trek down the sidewalk through the window until he disappears from view. Then he makes his way into the living room.

“Hey, Racer, Charlie,” Jack says. “Time out for a second.”

Tony’s head pops up from where he’s lying half on top of Charlie, pushing his brother’s face against the floor. “I didn’t do it,” he says.

“Well, I didn’t do it,” Charlie retorts, his indignant pout muffled somewhat by the carpet.

“Did I say anyone did anything?” Jack asks, raising an eyebrow. “Keep this up and you're gonna make me think I shouldn’t give ya these nice presents...”

“There’s more presents?” Tony exclaims, jumping to his feet. “Where?!”

“Slow your roll there, conejito,” Jack laughs. “They ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He gestures to the bag hanging over his shoulder. “Davey stopped by,” he explains. “He couldn’t stay but he brought us some Christmas presents.”

He waits for the boys to gather around, then hands out the presents: one for each of them, and a final one for Jack. Tony and Charlie tear right into theirs, gleeful, but Jack takes a moment to just look at his own gift⁠—inspecting the shiny foiled paper and the neatly folded corners, the curly white ribbon and the cheery holiday tag that reads ‘Jack’ in precise, rounded letters.

It’s been years since he’s gotten a Christmas present. It’s almost like his body doesn’t remember what to do with one.

The boys have no such qualms.

“Ooh!” Tony exclaims, pulling a mass of cherry-red yarn out of his package. “Jack, look!” It’s a hat, scarf, and mitten set, perfectly sized for a eight year old, soft and warm and perfect for New York winter.

“I got one too!” Charlie says, uncovering a matching set, this one done up in pine green. He tugs the hat onto his head, then wraps himself up in his scarf, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

“Oh, and look what else!” Tony says. There’s a pair of DVDs tucked in between the knitwear: a copy of ‘The Lion King’ and ‘Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.’ A second glance into Charlie’s present reveals copies of ‘The Princess Bride’ and ‘How to Train Your Dragon.’

Jack takes a shaky breath, a lump settling somewhere in the back of his throat.

“Jack, aren't cha gonna open yours?” Charlie asks, innocently clueless.

“Yeah, of course I am Choo-Choo,” Jack says, and he’s glad the boys are distracted by their gifts, because while he’s managing to keep his voice steady, he’s not sure he can hide the wetness pricking at the corners of his eyes.

Cautiously, he rips the paper off his own gift. The first thing he finds is another hat, scarf, and mitten set, this one done in a rich, charcoal gray. It’s soft as anything, thick and plush, and Jack can already imagine how useful it’ll be in the coming months.

He feels something hard nestled underneath, and at first he thinks it must be another pair of DVDs⁠—he’s sensing something of a theme with all of this. But when Jack investigates further, he instead finds a sketchbook. It’s a simple, solid thing, with a sturdy black cover and creamy white pages. The label on the back tells him that the paper is weighted for pencils, charcoal, inks, and water colors⁠—all of Jack’s preferred mediums, except that he’s sure he’s never told Davey any of that.

“Jack, can we watch this?” Tony asks, holding up the copy of ‘How to Train Your Dragon.’ “It’s s’pposed to be really good!”

“Sure we can, baby,” Jack says, running a trembling finger along the first page of the sketchbook, basking in the texture and scent of the fresh, crisp paper. “Go set up the DVD player and get the fort finished up. I’ll dish up our lunch and be right there.”

Slotted inside the book’s front cover is one last surprise⁠—a $25 dollar prepaid phone card for Jack’s cell phone. There a sticky note stuck to it that simply reads:

So you can actually call me back :)

Jack huffs out a laugh, then slips the note safely into his pocket, packing his gifts carefully back into their box. “Yeah, okay,” he murmurs, smiling to himself. “I think I can make that happen.”

00000

Chapter three here

Tag List: @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside

#newsies #jack kelly #davey jacobs #racetrack higgins #crutchie morris #javid #*the writing desk #*editor's note #*final cut #the domestic au

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m4st4rd · 4 years ago

Text

the sugar bowl

author’s note: hello friends! the wonderful @guaxinimraccoon has let me use their equally wonderful characters, Brad, Toby, and Siri, to write a fic! please go check them out-- their art is super awesome. i ended up writing a lot more than i expected, but i still love it! this was super fun to make and i’m excited to see what you guys think :). enjoy!

warnings: mild panic & mild swearing but that’s about it

word count: 2.4k

part one | part two

“TOBY? ARE YOU READY?”

After a fitful sleep, Tobias could barely stand to listen to the noise around him. It wasn’t much: the water rushing through the pipes, the skitter of the mice outside his home in the walls. And now, Siri tugging on his leg as he struggled to relax on his hacky-sack chair.

“C’mon, man,” she said, huffing a laugh. “You promised you’d grab some more paper and bread like, yesterday. And that you would get sugar.” Toby didn’t know why she even had the time to pick up a hobby as boring as drawing. There wasn’t much to draw in their little home. He’d rather just try and continue his eventful dream instead of getting dressed just for some scraps.

But he had to. It was his duty as a borrower and as Siri’s best friend.

“Alright, alright.” He got to his feet and ran his hand through his sleep-tousled hair. “But this means you’re making dinner tonight, right?” Before she could protest, he added, “Better start cooking that soup now.”

Siri put on a pouty glare, but her pointed ears twitched with amusement. “Yeah. Whatever,” she mumbled. But she couldn’t keep her face up long. Soon, it disappeared into a grin. He wasn’t prepared when she threw her arms around his neck in an excited hug. “You’re the best, Toby.”

Tobias couldn’t stop himself from smiling, too. “Yeah. I know.”

She waved as he disappeared down the corridor. Neither of them could’ve known what was waiting for him.

***

Ever since Brad moved out of his parents’ place, he knew only one thing: solitary. Not that he necessarily minded — he wasn’t the most extroverted person. Even in college, he would stay in his dorm with a pizza and Netflix while his roommate hit frat parties. In the two years they lived together, they must’ve only spoken a total of eleven words to each other.

But what he did mind was the endless, repetitive schedule. Wake up, check his phone. Have breakfast, take a shower, brush his teeth, pop an aspirin for his morning headache. Head to work and return to boxed mac-n-cheese dinner (or, if he was feeling adventurous, spaghetti). He wanted something exciting, even if excitement, for him, meant taking a different route to work. But he was too afraid of change.

What he found on Saturday evening really threw a wrench into the gears of his brain.

He got home to an empty apartment. Nothing special: a hand-me-down couch next in front of a 90s TV. He contemplated just napping on the couch for a bit before dinner, but he never did that. So instead, Brad took off his shoes, hung up his coat, and headed to the kitchen. There was some leftover tuna salad that he could munch on if he didn’t feel like cooking.

Nothing special.

That is, until he stood up.

He probably wouldn’t have heard it if he was distracted, but it was real and oh-so-soft. A rustle from deep inside his cabinet. Brad could feel his heart stop. Did he have mice? No, that couldn’t be. He cleaned out his cupboard pretty frequently. Bugs? That would be even worse.

Shff. There it was again. It sounded too… heavy to be a roach. Whatever the little thing was, it rattled his cereal boxes. And then, the telltale clatter of the sugar bowl top falling onto the shelf.

Wait, what? Okay. That was weird. Brad took a deep breath. His interest had piqued. He had to see what this thing was.

With a silent prayer, he opened the cabinet.

***

Paper? Check. Bread? Check. Toby was still dusting his knees off as he remembered that he was still missing something: sugar. With a groan, he got to his feet and shuffled over to his hook. “Damn Siri and her sweet tooth,” he muttered (though he’d never admit to her that he enjoyed something sweet every now and then).

He didn’t notice the front door open and the giant enter. He was distracted by the looming jar in front of him. It was difficult getting the lid off, but with a sharp tug and a grunt, it fell to the floor of the cabinet and he prepared to dive in to get a cube.

But before he could get very far, the cabinet door swung open, and light invaded.

And Toby was face-to-face with the human of the apartment.

Brad wasn’t sure what he was looking at. A little man…? A four-inch-tall person, not much bigger than his finger, was standing by his sugar bowl. Pointed ears, wild, electric blue hair, and even wilder eyes stared him down. A patchy bag sat at his feet, and patchy clothing hung off of his thin frame. Was he drunk? High? Did someone roofie his coffee?

Whatever composure Brad had left him. “Wow,” he whispered. Just a breath seemed like enough to knock the little guy over. “Hey, there, du—”

Toby didn’t hesitate to whip his needle out. “Back!” he tried to snap, though it was more like a squeak. God, he must’ve looked pathetic. His legs were jelly. Every bit of him trembled. “St-stay back!”

The giant blinked. He shook his head of shaggy black hair, rubbed his eyes with unfathomably huge fists. Toby did his best to suppress a lame whimper when those hands appeared. “So I’m not dreaming,” he said, more to himself than to Toby. It took every ounce of courage not to cry.

The bean, however, seemed to notice his fear. “Wait, little dude, hey…” He eyed the needle warily. “You don’t hafta be afraid.” Toby didn’t believe him for a second.

The borrower looked suspicious. “Back up,” the little guy growled, and surprisingly, Brad obliged. He took a step away so he didn’t tower over him (and so he didn’t suffer the wrath of his needle).

How did Brad look right now? He wasn’t the biggest person around, but he certainly wasn’t the smallest in his family. Even so, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He couldn’t even bring himself to squish spiders. He’d always trap them in a cup and usher them onto the balcony. This little person, though, didn’t know that. He held his needle-sword up high, his toothpick arms shaking all the while. It practically broke Brad’s heart.

What’s this guy doing? Toby thought. Nothing was stopping him from snatching him up in a fist and stuffing him in a jar or a shoebox. Was he luring him into a false sense of safety just so his experiments would hurt more? Was he p—

“Hey, man, you okay?” The bean’s thick brows were knit together with concern. “You’re looking a little pale.”

“Wouldn’t y-you be?” Toby scoffed before he could stop himself. Man, I’m so dead. “I-I-I mean, someone as big as you is a little Goddamn terrifying! God knows what the hell you’re gonna do to me! ” He snapped his mouth shut. He’s gonna fucking kill me for real now.

“What I’m gonna d— No, buddy, I swear I’m n—”

“Stay. Back.” Holy fuck, what am I doing?! Toby thought. The most he could do was poke the bean’s finger with his needle, but that would only make him angry. He contemplated running, but his thought dissipated when he realized the giant would have plenty of time to stop him.

Brad’s jaw went slack. For such a little guy, he sure was brave. But after a beat, his words finally sunk in. “Wait. C’mon, man. I’m not— I’m not gonna do anything to you. I’m just. I’m just surprised. I mean, it’s not every day you find a little man in your cabinet.” With a chuckle, he asked, “So are you gonna start paying me rent, or what?” It didn’t immediately dawn on him that this tiny person probably didn’t know what rent even was.

Toby frowned. What the hell is this guy talking about? More to the point, what game is he playing?

With a frown, Brad took another small step back so he didn’t smother the little guy and held up his palms. “Okay, okay, look. I promise I’m not gonna hurt you. Cool?” He didn’t respond, but his shaking arm did lower the needle a bit. That’s a start.

Brad heaved a sigh that ruffled Toby’s wild hair. “Right. Uhm. I’m… I’m sorry for scaring you, dude. I didn’t mean it. I swear.” He fiddled with his thumbs. A shy look crept over his face. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Brad. What’s your name?”

For a moment, Brad was afraid that the guy was too terrified to answer. But then came the timid voice, so quiet compared to the man’s earlier jab. “Toby.”

Just play it cool, Toby thought. Do what he wants and maybe he’ll let you live.

“Toby. That’s a cool name.” A set of teeth that could snap Toby in half without a second thought were bared at him in a wide smile. Toby could barely hold his ground without flinching. “Wait… You were here for food, right?”

Toby’s heart skipped a beat. “You… You’re not mad, a-are you?”

“No!” Brad said, maybe a little too quickly, because the little guy— Toby — flinched. “I promise I’m not mad,” he added. “Y’know, I was, uh. I was gonna have dinner, anyway. How ‘bout you eat with me? You look like you could use a hot meal.”

“Oh,” Toby said lamely. His head was going a million miles an hour. Was this Brad guy serious? He just found a tiny creature going through his food, and he’s offering him dinner? It’s gotta be a joke, right? Some weird, fucked-up joke. But instead, what came out of his mouth was, “Uh. S-sure.”

Brad couldn’t stop a grin from crossing his face. “Cool. Cool, cool cool. How does pasta sound?”

“P-pasta sounds great.” My God, Siri’s gonna kill me if this guy doesn’t.

“Awesome. Wait here.” The bean ducked out of sight, his footsteps rattling Toby’s entire world.

Is this a trick? Is he gonna put something in the pasta? Why, why did I say yes?! God, Toby, you fuckin’— It took him a while, but Toby finally came to his senses: the giant was gone.

The giant was gone!

He’d left him to his own devices. Never, in all of his years, had Toby heard of a human who would do that. His parents had always told him that humans were malevolent giants that wouldn’t let you go the minute they got their hands on you. Clearly, they were wrong. At least Brad wasn’t like that.

In spite of that, Toby was scared shitless. Every cell in his body begged him to leave, but his feet were rooted to the spot. But did he want to leave? After all, the giant did just offer him a free meal. And he was nice. He didn’t grab Toby, or even talk too loud. And he listened.

One thought trumped all of that: Siri. God, she was probably terrified, wondering where her friend was. On the other hand, she might’ve been ready to jump him when he returned after a talk with a human. Should he go home, or risk it all for some pasta and the chance that he might not die?

Toby was at a crossroads.

***

Brad was over-the-moon. Who would’ve thought that he’d be making dinner for a little, blue-haired guy? An unknown roommate, a potential friend? This was the kind of change he needed.

With a triumphant hiss, he pulled exactly what he needed from his desk drawer: a spool of stiff art wire from his more creative days. He could bend together a little set of utensils so the guy didn’t have to eat with his hands.

“Alright, buddy!” he called as he returned to his kitchen. “It won’t be much, but I promise it’ll be ta— Oh.”

The cupboard was empty. All that was left was the tiny patchwork bag near the sugar bowl. Somewhere, deep inside his chest, Brad’s heart broke just a little bit. Why am I feeling like this? For some tiny dude I met ten minutes ago?

He let out a defeated sigh. Not that he could blame him. Brad couldn’t imagine how terrifying he must’ve seemed to a four inch tall man. Toby wasn’t even the size of his hand. It’s not your fault. With that in mind, he grabbed a pot from under the sink and started boiling water for his dinner. A pasta dinner just for him. Not for two.

At least he knew he wasn’t dreaming.

***

Toby was out of breath when he finally reached his door.

It was late, but Siri was definitely still up and waiting impatiently. How was he going to explain his borrowing run to her? If he told her he was spotted, they would without a doubt have to pack up and leave, which was tedious. That, and they probably would have to live with a human that didn’t have good snacks.

He took a deep breath. He would be honest. Yeah, honest. Brad wasn’t murderous or enraged when he found Toby looting for sugar. He was good, and nice. Siri would understand. He pushed the door aside and entered his home.

Sure enough, Siri was waiting on his hacky-sack chair. But when she spotted him, she looked relieved, not angry. “Good grief!” she cried, charging into him. Her hands shook from where they rested on his arms. “Shit, Toby, were you gone a long time. I thought you were dead!” Toby didn’t have the energy to respond as she looked him up and down. “Where’s your bag?”

Fuck. My bag. He must’ve left it by the sugar bowl in his desperation to leave. “Rats,” he said blankly. What happened to being honest? “I ran into a couple of extra territorial ones on my way back. I gave them my bag to distract them so I could get away.” He feigned an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Siri. I’ll go again tomorrow. Promise.”

He prayed and prayed that Siri would believe him. With a sigh, she shook her head.

“No, Toby, it’s okay.” His friend patted him on the shoulder. “You’ve had quite a day already. Go on and sit down, I’ll fix you a bowl.” As she turned away, every muscle in his body relaxed. He could’ve died twice today and still he managed to come out unhurt.

Still. He flopped down in his hacky-sack chair and blew his bangs out of his face. There was something missing, and it wasn’t his borrowing bag.

Why did he feel so bad?

#giant/tiny #g/t #g/t writing #brad #toby #siri #not my characters #fluff #i am definitely gonna make a part 2 #this is so fun!!!#:)#mustard writes

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jubesy · 4 years ago

Text

I got a request on Ao3 from Mystrale for a drabble about IzuHaya, where Hayama protects Izuki. I went ahead and picked one of the quotes from the list, since one wasn’t specified.

Originally, I was going to have it take place in my Roommates AU , but I changed my mind and made it a one-shot instead~ (also, it went long because I have no self-control)

IzuHaya #20 “I’ll protect you no matter what...even if it kills me.”

Also available on Ao3.

Request a drabble here!

“Ooh, that’s a good one.” Izuki hummed as he wrote down a rather excellent pun, if he did say so himself, into his notebook. He was so engrossed in what he was doing, he didn’t realize he was about to run into someone on the sidewalk until it was too late. Unlike him, really. He usually kept one eye on the road.

“Are you kidding me?!” the person he bumped into roared, holding up a half-empty cup of coffee and swiping at the front of his clothes. “This is a new jacket!” He looked up and, for a moment, the rage melted from his features, his eyes widening slightly. Then he glared. “You’re going to pay for this, aren’tcha, Pretty Face?”

Now, normally, Izuki would apologize profusely for what he’d done and offer to cover the other person’s drycleaning bill -- not that things like this often happened to him. But, unfortunately, he’d left his wallet at home. “I can’t espresso how sorry I am,” Izuki began. “It’s obvious that you like that jacket a latte.”

The man blinked. And as he registered what Izuki said, two of his friends came up to flank him. “We saw what happened, Aniki,” one said. “Want us to beat him up?” the other added.

But he shook his head, eyeing Izuki. “I can handle this.” He cracked his neck. “Listen, you’re cute, so I’m gonna let this slide. Just give me whatever cash you have on you and we’ll call it even.”

Again, Izuki attempted to explain himself. “Like I’ve bean trying to tell you,” he said. “I’d love to help, but affogato my wallet at home.”

The three exchanged looks and one asked, “What language is he speaking?”

Perhaps that last one was a bit of a stretch, but--

“All right, cut the crap.” The man handed his ruined drink to one of them and then removed his soiled jacket, throwing it at the other. “If you’re gonna be smart about it, I’m gonna hafta teach you a lesson.” He rolled up his sleeves and it was then that Izuki realized that he probably should have just explained himself properly from the start.

But those coffee puns were too tempting!

And with that thought in mind, Izuki prepared himself to be punched in the face. He squeezed his eyes shut -- gotta protect the merchandise -- and waited. But...the punch never came.

“What do you think you’re doing?” a familiar voice shouted.

Izuki opened his eyes and came face to...well, back with another person. He glanced up and recognized the short, spiky strawberry blond hair.

“You just randomly punch people in the middle of the streets in Tokyo?” Hayama asked, sounding more threatening that Izuki had ever heard him. He peered over his shoulder at the delinquents. They did not look impressed.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” the man said. “But your boyfriend over there spilled coffee all over my new jacket. And then he claimed he’s got no money on him.” He scoffed. “So, I was just tryin’ to even things out.”

Izuki’s face flushed. Admittedly, he should have been nervous for his and Hayama’s well-being. Or grateful that the other man had shown up at all -- what were the odds of him being in Tokyo? -- But instead...he was focusing on what the coffee guy had said. ‘Your boyfriend.’

Sure, they’d kept in contact after the Winter Cup, exchanging texts and calling on occasion. But they hadn’t really…

“I’ll pay for your cleaning bill.” Hayama took a wad of bills out of his pocket. Whoa. Izuki had never really thought about it before, but were all Rakuzan students loaded like Akashi? He blinked and focused on what was happening. Hayama pulled a couple thousand yen notes from the stack and handed it to Coffee Guy. “And a little extra for the trouble.”

The man eyed the money in his hand, exchanged glances with his ‘friends’, and then gave Hayama a wicked grin. “Looks like you got plenty of cash to spare, huh?” He chuckled, the others echoing him. “What say you give me a bit more for my...trouble.”

Hayama stuffed his money back into his pocket and spoke to them, his voice low. “You got what you wanted. Now go.” He threw an arm out, blocking Izuki’s view.

“I don’t think you understand who you’re dealin’ with.” The man sneered. He cocked his head to the side, smirking at Izuki. “Give us the rest of your cash or we might accidentally mess up your boyfriend’s pretty face.”

At that, Hayama growled, clenching his fists. “Turn around and leave now.”

“Or what?” one of them said with a laugh. But then, all of a sudden, the three looked terrified. And, in a blink, they’d turned tail and run. “We’ll let you off easy this time!”

Izuki raised his brows. What had Hayama done to…?

“Oh my! Fancy running into you two,” another familiar voice called from behind them. Both Hayama and Izuki turned to see Mibuchi and Nebuya. They were surprisingly close. When had they gotten there?

“Oh, Reo-nee, Ei-chan,” Hayama greeted them. “I was just going to check out the shops when I spotted Shun.”

Izuki’s cheeks grew warm again. Hayama had called him that a few times over the phone. But to hear it right from the source was...something else.

“We only just arrived,” Mibuchi said and then elbowed Nebuya.

“Yeah. Just got here.” He cleared his throat and looked pointedly away.

Ah, so the delinquents realized it was a fairer fight. That explained their sudden departure.

“What are you doing here, if I might ask?” Izuki finally found his voice.

“We’ve got a practice game with Shuutoku tomorrow morning,” Hayama explained, his cheeks tinting pink, along with the tips of his ears. “I was going to tell you, but I wanted to keep it a surprise.” He looked adorable like that.

“Well, we have plans for dinner,” Mibuchi said, grabbing Nebuya’s arm. “Plus, we’ve got to track down Sei-chan before he leaves us wandering around Tokyo again.” He chortled. “Toodles!” And just like that, they were gone.

Izuki stood there awkwardly for a moment. Then, he remembered himself. “Thank you,” he said to Hayama. “For saving me back there.” He wet his lips. “That’s the last time I pick a fight with three people,” he paused. “The odds were against me.”

He expected Hayama to laugh. Hayama always laughed. He was the only one who ever did. But the other was silent. Izuki blinked up at him. Then, he found himself pulled into a tight hug.

“I was so scared,” Hayama breathed against his temple. “I saw that man about to punch you and I…” He swallowed. “I don’t think I’ve ever run that fast in my life.”

Izuki lifted the hand that wasn’t pinned against him by Hayama’s chest and gave the other’s arm a pat. “Thank you,” he said again. “And I’m sorry I scared you.”

Hayama pulled back, placing his hands on Izuki’s shoulders. He ducked his head so they were eye to eye. “I’ll protect you no matter what,” he vowed. “Even if it kills me.” Then he gave an awkward little chuckle. “I mean, I really hope it doesn’t come to that, but--”

Without thinking, Izuki kissed him. He just surged forward and pressed their lips together. And before he could regret it -- not that he would -- Hayama kissed him back, slipping his fingers into Izuki’s hair and pulling him impossibly closer.

After a moment, they broke apart, both panting slightly, a flush high on their cheeks. “So, I guess that saves me the trouble of asking you out,” Hayama said. Then his eyes widened. “I mean, unless that was just how you show gratitude--”

Izuki kissed him again. Just a quick little peck. Then he smiled. “Yes and no,” he replied to both. “I mean, Coffee Guy already thought you were my boyfriend, so…” He looked up at Hayama through his bangs. “Oh, and I’ll pay you back when we get to my house.”

Hayama’s eyes grew large. “Shun, it’s our first date and you’re already inviting me back to your place?”

With a sigh, Izuki rolled his eyes. “I left my wallet at home,” he said. “Where my mom and sisters just so happen to be.”

“Oh.” Hayama’s cheeks tinted. “Well, I wouldn’t mind meeting them. Do they make puns, too?”

Suddenly, Izuki pictured Hayama rolling on the floor laughing as his family assaulted him with all of their best material. He shook the image of his mind. “Actually,” he said. “Why don’t we grab something for dinner instead?” he suggested. “And I can pay you back later?”

Hayama grinned. “No need to repay me,” he offered, holding out his arm. “This is a date, after all.”

Izuki accepted, but chose instead to hold his hand. It was calloused and incredibly warm. “A date, huh?” he questioned. “I plum forgot.” He grinned. “But that’s just peachy.”

Beside him, Hayama roared with laughter. “I’m just glad I got here when I did, so I could cherry you up.”

Izuki snorted at that, but shook his head. “Kota, please leave the puns to me.”

Request a drabble here!

#izuhaya #hayaizu #izuki shun #hayama kotarou #drabble #oneshot #fic #it went long because i have no self control #mibuchi reo #nebuya eikichi #knb #kuroko no basuke

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datleggy · 5 years ago

Note

But to piggy back on your other anon, Christopher, Harry, or Denny brings home a bad grade on a report card and one of the parents are talking about it and Buck over hears and just freaks out because he doesn't want the kids to get the same punishments that he had growing up, queue horrified realization.

Good People. Bad Parents.

tw: abuse

Buck comes limping out of the lockers, freshly bathed, hair still wet and curly at the ends, a complete turnaround from earlier, when he’d jumped down into the sewers for a rescue mission.

“How’s the leg?” Bobby meets him halfway and despite Buck’s insistence that he’s just fine, the Captain helps him get over to the lounge, where he can sit and rest comfortably.

“I’m good.” It was just his ankle, after all, nothing too bad. Not as bad as falling face first into the filthy sewer water when the unmaintained ladder he was climbing down decided to snap in two. The drop hadn’t been too far down, thankfully, and Buck had come out of it relatively unscathed, save for a twisted ankle and some minor scrapes and bruises.

“Give it here.” Eddie gently raises Buck’s injured leg so that it’s resting atop his lap and places a cool ice pack over the inflamed ankle.

Buck hisses at the cold but doesn’t complain, letting Eddie take care of him.

Chim leans over with an alcohol swab and starts disinfecting all the little cuts and bruises on the side of Buck’s face and his elbows. “Stay still.”

Buck whines. “But it stings.”

Bobby rolls his eyes, smiling at the bickering. “Chim, be nice.”

Buck sticks his tongue out at Chim and Eddie laughs at the indignant look on his face. Hen joins the crew a few moments later, having hung up the phone with her wife, sighing as she sit down.

“Everything alright?” Bobby asks, tilting his head curiously at the sour look on her face.

“Denny stuck a piece of gum in his hair at school today.” she huffs out an irritated breath. “Karen’s pissed. She had to take him to get it cut out, it was so glued in there.”

Chim’s eyes go wide. “God, not the hair.”

“She’s gonna send me photos later, I don’t even want to see.” Hen shakes her head. “He’s in big trouble when I get home, though, you can be sure of that.”

Eddie grimaces in sympathy with her. “I don’t know what I’d do if Christopher did that. Abuela is obsessed with his hair---she’d be devastated.”

“Hey, Buck, you alright?” Bobby asks, noticing how stiff Buck has gone since the start of their conversation. Pale, too. Did he manage to catch something, trudging down there in the sewers today?

Buck blinks, “Huh?” he shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah, um,” he turns back to look at Hen, his brows knitted together in concern. “He’s just a kid, I’m sure he’s sorry.”

Hen scoffs. “He’s sure as hell gonna be; I’ve told that boy a million times to stop playing with gum, I don’t even know where he got some.”

“I mean, it’s just hair,” Buck gulps, “It’ll grow back.”

Chim shrugs. “Maybe it’s cause I don’t have kids of my own yet, but I gotta say, I agree with Buckaroo here. What’s the big deal?”

“We’re lucky he stuck that gum in his hair and not a classmates.” Hen groans. “If you let ‘em get away with the small stuff later on it’s mayhem, trust me.”

Eddie nods in agreement. “I remember I cut my sister’s hair into these ugly ass bangs when I was around Christopher’s age. It was right before picture day, too, I was grounded for like a month.”

Buck looks at him, surprised. “Just grounded? I would have gotten the hard side of the belt for something like that. Or at least made to sleep outside.”

Chim balks. “Wait, back up, your parents made you sleep outside?”

Eddie almost loses his grip on the ice pack. “And did you say the hard side of the belt?”

Buck stares at the both of them like they’re the ones who aren’t making any sense. “Well, yeah, duh.” he shrugs. “They were strict. It wasn’t that bad. Like, if I got a bad grade at school I had to sleep outside and skip dinner or something. It wasn’t always the belt.”

“They wouldn’t let you eat?” Bobby can feel his pulse skyrocketing, he’s so mad.

“No, but that’s only if I messed up in school.” Buck reasons, confused by the abject horror on everyone’s faces.

Hen is reeling. “Buck, that’s not---wait, even in the winter? They would make you sleep outside then?”

“No, of course not.” Buck denies. “They’d just make me sleep in the basement. It was still pretty cold and they’d get mad if I tried to turn on the lights, so it was kind of scary,” he admits, “But still way better than sleeping in the snow.” the way Buck says that, sounds like he’s talking from experience.

“Buck, is that why you don’t want me to punish Denny?” she asks, soft.

“Denny’s a good kid.” Buck insists, biting his bottom lip nervously. He was a rambunctious, loud and frankly, annoying kid, he deserved everything he got. “He doesn’t deserve to get punished.”

“Neither did you.” Bobby interrupts firmly. “Buck, I think Hen meant she was going to ground him, or maybe take away a toy he likes to play with, right?”

Hen nods. “Of course. Buck, I would never hurt Denny or punish him unfairly.” she reassures him. “What your parents did to you was not ok. You know that, don’t you?”

Buck shakes his head. “I wasn’t exactly the easiest kid to deal with.”

“No kid is.” Eddie retorts. He wants to take a plane to Hershey and have a talk with the Buckleys. “That doesn’t mean you put your hands on them or kick them out of your fucking house, Buck.”

Buck shakes his head again. “They didn’t actually kick me out, look, just forget I said anything.” He ignores the pain in his ankle and the chorus of people calling after him as he makes him way to the bunks, where he can rest in peace. They have no idea what they’re talking about.

His parents were good people. He was just a bad son.

That’s all there is to it.

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

It’s quiet in the station when Bobby finds Buck in the kitchen, looking for leftovers. He’d fallen asleep and consequently missed dinner earlier.

“I saved you a plate, go sit, I’ll heat it up for you.” Bobby says.

“You don’t have to, I can---”

“I want to. Now go, let me do this for you.” Bobby leads an unsteady Buck to the stool and makes him sit and take pressure off of his swollen ankle.

Buck rests his elbows on the table and leans forward. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Bobby turns around, “I’m here if you ever want to talk. You know that, right?”

Buck huffs, frustrated. “You’re not listening. I don’t want to talk, I don’t need to talk, because it really wasn’t that bad. They were a little strict, it’s not a big deal.”

“Buck, if Harry got a bad grade at school, would it be ‘no big deal’ if I decided it was fine to let him sleep outside for the night, just to teach Harry a lesson? Would it be ok for me to hit him with my belt or make him go to bed hungry?”

“No, but that’s different, Harry’s not---” Buck stops, his fists clenched on the counter top. “He’s not a bad kid...” he finishes, in an almost whisper.

Bobby walks over and rests a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Neither were you.”

“You don’t know that.” Buck argues, though the fight is gone.

“I do. Because I know the kind of man you are now, and that’s a good one. One I’m proud to have on my team.”

Buck bites his lip, looks up through suspiciously wet lashes at Bobby, unsure. “You are?”

“Buck, I know I don’t say it a lot, but you’re important to me and I love you.” he squeezes the shoulder under his palm. “And I’m here for you, son. We all need help sometimes, and according to what a very smart young man once told me, all you have to do is ask.”

Buck’s face crumbles and Bobby is there to wrap him in his arms before Buck can fully utter the word help.

He holds Buck tightly, one hand at the back of his head, pulling him in so that Buck’s cheek can rest on his shoulder. “You’re so good Buck. You deserve good things.”

Buck lets out a convulsive little gasp; he’s trying hard not to outright sob but Bobby’s not making this easy. He doesn’t want to risk waking everybody else up. Partly because he’s embarrassed, but mostly because he’d like just a few more minutes of this. Of being able to soak up the warmth of Bobby’s affection.

Eventually Buck forces himself to pull away, swiping at his eyes surreptitiously. “I’m ok.”

Bobby looks skeptical at best, but doesn’t say anything. Instead he takes the leftover food out from where it’s been warming in the oven and serves Buck a hearty plate. They sit together in companionable silence, Buck’s chewing the only sound. He only eats about half the plate, but it’s better than nothing, Bobby thinks, as he takes the rest and wraps it up to put it in the fridge.

“Thanks Cap.” Buck stands up, looking lost, torn between wanting to go back to bed and maybe hitting the gym. He doesn’t quite want to go to sleep just yet. But he knows if he makes too much noise this late at night he’ll risk waking up the rest of the 118.

Bobby sees right through him. “Come on, sit with me a while, I’m not tired yet.”

Buck limps over to the couch, huffing when he sits. “You don’t hafta stay up with me.”

Bobby turns on the TV, the volume low enough that they’d have to strain their ears to really hear anything. “How else am I supposed to figure out what types of forks I should be buying for the kitchen?” he nods at the infomercial playing.

Buck rolls his eyes, trying to hide his smile. “You can’t buy those. They’re so ugly.” he plays along.

“I don’t know,” Bobby counters. “The lime green really pops. Do you think Athena would let me get a set for the house?”

Buck laughs, softly. “I’d pay money to see you try.”

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

Eddie wakes up before five in the morning and the first thing he does is check on Buck’s bunk, only for it to be empty.

He panics for a moment before realizing the Captain’s bed is empty too.

Eddie quietly makes his way to the lounge area. He finds Buck and Bobby on the couch, sound asleep. Buck’s head is on Bobby’s lap, and Bobby’s hand is resting right over his shoulder and forearm, fingers grazing Buck’s chest.

Eddie breathes out a sigh of relief.

Buck is going to be ok.

They’ll make sure of it.

#anon #ask #tw abuse #on ao3 posted under datleggy #evan buck buckley #911 fox #fic #hurt/comfort #bobby is buck's dad #Good People. Bad Parents.

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cowpokecorner · 4 years ago

Text

Gonna Make Ya Squeal~ // Arthur Morgan and Micah Bell x FEM!Reader (Mild NSFW Warning!)

Foxy Outlaw here~! I just wanted to say something before I share this with y'all. I’m not always so great at writing or coming up with ideas, so I might not post things like this often. I will consider opening up requests for written Character x Reader stuff in the future, but for now that is not available. I hope you guys like what I wrote up here. It was just a quick thing I did for a friend a couple weeks ago. Enjoy~! :3 ============================================ You slowly open your eyes as a slight pain rings through your head. You look up a bit to find you’re in a dimly lit room and tied to a wooden post with a lasso rope. You don’t remember how you got here or why even, but your concerns about how you got here are quickly wiped away when you hear two people talking outside the door in a heavy Southern drawl. “Y'know ya didn’t hafta hitter over the head like that.” “Well how else was we supposed ta make sure she came with us?” “We coulda jus asked'er. I’m sure she wouldn'a minded comin’ fer a couple drinks.” “Relax, Morgan. I’m sure she’s fine. Besides, made it easier ta getter here, didn’t it?” The voices started out faint, but grew louder and closer as the conversation carried on. They were accompanied by some boot steps on a wooden floor before stopping outside the door, which was also where the conversation stopped. It was a short moment before the door opened. As a slightly brighter light washed over you, two men now appeared in the doorway. Both were dressed like Old West cowboys, one in red and the other in blue. The one in red stepped closer to you, his blonde hair and mustache coming more into view as he leaned down to tilt your head up with his hand. “Well good morin’ there girl~ Glad ta see yer awake~” He spoke in a slightly deep, husky tone that sounded as if he was trying to be seductive. The other man stepped forward and swatted the first man’s hand away from you. “Micah, would ya leave the poor girl alone! We didn’ bring her here t’mess around.” He carefully reached around to untie the ropes. He then held out a hand to help you to your feet, which you hesitantly took and stood. “Where…where am I…?” You spoke quietly in a bit of confusion.

Before the man who seemed to be the kinder of the two could speak, the one you have comed to understand was named Micah chimed in. “Yer exactly where ya need ta be right now, n’ that’s all ya need ta know.” His tone was much louder and more cocky now as he crossed his arms and smirked. The other gave Micah a look before looking back to you. “Yer back at our cabin fer now. We’re lookin’ fer some information, n’ we were hopin’ ya had it for us.” You bit your lip nervously. Information? What kind of information did they think you had? You weren’t the type to be involved in much of anything outside of your own personal hobbies and talking to a few friends. Honestly, the only reason you had gone out today was to buy some new art supplies, but you hadn’t even made it to the store before everything faded to black. “I-Information….?” “Oh come on, Morgan! Get on with it b’fore I take care of it!” Micah grumbled, growing annoyed with the delay. Morgan, or at least that was what you assumed his name was, shot a glare at Micah before once again looking back to you. “Well a friend of ours saw ya round someone we’re lookin’ ta deal with fer personal reasons. They tend ta be inta all sorts a trouble with the law, and they took somethin’ that belongs to'us.” You looked down at your hands as you figitted nervously. “I-I’m sorry… I don’t think I know anyone like that. M-maybe you have me confused with…s-someone else…?” “Damn it, Micah!” Morgan turned around, stomping his foot slightly. “I told ya she didn’ look like the girl we were after.” “Well how the hell was I s’posed ta know?! She’s wearin’ the same damn clothes we was given as a description. Ain’t my fault.” Micah walked over to what looked like a relatively bare looking bed and sat down. “This is why I wonted ta talk to’er first. Now we jus kidnapped someone fer no reason.” The man in blue huffed as he started toward the door, stopping to turn back and look at Micah. Micah smirked a bit as he removed his hat and sat it beside him on the bare mattress. “Not exactly no reason at all~ We could… Y'know~” “No. No. No. Absolutely not, Micah. I told ya last time I ain’t gettin’ involved with yer sexual escapades.” Morgan shook his head, turning back to the door once more. Your eyes widened as he spoke. Did he just say what you thought he said? Did this man you didn’t know have certain…intentions…with you? You looked to Micah, blushing slightly when you caught sight of his face. Micah was staring back at you with narrowed eyes and a slightly crooked grin, but somehow it seemed oddly….arousing? Okay this was definitely out of the norm for you. “C’mon Arthur~ Let’s just have a little fun with'er~ Won’t hurt nothin’~” You quickly looked away to break eye contact only to see who you can only assume is actually known as Arthur Morgan looking back at his ‘friend’ with a questioned face. “Y'mean both’uv us. At the same time. Together. Y'know what Dutch’ll say f'ee finds out we did somethin’ like that, doncha?” Micah chuckled as he stood and walked back over to you, once again tilting your head up with his hand to look at him. “So don’t tell'im. Besides, look at how she’s lookin’ at me~ She clearly wants to~” Arthur looked over to you once more before sighing heavily. He brought his hand up to cover his face for a minute, pushing some of his hair back and sighing once more. As he did this he removed his hat as well, hanging it on the doorknob before walking back over to you. “How d’ya know she wonts it?” “Look atter face. Her cheeks are more flushed than yers when yer wasted.” He chuckled a bit as he brushed a hand across your cheek. Arthur grew quiet as he studied your body language. He leaned down a bit so he was closer to your ear, not wanting to be too loud for fear of someone outside the room hearing. “Wouldja be interested in foolin’ round with a couple a ol’ cowpokes like us~?” He seemed more into the idea as he spoke quietly. You’re entire face was hot with blush now. You felt as if you might pass out, but you kept yourself together and thought for a moment. You never really were one for sexual encounters, even with people you were close to, however…. These two were touching a certain nerve within you. Something about them made you want to comply, and you very slowly nodded before quietly squeaking out a couple of words. “U-um… I-I…g-guess s-so…” Micah let out a very sly and mischievous laugh as he leaned closer to your other ear. “Donchu worry girl~ We promise yer gonna love every minute of it~” Arthur straightened up and moved to shut the door before scooping you up and laying you on the bed. “I won’t let'im get too outta hand, Darlin’. Promise~” “Oh hush, Morgan.” Micah huffed as he picked up his hat and placed it on your head. He started to unbutton his shirt slowly now, Arthur doing the same. Even though Micah was a bit more on the rough side, Arthur made sure to keep him in check as the night wore on. You absolutely enjoyed yourself, even though you never would have pictured yourself between two men… Let alone being this close to just one.

#Foxy Outlaw #written #character x reader #x reader #RDR2 #Arthur Morgan #Micah Bell #lemon #cowboys #outlaws #sexy boahs #love these boahs #fans self #Purple Bandit Captures

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photochoco · 4 years ago

Text

First days are always the most hectic

Black Cauldron’s newest recruit learns the ropes. She hopes she isn’t in over her head!

---

Wisty had always loved sleeping late. In a world where the night was eternal, and the city had only colored lights to indicate the time, it was easy to lose track. They often would stay up until the deep purples of “night” would slowly gradate into the bright yellows of “daytime”. People more or less adhered to the idea that yellow was for doing things and being awake, and purple was for sleeping. Though Wisty had found that the city came alive during the purple hours in a way it didn’t when the lights were yellow. They themself worked better during purple hours. Ah, night life.

But if they looked out the window now, everything was just a muddled soup of values. Greys mixed together dully. Had they known this would happen, they would’ve appreciated it all a lot more.

It’d been several weeks since they’d been cursed, and everything had changed. Wisty had tried to go on with life as normal, but quickly realized that the old “normal” was not coming back. People stared at them, whispered and glared. Creating art had been immensely frustrating. And their friends…

It had all come to a head around the time of their birthday. Wisty always enjoyed throwing a party with all their buddies, and they were determined to make this year no exception. They’d gone all out, decorating with colorful streamers that they couldn’t see, balloons everywhere, and a cake they’d made themselves.

No one had shown up.They’d been so sure their curse didn’t matter to their friends. Apparently it mattered a lot. They had curled up on their bed and sobbed their guts out for what felt like hours. It hurt, not seeing any color. It hurt even more to know the people they’d considered their friends were so ready to just abandon them for being cursed. So what if their eyes were gaping black voids? So what if they occasionally leaked? So what if they hung out at Black Cauldron? So what if they hung out with cursed people? So what if they were cursed? So what? How could that matter so much?

I’d love to hang out but...y’know how my mom feels about curses and...yeah, I don’t wanna argue with her-

Uh...what if the witch comes back…? They have tracking magic and stuff so...I don’t know-

Ergh...last time you hugged me, your eye goop got all over my clothes. I still haven’t gotten the stains out. Sorry but that’s just too messed up-

It smells really weird, like chemicals? You sure it isn’t poisonous? Yeesh-

The cake had been shoved into the fridge, but Wisty couldn’t find it in them to tear down the decorations. So they threw on a hoodie and went for a walk.

It was very embarrassing when, as they wandered around with swollen red eyelids and tear streaks on their cheeks, they ran into Dex by chance. His perpetual grin slipped as he noticed their tears, and very easily got them to say why. Wisty tried to brush it off as not being a big deal, which was very obviously a lie.

An ice cream and 30 minutes later, and Dex had insisted Wisty come with him to Black Cauldron. Something about Ela wanting to speak with Wisty about something.

What awaited them through those doors was the last thing they’d expected; a surprise party thrown together just for them. Dex, the sly nerd, had told everyone what happened. Said Wisty would not be going to bed without having a party to celebrate their birthday.

Well. After they’d managed to finally stop crying over the touching gesture, Wisty was treated to an admittedly last-minute but nonetheless wonderful party with all the Cadets. Some of them had even gone out and bought them small gifts. At the end of it all, Wisty went home happily, with a full stomach and a camera roll full of memories. These people barely knew them, yet dropped everything to give them a shotgun party. It was enough for them to finally make up their mind.

After the party, Wisty approached Ela with their answer. They wanted to become a Cadet. The new couple weeks were filled with visits to BC to meet with Ela and Harvey. Today marked the day of their orientation, and their stomach fluttered with nerves. They couldn’t really imagine themselves out there fighting yet, but the prospect of it was weirdly exciting. And it gave them something to do while they figured out what to do with their artist career. Sitting in their apartment fighting off a creeping emptiness wasn’t going to help.

They put on their headphones, tugged their hair out from behind and gave it a flip for good measure before looking themself over in the mirror. Perfect, coordinated, adorable. Wisty adjusted their headphones and took a deep breath, forcing themself to keep looking when all they wanted to do was shut their eyes.

You are okay.

In front of their apartment complex, Wisty wrestled on their roller blades, selected some music, and took off. The breeze as they skated along eased their mind some, and their favorite tunes in their ears eased it more.

They wondered if Harvey had finished designing it yet.

---

The bustling of activity in the bar of Black Cauldron was the same as always, Cadets walking around and chatting with each other. Everyone stopped though, at the sound of something banging into the front door. A few moments later, the door swung open and Wisty practically tumbled through the threshold, a pair of roller blades in her hand.

“Ack, sorry! Didn’t mean to run into the door like that.”

“Now that’s what I call an entrance,” Bianca giggled, giving a wave. “You ready for your first day?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be!” Wisty said, raising her arms in a stretch. “I’m like, both nervous AND excited?”

A tall mage in a bunny mask rounded the corner, a giant calligraphy pen in his hands. “Ah, perfect. I just finished the final adjustments to your weapon. Here.” Harvey held it out with both hands. Its tip gleamed of newly polished brass. Its long body was black and smooth as Wisty took it in her hands. It was-

“It’s perfect!” she squealed in her excitement. Harvey gave a satisfied nod.

“Aaaand here are your ink canisters. I took the liberty of filling them up for you already. And here are the colors in powder form, just add water. Once you run out I can make more for you. And the colors are in the order you requested so you can easily pick them without seeing the hue. There should be enough ink to last you a whole fight, but don’t y’know, go painting the entire city.”

Wisty hugged her pen and ink pack tightly to her chest like a child being gifted a new toy. “I love it I love it I love it thankyouthankyouthank youuuuuuu!!” she exclaimed, hopping up and down. She hurriedly clipped the ink canisters to the back of her belt before doing the same to her pen across her back. “How do I look?” she asked with a twirl.

Harvey’s bunny mask was stuck in a perpetual grin, but Wisty could glean from his body language that he was quite pleased with his handiwork. “You look ready for your first day! You’ll get a chance to try ‘em out today during your sparring.”

“My what?”

“Sparring!” Bianca appeared out of nowhere and slung an arm around Wisty’s neck. “You said you don’t have a whole lot of fighting experience yeah? Plus like Harvey said, you’ll totally wanna try out your weapon before heading out there, see whatcha can do!”

“Okay…” Wisty said slowly. “But who am I gonna be sparring?”

It was then that she was lifted bodily off the ground by an enormous hand, which wrapped around her middle as easily as if she were a doll.

“That would be me, cupcake. You should get a feel for what it’ll be like fighting powerful enemies with a lot of physical strength.”

“As ya probably know, ghouls are usually witch cronies, doin’ their dirty work. Not the smartest, but really damn strong,” Bianca added.

“...Did you just call Pinprick stupid? That’s not very nice!”

“Oh no, cupcake, she is mostly right. Being turned into a ghoul scrambled my brains, hehehe,” Pinprick replied with a wide smile.

Wisty paused to consider this. “...Still! Be nicer to yourself! I’m fairly sure you’re not stupid.”

“My oh my, what a sweet cupcake you are! But no time for chatter, we must be off to the sparring spot!”

“Oh cool!” Wisty looked down to be put down. “Where is it?”

“Near the outskirts of the city,” Pinprick replied as he squeezed through the small doorframe.

“Are we gonna walk then? You don’t hafta carry me, I got functional legs!”

“Nope! No walkin’,” Bianca said, walking up behind them and jumping onto Pinprick’s other arm, balancing herself against his shoulder.

“Rooftop hopping is much faster. Observe!” Pinprick bent his legs.

“WhaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--”

---

“Here we are!” Pinprick chirped, setting a very windswept Wisty down on the ground.

Well, that was another form of travel she could check off the list. Bianca hopped off Pinprick’s back and tossed a bracelet to the newbie.

“All Cadets carry these bracelets,” Pinprick explained. “They’re a magic disrupter, placing them on witches or ghouls disrupts their flow of magic to incapacitate them. But of course, they don’t always do the job, so you all need to know how to fight. That one is just a dummy bracelet of course, completely harmless.”

“Oh, okay,” Wisty said, turning it over in her hands. “So I just gotta snap the bracelet on you?”

Bianca and Pinprick exchanged a glance and a mischievous grin, with the former shoving her hands in her pockets and backing up. Way up.

“Get that bracelet on me, and we can call it a day. Unless you get it on real quick though!” the ghoul snickered.

Wisty unclipped her pen and spun it. “Oof, you don’t have to worry about that. I haven’t done a lot of fighting, remember.”

“Chin up, cupcake, back straight! Cuz here I come.”

“Ok so what--” Her words were cut off as Pinprick’s arm shot towards her at an alarming speed. “ShiT!!” Wisty barely had time to dodge out of the way, one of Pinprick’s fingers clipping her cheek.

Geezus, he’s fast!! She hopped backwards, trying to gain some distance between them. He lunged towards her again, arm outstretched to grab her. Gripping her pen, Wisty rammed it against his arm, knocking it off course. Undeterred, the rest of Pinprick caught up like a released rubberband. His massive hand swiped through the air; Wisty flipped out of the way in a backwards handspring, her foot kicking his claws away. They felt remarkably like rubber. Her sense of gravity was then thrown sideways as she slipped on her pen. She let out a sharp squawk as she landed roughly on her side.

She barely had time to feel even an inkling of embarrassment before she was slammed into the ground and pinned there by his other hand.

“Not a bad start, cupcake. But you’re gonna have to do better than that,” Pinprick crooned.

Wisty wheezed. “HhHhhhffffiiiihhhhhhhhne- Le’go please my lungs ack-”

Pinprick let her go and she stood up, wincing. Dude could pack a punch.

“Impressive maneuvers! But didn’t you just say you don’t have any fighting experience?”

Wisty swung her leg out to the side. “Gymnastics. And maybe like a month’s worth of self-defense classes while I was in high school. But that’s it.” She gripped her weapon in her hands, tightly this time.

“Ready? Again.” He lunged.

She dodged and slid underneath him, bashing the end of her pen into where she thought the back of his knee was. She must’ve struck true; the giant ghoul kneeled with a small grunt. Wisty yelped in surprise as his entire upper half pivoted to face her.

“Surprise!”

Wisty barely managed to bend out of the way of his swipe. Noticing the ridges on his arm, she grabbed one and swung herself up onto his shoulders. Pinprick bucked, trying to throw her off. She impulsively grabbed the first thing she could, his hair. It was as hard as plastic and hard to keep a grip on.

“Sorry! Sorryyyyyyyy!” she yelped as she reached for the bracelet.

Her apology was answered by Pinprick grabbing her ankle and yanking her off. Upside-down, she could see Bianca ambling up to the scene, a burger in her hand.

“Howzit goin’?” she asked.

Wisty let out a loud groan of frustration. “I’ve been getting my ass kicked!! SO! I’ve come to the conclusion that I will absolutely die if I go fight anything,” she grumbled as she dangled from Pinprick’s hand. He snickered in response.

“Hey, don’t feel too bad, this is only a baseline! Imagine how good you’ll be after me ‘n Nate ‘n Dex have taught ya!” Bianca said.

“Hopefully it’ll be a less shameful display than this,” Wisty replied as Pinprick idly swung her from side to side like a pendulum. “I kinda thought I was gonna learn how to fight. I know I shouldn’t be complainin’, it’s very nice of you two to take time out of your day to help me, but is this the best way to go about it when I haven’t ever fought before?”

“Here at BC, we believe in learning on the job!” Bianca replied, licking remnants of ketchup off her fingers. “We are not gonna let you go out there until you feel confident enough you can hold your own, so don’t worry.”

Pinprick gently set Wisty on the ground. “Ready whenever you are, love,” he grinned widely.

“I yield.” Wisty’s legs were far past beginning to wobble. Now she could hardly keep herself upright. Pinprick was not only stupidly fast, but stupidly powerful. He absorbed all of her attacks like they were nothing and dished out brutal counters one after the other. Wisty had been reduced to blocking and dodging, Pinprick never letting up for even a moment. She didn’t even have enough time to grab an ink canister. At least she could safely say she was better at avoiding attacks now. Her lungs burned with heavy breaths and her arms ached from swinging her pen around. Goddamn inertia.

Pinprick raised his hands again in preparation, grinning still. “We’re only getting started, love!”

“C-Could we take a break or something? I’m frickin’ exhausted and haven’t landed a solid hit on you once!”

“Of course we can stop! After you get the bracelet on. That was the agreement sweetheart, don’t back out on me now.”

“Ugh c’moooon. You have no mercyyyyy.” Wisty forced herself to stand up straight.

“What’s happening?”

Bianca turned and gave a nod of greeting to Dex, who had strolled up to the scene and was now watching with interest.

“The newbie is getting broken in,” she said, cringing as Pinprick sent Wisty flying again. “I think she’s doing...okay…”

Dex smirked. “Sure doesn’t look like it, hehe.”

“Hey, go easy on her dude, she just started today! I’ve been watching the whole time, I can tell you she’s gotten a lot better already. Aw geez,” Bianca winced as Pinprick threw a punch that caught Wisty on her right cheek, resulting in her swearing loudly.

“Remember your safe word!” Dex shouted to her.

“My WHAT? PINPRICK YOU CHEATER, YOU NEVER TOLD ME ABOUT THAT!!”

The ghoul only cackled in response. “You never asked about it, cupcake!”

“OF COURSE I DIDN’T, I’M NEW HERE! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO TELL ME!” Wisty screeched.

As Pinprick rushed her again, she didn’t wait. This time she lurched to meet him, slamming the butt of her pen into the ground and using it to jump up to his height, landing an impressive high-kick on his chin that actually got a grunt of pain out of him.

“Close!!” Dex shouted. “Keep trying--oof, that looked like it hurt.”

Pinprick had slugged Wisty full force in the torso, her pen caught in between his fist and her stomach. It seemed to absorb much of the impact, but it wasn’t enough to keep the girl from slamming into the ground hard and skidding several yards away where she collided with some boxes. Dust flew everywhere.

“I’ll go get the nurse bed ready,” Bianca sighed, turning to head back to Black Cauldron. “Hey Dex, if it looks like Pin is getting a bit too into it, make sure he doesn’t punch Wisty into nonexistence. He’ll feel horrible if he accidentally hurts her really bad.”

Was Pinprick just that strong? Or did she just suck that bad? Wisty coughed on the clouds of dust filling the air and tasted the sharp tang of iron in her mouth. She spat onto the concrete, a gob of red. She could feel more on her tongue and dripping from her mouth. Her pen hadn’t broken, (thank you Harvey), but having it rammed into her gut fucking huuuuuuuuuuuuurt. What if she couldn’t get the bracelet on? What if she never got better at this? Her vision swam and she felt ink dripping from her face again.

Wisty grit her teeth and bit back a snarl. No. This was her first day. She’d get better, she’d get way better. And she was going to get that fucking bracelet on! She could do this!

“So...hff...that’s how it’s gonna be, huh…? Fine. Fine. You want me to play rough, I’ll do that.”

She reached behind herself to her ink cartridges. One, two, perfect.

“Yo Pinprick! Did you kill ‘em, man?!” Dex called to his comrade.

“Ahoho, I certainly hope not, we were having so much fun!”

Before he could say anything more, though, a thin jet of orange ink fired from the dust cloud. The instant it made contact with the ground, a huge explosion blossomed outward.

“HOLY MOLY!!!” Dex hollered as Pinprick skidded backwards, blinking in surprise.

“Oho, it seems the newbie has a few tricks up her sleeve! Good, good!” he laughed.

The dust was settling, and now he could see Wisty standing with her shoulders hunched and her face twisted with a determined scowl. Black liquid was oozing from both her eyes, making her look quite frightening. A canister full of green liquid was clutched in her hand, Dex and Pinprick watched as she tipped it back and took a swig of the ink inside before wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and grabbing another canister. This one she shoved into her pen.

But she didn’t make a move yet, panting.

“Oh come now love, you can’t be that tired already! You’re leaving yourself...wide! Open!” Pinprick sprinted forward and thrust his left arm out. Wisty swiftly jumped to the side, his right, and he attempted to grab her again, this time with his right hand. She ducked again, resulting in both Pinprick's hands smashing into the wall, sending pieces of brick flying.

Wisty took aim with her pen, and fired. Black ink streamed from the tip and coated Pinprick’s hands. His first instinct was to tug--

And they didn’t budge. The ink was like tar.

“What in the--” White ink spattered the wall and a blinding light filled his vision. He grunted and squeezed his eyes shut against the stinging illumination. When it faded, he swiveled his head round looking for Wisty-

And caught her out of the corner of his eye sprinting towards him. With a mighty heave, he wretched his right arm free of the ink to deal another devastating blow-

In the blink of an eye, Wisty had taken a mighty leap, vaulting herself upwards using Pinprick’s shoulders. As she shot up into the air, twisting, she aimed the nib of her pen downwards into his face.

“Boom.”

Orange ink streamed. Pinprick was caught in a huge explosion. Dex shielded his face as the heat wave slammed into him.

“Jeezus God, what the hell did Harvey put in those inks??” he muttered to himself.

As the smoke cleared, he could see Pinprick, still standing, his hands free from the black ink, but looking significantly more banged up.

“Yeowzers,” Dex trotted up next to the ghoul to get a closer look at the damage. “That was pretty awesome. Might cause some property damage, though.”

“But really, when don’t we cause just a little property damage?” Pinprick pointed out, dusting himself off.

“Wait...where’d Wisty go?”

“Hmm...did she get blown away from the explosion…?” Pinprick mused. “She was right--”

A stream of bright yellow ink hit his back, and his entire frame spasmed as electricity coursed through him. His body was knocked to the ground as Wisty dropped down from above onto him. Dex barely managed to jump out of the way with a squawk.

“You--little--” Pinprick hissed through gritted teeth, but the girl had a firm grip as she snapped the bracelet around his neck, fighting against her shaking arms as the shocks spread up them.

“Friggin...got it...Geezus…” she huffed.

She slid off Pinprick as he straightened himself up, wincing, yet looking very pleased.

“Well well well, color me surprised, cupcake! What a way to show off what some of those colors can do.”

“Hehe,” Wisty grinned sheepishly, her legs quaking. She tried to take a step forward, but stumbled, opting to lean on her pen for support.

“Tell me, what was that green ink for?”

“Healing. It -huff hff- can heal wounds if applied topically like a- hff- salve. Or you can drink it to- help with something internal.” Her smile looked a little pained. “I guess I’ll be using it a lot, eh?”

Pinprick suddenly looked rather worried, his smile dropping and his brow creasing. “Oh no...I must’ve hit you a little too hard, huh? I’m sorry about that, sometimes I can forget my own strength.”

“D-Don’t apologize! It was really hard, sure, but it was necessary right? You said it yourself, ghouls are scary strong! So if I was able to take you down, then I should be okay with practice! Plus, y’know,” she scratched the back of her head. “I did kinda electrocute you. And make you explode. Twice.”

Pinprick had to nod in agreement with that, his grin returning. “You were quite clever to coax me into getting my hands stuck to the wall. And that light! I couldn’t see a thing.”

“I know I got here like halfway through, but you were pretty impressive out there, rookie,” Dex piped up. “Pretty fast, too. And usin’ your opponent’s size and physical features to your advantage with those twisty moves? You might give even witches a run for their money with smarts like that. But for now, howsabout we call it a day? You look like you’re gonna collapse. Your cheek ain’t lookin so good either.”

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, throbbing aches began to make themselves known all over Wisty’s body. Her right cheek really, really hurt, and she gingerly pressed her fingers against it, wincing as the swollen flesh protested.

“You two got pretty banged up. How about we head back to BC to getcha patched up?” Dex jerked his thumb back to his bike, which was parked nearby.

“Do forgive me for goin’ so hard on you cupcake. Needed to make sure you were prepared; out there, it could be even more dangerous.” Pinprick reached out and ruffled Wisty’s hair, wiggling her whole head back and forth.

“Oh c’mon Pin, I’m a hugger! Gimme one!”

Pinprick chuckled and picked the girl up with one arm, giving her a squeeze.

“You did very well today! See ya back at BC, cupcake. And you too, Dex,” Pinprick wiggled his fingers in farewell.

“Awwwww C’mon Pin, aren’t I a cupcake too?” Dex asked, his puppy-dog voice belied by the shit-eating grin on his face.

“Absolutely not! Go on now, I’ll see you two back there!” With a mighty leap, Pinprick was off, hopping from roof to roof with ease. Within no time at all he was out of sight. Wisty slumped.

“Urgh, I barely hurt him at all. Look at him doin’ parkour shit while I can barely stand--” Right on cue, her legs buckled. She was saved by Dex, who swooped down and grabbed her under the arms.

“Tracy will get you all fixed in no time. Pinprick only went so hard on you because he felt you had potential you were holding back. His method of bringing it out is to hit as hard as he can, hehe. You seem promising, rookie. I’ll have to be extra careful when we fight.”

“You use GUNS.”

“In the field! Sparring I use blanks. And my lithe body.”

Wisty burst out laughing as Dex helped her to the bike. “You guys are merciless! I don’t wanna do anything until I’m not hurting everywhere.”

“Nothin’ a lil magic n’ a hot bath can’t fix. Aight, get on the back,” Dex said, turning the key in the ignition. “DeeDee likes to go fast, so you might wanna hold on.”

“Okay...uh where…” Wisty hesitantly gripped Dex’s shoulders.

“Here we go!” The bike flared to life and Dex squeezed the handle.

The inertia as they took off was unexpected and Wisty had to momentarily throw her arms around Dex’s middle to keep from tumbling off the back. But soon enough her hands were back to his shoulders as they drove along, buildings and power lines passing by in a blur.

It was exhilarating.

“Not too fast for ya, newbie?”

“It’s awesome! I love going fast!”

“Heh, hang on then!”

Wisty closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, lost in the feeling of the wind as they drove along. This was giving her an idea for…

She opened her eyes.

Ah. Right.

What she would’ve given to see what this all looked like in color. The blurred buildings. The bright moon. Dex’s scarf as it fluttered and danced behind them. He had told her it was red, but what shade of red? What shade were her inks? What if she forgot the colors she knew? Her mouth twisted as tears again stung her eyes. Not that any would fall, the wind was drying them up.

“Hey just so ya know, you might wanna actually hang on to my middle or else you’ll fall off!” Dex called over his shoulder.

“What?” Wisty shouted back right before they went over a bump. She yelped and clung to Dex again. He snorted.

“Soooooo, have you thought about partnering up with anyone?” he asked her.

“Uh...no, not really.”

“Would you like to? Newbies usually tend to, though I don’t think Alphus ever did, heh.”

“I dunno. I mean, I...” The truth was, she’d love to partner up with someone. Like Bianca and Pinprick. They’d been the ones to save her, and she’d gotten pretty attached to them both. After she’d been cursed, it felt like everyone she once had in her life had left. Her friends abandoned her, people she’d known for years. Even now, it was a stubborn ache in her chest that wasn’t going away yet. And BC...the Cadets had taken her in immediately, even when she wasn’t yet sure if she wanted to join. They accepted her, curse, quirks, all of it. They’d given her friendship and comfort.

She wanted to partner up with someone. She’d known these people for such a short time, and each of them had undoubtedly gone through their own horrible shit. Some of them more so than others. Ghouls weren’t seen as people. People without souls were surely damaged and sad to others. People whose eyes reflected no light and oozed black ink were creepy.

Her grip tightened. If Dex noticed, he didn’t say anything as he rounded a corner hard, tires screeching.

“Y’know, you should really wear a helmet, especially driving like this!”

“Naaahhhh, I’m too cool for one!”

“No one is too cool for head safety, my dude.”

“This hair is!”

He weaved easily in and through the crowd. Wisty could see people staring as they flew by. What a strange pair they must look, a boy with glowing white eyes and a girl with black voids for hers. If they could even see them. A couple of freaks, huh?

Couple of freaks.

Those weirdos at Black Cauldron...you’ve been hanging out with them? They’re all freaks!

A smile suddenly found itself creeping across Wisty’s lips.

All freaks? Huh? Well if we can accept each other regardless, then I'll be a freak too.

“...Hehehe.”

Wisty stood up suddenly, her arms spread wide.

“Whooooooo!!!”

“Wisty SIT DOWN! You’re gonna fall off!”

“My balance is really good!”

Luckily for her, and Dex’s blood pressure, a street lined by trees with low-hanging branches forced her to remain seated for the rest of the ride. Her little burst of excitement had sapped the last of her energy, and Wisty rested her cheek against Dex’s back. She felt really tired. Happy. Veeeeeery sore. She closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the city as they whizzed past.

Tired...

“Alright, we’re here. Hopefully Bianca has that nurse bed ready.” Dex came to a smooth stop in front of the staircase leading up to Black Cauldron. “Let’s get you to Tracy. ... ...Hello? Kiddo?”

He now became aware of Wisty’s weight slumped against his back. He twisted his head round to look back at her. She was fast asleep.

Dex sighed and chuckled to himself. “Damn, you’re really gonna make me carry you up all those stairs? Guess this is what I get for teasing you about the safe word. Hyup-”

With no small amount of effort, Dex hoisted the sleeping teen onto his back and began the trek up the stairs. Wisty let out a soft snore.

---

Unexpectedly, it's a kind of future like that.

#and then Wisty slept for 44 years #my writing #fic #story #stories #skz #skullkidz #out in the field #wisteria #wisty #dex put a helmet on

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sleepdeprivedheretic · 4 years ago

Text

Kill Me Hardly (Ch. 2)

Notes: Warnings are in the first chapter. It’s a dark fic, please heed the tags, and proceed with caution that this is a triggering fic.

Thank You, @youtubequeens for brainstorming with me! <3

“It’s always been you.” Cold. His voice was so cold and empty, just as his pupils were, as he regarded you with a stone faced expression. This was a dream, you thought with dread. Please go back to happy thoughts. Anything! You were tired of reliving this nightmare.

“There are no happy thoughts.” He said, as if reading your mind. No, no, no!

Sharp. Pain. Shock. It’s the only things that you could process as you let out a scream, alarming your sleeping parents who were sleeping in the next room. You held tightly onto your throat, blood seeping quickly onto the floor as you could only think about the fast pacing question of why, and if you were going to die like this, cold and empty on your bedroom floor.

“Hey!” The familiarity of the voice hit you. Wha-? This voice didn’t belong here. Your vision faded to black as your bedroom, your brother’s fleeing figure, and the blurry images of your parents rushing towards you, had disappeared.

“Wake the fuck up!” Your eyes snapped open at the command. Blurry. Your vision was blurry as you tried to regain your focus. Your hands, although ethereal, could touch your own face as you felt the cold wetness littering your cheeks.

Blonde? You focused on the soft tufts, then realization washed over you. Taishiro was leaning over you, a look of concern and his usual annoyance was evident in his expression. It was the first time you’ve seen him without his villain getup, and at first, you secretly admitted to yourself, it was as if you were staring at the face of an angel. He was instead wearing a nightgown, of all things, and you kept your not-so-innocent thoughts to yourself as you avoided looking at well toned muscles and fat.

“Hi.” You murmured instead, and he leaned back, and sighed.

“Holy shit, do ya have issues.” A rude, violent criminal of an angel who sort of wanted to kill you. You didn’t know, anymore. Nor, did you care. You sat up, surprised that you didn’t faze through the couch as he lit up another cigarette, staring at you.

“Those are bad for you.” You opted, rubbing the access tears away from your eyes.

“Shut up. Still not over bein’ pissed at ya. Damned stalker ghost.” He huffed out a puff of smoke with mock anger, seemingly calmer than last night. Sunlight filtered through the beams, the smoke dancing within it. You vaguely remembered your father calling it “Angel’s Hellfire” as he puffed out the disgusting smell into the innocent-looking beam of sunlight.

“You said you could use my help.” You broke the silence, instead. He hummed.

“What could go wrong with usin’ a pair of eyes from a body that can’t be seen? Not today, though. Meet here, tonight.”

“I don’t have anything else to do, though.” You pouted. His eye twitched.

“Fuckin’ find somethin’ to do, then!”

“No. I tried everything. Plus, you’re a sight for sore eyes. I think I can just hang around and stare at you, today.” You grinned sharply at his sudden wide-eyed expression, a small tinge of pink dusted his ears.

“Go peek on some porn industry, you fuckin’ pervert! I got shit to do that doesn’t involve ya! Bad enough ya know my identity!” He growled out, and you couldn’t help but eat it up. Who knew that a well-known villain would act this way? He wasn’t use to the attention, was your guess, but it didn’t matter.

“Nope~! You can’t get rid of me, Tai, so you might as well give up.” You shrugged, receiving a dark and murderous look.

“Yer over-steppin’ yer boundaries.”

“Says the villain who beats people bloody and steals their wallets. Who am I going to tell? The Ghostbusters?” You grinned, and he couldn’t help but snort out a huff of laughter.

“Touche. Fine. Can’t get rid of yer ass, anyway.” He grumbled out. You smiled in victory.

“Unless you get a priest.” You offered, and his eyes sparkled at the idea. Oh, this should be fun.

“Yeah. Maybe he can bless yer ass, an’ finally send you up to heaven or whatever. Don’t hafta deal with my secrets getting’ out.” He smiled at the prospect, and you frowned.

“Or I could wake up and tell everybody.”

He looked at you, unimpressed.

“Tch. Cheeky brat. Even if ya said anythin’, who’s gonna believe a comatose nut who just woke up, hm?”

“Touche.” You repeated his words, and he sighed.

“Let’s get today over with.” He grumbled, stripping off his gown. You adverted your eyes, staring at the area around you for once since you’ve entered, and were in shock. Multiple unlit candles cluttered the shelves and desk, each one was either limited edition or a unique one you’ve never seen before. It didn’t stop there, no. He had wax warmers, one in the kitchen, and one in the living room, you counted at least fifteen different wax melt scents laying about.

“Thought you’d said that you’d stare at me.” He bit, breaking out of your rambling thoughts as he noticed you looking around.

“Only if you wanted me to. Consent’s important, Tai-chan. Besides, your place is nicer than what I’ve expected.” You hummed, looking at the three different laundry soaps within the kitchen.

“I’m a thief, not dirty. ‘Sides, that’s rich comin’ from a stalker ghost.” He quipped.

“Maybe Kami or whatever deity’ll forgive me. Although, I rather they beg for my forgiveness.”

“You an’ me both. C’mon, let’s get this shit over with.” He hummed as he opened the door, locking it behind him as he shut it. You followed him, floating through as you noticed his wear. It was different, far from villainous. Orange, white, and red decorated his form in the shape of a hoodie, while he sported lighter colored jeans and dark orange sneakers. He looked rather normal, not somebody who would punch somebody in the throat.

The first stop was a love hotel.

“Shut up.” He growled at your raised eyebrow.

“I didn’t say anything.” You replied.

“You’re gonna.” He quipped.

“Well, yeah. A love hotel, Tai-chan? Should I leave you to your privacy?” You wiggled your eyebrows, and he rolled his eyes.

“It’s only fer business. I get my kicks above the waistline, Sunshine.” He huffed, ignoring curious stares as he followed onward, letting the clerk check him in. The two of you stayed in the lobby in what had seemed minutes, him barely giving you his attention as you stared at everything, taking in the faces of people you barely even recognize.

“Ah, Toyomitsu.” A chuckle snapped you out of your thoughts as a strange man came out of nowhere to greet him without an honorific. Scars. Burn scars littered skin that wasn’t covered by a ragged t-shirt. You didn’t want to be rude and stare, but then you remembered that only Taishiro could see you. Toyomitsu? The name rang nicely within your head.

“Yo, Dabi. This is fer the girls. Kai-san was a lil’ harder to deal with, but he parted with it rather graciously.” A dark grin sported on Taishiro’s face as he handed the money to “Dabi”. Said man smiled slowly, eyes crinkling with a pleased look.

“You never fail to deliver, do you? Anyway, this is more than enough to feed Ai-chan’s brat. I’ll let the boss know that you’ve done well. Good day, Toyomitsu.” He bowed.

“Likewise, Scarecrow.” Taishiro grinned out the nickname, repaying the pleasantries as he copied the bow, much to your surprise. After the man left, you turned your attention to the now scowling man.

“What…?” You offered, but he paid you no heed as he exited the lobby of the hotel, you following after.

“-the hell was that about?” You asked him when the both of you were outside.

“He has a clutch of girls who work fer him. Y’know, prostitution? The man an’ his boss’re hirin’ me to deliver money an’ goods to the girls, so they can continue workin’ in fine, safe conditions. I give’em half the cut I steal, an’ they keep the cops n’ shit at bay.” He offered, and your eyes widened in surprise.

“So...you’re not just a thief, but you’re a gentleman thief?” You asked, and he scoffed.

“Yeah, I guess ya can say that.” He bit his bottom lip in what seemed to be embarrassment, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing, oddly enough.

“How endearing.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He snapped.

“No, but seriously! You could, I don’t know, support drug addicts, or violent gangs who kill people, but you’re not.” You hummed, and much to your surprise, he turned to look at you.

“Who says I don’t? Stop it with your optimistic bullshit. I’m a villain. I don’t really care ‘bout others.” He said with a cold conviction, you stilled at the familiar lack of warmth in his irises as he bared his teeth at you.

There was a lie within his statement, but you didn’t dare comment on it, for you both knew it.

“You’ve got issues.” You repeated his words from earlier, and he just turned around, ignoring you as you followed him.

“I know everybody’s got their problems, but taking it out on people isn’t healthy. Neither is smoking. Nor beating the devil out of innocent police officers.” You rambled, counting your fingers as he sighed with pure frustration.

“When I find yer fuckin’ body, I’m going to strangle you.” He growled out.

“That’s nice and all, Tai-chan, but there’s an old granny standing behind you.” You pointed, not really caring.

He whirled around, and sure enough, there was an old lady fixing her spectacles as she looked up at him.

“You’re going to bangle me?” She put a hand to her ear, and you could hear a sigh of relief.

“No, no, Miss! I was talkin’ to myself! Gotta bang those bangles….uh, fer the band!” He gave out a sweet false smile. No way in hell was that going to-

“Ah! You’re in the band! Good luck, Dear!” She gushed, pinching his cheek, hobbling away on her cane.

He turned towards you.

“I’m gonna find a fuckin’ priest.”

“Please do.”

……..

It didn’t take too long to find one. Although he didn’t seem one for Buddhism, he knew where to find a temple, oddly enough.

“What can I do for you?” The monk asked politely.

“I need a ward against an evil spirit.” He bit out.

“Don’t forget to confess to your sins.” You added.

“A really, evil, dangerous spirit who’s been talkin’ shit an’ stalkin’ me.” He grounded, and the monk, ignoring such language, nodded.

He handed Taishiro some white pieces of paper with kanji written on them.

“These should do. May you find peace against this evil.” He bowed, Taishiro thanked him, grinning as you huffed out a laugh as the two of you walked away from the temple.

“Lemme see if this fuckin’ works.” He didn’t give you any warnings as he placed a ward to your forehead.

Nothing happened. He then sneered as you began laughing at his attempts to wave the paper through your form in anger.

“This is asshattery!” His eyebrows furrowed into exasperation. You tried to touch the sigil, but no avail.

“I guess it’s for evil spirits, not ghosts in limbo.” You shrugged.

“Kami! Damn it! Ugh.” He palmed his face, looking at you with an exasperated look through his fingers. You beamed.

“Let’s go to the next place, then.” He gave in, and you smiled behind him, floating along to wherever else.

……….

“This should do it.” He handed the money to the administrator. Said man’s eyes widened at the amount as he bowed deeply, head resting on the floor with the utmost respect. The day crawled over slowly, and you began to notice that the villain was not who he all seemed to be.

“T-Thank you!” The man sobbed, and Taishiro scratched his head.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’ll be here, next week. Take care, I guess.” He murmured. You were oddly quiet, observing his behavior and the places where he went to. Many surprised you, such as this one. He didn’t really care to look at the children, but his demeanor softened as he handed the main man in charge of the orphanage, money.

He confused you, that was for certain.

“You’re like a jaw-breaker.” You broke the silence as the sun was setting.

“Hah?” He turned to look at you, takoyaki sauce was scattered on his upper cheek. How cute, you thought, but then explained.

“Although you have a hard shell, you’re pretty sweet in all through the layers. Yet one wrong move, the candy can be lodged into somebody’s throat, choking them.”

He eyed you thoughtfully, chewing on the last bit of his supper.

“Yer really fuckin’ weirdly observant.”

“Thanks. Been dead for about a year.”

He hummed.

“A year, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Complete solitude and isolation?” He prodded.

“Well...there are other spirits, but they can’t talk. You don’t want to see them, for obvious reasons.” You pointed to your wound. His expression softened slightly, but you noticed it.

“Must’ve sucked. Seein’ others how they died n’ shit.” He said more to himself than to you as he looked down with an odd look to his face. Regret? Sorrow? You didn’t understand.

“You obviously put up a front, even sometimes your feelings are obvious, you deny them. Is it a pride thing?” You found yourself asking.

“Why is it of any of yer concern? Until you shoved yer nosy self in my home, nobody knew my identity, my business, or anything else!” He growled out. Use to his behavior you shrugged.

“Think of me as a diary that can’t ever be read. A secret keeper. Something to vent to. If by that twenty percent chance that I wake up, and if you feel threatened, you are more then welcomed to show up at my door. Not holding onto much hope of me staying alive, anyway.” You offered, and in return, you received one of those looks from him. The one that was calculating as he deciphered you thoroughly. He stared you down, taking in your lax expression with furrowed eyebrows.

“Twenty percent?”

“It’s what I overheard the doctor say. I haven’t really went back, y’know.” It was your turn to look serious as the images of your parents and other relatives had their own stricken faces of grief. A silence over took the two of you as he entered his house, locking the door as you fazed through it. He took out a lighter, opening a new pack of cigarettes thoughtfully.

“I am gonna kill you.” He said halfheartedly.

“I know.” You bluffed.

“Do you even fuckin’ care about yerself?” He stared at you.

“I did, once. You’ll only be granting me mercy, now.” You floated neatly on the kitchen chair that was behind the dining table, with him on the other side as he flicked the lighter, letting it burn at the end of the pack of full flavor smokes. He sucked on the stick, the embers at the end brightened as he inhaled the smoke, staring at you with a thoughtful expression as he exhaled it away from your form.

“Yer stuck with me, huh?”

“Till death do I part.” You quipped, but neither of you laughed. Silence followed after that.

“I made a promise that I would never kill again. Not what after happened to that fuckin’ kid.” He started. You said nothing as you listened in.

“I didn’t care what the people who I ran with, did. Murder wasn’t really my thing, but stealin’, violence, an’ destruction was. Was a brat straight from high school, ya know? Angry, hurt, an’ violent.”

“That’s not easy on anybody, especially one so young.” You murmured gently. He glanced at your more softer expression, drinking it in as he put the butt out. To your own surprise, he had decided to continue.

“Ma passed away, leaving a dead-beat ass dad. To this day, I still haven’t really talked to him. Fucker wanted me to start stealin’ to support his habits, an’ the older, violent kids got word that I was a prodigy. Ya can see where this is goin’, can’t ya?” He prompted, and you nodded. For the longest time, Fatgum, the notorious villain, was known to be within a gang of very violent and very deadly people. It was obvious that the large man didn’t really care for the murdering, but he wasn’t fully against it, either.

“They disappeared.” You said, referring to the gang. He grimaced.

“Without a trace, huh? C’mon. I’m gonna take a nap, and then we’re gonna bust a few joints. Ya in?” He asked. Of course you weren’t going to pass that up. It was wrong, and villainous, but you remembered the smiling faces of the children at the orphanage.

“Yeah. I’m in.”

For the first time, you’ve met him, he let out a genuine smile, and your metaphorical breath was caught in your throat. No. You patronized your thoughts. You weren’t allowed to think of such things.

“Sour Patch Kids.” His voice broke through your inner dread. You stared up at him with confusion. He grinned, taking in your baffled look.

“First they’re sour, and then they’re sweet n’ chewy. Stubborn lil’ bastards get stuck between yer teeth, and ya can’t get rid of ‘em. That’s what you remind me of.”

You grinned.

Maybe fate wasn’t so cruel to you, after all.

……………

Notes: I had to add candy metaphors I’m sorry. Less angsty than what I was planning, lol.

#Fatgum #Taishiro Toyomitsu #Fatgum x reader #Angst #Ghost reader #Darkness #Candy metaphors #cause why not #I had to be a little funny

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