#lil bastard took just under two months to finish

[suchsunshinescribbles]

[13 January 2022]

One BBEG design manifested in collab with my DM. He is only one of many BBEGs we will face in a long, arduous campaign, or at least with what we know so far. Something something undead blood god parasite (affectionate)... something something fuck these saving throws and legendary resistances (derogatory).

[onmyyan]

Hi its me again. I love your writing and the fact that there isn't as much abuse like there is in others. It reminds me of old yandere stories were it was genuine lovesickness. Anyway, how do you think jjba yanderes would react to a darling that is taller and more muscular than them by quite a bit. You can do whoever you like I don't mind.

A/N: Omg ily🥺 it means a lot you said all that because I really love this genre it’s my comfort trope anyway thank you for the request n I hope ya like it!! Kira should be a trigger warning in an of itself but dw he’s just weird, not mean. Mentions of his past ‘girlfriends’, a curse word or two, lil suggestive in someplace’s Mista murks a few people, tw//gun violence

Characters: Pt2 Joseph, Josuke, Kira, Mista

Joseph was used to looking down on people, standing at a proud 6’5” he was literally and figuratively knocked on his ass when he’d first laid eyes on you, his immediate thought was you were a forgotten pillarman coming from nowhere to get revenge for your masters only to quickly realize you were just a stallion. You were strong enough to put him on his back after one too many cheeky comments. Unafraid to speak your mind and keep him in check, You would stare down at him with that mind melting smirk, all too aware of his frustrations, you assumed he was just being a man, ashamed to be outclassed by someone other than himself, oh honey how wrong you were. You enjoyed teasing the behemoth of a man as no one else really could, at least not as well as you did, throughout your little jabs and snark he always had a retort, a response on the tip of his tongue, eager to do this dance of yours until one of you broke, to you he was a way too cocky dangerously self assured pretty boy who was entertainingly easy to rile up, but to Joseph, you were his everything. Someone he could proudly take home to Granny Erina once he’d finally tamed you. He had a plan, a three step plan to steal your heart just as you’d done his, and this little game of who could annoy the other the most was just step 1. “It’s been fun JoJo but you’re gonna have to find someone else to bother.” You’d jokingly said one day out of the blue, an odd friendship had formed through the month you’d been in town and it felt wrong to leave without notice, an act of kindness you’d learn to regret. “Is this one of your famous jokes (Y/n)? Not so funny to play with a mans heart like that I nearly believed you.” He finished with a scoff, his signature smirk not reaching his eyes. “It’s true Joseph, my flight leaves tomorrow, I didn’t wanna leave without saying goodbye, because as much as we fuck around you’re pretty fun to hang out with.” Your sincerity almost made him feel bad about rushing the next few steps of his plan, he’d have to cram months of planning into a night but he’d accomplished more with less time on his side. He huffed, his grin stretched wide across his handsome features. “Then we outta make tonight count eh?” A thick arm was tossed around your neck, you had to bend awkwardly for this to be possible much to your amusement. “Okay you weirdo, whatever you say.” You let him lead you around town with a grin, unaware you’d be missing that plane, and any other one you tried to take without him.

Josuke watched you eat with the dopiest grin on his face, he’d spent an extra hour in the mirror this morning in preparation for your first official date! Well you didn’t exactly know it it was a date and Okayasu was eating rather messily beside you two but still! You’d actually agreed to come to Toni’s with him! You’d been an enigma since you transferred to the bizarre town, choosing to keep to yourself, and despite the intimidating height and mass you possessed, he saw through your act in seconds. There was a huge softie under all that muscle, he’d watched you enough to know this as a fact, you were a gem and he was intent on showing you his appreciation and adoration for the rest of his days, a vow he’d silently taken the day you’d stolen his heart, the moment was brief in reality but it lasted forever in his mind, you smiled at him in passing, he could feel time slow down, everyone around you faded in the background, a backdrop to the beginning of your story. He could imagine telling your kids how you’d met, something about the way you’d stare down at him, eyes sharp and attentive, like you truly listened when people spoke, your laugh was loud when it was real and every time he heard it he felt 10 years added to his lifespan. At the same time that icky feeling at another person making you laugh was conflicting, he’d never been in love before but he suddenly understood why his mom had never given up on his dad, love was weird but he wouldn’t give it up for anything. You’d accidentally snapped your chopsticks laughing too hard at a joke he’d tossed out, your face scrunched in embarrassment before chuckling at yourself and switching to a fork, his stand came out on its own, pocketing the shards to fix later, a new item for his ever growing collection, what a cute little memento from your first date! His thoughts swirled happily with the stories you’d be telling your kids. Thankfully neither of you noticed his little pickpocket moment, dangerous plans forming as he stared at you with those misleadingly soft puppy dog eyes.

Kira could die in this moment, happily I might add, as your firm but soft hand was wrapped oh so deliciously around his throat threatening to crush it with ease at the slightest movement. He’d been watching you for a while now, the longest he’d ever spent on someone he didn’t plan to kill, it become sort of hobby he’d picked up recently, the morally upsetting activity bringing peace to his day to day, usually he used his stand to carefully observe your routine, eager to learn all he could about his future spouses likes and desires, but he was getting greedy. Of course he could always introduce himself but he resisted, knowing there was a time and place to get exactly what he wanted. He liked to think he knew everything about you by now, your favorite color, how you liked your coffee, your love for cats, but he didn’t anticipate this. You were much more observant than he’d given you credit for, while you couldn’t see his stand you could sense yourself being watched, and seeing the large blonde lurking indiscriminately in the crowds throughout the day was enough to set you off. So you trailed off into the less crowded parts of town quickly entering an alleyway, he followed in pure confusion only to be roughly slammed into the wall, his stand came out on reflex but simply stared at his attacker, it seemed almost confused as what to do. “Why the hell are you following me pretty boy?” His eyes rolled to the back of his head at the feel of your fingers tightening, god he’d never felt this rush of exhilaration, none of his past ‘girlfriends’ could pull such an illicit reaction from him with a simple touch. When he didn’t answer you simply scoffed and tossed him aside like it was nothing. You left with a threat to stay out of your sight, yet all he could do was smile, the faint imprint of your fingers burned in his skin deliciously, how lucky could one man get?

Mista observed you with hungry eyes. His stare was unapologetically locked on your form. He made no intention to hide his attraction for you. The day you’d joined Buccarati’s crew was the day his world flipped. He assumed his new teammate would be no one to fuck with based on what Bruno told him about your stand, but when you walked in? Needing to bend down slightly just to enter the doorway had him sweating in his seat. He didn’t know what to say as he watched you happily interact with his fellow teammates, immediately you blended with the group, but all that was running through his mind were all the fun things you could do with those muscles. He usually stayed silent around you, not out of dislike as one would assume from his piercing gaze, but fear of accidentally voicing one of those nasty thoughts kept him quiet. You didn’t seem to mind though, always including him in the conversation, you even understood his very valid fear of that dreaded number! How could god plop such a perfect person in his lap and expect him to not do anything about it? Alas, Bruno had specifically told them not to make you uncomfortable with any flirting so he bit his tongue. Your aura was calming, a contrast to your powerful stand, speaking of, he couldn’t get his under control. Whenever they could Sex Pistols was out and all over you. They climbed and clamored for your attention, thankfully you didn’t seem to mind, always entertained their antics when you could, even giving each one a small peck when they wouldn’t let you leave for a mission without Mista, to say he was done for was an understatement, it took one mission going foul for his resistance to snap. His stand moved faster than it ever had, piercing the skulls of the idiots who brought you pain. He left the last one slowly bleeding out kneeling down to wipe the matted hair from your forehead, “You okay baby? Don’t worry honey I’ll make the bastard hurt.” He spoke not breaking eye contact, his hand pointed behind him, grip steady as he unloaded in the poor fool who thought it was a good idea to make you bleed, the wound was small, not even deep enough to trouble Giorno but that didn’t matter to Guido, any slight against you was disrespecting the future parent of his children, and what kind of man would he be if he didn’t defend your honor?

[plaidbooks]

Rough Beginnings

A/N: So! This idea spawned after reading @cycat-carisi​ story, We. Please read that first, then come back here for this prequel! This also covers the Mafia square in @adarafaelbarba​ moodboard bingo!

Tags: mentions of a prostitution ring, talks of murder and mafia-related goings-on

Words: 1964

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart​  @beccabarba​  @thatesqcrush​ @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ @permanentlydizzy​ @ben-c-group-therapy​  @infiniteoddball​ @glowingmess​ @whimsicallymad​ @lv7867​ @storiesofsvu​ @cycat4077​ @alwaysachorusgirl​  @glimmerglittergirl​ @joanofarkansass​ @caracalwithchips​ @berniesilvas​​  @reading--mermaid​  @averyhotchner​  @mrsrafaelbarba​ @detective-giggles​ @crowleysqueenofhell​ @dreamlover31​

(gif by @resparza​ )

Sonny never hated his job more than when he went undercover. He had hated when he was posing as a homeless man with an eye for children, but this was worse. So. Much. Worse.

His cover story for this job was that he was part of the Italian mob, and he had been hired on as security for a prostitution ring; some huge network that was international but had its roots right here in Manhattan. Him, along with multiple real mafia members, were in charge of transporting girls, drugs, and anything else the head honcho told them to.

It had been three months since he went under; his beard itched his face still, his leather jacket was starting to be uncomfortable, and he wanted nothing more than to take all of these bastards down. But they didn’t have enough yet. So, he had to stick it out a little longer—at least, that’s what he told himself. A little longer, a little longer. He wasn’t sure how much “little longer” he had left in him.

Sonny lived in the housing quarters his boss supplied him, along with three other mafia guys. He had almost zero contact with the world outside his job—all the information he gathered was sent in a coded text from a burner. But he was starting to miss his friends and family. At least his employer understood that as part of the Italian mob, Sonny was allowed to go to church on Sundays…if there wasn’t something big happening.

His saving grace came a month later, while standing guard at his boss’s door. A woman he’d seen before came stomping up to him, and he braced himself; he knew that look.

“Let me see my father,�� you snarled.

Sonny rose his hands defensively. “I was given orders ta not let anyone in. That includes you,” he replied, crossing his arms once more and trying to puff out his chest. But you simply glared at him.

“Fuck you; let me in, before I force my way in,” you growled.

He chuckled, eyeing you. “Ya really think you can get passed me? Let’s see ya try, doll.”

You gave him another impressive glare before trying to lunge passed him, reaching for the handle. Sonny caught you easily around your midsection, lifting you and placing you down at arm’s length in front of him.

“That the best ya got?” he teased. This wasn’t the first time you tried to brute force your way passed him before, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. But you had a trick up your sleeve.

You let your bottom lip quiver, tears appearing in your eyes. “Pl-please, sir, let m-me see my—” you trailed off, sniffling loudly.

“Ah geez, don’t be doing that. Come on; he’s in a meeting and will be out soon. Just wait a lil, okay?” he said, a touch of pleading in his voice.

But you didn’t stop, letting the tears trail down your cheeks. You let out a loud sob, and Sonny wanted to rip his hair out; he didn’t need a tantrum with daddy’s spoiled brat right now. He internally winced at that; he didn’t really believe that that was what you were, but when you came up here, trying to cry your way in, his mind went there.

You let out another loud sob. “Please, doll, I promise ta let him know as soon as he’s free—” Sonny started, but he was cut off by the door behind him opening. He stood at attention—like a good little lapdog—and the man who was having a meeting with his employer came out. He took one look at you, then left, rolling his eyes. You quickly wiped your face with your shirt before your dad appeared.

“And what are you doing here?” your father asked, annoyance dripping from his voice.

Sonny felt bad for you, but said nothing, gave away no emotions on his face as you requested to speak with him, privately.

He nodded, and Sonny moved out of the way, letting you enter, the door closing softly behind you both. He released a breath; it was always high tension after a meeting. But Sonny also found himself feeling sorry for you, having a father like that. He was hoping that when the walls came down, you’d at least be spared; you had no real idea of your father’s business, how big and deep it ran.

The meeting between you and your father didn’t last long, and soon enough, the door was opening once more behind him.

“Sonny; drive my daughter home. Giuliano will cover you until you're back,” your father ordered.

Sonny nodded, letting you pass him before following you. He kept his emotions in check, but he saw the look on your face; sadness, betrayal, and fear. He vaguely wondered what you had talked about but didn’t want to pry; he could be fired or worse for it.

It wasn’t until halfway through the drive to your place that he asked if you were okay.

“Fantastic,” you muttered, staring out the window.

Sonny wasn’t sure why he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut; the words just spilled out. “Ya father is a hard man. I’m sorry ya have ta deal with that.” It was a mistake, he knew; if you were indeed loyal to your father, then saying that out loud was a good way to end up dead.

You blinked in surprise at his bluntness, and for his apology. “Y—yeah, he is. I wouldn’t let him catch you saying that, though.”

He nodded. “Uh, how ‘bout makin’ it our little secret, then?” he asked, hoping beyond hope that you’d say nothing about this to him.

“Our little secret…. Yeah, okay,” you replied dryly, eyes going back to the window.

 *******************

After that conversation, Sonny’s boss would often send him to you, whether to drive you or as extra protection—more like babysitting, to Sonny. But he found that he couldn’t complain; it was the only time he could be close to his true self…plus it was safer and better than doing other, illicit things. Even if he should be doing those things for intel. And of course, he never slipped up like he had on that first car ride. No, he was Sonny from the Italian mob, not the soft-hearted detective. He held you at arm’s length, determined to not let the mask slip. But something about you got to him, and he found himself afraid of you. Afraid that he’d make a mistake, and that you would see right through him.

“Sonny, why do you do this job?” you asked one day while he was driving you home. It had been over a month since your father had basically assigned Sonny to you.

He tried to stay neutral, but you saw how he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “’Cause it’s a job. I was hired.”

“That’s a bullshit answer and you know it,” you replied, smiling.

His jaw tightened. “Nah, see, when my boss tells me ta do somethin’, I do it.”

“You’re not like the rest, though. The others, I see murder in their eyes. They have such dark thoughts; it’s almost like they’re hoping my father gives them a kill order,” you explained. True, your father told you that they were security guards for his business, but you never bought that story; they were more like murderers than security. The day when Sonny kept you out of your father’s office was the first time you noticed that he was different; his eyes were soft, and he talked to you like a person, rather than making vaguely concealed threats. He seemed to genuinely care when you started to fake cry, even though you knew that he knew it was fake.

His bright blue eyes met with yours in the rearview mirror for a brief moment before flicking back to the road. “We don’t kill—”

“Stop lying to me, Sonny. Please. I deserve to know what’s going on,” you said, a slight begging tone in your voice.

So that confirmed it; you had no idea what your father was capable of. Sonny swallowed, wanting this conversation to end. “Talk ta ya father, not me—”

“I’ve tried! Multiple times! I’m not an idiot; I know he’s shady as hell. But just what are you protecting?”

“If he’s not willin’ ta tell ya, then that should tell ya somethin’, right?” he asked. He pulled over in front of your art studio, putting the car in park and getting out. You thought about his words; it was more than you got from anyone else. To be honest, Sonny always gave you more than anyone else; he didn’t sneer at you, ignore you, call you names like “brat”. And he definitely didn’t look at you with hungry eyes or creepy smiles. He seemed like…like a generally good person, all things considered. You weren’t sure when it had happened, but you noticed you had developed a crush on him.

All too soon, Sonny was opening the door for you to get out. You thanked him as you exited the car, and felt his presence behind you as you climbed the stairs to the door. He always walked you there, to make sure you were safe.

You unlocked and opened the door, then turned around to face him. He gave you a nod and you thanked him again. But something possessed you in that moment; why else would you have grabbed his shirt and pulled him to you in a kiss?

Sonny froze in place, eyes wide, before he placed his hands on your shoulders and pushed you back. You looked up at him, the apology dying on your tongue; you weren’t sorry at all. That kiss was worth it in your eyes. But there was an almost…pained? look in Sonny’s eyes.

“D-doll, we can’t—ya father—”

“Never has to know,” you finished for him.

He blinked, obviously warring with himself, and you were sure you knew why; if your father found out about you two, he could have Sonny killed. But, if Sonny felt the same way about you that you did about him, then maybe, just maybe, he could help you escape from under your father. Something about him was safe, trustworthy.

Slowly, you reached up to cup his face. When he didn’t pull away, you gently leaned in again, kissing him slowly, tenderly. He paused for only a moment before he melted against your lips. Then he gently pulled away from you.

“I—I gotta—” He didn’t finish his thought before he turned and hurried down the stairs. You watched him go, hoping that he’d say nothing to your father.

The car door slammed shut and Sonny was quick to turn the car on and leave. What the fuck was he doing, letting you kiss him? And then he kissed you back?! He must be a fucking idiot! Sure, he liked you—more than he was willing to admit—but this could blow his cover. Not to mention get him killed, cover blown or not. Plus, he was lying to you; any feelings you felt weren’t for him but for the façade he put on.

He resolved to keep his distance from you; nothing good could come from any of this. It ended in one of two ways: you, heartbroken over Sonny’s lies, or him buried six feet under in some lot. There was no way to disobey your father if he ordered him to take you home, so there was no avoiding you. Sonny would just have to lay down the rules next time he saw you; absolutely no relationship could exist, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

[normal-piece-of-shit]

The Fallen

Timothy Drake-Wayne. Wayne Enterprise's current co-ceo, tech genius and somehow Red Robin. Also currently sprawled across his mess of a bed, half asleep with a half finished coffee cup loosely held in one hand.

Guess he’d just have to add “Professional disaster in life” to his list of oh-so great achievements.

He could have become a doctor, Alfred would've said.

But it was too late now. It was to be left in the past, he’d become too old and-

Knock, knock, said the door.

“Master Timothy.”

He snuggled deeper into his blankets and gave of a noise of acknowledgment to give away his presence.

“I’m sure your blankets wouldn't despise you if you left for having breakfast.”

He groaned. “Maybe you're sure, but I'm not.” He mumbled bitterly, not one to dare speak against their family's only string of sanity.

He rolled his blanket over him and reluctantly slugged to the door in his best work style. Pretty impressive if you asked him.

Alfred opened the door having already guessed what he'd decided to do, he supposed. Alfred's lips twitched, trying not to break into a smile, he suspected.

Tim grinned. “Anything I can do for you, dearest Alfred?”

Alfred tilted his head downwards to look him in the eye, now no longer hiding a small smile. “Maybe wake up Miss Marinette as a favor to me, Master Timothy.”

Oh. Oh. Oho.

What exciting news.

“Anything for you Alfred.” Alfred's smile now turned into a sharp smirk.

“Even not skipping your breakfast?”

He averted his eyes. “I think beans snores are getting louder. I'd better wake her up soon.”

Tim didn't let Alfred speak another word, instead, rolling forward, forcing Alfred to take a step back.

And then he heard the snores. The one of a kind, Marinette only snores. And he jusy knew the door near him led to Marinette's. He grinned, maybe a bit more manically than he should've but never mind that now.

He pushed against her door and rolled his way in.

He took a deep breath.

“BEANIE.”

No response. He should've known.

“Adrien Agreste is waiting for you outside.”

She stirred. Aha! He had her all figured out, didn't he?

“He's in Paris, you coffee addict.” Her speech was slurred by sleep, and she showed no more signs of waking.

He rolled his eyes. “Look who's speaking.”

No response. Typical.

“I’m going to jump on you and make sure you feel all the weight of this ‘coffee addict’.”

“You can't do that wrapped in blankets.” She growled, snuggling into her blankets as if that would make him go away.

He didn't say anything. No, he couldn't say anything. Not when he was angling himself in the right direction for him to fall on her without messing his comfortable position.

Thump.

Marinette wheezed.

“Get.” She gasped. “Off.”

“What was that?” He asked like the innocent bastard he was, “You sound a little put of breath there, beanie.”

“You're not even that heavy.”

He pressed down harder. “What was that?”

“Why, you little-”

“I’m trying to sleep, you babies- oh. Oh. Oho.” They turned slowly to look at a smiling-too-much-right-now Jason.

And it wasn't surprising when the both of them were in sync as they said:

“Oh fuck.”

Jason's grin only widened at the declaration as he took a leap towards the two pour souls.

Now it was both him and beanie gasping for air. Not as fun to be on the receiving side.

“Jason, if I die, I will come back to haunt you.” Beanie grumbled, although it was barely comprehensible.

Jason pressed his weight on us harder. “Another thing crossed off my bucket list then, little pixie.”

“Jay, please spare me, you've already tried killing me enough times!” He was barely comprehensible too but it didn't matter. Not if we wanted to get out of this alive.

What was next? Someone else coming in and doing the same thing and the cycle never ending?

“I come to the mansion for one peaceful day and you ruin it first thing in the morn- oh.” He jinxed it. Oh boy. He jinxed it, didn't he? Why else would Dick show up right on sync with his thoughts?

“Oh. Oho.”

“DICK, NO-”

‘Twas too late.

Now it was three of them wheezing and coughing and gasping for air.

“Did you have to make three back flips as you came?” Jason asked for them both, being the only one with the energy to speak now.

“I'm a bat!” If he had to guess, Dick was grinning too much. “Of course I did!”

“What's with all this ruck-oh. Oh. Oho.”

“Please not again.” Nette pleaded weakly.

-2 minutes of instant karma later-

“This is all Tim’s fault.”

At this point he can't even guess who said it, but weak noises of agreements filled the room.

“It is,” He took another deep breath, “not my fault that-” Another hard breath, “-that all of you decided to stack up on us.”

“Well,” said Stephanie from the top (the lucky bat), “You're the only one agreeing to that here.”

“You can't blame me,” he snapped as best as he could with the limited breath, “For eight other people joining the stack. That's all on yourselves!”

The others above him- if he remembered correctly, Jason first, then Dick, Titus, Damian, Duke, Aunt Kate (Don't ask), Cass and Steph at the the top, all gave their own noisy protests.

“What's with all the screaming-?” Bruce's gruff voice came. “Oh.”

“Bruce, please, for once, don't.”

“Oh.”

“BRUCE.”

“Oho.”

“Maybe if we call him dad, he won't- OOF.” There went the rest of Stephanie's sentence. It'll be the only thing that'll be missed.

Marinette, poor Marinette, groaned from under. “All of you will wake up tomorrow with the worst morning and I'll make sure you do.”

And they did. All of them did. If the screams that erupted the next morning were anything to go by, of course.

---------

Happy New Year-

Jskdjdkskdkskskdksk, I may have vanished for a while *cough*months*cough* and will probably go vanishing for a little more while *cough*more months *cough*, but! For! Good! Reason!

Or maybe not but let's no go there-

This school year be kinda important academic wise so I be dedicating more time for that.

Ehe. Have this lil thing as a bye bye gift for now-

Wish y'all a better 2021 ٩(๑^w^๑)۶

Toodles (´∀｀)♡

[shes-a-gryffindor]

Butterflies

Chapter 1. I Missed You

If the party roaring through the common room disappeared abruptly around him, James probably would not have noticed, for from the moment the commentator announced Gryffindor’s victory over Slytherin in what was their last match of the year, his attention was elsewhere.

Scouring the stands from above, watching her leave for the castle with her friends and the rest of the excited crowd, he’d hurried through the post match huddle and congratulations with this team back down on the pitch, and as he walked back up to the castle with them at what felt like an excruciatingly slow pace, his mind was with Lily.

Perhaps it was the war that raged on outside the safety of the familiar stone walls, or that their seventh and final year was coming to an end but the etching anxiety that grew steadily in his chest was a recent development in how he felt when he was away from her too long.

After many a slap on the back, lots of hair ruffling and match commentary from his housemates he made his way through the common room, finding Sirius, who was in usual form, in the thick of the celebrations “There he is!” he exclaimed, clapping James’s back “What a bloody match! Should’ve seen their faces, smug bastards they usually are, absolutely priceless.” a few of their housemates whooped in agreement. Sirius took a swig from the bottle that was hanging loosely from his fingers and let out a bark of laughter at the sight of James distractedly looking around the common room.

Grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and steering him around he said “She’s over there mate”. Grinning sheepishly, James elbowed his best friend away.

She had her back to him, leaning over the edge of a table at the far end of the common room, laughing and conversing with her friends. She’d just thrown her head back in laughter when he wrapped his arms around her, winking at her friends as he greeted them “Ladies”.

Still laughing Lily leaned back into him, ran a hand over his forearm on her waist and weaved her fingers through his.

Her friend Mary answered between tipsy giggles “Potter! Great match, really…we were just wagering-” *hiccup* “-how long it’d be before you'd come and steal our Lily-" with feigned concern, she continued "-you’ve been apart over an hour, are you feeling okay?”

Dragging Lily away, James mocked “You lot are worse than Sirius Black”.

Waving at her friends, Lily turned around in his arms to wrap hers around his neck. He lowered his head, burying it in the crook of her neck, the anxiety settling “I missed you” he told her.

“I really have to agree with Mary, are you okay? She asked laughing “you’ve not even asked me how many of your goals I saw yet, what have you done with my boyfriend?” James laughed, leaning back he lifted her off her feet for a moment before resuming his position buried in her hair “Reckon it’s the Lily Evans effect” he grinned into her shoulder.

“I reckon you’re right” she said, grinning back “I missed you too”.

Lifting his head to look down at her, he rested his forehead against hers. 'Boyfriend' he thought...apparently, the measure of time they’d already been together hadn't changed how incredulous he was, that Lily felt for him now, the way he’d felt about her for so long.

Noticing the depth of his thoughts, as she so often did, she smiled knowingly before kissing him, intending for it to be short and sweet; but James was having none of it. As she’d begun to pull away he leaned right back into her, tightening his grip around her waist and neither of them seemed to much care about the stark contrast between the party happening around them and the slow and lingering kiss happening between them.

Only when Sirius wolf-whistled loudly at them did they break apart, laughing and a little breathless.

”Let’s get out of here?” He quietly suggested; after Lily weaved her hand through his in agreement, he lead them toward the portrait hole, tousling Sirius’ hair roughly as they passed him.

“That’s a good boy Padfoot” winked Lily, both boys laughed appreciatively at the inside joke.

“Always with the quick wit Evans!” He yelled behind them.

No sooner had they stepped through the portrait hole had James slung an arm around her shoulder “Right, where’s the closest broom cupboard?” he asked.

“Now you sound more like yourself” she laughed, elbowing him in the ribs “git”.

They wandered aimlessly through corridors, laughing and joking, stumbling down stairs and running up others until they breathlessly plunked down on the stone ledge of a window sill in a deserted corridor.

Backs to the window, propped up on their elbows with their legs stretched out into the corridor, Lily pulled a flask out from under her sweater “Bottoms up Potter" she said, before gulping down half it’s contents and handing it to him

James raised his eyebrows and laughed in comic disbelief.

Acknowledging his expression she winked lazily, grinning “I reckon it’s the James Potter effect”.

“I reckon you’re right” he grinned back, finishing off the rest of what was in the flask, whatever it was, it was strong- “Fucking hell” he spluttered “I think Sirius is trying to poison us”.

“Probably” laughed Lily “Did we not learn from-" she was now quaking with laughter "-What did he call them? Questionable biscuits? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Remus talk so much…or you so little” she nudged him, James chuckled at the memory and pinching her nose he added “or you so uncharacteristically mischievous”.

“Ah, the James Potter effect, remember” she said, very matter of fact.

“Ah, yes” he agreed, turning to facing her again, he balanced now on only one elbow “and I must say, it does suit you”. Running his free hand through hers, and leant down to briefly kiss the crook of her neck before resting his head there, sending butterflies fluttering through her stomach.

After a few seconds of staring off over James’ shoulder at nothing in particular, Lily thought aloud “To think…in only a few months we won’t be here for the better part of a year ever again…no more breakfast in the great hall, no more quidditch, no more accidentally-on-purpose hanging 'round corridors after rounds, trying for the life of us to dodge filch and peeves-“

“No more midnight dormitory rendezvous” James interjected.

“I think we’ll be fine in that department love, it might be an improvement actually-“

“-No more silencing charms” they said in unison and broke into a fit of laughter.

It was Lily who spoke again when they’d composed themselves “no more Slytherin Gryffindor rivalry”.

“That is life long ” James said pointedly.

She rolled her eyes but considered it for a moment…“Yes, I suppose it’ll take on a whole new meaning once we’ve left…” trailing off, her brow furrowed.

She found she was often caught between excitement at the prospect of life beyond Hogwarts, purpose driven by joining the Order; they, along with Sirius, Remus and (an albeit reluctant) Peter had quite literally thrown themselves at the opportunity when they’d heard. Lily, after-all, had more cause to fight than some...On the other hand there was the unsettling apprehension of the unknown, of what awaited and what the fight would look like.

At some point in her internal monologue, James had lifted his head to look at her. He watched the faint crease that appeared between her brows deepen as she stared at their entwined hands, not really seeing them for she was obviously deep in thought. The way her long hair fell like a curtain over her perfect face, the way she chewed the inside of her lip. All her little nuances he'd come to know and love, and he was up the wall, insanely in love with her. All of her.

Untangling his fingers from hers, he smoothed her brow gently and ran his hand down her cheek until his thumb sat just underneath her jaw, fingers coming to rest at the nape of her neck.

“Yes-" he told her "-but for now we’re just a pair of madly, sickly in love eighteen year olds who hang 'round empty corridors past curfew and rendezvous at midnight” that infectious grin making its way back onto his face.

Smiling again, she turned to face him, leaning on only one elbow now too. Weaving her free hand through the back of the one at her neck, she turned it away from her skin and lightly kissed the inside of his wrist. The heat from the drink still pooled in her chest, his wrist felt cool against her lips.

If butterflies fluttered through Lily, they absolutely erupted through James. The feel of her lips against his wrist pushed him to a level of intoxication far beyond what the contents of the flask already had.

Oblivious to what this had done to him she stood abruptly, tugging at his arm so as to join her “Come on” she said.

“What? Where are we going?” he asked, a little dumbstruck, but Lily was already pulling him down the corridor.

“Anywhere-" She said "-Outside! Wherever - who knows how many more times we’ll get to do this” practically running at this point.

In step now, they ran and stumbled hand in hand down the marble staircase and through the entrance hall. When Lily clamorously pushed open the massive doors at the entrance to the castle, James laughed “Lil! You’re going to have Filch-“

“Oh bugger him! What’s he going to do have us expelled with only two months of the year left?” She yelled as she let go of his hand and ran out onto the grounds, James let out a bark of laughter and made to follow her again “I reckon we’ve had a bad influence on you!” he told her. 

They were half way to the quidditch pitch, her laughter echoed out into the balmy spring evening, long hair bouncing wildly behind her. Almost as if in slow motion, still running, she turned around and grinned at him, her grin etched into every feature of her face setting her brilliant eyes alight and for a minute, James was stone cold sober, his breath catching in his chest.

In two strides he was right behind her, grabbing her hand he pulled her back towards him so that she spun 'round and crashed into his chest. Winded and breathless they looked at each other for a moment, and then they were kissing. A mess of arms around waists and necks, fingers tangled through hair, bodies as close as they physically could be, chests pressing against each other as if they could possibly get any closer than they already were.

When James’ hand found the hem of her sweater and slid underneath to gently run his palm across the small of her back, her goosebumps ensued and she pulled her lips from his, still close enough that there noses were touching, breathless and barley in a whisper, he told her “I love you”.

Closing her eyes to steady her breathing for a moment, Lily grinned against his lips and whispered back “How quickly do you think we can make it back up to your dormitory?”

The same grin swept across his face and he kissed her once more, quickly; without answering he grabbed her hand pulling her after him, running back up to the castle together, bright eyed, faces flushed, their laughter echoing through the grounds.

Read Chapter 2. Magnets, on Ao3 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33331396/chapters/83146177#workskin

[brokutosan]

Title. Quarantine Tales Or alternatively; Bokuto Tries Baking and Nearly Poisons His Two Roommates/Best Friends

Pairing. Bokuto Koutarou x Platonic!Reader x Kuroo Tetsurou + Minor BokuAka and Kuroo Tetsurou x Fem!Reader

Summary. In which a pandemic hits the world and tests the ten year long friendship between three roommates. Or; Kuroo enters quarantine as a cheeky bastard, and walks out of it as a cheeky bastard with a really pretty girlfriend.

Warnings. Manga spoilers, very strong language, and lots of sexual innuendos. Also lots of platonic cuddling and skinship. It gets kind of steamy at the end but nothing too bad. This is basically just a collection of short stories that also kind of has a plot. Fair warning: excessive use of the words ‘bro,’ ‘dude,’ and ‘man.’

Once the news of the pandemic hit Japan, the three roommates were confident they’d come out as better individuals. Maybe pick up on a new hobby, drop a few pounds (or in Bokuto’s case, gain some muscles), and just have a good time, making the best out of the worst situation. They were good at that.

At first, however, the three friends each had a different response to the news. Bokuto decided to splurge and buy everything they need and then some they didn’t (he was making bank from being a pro athlete). He was convinced that the apocalypse was going to happen soon, and that they’ll need all the rations they could get before it’s too late. Kuroo decides to confiscate his Netflix account and told him to stop watching The Walking Dead.

During the first few days Y/N easily got swept up in Bokuto’s bullshit, also convinced that the apocalypse was coming. (“Kuroo, look! The cases doubled over the last few days! Tell me that doesn’t mean something!”) But she was easier to snap out of it, mostly because she’s not as childish as Bokuto. She did, however, buy all of her favorite snacks and put them in a secret stash. (Although Kuroo figured out where it was within three days).

Kuroo is the mediator between them. He’s a man of science, so “no, Bokuto, there’s no way the infected ones are turning into zombies, now stop crying!” He also took the liberty to create schedules and laid out some ground rules on when and how they should shop for groceries and things of that sort. He also made the rule that no one joins their Zoom meetings in the living room after Bokuto walked in on his screen ass naked.

All in all, they (Kuroo) were able to set up a system that ensured Bokuto doesn’t lose his mind out of boredom and Y/N doesn’t try to kill them in their sleep.

-

“If aliens take over the planet do you think I could become their overlord?”

“Doubt it. You need to have the brains for it.”

“Hey! I’m pretty smart!”

“Explain the process of osmosis.”

“Fuck you, Kuroo.”

Y/N listens in on the idiotic conversation between her two roommates, not daring to speak up in fear of losing her much needed brain cells.

“Y/N! Listen to this, Kuroo doesn’t think I’m smart enough to become an alien overlord!” Bokuto sits up from his spot on their living room floor, one elbow propped up to support his body. Y/N sighs, closing her book realizing there’s no way she’ll get the peace she needed.

“Kuroo doesn’t know what he’s talking about, Bo.” It’s only been one week since the mandated quarantine started. If Y/N gives in now, then she’ll only spiral into madness as the months go by.

“Hear that, you bastard?! Y/N-chan believes in me!” Kuroo looks unamused. There’s a shit eating grin on his face that Y/N wants to wipe off. Or punch off. Whichever happens first.

“Y’know what they say, owls of a feather stick together.” Kuroo’s probably referring to the fact that both Y/N and Bokuto attended Fukurodani. Either way, he’s insulting her. Y/N is seething.

“Shut up you cocky cat!” Y/N screeches, flinging her book to his relaxed figure on the floor. Kuroo lets out a groan as the hardcover book makes contact with his groin. “Shit, there goes my future generations.”

Bokuto emphasizes with his bro, placing a protective hand over his ‘lil man.’

-

During the third week of quarantine, Kuroo comes down with a cold. Or maybe he got the virus. That’s what Bokuto and Y/N are currently trying to figure out.

“Kuroo, man, I searched up your symptoms here and it says you have network connectivity problems. What does that mean?” Bokuto grumbles, aggressively tapping the laptop screen. Y/N scowls at the way he’s manhandling her laptop before snatching it away from his hold.

“That’s not what that means, dumbass.” Bokuto pouts. “It means someone fucking forgot to pay for the wifi for this month.”

Y/N is glaring at her bedridden roommate through her face mask, but the rooster head throws his hands up out of innocence. “Sorry, I was too busy trying not to die!”

“So what now?” Bokuto asks, trying to cut through the tension between his two roommates. Y/N sighs in response, shutting off her laptop. “Now we just have to wait for him to sleep it off. If he has the virus then we burn his room with him in it.”

“Hey!” Kuroo tries to object. Instead what comes out is a garbled noise followed by excessive coughing and Bokuto screeching something about the ‘zombie virus infecting his home,’ and then he bolted out of Kuroo’s room.

“Whatever,” Y/N sighs, knowing Bokuto would have been useless in this situation anyways, “just try to rest. I’ll come in to check on you every now and then to bring you food. You better eat it!”

“Aw, Y/N-chan, you really care about me, huh?” Kuroo fake gushes, pressing one hand on his chest and another on his forehead. “It’s sweet how you try to act all tough.”

“Bo! Go find the lighter!”

-

Six weeks into the quarantine, Kuroo is over his ‘virus scare’ and now it’s Bokuto who’s sick. Correction, lovesick. It’s starting to test Y/N’s thinning patience.

“Do you think ‘Kaashi would get annoyed if I call him again?”

“Bo, you’ve been facetiming him every single day since this quarantine started. What changed?”

“He hasn’t been messaging me back the last three days! Do you think he got tired of me? Do you think he realized I’ve been in love with him and now he hates me? Do you think he hates my owl memes? Damn, I should’ve just told him before this whole thing started.” Y/N snorts. Clearly. One less headache for her. Even the sight of Kuroo breathing is starting to irk her. One time she nearly slapped him across the head for sleeping on the couch. Quarantine is doing something to her.

“Y/N? Why aren’t you answering? Oh my god, you hate me too, don’t you?” Crap. She was too absorbed in her hatred towards Kuroo’s existence that she forgot this big baby was lying down on her lap crying about something. What was it again? Akaashi hates him? Impossible.

“Impossible.” Y/N doesn’t realize she is running her hand through his two-toned hair. Bokuto hums in content. Y/N is suddenly reminded of her dog from back home. She wonders how he’s doing.

“Keiji’s like, in love with you. If anything he’s probably just drowning in work. You know how busy he gets.” Even Y/N’s not buying it. Busy or not, three days of radio silence from Akaashi has to mean something. She just doesn’t want to deal with an emo Bokuto. She decides to pass the responsibility to Kuroo.

“Bo, I bet Kuroo has some pretty good advice for ya. Remember when he had that crush on Akari-chan for all of highschool?” Bokuto shoots up with a new look of determination. He yells out a ‘you’re the best, Y/N-chan!’ over his shoulders before dashing straight to Kuroo’s room.

Y/N smiles in triumph as she receives a plethora of messages from one very angry Kuroo Tetsurou, ranging from ‘Why would you do this to me?’ to ‘I fucking hate you.’ Serves him right for finishing the ice cream.

(Later they find out that Akaashi simply broke his phone and had to wait three days to get it fixed. Bokuto was over the moon).

-

Sometimes Y/N wears their highschool jerseys because she thinks they’re comfortable. Some days she wears Bokuto’s. Other days she wears Kuroo’s. Today she’s wearing Bokuto’s, and Kuroo doesn’t know why it’s pissing him off.

“Oh man! That thing looks like a dress on you!” Bokuto squeals like one of his fangirls. He dashes to where she is, minding her business making toast in the kitchen, and picks her up from under her arms a la Lion King style.

“Bo! Put me down, you dumbass!” She wiggles in his hold, legs thrashing around. It’s all meaningless though. Bokuto is a pro athlete and is 190cm. Any attempts to free herself remains futile against this giant man-baby.

“Kuroo, look! So cute!” Bokuto gushes, showing her off like a baby. He lightly loosens his hold on one arm and extends his hand to bring a finger up to her cheeks. Y/N is emitting a strange aura. Kuroo suspects she’ll start tearing his ass into pieces within ten seconds.

Correction, three seconds. Because somehow she figures out how to kick behind her and shove an ankle deep into Bokuto’s groin. Now Bokuto is wriggling around on the living room floor as Y/N returns to her toast.

Kuroo finds this amusing, yet there’s a foreign feeling deep inside his chest. Is he getting sick again? He’s gonna need to check on that later.

-

“Ou! What ‘ya watching?”

“Your Name.”

“Huh? Bokuto Koutarou. Did you forget?”

“Dude...” Y/N stares at him in disbelief. Bokuto doesn’t notice but that’s because he’s Bokuto, and just about everything flies over his head. Instead he plops down on the couch next to her and hogs all the blanket.

“Get the fuck out! Get your own blanket!” Bokuto doesn’t reply, but he hums and opens his arms as an invitation. Ah, another platonic cuddling, as Bokuto puts it. Y/N is touch starved and she can’t deny it, so she slides closer to his lean figure and lets her head fall on his chest.

Eventually they settle in, huddling impossibly close to each other as the movie reach its tear-jerking climax. They don’t notice Kuroo walk in with a scowl on his face.

“Oh hey, bro. Wanna watch?” Bokuto notices him first, lifting his head up from the crown of Y/N’s head. Y/N finally looks over Bokuto’s chest and spots Kuroo moving around in the kitchen.

“I’m good.” Is his short answer before he trudges to his room with a loud bang! from his door. Y/N flinches a little, but pays no mind to it. Instead she directs her focus back to the movie, where another sad scene is unfolding.

The movie reaches its ending, but not before Bokuto could ask, “So, what’s the actual title of the movie?”

-

One peaceful afternoon Bokuto decides to take in a stray cat. Except...

“Bokuto, you fucking idiot that’s a racoon!” Y/N screeches as she climbs Kuroo’s back. The rooster head screams as he backs away from Bokuto and ‘Mr. Fluffles.’ Bokuto stares at his frightened roommates and the ‘cat’ in his hand and then back at his roommates again.

Realization strikes, and now Bokuto is screeching with the other two, holding the raccoon as far away from his body as possible.

“If you fucking drop it, I’ll kill you!” Kuroo threatens, holding onto Y/N’s arm that’s starting to dig into his throat. “Take it outside!”

“But it’s raining!”

“Bokuto!”

“It’s you or him, man!”

The two continue their little back-and-forth, not noticing the raccoon had escaped Bokuto’s grasp. But Y/N notices. And it’s heading into her room. And now she’s seeing God.

“Bokuto, gah-!” Kuroo is rudely interrupted by Y/N’s tight hold on his throat getting tighter. Before he could give her hell for attempted murder, he notices the look of horror on her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Your fucking raccoon went in my bedroom!”

“Ah shit!” Both Kuroo and Bokuto scramble, the former forgetting all about the human person hanging onto his back. Said person is too scared of letting her foot touch the floor, afraid that it might be met by the furry abomination Bokuto brought home. So she kinda just...lets Kuroo run off into her room with her dangling off his neck.

“Where’d he go?!” Bokuto panics, not seeing Mr. Fluffles anywhere in his immediate vicinity. He starts flinging stuff off the ground and her table and her bed, making a huge mess in the span of ten seconds. Y/N takes one foot off of Kuroo’s waist and kicks him square in the back.

“Quit trashing my room!” She scolds like a mom. Bokuto pouts but continues looking, until they hear the quiet pitter patter of claws hitting the wooden floor. “Wait shut up!”

Y/N huffs but still complies, wanting nothing more than Mr. Fluffles gone from her room. Kuroo takes the liberty to start questioning Bokuto’s stupidity.

“How could you have possibly thought that thing was a fucking cat?!”

“In my defense, it was pretty dark outside.” Bokuto grumbles in his low and whiny voice, before firing back, “And stop calling him a ‘thing!’ Mr. Fluffles has feelings too!”

“Bokuto we’re not keeping it!” This time it’s Y/N yelling at him with fire in her eyes. The poor guy looks like he’s about to cry, but Y/N is far too gone over the thought of a raccoon making its home in her bedroom.

Bokuto lets out an ‘aha!’ as he emerges from under her bed with Mr. Fluffles. Y/N visibly relaxes knowing that the raccoon is safely contained. Until she remembers what was stashed under her bed.

“Ah, there’s something in his mouth.” Bokuto announces, holding Mr. Fluffles disgustingly close to his face. Her secret stash of snacks. The bastard got into it.

“Bokuto!!!”

(They later find out that at least four neighbors filed a noise complaint against them).

-

It’s two months in to the quarantine when Bokuto discovers TikTok. Within one week he’s dropped his towel in front of Kuroo, sat on Kuroo’s lap during his work Zoom meeting, smacked his gym bag across Kuroo’s face, and then some. Y/N finds humor in this, of course at Kuroo’s expense, but that’s even better.

Speaking of Kuroo and Y/N. Lately there’s been undeniable tension between his two roommates, and Bokuto doesn’t know how to resolve it. Everytime he tries to get them to talk they end up arguing.

He’s asked Akaashi for advice, but Akaashi simply told him to let them resolve it amongst themselves. Bokuto does not have the patience for that. He’s scared their meaningless arguments might rip a tear into their ten year long friendship.

So Bokuto does what he thinks is best, bake them cookies! No one could possibly be in a bad mood while eating freshly baked cookies, even Bokuto is drooling at the thought. So with a new resolve, Bokuto scrolls through his new favorite app (TikTok) to find some good recipes. Because TikTok has all the answers.

Except when he bakes the cookies he later finds out he used two cups of salt instead of sugar. He doesn’t know how that happened, but it could be because he grabbed the first white substance he saw and dumped it in the bowl.

Kuroo and Y/N somehow found a way to blame each other. Bokuto is reaching his limits.

-

Bokuto calls for an emergency meeting. He needs help deciding whether or not he should drop 40,000¥ on the Animal Crossing Limited Edition Switch that comes with Animal Crossing: New Horizons.

Y/N says go for it because she’s secretly plotting on stealing it the moment he gets tired of the game (which knowing Bokuto, would be fairly quick). Kuroo objects because Bokuto blew 50,000¥ last month buying shit he didn’t need for the quarantine.

And now there’s a fullblown argument between the two. Bokuto is reminded of his parents, except their fights never got this hostile and he’s pretty sure his mom never called his dad a “rooster-hair bastard!” He’s too scared to cut in. He thinks they might cut off his head. So he decides to sneakily crawl back into his room.

He ends up ordering the switch anyways, and when it arrives a week later Kuroo calls Y/N a bad influence. They argue again.

Bokuto has an epiphany.

-

Two days after Bokuto’s epiphany, they take a trip to the supermarket. Bokuto wants to drive but he can’t because his license got revoked after he ran through five consecutive red lights. Kuroo tells him this but he gets pouty so Kuroo had to buy him ice cream on the way there to get him to shut up.

So now Bokuto is slobbering up Kuroo’s car, much to the latter’s distaste. It isn’t until Kuroo brake checks him and Bokuto slams the ice cream on his face, does Kuroo show a look of content. Bokuto pays no mind, and decides to bring up his recent epiphany.

“So, bro, when are ya gonna tell Y/N you’re in love with her?” Kuroo slams his foot on the brakes again, this time out of shock. “I - uh - what - what did you just say?”

“Oh man,” Bokuto lets out a boisterous laugh while licking the ice cream that dripped down his shirt (gross), “you didn’t know?!”

“You two have had this sexual tension between you brewing for weeks! It’s like - I could actually cut through it with a knife, like a piece of pie or something!”

“I hate everything you just said.”

“Whatever man, just let me know if you want me gone for the night. I’ll even come up with a good excuse.” He winks, and Kuroo resists the urge to crash the car into a tree.

-

Bokuto’s words affect Kuroo a lot more than he would like to admit. Ever since that fateful trip to the supermarket with his owl-eyed friend, Kuroo’s been too wary of his other roommates existence. He wants to prove Bokuto wrong. He, Kuroo Tetsurou, is not in love with L/N Y/N, his best friend since his first year of highschool.

L/N Y/N is one of the guys! That’s like saying he likes Bokuto (Kuroo bites back his disgust). And Kuroo doesn’t like Bokuto, thank you very much.

Except L/N Y/N is not Bokuto.

L/N Y/N is his endless highschool memories that he always goes back to on a bad day. She is going to the beach during the summer and playing in the ocean until they tire themselves out. She’s like a warm hug that welcomes him after a long and tiring say. She’s like the rock that was flung at his ex’s window after she cheated on him with some other guy. She’s like the fun he’s had during the summer away games, where he got to play volleyball with his friends for one week straight. She’s like taking the long way home just so he could walk back with her. L/N Y/N is his best friend.

No, Y/N is not all those things. She is, however, the person he’s shared those memories with. The person Kuroo could say one hundred percent, without a doubt, knows him best (aside from Bokuto and maybe his mom). She’s the person that’s always been there through thick or thin, for ten years and counting.

Oh god. Kuroo Tetsurou is in love with L/N Y/N.

-

Bokuto has a plan in mind. A plan to help his two best friends hook up (and maybe date afterwards). Bokuto tells Akaashi his plans but Akaashi tells him all his plans are moronic, so he goes to his teammates Hinata and Atsumu, who says he’s a genius.

(The plan is simple: make Kuroo jealous. That bastard is as possessive as a dog over his food).

Which is how he finds himself seated at the kitchen table, phone in hand with a disgusted Y/N right across from him.

“No, you’re not giving my number to Miya Atsumu. That guy has shifty eyes!”

“Come on, you’ll learn how to love it! ‘Sides, Tsumu-tsumu is a nice guy! Did’ya really think I’d set my bestest friend in the world up with some sketchy guy?” If Bokuto’s normal talking voice is at a hundred, he’s talking at a hundred twenty now, just to make sure Kuroo can hear him from his room.

Y/N presses her palms to her ears, not really questioning why he’s talking so damn loud. Instead she blackmails him. “Bokuto if you don’t stop I’ll send Keiji all your embarrassing pictures from our first year.”

“You wouldn’t!”

But the look in her eyes says she would. And the ping! sound that came from her phone says that she just did. “Y/N!” Bokuto cries out, scrambling incredibly fast to his room where he left his phone plugged in, hoping he could stop Akaashi from witnessing the embarrassment that is Bokuto Koutarou as a fifteen year old.

Moments after Bokuto bolted to his room and is screaming out, “‘Kaashi! Block Y/N-chan right now! Don’t open her texts!” Kuroo steps out of his bedroom, having been shamelessly eavesdropping on their previous conversation.

“So,” He leans over the kitchen counter (he thinks he looks like hot shit but Y/N begs to differ), “Miya Atsumu, huh?” Her face contorts into something out of digust or discomfort, he can’t tell which one. Is it bad for him to say he likes that reaction? Probably.

“Don’t.” Is her short response, bringing up a hand in front of her body. “If Bokuto thinks I’m desperate enough to go for one of his teammates, then I’ve got a surprise for him. No offense to Shouyou.”

“So what I’m hearing is...it’s not the aspect of being in a relationship you’re totally against, but the guy himself?” Kuroo thinks out loud. Y/N throws him one of her infamous ‘what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about’ looks, but he feigns ignorance to it.

“I mean, yeah? I haven’t had a good fuck since-” Kuroo decides to cut her off there, not really eager to learn the name of the man she’s...well, you get it! (Bokuto was right, this man truly is possessive).

“Anyways, good choice. I heard the other twin is where it’s at.” Kuroo ends the conversation there, with new knowledge about his new found crush and confidence over the fact that he still has a chance.

-

A week goes by just like that. Bokuto makes it painfully obvious he’s trying to make Kuroo jealous. Except painfully obvious is not obvious enough for his slightly-frustrating friend, Y/N.

At one point, when obviously Atsumu didn’t serve much of a threat to Kuroo (curse that idiot for being too easy to mock), Bokuto took matters into his own hands and tried flirting with Y/N himself. And while Bokuto is a lot of things, being smooth isn’t one of them. There’s a reason why he hasn’t made whatever he has with Akaashi official yet, he’s terrible at relationships and anything related to it.

(Though Kuroo had a riot witnessing Bokuto’s failed attempts at heterosexual flirting:

“So, you come here often?”

“Bo, I fucking live here.”).

And as much as Bokuto wants to just go out with it and announce to Y/N (and the world) that his totally radical bro, Kuroo Tetsurou, is in love with her, he has just about enough self control and conscience to know that doing that could only result in his immediate death at the hands of a very angry rooster-head. So he’s just been beating around the bush. For a week he’s tried to drop subtle hints that were, sadly, left dropped by Y/N. She’s almost as helpess as Bokuto. Almost.

But when an opportunity like this falls on his lap, Bokuto just knows he has to take it.

It’s at one of their annual roommate-bonding, a tradition they’ve held since moving in together during college. This time Kuroo is unable to join due to some hold-up at work. He’s in his room furiously typing away at his computer.

“So...” He makes sure to drag out the last vowel to gain her interest. Though it’s pretty useless since Y/N is as easy to fool as Bokuto himself. They’re best friends for a reason. A very bad reason, one might say.

“So what?” She asks, shoving about ten pieces of popcorn in her mouth all at once. Bokuto realizes he is tired of beating around the bush. He decides to set the metaphorical bush on fire. “Admit it, Y/N. You like Kuroo, don’t ‘ya? You wanna screw him or something?”

“Shh!” Suddenly Y/N is more invested in whatever Bokuto has to say than the shitty movie he picked out. And now she’s launched herself off her side of the couch onto his, pressing a greasy, buttery palm to his lips.

Bokuto easily swipes her hand away with a shit eating grin on his face. “So I was right! Which one is it? ‘Ya like him? Or you wanna screw him?”

“Bokuto!” She warns. Her eyes dart to Kuroo’s closed bedroom door, suddenly too aware of just now thin these walls actually are. It also didn’t help that Bokuto’s normal speaking voice is about as loud as a race car engine.

She realizes there’s no point in hiding it, since he’s looking at her with those creepy owl eyes, just daring her not to spill everything. “How’d you even find out?” She sighs in defeat.

“Come on! You’ve been so irritated lately that there was only two possible explanations: ya either love the guy or hate his guts. I don’t think you’d be friends with him for ten years if you hated him so much.” Y/N blinks in surprise. That’s surprisingly perceptive, coming from Bokuto. She tells him this.

“Hey! I’m capable of using my head too!” He doesn’t like how she’s giving him that judgement look. Clearing his throat, Bokuto decides to skip past that.

“So? Since when did ‘ya like the lucky bastard?” Bokuto expects one month, maybe two at best. What he didn’t expect was this: “Probably since highschool.”

“Wha-?!” His outburst is contained by a smaller body flying on top of his, as well as two palms pressed tightly over his mouth. Eyes wide, he looks down to see a flustered Y/N, pink cheeks and all, looking menacingly at Kuroo’s door, trying to see if he heard any of that.

Once she confirms she’s in the clear, she lets out the breath she’s been holding and smacks Bokuto across his biceps.

“Idiot! Don’t just scream like that!” She huffs, arms crossed at her chest. “I told you ‘cus I trust you, Bo. Don’t do anything stupid with that trust.” The man simply nods, still too shocked to form coherent words.

Once he does however, Y/N is hit with an onslaught of whispered questions. “Since when? How come I didn’t notice? How come anyone didn’t notice? Why-” He pauses, realizing his questions aren’t being answered. So he waits as she brings her legs up to her chest with an unreadable expression.

“I mean it was pretty easy to hide it. We went to different schools, and whenever we hung out you were always there,” Y/N starts, but quickly adds, “I mean, not like I didn’t want you there! It’s just - it was easier to forget I even liked him whenever the three of us were together.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, probably still wary of the fact that Kuroo was only one room over. Bokuto notices this and turns up the volume of the TV, earning a small smile from his nervous wreck of a friend.

“At one point I was actually gonna tell him, but then he started dating Akari-chan.” Bokuto scowls at the name. Akari, the girl that Kuroo crushed on for a full year, but also the girl that ended up cheating on him with some guy in her painting club. “I wasn’t really the type to cry over a small crush, I had other things to do. Actually I was kind of relieved. Kuroo being taken meant I didn’t have to act on these weird feelings I started having.”

“And next thing I knew we were off to college. I started dating other people, and my feelings for him started shrinking. Even when we decided to move in together, we were all so busy with our separate lives, so I wasn’t really worried about it...until, y’know, we kinda got stuck here together. I guess seeing him 24/7 just caused my head to malfunction. I thought fighting with him would stop these weird...feelings, from coming back. But I guess that backfired on me since you ended up finding out. Wait - Bokuto are you crying?”

The said man tucks his head in his arms, mumbling out “No,” even though it was pretty obvious. Y/N softly smiles, finding his reaction kind of cute. It was nice to know he cares that much, no matter how infuriating he could get.

“I didn’t even know you went through that much, Y/N-chan. C’mere! Lemme give you a hug!”

“Bokuto, no! I don’t need-” The rest of her complaints are drowned out by a sturdy chest meeting her face. Great. Bokuto’s way too emotional now.

“I’m sorry, I promise I’ll help you tell him!”

“Wait what? I don’t want that!” Y/N tries to argue, but her voice is muffled due to being stuffed into his chest. Suddenly remembering that Bokuto has a tendency to be a loud mouth and could never keep a secret from Kuroo, Y/N shoots up, pressing her palms to his chest to release herself from his hold.

“Bo, you have to promise me you won’t tell him anything.”

“But -”

“Bokuto!” He slightly recoils from the sternness of her voice, before he bows his head and nods. Y/N relaxes a bit, settling back into her previous position and fixed her focus back to the movie playing on the TV as if their previous conversation never happened.

Unbeknownst to her, Bokuto is already putting the pieces together for his master plan.

-

Y/N comes to regret telling Bokuto her ‘dirty’ little secret exactly one week later, at their next roommate-bonding. This time Kuroo is there, with Bokuto right in between them on the couch. There’s another shitty movie playing in the background (curtesy of Bokuto’s horrible choice in films), but Y/N can’t bring herself to pay attention.

She does however, snap out of her little daydream when Bokuto shoots up, phone in hand and reaching for the door. Oh no. Both Kuroo and Y/N think to themselves.

“Ah! What’s this?! There’s an emergency at ‘Kaashi’s apartment?! Guys, I’ll be right back!” Bokuto is out the door before either of them could object. Y/N knows Akaashi. Akaashi is a safe guy. He’s not the type to call out of nowhere because of an emergency, and even if he did, Bokuto surely would not be the first contact in mind. Which means, Bokuto, that sneaky bastard, planned this with the single brain cell he had left.

Silence fills the air for the next five minutes, until Kuroo’s phone sounds off. It’s a text from Bokuto, reading: When I come back you two better be-

Kuroo decides to turn off his phone there, fearing the contents of the very explicit paragraph Bokuto sent following those words. Instead he turns his head to his friend next to him - or rather on the opposite side of the couch, avoiding him like he’s the plague.

He doesn’t like this awkwardness at all. Conversation between them used to always just flow, even if most of them end up becoming a heated debate over the most trivial things. Kuroo decides to man up. It’s now or never.

“Okay so -” “Hey -” The two pause, finally making eye contact for the first time in past week. All of Kuroo’s brain cells fly out his brain and out the window, leaving him to fend off for himself in this awkward situation. His head is like that one Spongebob meme. Oh god, he’s turning into Bokuto-

“So,” Y/N’s voice snaps him out of his train of thoughts, or rather his lack of it. This is pathetic. He’s a grown man and he’s acting like a highschooler over a pathetic crush. Except this isn’t a pathetic crush. This is Y/N - his best friend for the past ten years, who he’s just now realized is a lot prettier than he initially thought.

“I’m in love with you.” Yes, yes he is. Wait, that wasn’t his voice. And that definitely wasn’t his subconscious trying to patch up what’s left of his decimated ego, which means -

“Kuroo?” Jesus fuck, when did she even slide over this close? “You don’t have to answer or anything, I just thought I should tell you first before Bokuto breaks. I understand if you don’t feel the same way-”

“No!” She flinches at how loud his voice is. “I mean, fuck - wait. You gotta let me process this real quick.” Kuroo is suddenly aware he’s redder than his Nekoma jersey, and her face is super close to his, and her lips look totally kissable right now.

“I’m in love with you, too.” Kuroo finally speaks up. He notices how she goes stiff, and how quickly her face turns into a bright shade of red.

“You don’t have to say it just ‘cus you feel bad! This doesn’t have to change anything between us! I mean, I’ve kept it a secret for ten years, I can do ten more-”

“Y/N.” She finally stops her rambling, meeting his eyes. And she doesn’t know why, but suddenly she just knows he’s being sincere. She could probably die right now and she’d say she lived a happy life.

“I’m gonna kiss you now.” Kuroo waits for her confirmation, in this case a shy nod, before cupping her cheeks with his large and warm hands. He inches over slowly at first, but lets his lips eagerly meet hers with a smile. He feels her hands wrap around his waist, letting him deepen the kiss.

It starts of slow and steady, everything Y/N could have ever dreamed of, until needy hands start roaming her body. She has to crane her neck to meet his lips, and Kuroo probably sensed her discomfort because now he’s gripping her waist tightly, lifting her up gently and placing her down on his lap.

The new and more comfortable position allows Kuroo to deepen the kiss, and Y/N finds her hands grabbing the hair she’s been insulting so much for the past two months. Kuroo sighs into the kiss, with Y/N smiling a bit at the situation. As things escalate, a loud gasp breaks them out of their trance.

“Oh. My. God!” Bokuto is squealing like an idiot and Akaashi is behind him unamused. “Finally.” Is his short statement.

“What the fuck Bokuto!” Kuroo growls. Y/N, suddenly a bit too self conscious climbs off the spot she made for herself on Kuroo’s lap. Though her embarrassment doesn’t last long, before she joins Kuroo in glaring at Bokuto.

“I just came back ‘cus I forgot my wallet, but oh man! You guys are adorable!” Akaashi is still behind him, but this time he looks more apologetic. “Bokuto-san, maybe we should leave.”

“Nah, I kinda wanna stay.”

“Bokuto!”

“Get the fuck out!” Bokuto only laughs as he catches both the pillow and the remote control thrown at him. He drops both items back down on the living room floor and snatches his wallet from the counter before calling over his shoulders,

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure ya make me the best man and the maid of honor!”

A/N. Reupload! This fic was totally self-indulgent bc I am so bored of quarantine and am currently wishing I had a Bokuto and Kuroo to keep me entertained. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! And as always, thank you for reading! Leave a like if you...liked it? Is that how it goes? - chuu

[casualneonglitterpainterposts]

"First Encounter"

So this is the story/ how I imagine Jules met/ encounter Michael and how she kinda ended up falling for him...

Heads up there is a little bit of violence in this- It’s not OTT though..

It was early evening, Jules had finished her last coaching session for the day- so she went down to her fave place- the batting cages for a while to smash up some balls for a bit. As she left the pitching ovals with her duffle bag and bat in hand, from within the shadows- “The Shape'' had been there the whole time. He’d been secretly watching Julie for many days, weeks and months- she seemed to intrigue him, causing feelings he’d never had before to rise inside him and now he just wanted her all to himself …

Of course he followed her discreetly and from a distance to the batting cage to watch her some more- watching such a sweet and loving woman like her show her wild side and smash the crap out of baseballs was very therapeutic (seeing this side of her was a bit of a turn on too).Soon after arriving and getting in the cage, Jules let herself get lost in the moment and started smashing out those baseball without a care in the world. Time certainly flew by, Jules had been there for two hours, she’d been having a great time smashing some balls- her hard hitting had a small crowd of kids standing there watching in amazement from the other side of the cage. She smiled and decided to teach em’ to hit like her too. Though from behind the dark shadows between an empty batting cage, he watched her- she was so beautiful, so sweet and certainly knew how to swing  a bat alright- his heart pounding harder against his chest as he watched some more …

Hours later, it was just her and the owner, (Michael too of course, in the shadows- he probably wandered off and killed a few people though). The owner was beginning to close up- after hitting her last ball, she turned off the machine, put down her bat and cleaned the cage up. Now she was done Jules grabbed  her towel, patting the small droplets of sweat from her forehead- then picked up her duffle bag and bat, walking out the cage and towards the front door..

On her way out Mr. Hardstone called out smiling and waving..

“Goodbye Julie, you have a good night now deary”.

Julie (looking over her shoulder and waving back): “Oh, Goodbye Mr.Hardstone, you have a lovely night too”.

And with that she made her way down the road, by foot of course back to her grandparent’s house. On her way home of course, she without her knowledge was followed by “The Shape”.

As she was making her way back home, at least halfway down the street from her grandparents place- Julie was attacked by a bunch of creeps.. Michael of course (from within the shadows of the street lights) wouldn’t let harm come to this woman…

“Hmmm, what’s a pretty lil’ thing like you wandering the streets late out at night?” (Creep leader says with a disgusting pervy smirk on his face)

Rolling her eyes in frustration and with her bat out in front of her- Jules swung it wildly towards them to protect herself..

“Get lost .. you sick pervs, keep your filthy mitts to yourself” (Jules yells as she continued to swing her bat about).

Though she swung her bat hard out in front to protect herself, the creeps were getting closer and closer to her..

As she swung her bat once more, one of the strong looking creeps grabbed a hold of it and threw it aside on the street, Poor Jules was a little frightened right now, but she wasn’t ready to let them get away with what they were trying to do to her. She then swung her fists at them, using her taekwondo and self defense skills to protect herself..

“G..GET BACK!!!.. O..OR ELSE. I MEAN IT!!!” Jules shouted at them with a tremble of fear in her voice

“Or else what?” (the creep leader snickers at her as they cornered her)....

“O..OR.. OR…” (Still swinging her fists at them)

“GOTCHA!!!!!” 

“ARGH!!!!!!!!” …..  “LET GO OF ME.. RIGHT NOW!!!!” Jules cried out yelling, kicking and screaming.

The Creep leader came up close with that pervy smirk still on his face, Jules still kicking and screaming..

“Hmm.. Now why would we wanna do that little lady?”

Jules swung her leg and kicked him hard in the arm.

“Oof, you certainly know how to kick don’t you sweetheart. Come now, let’s teach this feisty little firecracker a lesson boys” (the creep leader says rubbing his arm where she kicked him)...

“No, No.. Keep you filthy hands away.. Don’t touch me” (she screamed with a tremble in her tone).

As he watched from the shadows, a deep rage was growing inside…

Jules was still kicking and screaming- as she turned her head to the side, one of the creeps went from behind to inappropriately touch her…

“NO.. NO.. DON’T TOUCH ME!!!.. LEAVE ME ALONE, LET ME GO” (Jules cried  once more freaking out and panicking a little).

“Now, sweetie, there’s no need to be like that. I just wanna have some fun”( he says in a disgusting fake sweet tone)...

Just as he was about to let his hand caress the sides of her beautiful body, from behind- lurking in the shadows, a tall figure with a chef’s knife pierced right through his neck. Instantly he fell to the ground bleeding to death- everything went silent, the men froze in fear and their faces went pale white when they turned around to see that it was none other than Michael Myers…

Julie couldn’t believe her eyes- it was really him. As she was still in the grasp of that filthy creep that grabbed a hold of her, she watched Michael tear apart these disgusting men with his bare hands. Watching him use such sheer strength certainly made her blush a little, oh boy he was certainly strong. As the guy holding onto her freaked out- watching this brute kill every single one of his mates, he dropped Jules aggressively to the ground. Jules quickly got up and as hard as she could- sucker punched him right in the face as hard as she could. 

Her elbows and knees were scratched up and scraped a bit, they were quite sore and poor Jules was left a little shaken up too. But she hobbled over to the tree nearby best she could to lean up against it before she fell. As she stood there leaning against the tree, she continued to watch this hunky strong brute tear these creeps to shreds. 

As Michael broke the neck of yet another creep, the Creep leader was watching- enraged as he was, he quickly pulled out Mikey’s knife from his friend and charged towards him, piercing the blade of his knife right through his thick muscular arm. Julie wasn’t going to stand around anymore- though a little wobbly on her legs, she managed to grab her baseball bat. Just as he turned around, Jules did her killer swing and smashed him real hard across the face and head- knocking him to the ground unconscious. All the creeps were on the ground, surrounded by nothing but road and blood- though after pulling the knife from his arm, Michael plunged it right through the unconscious bastard's spine- standing there staring and doing his good old head tilt. 

Jules, though still very wobbly in the legs and ever so sore managed to retrieve her duffle bag and towel- with them and her baseball bat in her arms she turned around, though as she turned around Michael was right behind her. Jules blushed as she stared up at him- her heart racing wild and her legs shaking a little more. He was so tall (Jules was only “5’2” tall) and his heavy breathing from behind his mask was a little freaky too.. But she could see right through him and sense that he wouldn’t harm her. Jules  was more concerned about him since he was stabbed in the arm- she could see he was bleeding. 

He looked back down at her through his mask, then at the dead creeps, then back at her again. Without any hesitation Michael lifted her up into his arms effortlessly Jules and her belongings too- walking her down to her grandparents house (of course he knows where she lives- he’d been watching her for weeks- following her everywhere). Jules was a little nervous at first- could you judge her?- but being in his strong arms (even if he was a killer) made her feel comforted and safe. It wasn’t long before he arrived there and made it up her grandparents front porch- unseen of course, luckily they were outta town for the next two days- so the place was dark and empty. After unlocking the front door of her grandparents house, The Shape pushed it open with his foot and walked in with her still in his arms. Shutting the door behind him, he went over and placed Jules on the couch, sitting beside her. She switched on the lamp nearby, Jules looked over at him, staring at his bleeding arm concerningly.  Then courageously she scooted over a little closer to him- Then Jules grabbed his arm, firmly pressing her towel up against it to stop the bleeding…

He was surprised and huffed out loud a little..

Julie looked up into the slit eye holes of his mask sincerely...

“You’re hurt badly, please stay there, hold this. I’ll go get my first aid kit” she said in a soft sincere tone.

Looking into her sincere eyes made his face fluster and his heart pound hard against his chest- oh thank goodness the mask was covering his beet red face right now. He just grunted a little and sat there holding the towel to his bleeding arm. Though she was a little scratched up and quite sore, Jules hobbled into the kitchen, opened the cupboard under the sink, grabbed the first aid kit and hobbled back over to the couch. She grit her teeth together from the pain as she sat down, nevertheless she ignored it and opened up the first aid kit- she then got him to move the towel and uncover his arm.

“Alright then, um.. Can you take your arm out of your sleeve so I can clean it up? Please?” Jules asked nicely.

Michael just grunted (still flustered under his mask)- though after being a little stubborn at first, he unzipped his coveralls a little and took his arm out of his sleeve. Jules just sat there with a damp cloth, her face glowing all cute and rosy. Once his arm was uncovered, she gently wiped the wound with the clean damp cloth, then pat the surface of it dry. She then grabbed the antiseptic ointment- as she was grabbing it, Michael turned his eyes towards her for a moment, but the minute she turned back towards him- he looked the other way still blushing and flustered underneath the mask, yet still heavily breathing too. Placing a small amount of the ointment on her finger, she looked up at him ..

“This might sting a little, sorry about that” (she says ever so sweetly).

So she gently applied the ointment , dressed his wound and wrapped the dressing with a bandage. Then out of habit (since she’s used to doing first aid for children- especially since she’s a baseball coach and occasionally encounters injuries) she gently laid a small soft kiss on his bandaged wound. With his face burning red under his mask, Michael quickly covered up his arm with his sleeve again and awkwardly grunted of course. Jules moved back a little, blushing and apologising.

“I...I’m so sorry if I upset you, it was something I just do out of habit since I’m used to doing that for the kids I coach when they get hurt and patched up”  she says blushing a little deeper.

He sat there, still heavily breathing- burning red under the mask. Though he felt a bit bad for the way he reacted, Michael knew her intentions were good. He looked over at her- she was blushing and averting her eyes. To reassure her that it was alright, he brushed his thick fingers over her hand and grunted a little softer than before. Jules looked up, eyes wide open and her face all cutesy and red. A small gentle smile crossed her face, she then gently touched his hand back. As she moved her leg, she scrunched up her face a little from the pain, she grabbed the first aid kit and got a clean wet cloth..

Though just as she went to clean her wounds, out of the blue- surprisingly, Michael got a hold of her wrist- not tightly though- taking the cloth from her hands he began to clean up her wounds. Julie’s face went bright red, but she just sat there and let him do so. Though he might have been a little rough cleaning (he did his best to be gentle for her) but she knew he meant well. Then he patched them up with a few thick bandaids and sat there after doing so. She sat up slowly, still blushing bright red Julie mumbled…

“O..oh.. um..Th..Thank You for that”...

“Hmm” he grunted back softly as he watched her get up and put the first aid kit away.

By now it was getting pretty late, Jules was pretty much tired now- she made sure the front door was locked , then turned off the lamp beside the couch. Though as she headed towards the staircase, once again she was swept off her feet into Mikey’s arms- her face glowing all rosy as he carried her up the stairs to her room. Placing her down on her bed he stood there looking down at her ….

“Oh um, thank you. You didn’t have to do that”  Jules said with a cute awkward smile on her face. 

She then got up, going into her en suite, she closed the door over and changed into her pyjamas- getting herself ready for bed. Once she’d gotten herself ready Jules poked her head out the door a little- Mikey was still standing there- though she was surprised he wasn’t running off before that nutter Loomis and the cops turned up down the street looking for him. It was cute though how he was concerned about her. She gently pushed the door open and hopped into bed- resting her head down on the pillow and staring up at the ceiling. Of course though, Michael sat himself down at the end of her bed (on the end of her bed mattress)- watching over her as he heavily breathed through the mask. She laid there with a small sincere look on her face, she let her fingers brush over his hand again as she fell asleep. She soon fell into a deep slumber, he just sat there staring as Jules cuddled into her quilt, peacefully resting. As he let his fingers brush over her arm, Michael stood up glancing over at her slumbered body as he left her room- quietly closing the door behind him. He made his way out into her grandparents backyard and out of that street before Loomis and the cops came along.

As he got back to his hide away, without alarming anyone- “The shape” slumped himself into his chair, taking off his mask- sitting there with his face resting in the palm of his worn hand for a moment, then after he unzipped his coveralls, he just sat there in silence looking at his bandaged arm… As his gaze remained focused on his arm, all he could see was Jules cutely placing a sweet kiss upon his arm. His face flustered a little pink, his heart felt a warm sensation he’d never felt before.. Love. How could a cold blooded killer fall for such a sweet being like her? Though it didn’t really matter, she was the one being he wanted to protect rather than kill. Michael soon found himself drifting into a light sleep- only to wake up a few hours later to go out killing again.

Dawn soon rose, Jules awoke to find that Michael had left. She still couldn’t believe that he’d saved her like that or how he just let her patch him up. Jules knew that he wasn’t a monster- looking deep into his eyes- she could see the pain in them. She knew he just needed someone to show him true affection. As she got herself out of bed, showered and dressed, the only thing Jules could think about was when she’d encounter or when Michael would show up again...

[sourbat]

Nathan/Abigail... #12 :)

Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

Oh, I totally misread this as “pulling into hidden location.”  Still pretty hilarious though, and like before, this one goes places. Where, I cannot say, but I did have fun with these two.

Thank you for your request. Please enjoy! 

The meeting room was noticeably warmer to the usual set of klokateers charged with monitoring the exchange, though not a single hooded person knew the cause. There wasn’t a stench, which at least meant a body wasn’t to blame.  Miss Remeltindtdrinc didn’t seem to mind the warmth, and made no remark, only threw a curious glance at Master Explosion’s way before sending klokateers to their stations. Nathan noticed the second he walked in, but since Abigail was content, only offered a silent glare at a few hoods. Once everything was settled, and everyone to their places, the meeting room was mostly silent, with the gears steadied and standing to attention, save the most recent of gears assigned to the task making the occasional glance at the black, silken cloth that covered the massive table.

Abigail sat at the end of said table, bottom half tucked under the illustrious cloth. Her hands worked through a few files, flipped through pages on this upcoming meeting before there was a suddenly giving a minor twitch. She jolted a little, catching a few eyes on some klokateers, then returned to her position, pushing the files aside in favor of her laptop. She was careful typing, another hood pointed out. Yet another mentioned the ripple occurring under the table. 

The meeting began just minutes later. A klokateer shut off the lights, while another lowered the monitor. One offered Abigail two glasses of water, which she declined. The klokateers vanished into their corners, practically invisible to the untrained eyes. 

The monitor turned on, revealing Damien Cornickelson’s unsavory glare. “So, the rumors are true.” 

Abigail remained still in her seat. A few klokateers dared to settle on her form, while others were caught between the man on the screen, and the black tablecloth producing the occasional, subtle flutter. A tickle. A gentle brush up the exposed legs.

Cornickelson’s eyes narrowed on Abigail. “You’re Dethklok’s new manager.” 

“Damien Cornickelson,” Abigail greeted with a mildly flushed smile. “A pleasure.”

“I’m going to cut to the chase,” the man said through a grimace.

Abigail politely nodded, cupping her warm cheek with a hand. “Good, I was hoping this would be brief.” 

If Cornickelson noticed her mild discomfort, he didn’t pick up on it. Or didn’t care. Abigail hoped for either, and just as the man tossed her yet another unapproving snicker, another quick flash of a gentle touch cascaded over her upper legs. 

He huffed. “I fucking can’t stand Dethklok, and now that their manager is out of the way for good–”

The table shifted slightly.

Abigail leaned to the side of her chair. “I’m their current manager,” she said, lightly fanning her face with a few twirls of a finger. A curious smile erupted from her, but gave no indication of what was on her mind.

“Their old manager,” Cornickelson stated, slamming a hand on his table. “And now that the bastard is gone, there are some changes I’m going to implement. Big changes, missy.”

“I’m all ears,” she said, leaning closer to the table. “But, before we begin, might I raise a few… concerns?”

Cornickelson stared irritably at her. “What?”

Unaffected, Abigail brought her hands together once more. She closed her legs, hoping it might deter some interruptions as she spoke. “I’m getting the impression that Mr. Offdensen’s departure means you’ll want to conduct changes that would better suit you,” she stated through a solid candor. “Am I wrong to presume such?”

“Smarter than you look.” Cornickelson snickered at his own remark, then grabbed a drink off camera and took a hefty gulp of it in front of Abigail. He slammed the glass down, causing the screen to flicker. “But yeah. Guy’s a beast with contracts. Been a thorn in my nail.” 

“I see,” Abigail said, the final word stretching into a sigh. Her eyelids fluttered through the warmth. A few fingers coax her, gently wish her good luck with a pat against her knees. “I also take it that you’re under the impression you can implement these,” she picked up a file and waved it in front of the screen, “petty, unoriginal and unremarkable acts of terror upon Dethklok?”

With a finger and thumb, Cornickelson reached for his straw, and stirred his nearly empty glass. He grinned amusingly at Abigail. “Big words from a small lady.”

“Finally, and forgive me for being so brash, Mr. Cornickelson,” Abigail interjected with an unusually airy, but heated confidence. “You seem to be under the impression that, just because of a few rumors spread by the media, that I’m unsuited to work for Dethklok.”

“That–”

“I didn’t finish,” Abigail calmly, but sternly remarked over Cornickelson. The table cloth underneath her swayed, and a few klokateers noticed the end of her mouth fight to keep form. “Anyway, I’m under the impression that, upon hearing my name, you immediately pulled some online articles regarding my relationship with Mr. Explosion, and did not look at my years spent in university studying this line of work, my curriculum vitae submitted while your father still lead the company, and the eight additional bands I helped signed and vastly improve under the several years spent working for this company.”

“Well, I–”

“I’m also guessing you’re unaware of the charges I dropped against your company due to the faulty security placed during your father’s funeral. The funeral which resulted in my kidnapping and me getting stabbed and tortured, locked in a basement, and earning one hell of a parking fine once I got out. Or the fact that, upon my returning to the company, I had Dethklok complete the final song to their most recent album, the album that earned you that pretty lil’ diamond earring you have there?”

The straw snapped in half. Cornickelson raises a finger at Abigail. “You little bi–”

“I will say, though, that you must be aware of the letter of recommendation being sent to you by Mr. Offdensen right now.” 

He scowled. “What are you–”

There came the sound of a door knocking. Cornickelson paused, eyes turning to the course of the sound, then back to Abigail. She remained silent, hands cupped tight, though it was apparent to some hidden klokateers that she had gravitated to the very edge of her seat. The dark cloth rippled on the side, just out of Cornickelson’s view. The knocking arrived again, and the man said nothing more, but left the screen. There was a talk off camera. Abigail maintained her position, though she did utter a few, unrestrained giggles, and made the occasional, warning glance at the table beneath her. A few additional complaints took place off camera, right as Abigail emitted a mild sigh before shifting the position of her legs, and bringing herself up right as Cornickelson returned.  

He stumbled into view, eyes glued to the sheet held in his hands. “This is…a letter?”

“A letter of recommendation,” Abigail replied in a satisfied tone. “Please get acquainted with how a proper one should appear. I’m sure the one Mr. Offdensen just supplied you with will make a fine example.”

Oh. Another tickle! She twitched in her seat. Thankfully, the lack of lighting kept it hidden from Cornickelson who, after taking in her words, dropped his hands to his sides. He frowned, and despite the darkness surrounding the blaring screen, Abigail was sure she could make out the false teeth in a row of stained yellow.

“What’s the point of this?”

His voice lacked confidence.

Sensing the weakness, Abigail charged. “To let you know I’m not some bimbo hired by Dethklok,” she replied plainly, earning a nasty scowl from Cornickelson. “More importantly, to let you know I have connections, Damien.” A twitch. This time, from Cornickelson. Abigail smirked. An unholy pleasure arose from her chest as she watched his scowl stretch on her behalf. “I’ve been trained by the best. If you think Mr. Offdensen was a bitch, you don’t know me. I spent months in hell. I survived hell.”

Cornickelson slowly returned to his seat, eyes never leaving Abigail’s fierce stare.

“Damien, you do not want to fight someone who survived hell,” she warned, face flushed and emitting an energy she was sure Cornickelson could detect.

How he took it…

She watched Cornickelson rest his sweaty brow on top of his hands. “What do you want?” 

She stopped herself from chuckling. “I had my assistant fax you the changes I’d like to implement come next review. Please look it over and make any reasonable suggestions. I think you will be pleased to know I can be rather strict on the boys.” A small grin. “Doesn’t mean we don’t have fun though.”

Without looking up, he answered. “Alright.”

Abigail noticed his hand rubbing the side of his jaw. With a light huff, she waved pleasantly at him. “I look forward to hearing from you. See you soon.” 

The monitor flickers off, and as it recedes back into the ceiling, the lights in the room return, blaring their eerily glow.

Relieved, Abigail reclined into her seat, giving her brow a gentle fan. With the light on, it was apparent to all that her face carried a bright, red hue. A few klokateers appeared out from their concerns, ready to congratulate her on a job well done. Another, one carrying the water, hurried over.

Suddenly, something raced up her leg. “Ah!” She jolted at the tickle, breaking into a panicked giggled as large hands reached from under the tablecloth and began pulling her down.  Still laughing, Abigail swatted at the hands. “Nathan, stop it!” 

Fingers gripped around her skirt, yanked her from seat, and pulled her under the table. Not willing to risk slipping, Abigail allowed herself to be dragged under, hands batting and hitting Nathan all the way down, until she was finally embraced by the surrounding darkness. 

She dropped to her knees, back hunched as she fit the form of the table’s underbelly. Arms wrapped around her waist, and pulled her straight into Nathan’s chest. She squirmed under the collected heat, and against the massive arms the tickled her sides, leaving her completely defenseless for the kiss roughly placed on her cheek. She was better prepared for the second, and by the time Nathan pulled away for it, Abigail guided him to her, bringing them together in a better fitting, gentler kiss on the lips. Nathan gave her a quick, but affectionate squeeze, shaking her in place as it built up, filling her chest with excitement before breaking and dropping her on top of him. 

She felt Nathan smile against her. He parted, face lifted in a mean smirk.  “You did good.”

 She rested against him. “Think so?”

“Yeah.”

Abigail blushed. “I was worried. It was so warm in this room, and I was sure the table was going to fall over.”

“Nah, I fixed it real quick,” Nathan said, then raised a screwdriver to her view. “Managed to get a few screws in before you started nailing him down.”

“That’s good.”

The screwdriver dropped, metal side bouncing up before settling and rolling out from underneath the table. Nathan stared harshly in the dark, bright eyes glowing menacingly at Abigail still fanning herself.

“Sorry about ticking your legs,” he murmured. “Was really crowded. Couldn’t see too well.”

“It’s not a problem,” Abigail replied. The side of her face blushed warm against Nathan’s chest. “How about you promise me you won’t wrestle Murderface in the meeting rooms, and we’ll call it even.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

Abigail lifted herself off from Nathan. “C’mon, let’s get out of here,” she said, then fixed a few, long strands of hair that were covering parts of his face.  “Don’t want people getting any ideas.”

[shy-marker-pliers]

The Adventures Of Eric Derekson Chapter 10 | A Conversation That Should Have Happened A While Ago And A Very Long Story Titile That’s Stating To Sound Like That Of A Fall Out Boy Song.

Warnings: none that i can think of

Relationship: Heric

Characters: Host, Eric, Bim, cameos from several other Egos

Eric was nervous. duh.

On this particular day, he was nervous because he had a big problem. A big, tall, handsome, trenchcoat-wearing problem. The Host. He had been Erics very best and closest friend (and not so secret crush) for months now. If he didn’t tell The Host how he felt sometime soon he would explode.

And therein lies the rub. because if he told The Host how he felt and got rejected, he’d never be able to talk to him again. He couldn’t take that chance, never. And so, he suffered and suffered, until one day, he couldn’t take it anymore and sought help from the manor’s self-proclaimed relationship expert.

Bim trimmer. Who was also, coincidentally, the manor’s not-so-self-proclaimed gossip hound. But Eric didn’t really know who else to go to, so there he stood, outside of Bims bedroom door.

The door flew open the second he knocked. and there stood Bim, wearing nothing but polka dotted leggings, knee high boots, and a glittery purple scarf, for some reason.

“Eric! What a pleasant surprise! Sorry for not being as put together as I usually am, but i was cleaning out my closet, which basically means that I try on everything in it and throw away what isn’t in season anymore.”

“O-Oh, i’m sorry, i didn’t know you were busy...i don’t wanna be a bother, i’ll come back another time-“

“Nonsense! a quiet lil’ cutie like you could never bother me!” Bim wrapped an arm around Eric’s shoulders and guided him into the room, which, to Eric, looked like the place where New York fashion week went to die. there were clothes of all kinds scattered everywhere. well, except for a little couch up against the wall, which was where Bim was taking him.

The gameshow host snapped his fingers. Inexplicably, the room was suddenly spotless, and he was wearing his usual attire of a three piece suit and tie.

“There. Much better.”

“But don’t you wanna finish going through your clothes...?”

“oh, I never throw away anything in my closet anyway. i’m sure if you went far enough in there you’d find some stuff from the ‘40s. Anyway, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Um...you’re t-the ‘relationship expert,’ right?”

“The one and only.”

“...Okay. B-Before I tell you anything, y-you have to promise me you won’t t-tell anybody.”

“Aww!”

“Please, Bim..?”

“Fine. You’re lucky you’re too cute to say no to.”

“T-Thank you. Now um...I kinda sorta like somebody.”

“Do tell.”

“Okay, okay...i-it might be a bit surprising, but...I-I like The Host.”

Bim snorted before hiding his face and breaking into a fit of giggles.

“Oh honey, I know. Everyone knows.”

Eric blushed immediately. “E-Everyone?”

“Well, everyone except Host at least. The poor bastard is as clueless as you are.”

“What...?”

“He likes you too. it’s so obvious. plus, he rants to me about how cute he thinks you are every damn day.”

“H-He what??”

Bim laughed even harder. “Babe, you have no idea how many of us have been internally screaming at you two to just date already.”

Eric didn’t know whether to laugh or blush or cry. In the end, he settled for putting on a big goofy grin. “S-So he likes me back!?”

“Yes, you dummy!” Bim paused and took a deep breath. “i’m sorry, that was rude. you’re not a dummy, you’re beautiful and perfect just the way you are. But you’re kinda clueless when it comes to relationship stuff.”

���I guess you’re r-right...B-But now i know he likes me back!”

Eric sprung up from his seat to head to his room, but not before giving Bim a quick hug and a “Thank you!”

He was a giggling, blushing mess the whole way back to his room. However, onece he got there, he stopped. What was he supposed to do now? if he tried to ask Host out, he’d just mess it up! he couldn’t let that happen! and knowing that The Jost likes him too was amazing, but it would definitely make their future interactions awkward. Oh god, he’d never be able to talk to Host now.

...___...

Luckily for Eric, the god of love seemed to be on his side. after hiding in his room for almost the entire day, he had changed into his favorite onesie and gotten ready for bed. However, before he could shut off the lights and snuggle up under the covers, there was a quiet knock at the door. He walked over, opening it a crack to see who was on the other side.

There stood The Host. He was fidgety and anxious, which was unprecedented in and of itself, but what really confused Eric was that he was holding what appeared to be a very tiny tree.

He opened the door all the way. “H-Host?”

“The Host apologizes for coming to Eric this late, but he wishes to speak with him about something important.”

“O-Oh, it’s no problem! I’m a-always glad to have you as c-company...” Eric went a bit pink, but he gestured for Host to come in.

The two sat next to each other on Eric’s bed. There was silence for a while, but then The Host cleared his throat and spoke.

“The Host apologizes again for coming this late, but he just couldn’t wait any longer.” He drew in a deep breath.

Host handed the little tree to Eric, who took it and looked at it curiously. “It’s a bonsai tree. The Host knows that flowers are more visually appealing, but they wither up in a few days and...Well, he just thought that it would be nice to give Eric something that he can keep and take care of.”

“Oh, thank y-you, I love it! It’s a-adorable!” Eric smiled and set the bonsai tree on his bedside table, then turned back to Host. “But why d-did you bring it to me?”

“Well, like The Host said, flowers are usually used for these types of things...”

“What...?”

“What The Host is trying to say is that he likes Eric very much, and has for a long while now. I-In a romantic sense, that is. He understands if Eric does not feel the same, but he needed to get this off of his chest.”

Host curled in on himself a bit, avoiding looking in Erics direction.

Eric, meanwhile, was blushing from the tips of his ears all the way down to his neck.

“You- You r-really didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“I thought I was being a total obvious mess, with how I couldn’t s-stop blushing when you t-talked to me, or how I f-followed you around like a lost puppy, o-or how I, like, short-circuited whenever you smiled at me-“

Eric stopped himself from rambling. “What I mean is, I um...I like you too. A-A whole bunch.”

The Host beamed. it was by far the happiest Eric had ever seen him, and he felt a little blossom of pride at causing that happiness.

“Eric has no idea how relived The Host is right now- And he thought he was being the obvious one? The Host thought it was him!”

he laughed. Eric laughed too. Soon both of them were in fits of giggles, both from the sheer hilarity of the situation and the relief that their feelings towards each other were reciprocated. After they had calmed down, Eric asked, “So...what do we do now?”

“...In all of the romance books The Host has read, this is usually the part when the kiss happens.”

“That...t-that sounds nice.”

The Host smiled a bit. Then he moved closer to Eric and cupped his face with one hand. And finally, finally, he gave him a slow, gentle kiss on the lips.

He’d never known why authors used the description of fireworks going off to describe the feeling of a kiss, but now that it was happening to him, he was beginning to understand it. The butterflies that had been in his stomach had all flown away, leaving a fiery, almost overwhelming feeling of happiness. When Eric moved to wrap his arms around The Host and pull him closer, he couldn’t think properly. all he saw in his mind were bursts of dazzling color.

Eric felt exactly the same as Host did. It was finally happening, everything that he had been imagining for the past months was finally happening! He could barely process it all.

Host and Eric pulled away from their kiss eventually, but they stayed in their embrace. Eric rested his head against Hosts shoulder, and hestayed like that until he was nearly asleep. Host laid him down on the bed and made to leave for his own room, but Eric grabbed his hand and tugged him back.

“Stay...?”

Host couldnt say no to Eric’s big puppy dog eyes. So he took off his trenchcoat and laid down next to him, then curled up around him.

Eric barely had time to mumble a goodnight before he was asleep. Host sighed, hugging the smaller man so that he would be secure. He kissed Eric on the forehead, then he too drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

[kayah16]

Telling Pop

It's been a month since Derrick confessed his crime to Cameron. A month since Cameron's world got turned upside down. Cameron felt sick to his stomach everyday he woke up. He had so many questions. He had a lot of feelings.

But one thing that remained on his mind was why? Derrick didn't have to come back in Mama's life but he did. Why? Was that his plan for Mama to forgive him? Each day he went over to her house checking on her. He didn't trust his little brother to keep check on her.

He would watch her closely and her body always tensed when Derricks name was mentioned. The way she would walk away from her phone each time he called her. Sometimes when they got annoyed either Benny or Cameron would answer the phone. Which would make Derrick hang up. Someday's his pop would be there to check on Mama.

Cameron loved a lot of things about his Pop. One thing was he knew Mama like the back of his hand. Each day Caleb would bring her flowers and her favorite chocolate to cheer her up. Cameron also knew his Mama and knew she wouldn't open her mouth.

That's why he took it upon himself to get Mama out the house so he, Caleb, and Benny could talk. Benny had a beer in his hand eating a plate of food, Caleb had a glass of sweet tea eating a plate of food, and Cameron had kool-aid eating a plate of food.

"What's goin on with my Lil Lady?"

Caleb required looking between Cameron and Benny.

"Before you two try to lie to me. Don't. Y'all have been sneaking glances at each other. Your Mama is more tense than usual. I can tell she been crying. Does it involve Candace?"

"No. Did you know Mama was raped?"

Caleb frowned putting his fork down staring at Benny and Cameron.

"Yeah I knew about her being raped. The bastard had a lion tattoo."

"The man who raped her is the man she was dating."

Caleb tried to process all this information slowly. Cameron knew his father as well. He knew when he got quiet and you started to see the veins pop in his neck he was going off.

"Give me all of his information. All of it. So he just waltz his silly ass back in her life like nothing? Like he didn't take away her innocence and make her life hell?"

"Mama don't know we know. So we have to keep quiet."

Glaring at his son Caleb pushed himself away from the table and left. Cameron and Benny made eye contact.

"Where's he going?"

"If I know him the way I do. He's getting all his clothes and moving in here with Mama. He's about to be her 24/7 body guard until he gets his hands on Derrick."

"He can get in trouble."

"When it comes to Mama, Pop doesn't care about getting into trouble. He's about to turn into another person. I hope Derrick is happy."

Benny and Cameron finished off the rest of their food and drinks. Caleb had moved all his stuff into the house and so did Cameron. Mama didn't ask no questions about why they was moving their stuff in. She was happy to have them under the same roof again.

AN: This sucks badly but me hope you like it

[milich96]

I wrote this small fic a few months ago but I decided to translate it in English and post it. It’s a small view into Marcus and Loui’s marriage. Be careful ‘cause there are mentions of abuse ( not between them, but from Marcus’ childhood) . I’m sorry if there are mistakes, I tried my best

The blood froze in his veins when he saw Rachele crying on the ground.

The kids had been playing tag inside the house all afternoon: running, screaming and just making a mess. Marcus was working in his office, making sure the documents on the last case were fine, but all that noise was really getting on his nerves. What did the school give them for lunch? Pure sugar? When he was young, he certainly didn’t have all that energy. Loui too was at fault here: he knew he had lots of work to do. Couldn’t he shut them up by putting on a movie?

Dinner was approaching, but the noise wasn’t decreasing, on the contrary, it was INCREASING.

The corvine couldn’t take it anymore. He got up from his chair and marched to the door, opening it with force.

“SO? ARE WE DON- “he didn’t even finish the phrase that a big thump was heard, followed by wails of pain.

Marcus moved a little and he saw Rachele on the floor with a bloody nose. More than that, he was shocked by his eyes: big, full of fear and tears. He wanted to immediately run and hug his baby, reassure him from the blow, but his body wasn’t working. He was like blocked. After a couple of seconds, a red head walked past him, followed by two other smaller ones. Rachele’s crying must had caught Loui’s attention, or maybe it was Jasper and Judas who called him. Either way, the situations was back to normal for those 4, but certainly not for Marcus.

As soon as he saw everything was fine, he went back to his study and stayed there all evening. He got out around 11 p.m., when he was sure the triplets were already sound asleep.

He went directly to the bedroom and started taking off his clothes. Some of his colleagues, jokingly, had told him once that he seemed to be born with a suit and tie. He had sent them to the hospital. His outfit was his armour. He felt powerful and feared in a nice deep blue pinstripe suit. Moreover, he was very handsome in one, not to underestimate.

He changed for the night: a light green silk pajamas, a Christmas present from Edgy. His cousin may have had only 3 working neurons, but he sure had good taste. He brushed his teeth, took a new book from the shelf and got under the covers, ready to relax.

“Judas was worried about you” said the red head, entering the bedroom. “He saw you shaken.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Well, you didn’t even come to dinner”

“I had lots of work to do” always a good excuse.

“I made yakisoba with vegetables. I could have brought it to you, if you had told me sooner” replied Loui, unwinding near Marcus.

“Didn’t feel like eating” with short answers it was impossible to fail.

“Didn’t you just say you had too much work to do?” unless your husband knew how to read you like an open book. In any other occasion he would have tried to removed that cheeky grin from his partner’s lips, but at the moment he wasn’t in the right mood and just shrugged.

There was silence for a few minutes.

“… Is Rachele alright?” – Does Rachele hate me? -

“Yaaa, everything’s fine. He kept the ice on for 5 mins and then he went immediately back to playing. He may have a lil’ bruise for a while. He was more scared than anything.”

“Scared of me” he shouldn’t have said it. Those words left his mouth on their own. Loui looked puzzled at him.

“No, scared for the hit. Why do you think he’s afraid of you?”

“cause I hurt him” no no no don’t start now with the trembling voice.

The red head got closer.

“Ehi, it was an accident. It happens. Have you any idea how many times I closed my sisters’ hands in various doors?”

“You didn’t see how he was looking at me. He was frightened. On the floor, with big and wet eyes, he reminded me-“ STOP! DON’T KEEP GOING! The situation could only worsen if he kept on going. He was already felling his eyes itching. For fuck sake, he wasn’t going to cry.

“… he reminded you?”

“Nothin’. Forget I said anything”.

“… did he remind you when you were a kid?” He was spending too much time with that tin-foiled hat best friend of his. He started to understand too easily what was going though his mind. Or maybe it was Marcus the one lowering the defences with him-

“… I didn’t want to hurt him” whispered the corvine.

“Marcus, it was a mistake. By tomorrow, Rachele won’t even remember what happened- “

“I WILL REMEMBER. And if it happens again? And if next time it won’t be a simple hit with a door? I was angry about the noise, Loui! I was going to tell them to stop it. And if- and if instead of the door, I had hit them? Maybe with my belt of with a vase?”

“You would never-“

“THAT’S WHAT MY MOTHER ALWAYS SAID! CRAIG WOULD NEVER DO THAT!”  aand here the crying began.  Everything was silent, apart from Marcus’ muffled sobs.

“… when I saw Rachele with a blood coming out of his nose, I saw myself in him. I felt my cheeks ablaze and my ears ringing. My rational part knows it was an accident, but a deeper and more bastard one kept on saying “You see? It’s all your fault. Now your children are afraid of you. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree” … Loui … I don’t want to be like him … I don’t want our kids to hate me.”

The nice smell of Asian food got stronger and two strong arms surrounded Marcus’ shoulder, enveloping him in a warm embrace.

“You’re not like him, you’ll never be. What happened today it’s not your fault. The kids don’t hate you, they adore you. I adore you. What you went through when you were young is disgusting, and it made you a strong and determined man. The man I married. Don’t you dare thinking, NOT EVEN FOR A MOMENT, that you and that monster are similar.”

Followed another silence, this time a comfortable one. The sobbing had stopped, and Marcus was feeling better. He still didn’t feel like returning the hug, not yet. The red head understood it.

“Thank you, Loui. You’re good with words”

“I do what I can” said with a small chuckle.

“… I know your birthday is in 3 months, but you definitely earned this”

“Uh?” asked intrigued the Japanese.

In that instant, the corvine moved the head slightly, touching lightly his husband lips with his, and he whispered:

“I love you”

[hauntedbyvisionsof-flight]

It Takes a Village. Or At Least Two Boroughs.

The last installment of Girlsies Week! I know its a day late, and I apologize, but when you see the length I’m sure you’ll understand. Hope you enjoy! This has taken many months to finish up, so I hope you enjoy!

Dedicated to the OC Anon who frequents my blog. You’re the reason I remembered this fic, and therefore the reason it got finished. Rebel, Bird, and Lil’ Bit all thank you for being an instrumental part of their stories being told.

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

Lil’ Bit can’t remember when she became a newsie, but Bird tells her she was no older than four. Bird loves to tell the story of when she went outside to throw out the Saturday evening bathwater and found a tiny girl sitting on the stoop.

“Who are you?” Bird asked.

The girl shrugged. “I’m waitin’ for my mama.”

And that was the sentence that broke Bird’s heart. A few kids had just been left at the lodging house (not many, but a few) and everyone of them was left there under the pretense of their mom running errands.

So Bird threw out the water, grabbed Lil’ Bit’s hand and brought her into the house to introduce her to her new family.

Elmer, who at the time was only six, came up with her name. It was something that his uncle used to call his granddaughter, and Elmer thought the name Lil’ Bit was appropriate. “On account o’ how small she is!” he explained.

Lil’ Bit fit in great. The older girls were her new mamas, the boys her fathers, and all the little ones were her siblings.

“After all,” Bird would remark to the others, “It takes a village to raise a child.”

~~

Usually, Lil’ Bit was the first one awake, but this morning Bird was the one to wake her. SHe instructed her to be quiet with a finger pressed to her lips as she led the sleepy toddler downstairs. Racetrack and Hatter were already waiting, Racetrack laying with his head in his arms on the table and Hatter stirring a large pot of oatmeal.

“Race,” she said. “Wake up, ya bastard.”

“‘M not a bastard,” he slurred. “M’parents was married.”

Bird laughed tiredly as she took two bowls from Hatter and sat them in front of Race and Lil’ Bit. She had crawled into his lap and was blinking slowly from her spot on his chest. The two began sleepily eating as Hatter gave Bird a run-down of what he wanted them to accomplish that day.

“Make sure not to get caught in Brooklyn after dark. Red never took kindly to visitors anyways, and I’m sure that now he feels his territory slipping he won’t like them any more now than he did.” Hatter stood, depositing their bowls in the nearby sink. “Make sure to talk to Arrow, she says our boys have been crossing the lines again.”

Bird nodded, making a mental note of all of it. By the time Hatter had finished his list for the day Race and Lil’ Bit had sufficiently awoken and were bickering playfully. Bird led the way to the washroom and began brushing her teeth and other things to get ready as Race shaved on the other side of the washroom. Lil’ Bit got ready beside her, the two moving in sync like a well-oiled machine.

Then it was hair time, Lil’ Bit’s least favourite part. “Hold still!” Bird exclaimed. “If you can’t sit still, I won’t let you go with me today!”

Lil’ Bit pouted but sat. Wherever Bird went, Lil’ Bit was there, and she refused to be stuck selling with a stinky boy today.

“I don’t have time to re-do it today if it comes out, so we gotta take extra precautions, alright honey?” she muttered to the child. “We don’t wanna make Racetrack have to wait up on us while I fix your hair now do I?”

Lil’ Bit shook her head as Bird finished, placing the slightly too big newsie cap over the top of the girl’s head. Looking up she saw Racer and smiled. “Watch her for a bit, would ya? I gotta find my own cap and fasten it to my head. Wind’s been awful here lately and I don’t wanna lose it.”

Race nodded and picked up the little girl, swinging her up in the air.

“Racer!” she screamed. He laughed and bent to pick her up.

“Are you ready to go?” Race asked. Lil’ Bit nodded vehemently. “So when we leaves the house, that means you hold mine or Birdie’s hand, you got that? We don’t want you gettin’ lost.”

Lil’ Bit nodded solemnly. He looked at her for a moment to drive the point home and then began tickling her mercilessly. She screamed and twisted in his arms, nearly knocking the both of them to the floor. After he was done, Race took his hands from her waist as though to set her down, but she just clung tighter to his neck. Race made over exaggerated choking noises as he pleaded with her to let go.

Bird walked up quietly and smacked Race with her hat. “Be quiet, the rest of the house ain’t up yet!”

He mimed zipping his lips with a grin.

Bird rolled her eyes. “Alright, ragamuffins, let’s get a move on. You know we have to be home in time for the evenin’ edition tomorrow,” she said, fixing her newsies cap over her straight blonde bob. If not for the dress, one could assume she was a boy. She glanced at the two and gave Lil’ Bit a look. “Lil’ Bit, get off Race. If you choke him to death we can’t go out today.”

Lil’ Bit immediately let go and fell a few inches to the floor before scampering over to grab Bird’s hand. The morning bell rang out into the cool morning as the three of them left the house, the older ones with a newsies bag over one shoulder. Lil’ Bit skipped along, singing a song she had no doubt learned from one of the older boys. Bird gave Race a side-eye glance and he looked away guiltily when her song turned into a drinking song.

Their first stop was to the Bronx, to see Socks and Maple. Arrow had sent a little boy over saying some of the ‘Hattan newsies had been encroaching on their territory, and she wanted something done about that. The three of them walked for a while as the city came to life. They beat any other newsies to the street, except for two Harlem boys. They stopped and talked for a minute, but Harlem had no problems. The messengers gave them a gift for some of the other boroughs which Race placed in his bag.

When they reached the Bronx, Bird grabbed Lil’ Bit’s hand to keep her from running off. They had to find exact streets, and it was not a good time to lose her. Bird found the street name and pulled the other two down the alley towards Arrow ’ headquarters. Socks and Maple waited outside.

“Hiya!” Bird waved. Socks glared while Maple gave her a smile and a wave back.

“Racetrack,” Socks acknowledged coldly. The first few times he’d been on scout duty he’d tried to scare her and received a black eye for his troubles. She was still wary around him.

“Socks,” he said, tone full of mirth.

Socks nodded and looked over at Lil’ Bit. “Who’s that?”

Lil’ Bit grinned up at the sisters. “I’m Lil’ Bit!”

“I’m Maple,” Maple introduced, stooping to the child’s level. “That’s my sister, Socks. How old are you?”

Lil’ Bit held up four fingers. “Five!”

Bird laughed. “Another finger, Lil’ Bit.”

But Lil’ Bit was already occupied playing with some sticks and rocks on the ground. Maple and Bird exchanged a few more pleasantries, while Socks glared at Race who kept his perpetual grin on his face the whole time. After the girls were done talking, Maple lead the way in.

Lil’ Bit held Race’s hand the whole way. He picked her up once Arrow appeared in the room at the end of the dark hall. She wasn’t very tall, and she would never hurt a child, but she still managed to intimidate him a bit. Maybe that’s why he was always so quick and harsh with his tongue when around her.

“Manhattan,” she greeted.

“Bronx,” Race and Bird answered. She nodded, and they all took a chair in the circle in the middle of the room. Socks and Maple left, leaving the three (and Lil’ Bit) in an empty room.

“So, what’s going on in the Bronx?” Race asked.

Arrow sighed. “Your damn newsies on our turf again. I don’t know when or how they get over here, but I’se see at least three a day. And I stay pretty central to the area.”

Bird nodded. “Any specific people seem to be showing up a lot?”

Arrow nodded. “Well, there’s Minty, Noodles, Spoons, and Slugger,” she said, counting them off on her fingers. “They’s here almost every day, no matter how many warnings they get. Some of my girls have soaked Minty and Slugger a few times, but they keep coming back.”

Race nodded. “That explains the bruises.”

Arrow raised an eyebrow. “So you knew they were here?”

Race shook his head. “No, I thought they’d just had a run-in with the Delancey’s or had an argument. Thought they was on their own turf.”

Bird sat back and considered. “We’ll have a talk with Hatter, and he’ll probably give a talk this week to the boys. We’ll send a messenger, and after that, if it's one of our kids, soak ‘em on sight. They knows better.”

Arrow nodded. “It's hard enough as is. People don’t wanna buy from girls, thinks it unladylike for them to sell or something. I think it's rubbish, but there’s a reason the boys make more sellin’ than the girls do. Thankfully, they all split without much promptin.’”

Race exhaled. “We’s real sorry ‘bout our boys. Like Birdie said, they oughta know better.”

Arrow stood. “Just don’t let it happen again. And some of your boys may come back soaked in both senses of the word.”

Bird laughed. “They deserve it. Just don’t let ‘em drown, alright, Arrow ?”

Arrow glanced at Race as he stood. “Fine.”

Bird laughed gleefully, and Lil’ Bit joined in. Race laughed too, but a bit more nervously than she had. Arrow saw them out, and the sun sat a little lower than midway.

Bird fished a pocket watch out of her dress. “We got time ta grab some lunch before we need to book it to Queens. The Harlem visit threw our time off, and we need to make through Brooklyn before nightfall. You know how unkindly Red takes to overnight visitors.”

Race shivered. “Yeah, and we don’t want to spend the night carrying the banner again. We do that enough during the day.”

Bird sighed wistfully. “Oh bed, how I’ve missed you.”

Race laughed and knocked her with his arm playfully. “I’m sure it misses you too,” he laughed.

Bird looked down at Lil’ Bit, who was still chomping happily on her sandwich. The two older ones had agreed to spoil her, and she had half of the sandwich that they’d bought. Race and Bird split the other half and dug into some of the gifts Hatter had given them for the other boroughs. Of course, Brooklyn’s gifts remained untouched. Not even Spunk, king of Queens, wanted to mess with Red.

“Like your sandwich?” Race asked.

Lil’ Bit nodded enthusiastically, some of the lettuce spilling from her mouth. “Ifs eal goof,” she said around a mouthful.

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth,” Bird reprimanded. Race laughed.

“Yous such a muddah,” he remarked.

“Least you got one now,” she returned.

“I had a perfectly good one, thank you very much,” he said.

Bird raised an eyebrow. “Well, what’d ya do with her?”

Race thought for a split second. “Traded her for a box o’ peaches.”

Bird’s eyebrow rose higher. “Hope we don’t see any peaches today, Lil’ Bit and I might get traded away.”

Race laughed. “Nah, I love Lil’ Bit too much,” he said, patting the girl’s hat. “You on the other hand . . .”

Bird took off her hat and smacked Race on the arm. “Asshole.”

Race just grinned.

~~

They made it through Queens with no problem and got a good parting gift from them for both Hatter and Red. Even though Manhattan was small, it was still well respected. Mostly because Hatter took the time to maintain good relationships with the other boroughs.

Bird looked at her watch again. “We have six hours ‘til sunset, and we gotta get all the way through Brooklyn, and Red’s probably gonna keep us at least an hour. If you see a wagon or a trolley we can hitch a ride on, point it out.”

Race and Lil’ Bit nodded. He was carrying her on his back, and Bird had the two bags. They alternated between sprinting and walking, trying to get to Brooklyn as fast as they could.

They were panting by the time they reached the border and saw two Brooklyn scouts waiting. Rebel, Red’s second in command, was leaned against a wall while her apprentice, Spot, played with marbles at her feet. When Rebel and Bird made eye contact, she tapped Spot with her boot. He looked up, saw Race and Bird and jumped up to follow Rebel as she walked towards them.

“Manhattan,” Rebel greeted.

“Brooklyn,” Bird replied. The boys just nodded to each other in greeting.

The girls broke the stoic act and reached over to hug each other. They’d been friends for years, and had been newsies together until Rebel accepted Red’s offer to switch boroughs.

“How’re things in Manhattan? How’s the new kids?” Bird and Rebel hooked arms and began walking into the city.

Race sat Lil’ Bit down so they could begin to walk behind the girls.

“Who’re you?” Spot asked.

Lil’ Bit shied into Race’s leg. Race sighed. “That’s Lil’ Bit. She’s usually not like this.”

“I’m Spot!” Spot said. He grinned, showing that one of his front teeth had been knocked out.

“Hey! You lost a tooth!” Race exclaimed. “When’d that happen?”

Spot grinned even larger. “Yesterday! Got in a fight with some Queen’s boys and they knocked my tooth out. It was already loose, though, so it didn’t hurt too bad.”

Race smiled. “D’ya get anythin’ for it?”

“A peppermint stick under my pillow this morning.” He pulled it out of his pocket. “Want some?”

Race grinned. “You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Spot said, breaking it in half. He gave half to Race and stuck the other part in his mouth. Lil’ Bit let go of Race’s hand and scampered up to Bird and Rebel before he could break off a piece for her. He shrugged and popped it in his mouth.

“It's been ages since I’ve had candy,” Race said.

Spot took it out to speak. “Me too. Forgot how good it tasted.”

The two pairs passed the time in easy conversation, much better than it would be once they reached the Brooklyn lodging house. Red was notorious for discouraging relationships between other boroughs for any reasons other than business. He never said why, and anyone who asked got soaked.

They arrived in sight of the docks, and conversation ceased. Spot moved up to Rebel’s side at her bidding, and Race grabbed Lil’ Bit’s hand and moved behind Bird. They all felt the eyes of the other Brooklyn newsies watching them from their perches on the docks. Several on the top of some crates had slingshots aimed at the visitors. Race shifted to shield Lil’ Bit.

“Manhattan,” Red’s voice boomed from the stacks.

“Brooklyn,” Bird greeted.

“I see Hatter still sends a girl to do a man’s work.”

Rebel stood a little straighter. Spot glanced up at her.

“Only the best for you, Red,” Bird returned, glancing at the ‘archers.’

Red laughed. “If only that were true. Come in.”

Two newsies at the bottom stepped out, and a hole opened in the crates. The Manhattan newsies stepped forward as the Brooklyn newsies fell in behind them. Lil’ Bit waved at a boy. He did not wave back. Race pulled her closer to his side as they moved farther into Brooklyn’s territory. “So,” Red started, “any gifts?” Bird nodded and motioned for Race to get them out of his bag. He pulled out a few objects and stepped forward, handing them to the leader. Red looked them over before handing them to a kid with an eyepatch. Race watched them warily.

“Could I have my bag back?” Race asked.

Red laughed but didn’t answer. He led the way farther into the building, newsies peeling away the farther they went. Both Bird and Race knew that they didn’t go far.

Red’s hold on Brooklyn had been shaky for the last few months, and everyone could sense that a new leader wouldn’t be long coming. Bird just hoped the revolution didn’t happen while they were still in Brooklyn, she and Race would have enough trouble getting out on their own, but this trip they had to worry about Lil’ Bit too.

“So,” Red said, taking a seat at a table in the centre of the kitchen. Bird and Race picked seats opposite him. “What’s happening in Manhattan?”

Bird shrugged as Race placed Lil’ Bit in his lap. “Got a few new kids, nothing much. How’s Brooklyn?”

“Stronger than ever,” Red replied, tone steely and cold. Rebel seemed to fade out of the shadows, standing with arms crossed behind her boss. Bird glanced over at her, seemingly surprised by her appearance. Red smirked.

“That’s . . . good,” Bird replied. “Got any griefs with us?”

“A few,” Red said. He launched into a tirade about things that he felt Manhattan could do better. Bird nodded along sympathetically, smiling as he ranted. Race had to struggle not to fall asleep.

--

They left Brooklyn three hours later, much later than they had intended. The sun was dipping below the horizon, but they didn’t dare stop to stay in Brooklyn. They could tell from Red’s tone that he was running a tight ship, much tighter than he usually ran it. If he wouldn’t take overnight visitors a few months ago, he certainly wasn’t going to take them now.

The two teens walked across Brooklyn until they made it to the docks for ferries to Staten Island. They snuck aboard a ferry and made it across the channel before sneaking off again. Lil’ Bit was falling asleep on her feet, so Bird picked her up and carried her on her back. The Island scouts, Mary and Chess were waiting on them. They walked them back to their lodging house, where all three crawled into a bunk together and promptly fell asleep.

~~

Lil’ Bit woke before Race and Bird, per their usual schedule. She crawled over Bird and went to the bathroom on autopilot. But when she stumbled into a wall she opened her eyes all the way and realized she had no idea where she was.  She let out a cry and stumbled backwards. She couldn’t see Bird, or Race, or Smalls or Sniper! Where was she?

Confused, and still muddled by sleep, Lil’ Bit wandered outside the house. The bright lights confused her more, and she started crying. Panicked, she took off in a run.

~~

Rebel went to the distribution gates, Spot standing quietly beside her. She picked up a stack of 150 papers and hoisted them onto her shoulder. She and Spot walked out of the gates and towards the pier. A lot of Staten Island kids had been trying to sneak onto their turf, so naturally Red sent his toughest kids there.

Spot took his usual 70 papers and moved away from Rebel. They began hawking their wares, yelling the headlines to any passersby.

“THREE MEN FOUND STABBED IN BOWERY!” Rebel called. Three businessmen came and passed her a penny each. She tipped her hat to each one, depositing the pennies in her pocket. They made a nice jingling sound.

“Hey, kid!” someone called. Rebel turned, assuming they meant her. Apparently, she assumed correctly, as she saw a man come jogging towards her.

“Sir?” Rebel asked.

“There’s a kid on the ferry, didn’t know if you’d know who she belonged to. Keeps crying about a bird . . .”

Rebel’s eyes widened. “Show me.”

Her tone was commanding, even to adults, and the man hurriedly started off again. He led her to a ferry, where another very confused man was standing, holding a squealing child in his arms.

“Hey, Lil’ Bit?” Rebel called. The child’s head snapped up, and Rebel’s suspicions were confirmed. Lil’ Bit was in his arms, crying up a storm. When she saw Rebel she waved her arms at the teen and started squirming in an attempt to get down.

Rebel walked forward and took her from the ferryman’s arms. Lil’ Bit clung to her neck and sobbed into her shoulder.

“Thanks,” Rebel said to the two men. “Sorry about this.”

They tipped their hats to her. “Not a problem, Miss. Just glad the little tyke got back safe.”

Rebel nodded again in thanks and bent to pick up her papers. She started walking in Spot’s general direction, hoping to catch him before he became swamped. She found him a bit later, trying to convince a mother to buy from him. Lil’ Bit had calmed down considerably, and Rebel took a moment to watch the boy. She rolled her eyes fondly when he finally sold the pape.

“SPOT!” she called. His head snapped up, and he saw her across the morning crowd. He scooped up his papers and ran towards her, alarm clear on his face.

“What's wrong, Rebel?” He skidded to a stop in front of her.

“I need you to go to Staten Island and find Bird and Race. Lil’ Bit wandered ovah here somehow, and they’s gotta be worried sick. Can you do that?”

Spot saluted and handed his papers off to Rebel. He took off towards the ferries, being out of sight in a few seconds. Rebel looked at the stack of papers in her hand, well over a hundred, and winced.  It would be hard to sell that many, but she would have to. Neither she nor Spot could afford to take a hit that hard, especially after she bought that peppermint stick for Spot.

She set up shop on a street corner, selling as hard as she could. A few people took pity on her and the baby and gave her an extra penny or two. She made sure to smile at those. More than a few people, however, turned their nose up at her. This was something she was used to (the short hair, pants, and sharp tongue were not particularly fetching traits for a girl of her age) but it seemed worse now that she had a child on her hip.

She's not my kid! Rebel wanted to yell, but she knew it would do no good. Those people would be gone in a heartbeat, and she would have to yell it again. So instead she worked on selling her papers.

“MAN FOUND STABBED IN BOWERY!” she yelled. Three people stopped to buy one. “Thanks, mistah.”

“Rebel?” someone said. Rebel turned around, and her heart sank.

She plastered a smile on her face. “Hey, Crack! What's up?”

He stared at Lil’ Bit, completely ignoring her greeting. “What's she doin' here?”

“There was an emergency-” Rebel began, but Crack cut her off.

“You know the boss ain't gone like this . . .”

“Please don't tell, Crack,” Rebel said. “It's just for a few hours!”

“Begging?” Crack sneered. “That's not very Brooklyn of you.”

Rebel could feel herself start losing her patience. “Need I remind you that I'm Second Brooklyn?”

“Need I remind you that First Brooklyn and I get along veeeery well?” Crack said. “Something like this might change his opinion on his choice in seconds.”

“You wouldn't -” Rebel hissed.

“Oh but I would,” he said. He smacked his hands together quickly. “Boys!”

Immediately, upwards of ten boys emerged from the shadows. Two grabbed Lil’ Bit, who had begun screaming, and the rest grabbed Rebel. She managed to land a few hits on them, but they wrenched her arms behind her and held her tight. She struggled in their grip, but they held tight as they marched across Brooklyn.

As they walked, other newsies began peeling away from their selling spots. The implication that something had happened to Rebel was far too important to ignore. She swore and spit and struggled the whole way, but nothing she did could get them to release her.

Red stood at the docks near Manhattan, waiting. He had a cane in his hand, the Brooklyn symbol of power. Rebel felt a cold weight settle in her stomach as she stared at his back. Crack snapped his fingers, and they released Rebel, shoving her forward so that she fell on the ground.

“Rebel.” His tone was cold, colder than she’d ever heard. “I hear you have betrayed me.”

“Red, I swear, whatever they said-”

“SILENCE!” he roared, slamming the cane down on the crate. Immediately she shut her mouth. Red turned and looked over her, still lying on the ground. He climbed down the crates walking forward until his boots were level to her face. Slowly she looked up until the two made eye contact.

“Stand.”

She did.

“Crack, her crimes please.”

Crack stepped forward, a crazy and lopsided grin on his face. “Harbouring a non-Brooklyn. Sneaking over the bridge every night. Maintaining friendships outside of Brooklyn for reasons other than treaties. Protecting Manhattan when Manhattan screwed up. Selling more than she is allowed. Buying sweets for anyone other than herself. Disrespecting her commanding officer. Swearing inside the Lodging House. Skipping selling on Sundays to go to church. Protecting younger newsies from their dues.”

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Red said.

Rebel sat silent.

“How many of these are you guilty of?”

She said nothing.

“ANSWER ME!” Red yelled. A drop of his spit landed on her face.

“I plead the fifth,” she finally said.

Red laughed, a dry and humourless sound. “That’s real cute, sweetheart. You think this is a courtroom!” He walked around her slowly, looking her up and down before once again stopping in front of her. He regarded her silently for a moment before reaching forward and grabbing her by the collar. Her crucifix caught in his fist and the bunch of fabric, and her breath hitched as he pulled her close to his face. “This is my court. I am the king here, and you will answer to me. No one can save you. I am lawyer, judge, and jury. Answer. How many are you guilty of?”

Rebel took a breath. “If any of those are crimes, then I am guilty of all of them.”

~~

Spot ran across Staten Island, hardly stopping. He knew exactly where the house was, and he was trying to get there as fast as possible. He didn’t know exactly what would happen if Red found out about Lil’ Bit, but he had a vague idea. And he knew it wouldn’t be pretty.

He ran into the Lodging House, slamming the door against the wall at his entrance. “Where’re Bird and Race?”

A few kids were in the lobby and looked up, startled at his entrance. One of the teenagers pointed upstairs, and Spot ran towards them, taking them two at a time. He burst into another room, where all conversation promptly ceased.

“Spot?” Bird asked. Everyone in the room stared at him, confused.

“Lil’ Bit’s in Brooklyn,” he said through heavy panting. “With Rebel. Gotta get her out now.”

Immediately the two Manhattan newsies stood to their feet. “Spot, where in Brooklyn?”

“Docks,” he said. “Staten docks. Hurry.”

Bird and Race shoved their hats on their heads and grabbed Bird’s bag. They started to say the formal goodbyes to Check, but she just shooed them away and told them to find the kid.

“Red’ll be pissed,” she said. “And that is something none of us need.”

With a quick thanks, the three newsies bolted out the door and onto the street. They ran through, pushing past people in their haste. More than a few adults yelled, but they couldn’t be bothered. They had something much more important to do.

They crawled onto a ferry and hid in the baggage carrier. Race’s foot stuck out and nearly got them caught, but he pulled it in just in time. They sat silently the whole ride, each wondering how bad of a mess they’d gotten in to.

Spot lead the way off the ferry and they followed him to where he’d left Rebel and Lil’ Bit.

“Rebel!” he called. “Where are you?”

Race fiddled with his cap. “Bird, I don’t feel so good about this.”

“Rebel!” she called. “Lil’ Bit!”

“‘Ey, Bird! Come look at this!” Spot was standing next to a building corner, waving his hat up in the air so she could find him in the crowd. The other two newsies ran to him, and he pointed to a stack of papers that were left on the ground.

“These is Rebel’s,” he said. “But Rebel ain’t here.”

“Where else would she be?” Bird asked. “She wouldn’t have just abandoned her papes, especially since she knew we was coming . . .”

“What if she didn’t leave them . . .” Race said.

“Oh shit,” Spot muttered. “We gotta go. C’mon!”

He took off running again, and the other two followed. He led the way through alleys and across streets, cutting in front of bulls, wagons, and important city folk. Race and Bird tore after him, having a little trouble keeping up, despite the fact that they both had longer legs. They didn’t pass a single newsie the entire journey.

~~

Red pushed Rebel with the fist previously entangled in her shirt, and she fell to the ground. The air rushed from her lungs as her back hit the dirt and she immediately began gasping to fill the void.

Red paced, cane tapping the ground as he walked. Rebel watched him warily, still breathing heavily. His jaw clenched as he walked.

“Rebel,” he said through gritted teeth. He turned and looked at her, stomping forward quickly. She scrambled back, but he stepped on her foot, pinning her down. He smacked the cane on her ankle and a loud CRACK! echoed throughout the assembly. She grimaced but refused to cry out.

“I brought you up from nothing!” he yelled. “I found you, cold, shriveling, and starving in the Manhattan streets and brought you here! I made you my right-hand woman, second only to me! You were a queen! Everything was at your feet! And then,” he ground his foot down, “you betrayed me!”

“It wasn’t betrayal,” Rebel whispered. She closed her eyes against the pain, still refusing to scream.

“What was that?”

“It wasn’t betrayal!” she shouted. “I was always loyal to you!”

“Then why didn’t you listen to me?” Red shouted. He stepped off her ankle, but the end of his cane caught her chest, holding her in place. “You disobeyed me!”

“You were asking me to go against everything I stood for!”

“You were supposed to stand for Brooklyn! And Brooklyn alone!”

“I’m more than a borough!”

“Not here, you aren’t,” Red spat. “Here you are Brooklyn, and Brooklyn alone! If you wanted to stand for something else, you should’ve stayed in Manhattan and starved!”

“You’re right,” Rebel said. She propped herself up on her arms. “I should’ve stayed in Manhattan. At least there I would’ve died instead of having to live under your tyranny.”

Red laughed, another humorless sound. “You want to die? Well, you’re about to get your wish.”

Rebel paled.

“Get me some rope!” Red yelled. Rebel stood to her feet and grimaced, but tried to hobble away. Crack grabbed her, however, wrenching her arms behind her and stomping on her broken foot. She screamed and fell limp.

“Rope!” Red screamed again. The crowd mumbled among themselves, but no one moved to get any. “Why is no one getting me a rope, dammit?!”

Nobody moved.

“You!” he screamed, pointing to a boy in the front, who had an eyepatch over his left eye. “Find me some rope!”

The boy gulped. “No.”

Red reeled backwards. “What?”

He steeled himself. “No. I will not contribute to her murder.”

“York,” Rebel breathed.

“It is a deserved death!” Red cried. “She admitted to her crimes herself!”

“They aren’t crimes!” another girl, Rafaela, shouted. She moved forward. “She cares for Brooklyn more than anyone else!”

The crowd murmured in agreement.

“She cared for herself! She betrayed Brooklyn! Get me some rope, dammit! I am your king! You will listen to me!”

“Brooklyn is more than a borough!” another girl yelled. Joey moved to the front to stand with York and Raf. “Brooklyn is all of us. And she cared for us more than you ever did. You were a leader in name, but Rebel is a leader at heart.”

Red huffed. “That’s bullshit! She doesn’t know the first thing about leading!”

“Who fed us when we didn’t sell enough?” York asked.

“Who made sure we all got a bed?” Raf said.

“Who showed us the ropes? Who made sure that your goons didn’t beat the little kids?” Joey asked.

“Who took care of us? The people you ‘ruled’?” York asked. “It sure as hell wasn’t you!”

Red scoffed. “If I didn’t take care of you, then who did?”

“Rebel!” they shouted back.

“She’s more of a leader than you’ll ever be!”

Red let out a mad laugh. “The only way to determine a leader is through combat! And as you can see, I’ve already bested her.” He motioned to where Rebel was standing limply in Crack’s arms. “I’m your true king. And if Rebel is lighting a rebellion against me, then the fire has to be extinguished.”

Spot, Bird, and Race burst through the Brooklyn newsies right as Crack tightened his belt around Rebel’s wrists and pushed her over the side of the pier.

“REBEL!” the three screamed.

Crack made a signal, and the newsie holding Lil’ Bit chucked her over the side as well.

Bird screamed and broke into a run. She pushed past every newsie there and dove over the side of the pier. Race was a split second behind her, having momentarily paused to remove his shoes. They hit the water and dove, following the trail of red through the water.

~~

Spot’s vision tunneled and he saw red. He let out an animalistic scream and tore straight towards Red. Red took a step back, having never seen this child so angry. Usually, Spot was a pretty happy-go-lucky kid, but now he was nothing but a ball of fury.

Spot tackled Red to the ground and immediately drove his fists into the King’s face. Left, right, left, right, each hit planting itself in the center of Red’s face. His lip split beneath Spot’s fists, blood trickling down his face. Red grabbed his cane and hit Spot roughly on the crown of his head.

The hit momentarily stunned Spot enough that Red was able to sit up and throw Spot of off him. Spot hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, and Red towered above him.

He stepped forward, and his shadow fell over Spot’s face. From Spot’s place on the ground, all he could see was the silhouette of a boy he had once looked up to. Now all he saw was the dark outline of a teenager who’s mussed hair made him appear as a devil. All Spot could think was how accurate that description was as Red’s cane came down on him again.

~~

Bird kicked frantically, trying to reach Rebel before they both ran out of air. A faint trail of blood came from her head, and Bird was afraid she would pass out before she could reach her.

~~

Race’s arms wrapped around Lil’ Bit and he kicked them both to the surface. Panicked, Lil’ Bit kicked and wriggled, her tiny fists hitting him in the face several times. They broke the surface, and Race took a deep breath. Lil’ Bit drew in a large gulp of air and immediately began screaming to raise the dead.

Race swam over to a ladder, whispering soothing words to Lil’ Bit as they moved. She eventually calmed down, and he climbed the ladder. He held the little girl close to his chest and patted her hair, whispering sweet nothings to her as she sobbed on his shirt.

~~

Spot raised his arms to block Red’s next hit. It did no good, however, as Red hit him in the gut. Spot grimaced and rolled on his side, immediately coughing up a mouthful of blood. The cane came down again, and Spot groaned, low and guttural.

“Stop, stop,” Spot said.

“Do you give up?” Red sneered.

“No,” Spot said. “I want to challenge you for Brooklyn.”

~~

Rebel’s eyes snapped open. She immediately began struggling against the belt that bound her wrists and began kicking. Her ankle screamed in pain, but she kept on. She felt something wrap around her waist and turned to see Bird in the water.

Bird began messing with the belt, trying to loosen it from Rebel’s wrists. After struggling for a few moments the leather fell off, and the two girls kicked their way to the surface. They broke the water and both took loud gasps of air. They tread water for a moment before hearing a sentence that stopped their blood cold.

“I want to challenge you for Brooklyn.”

Rebel’s eyes widened and she swam forward. She pulled herself up on the pier, dripping wet. “SPOT!” she screamed, but it was too late. Red had thrown his cane on the ground and was now squaring up to fight Spot.

Spot stood to his feet and raised his hands to be level with his head. The two danced around each other, each wiping blood off their faces.

Red punched first, a strong right hook. But Spot saw it coming and ducked under it. He reached forward with two fingers and poked Red in the eyes. Red stumbled backwards and Spot reached up with the palm of his right hand and jammed it into Red’s nose.

Red swore loudly as Spot stepped forward. He stomped on Red’s foot and looked the previous king dead in the eyes.

“This is for Rebel,” he muttered before pushing Red’s hips with all the strength he could muster. Red’s leg snapped as he fell backwards and he screamed out in pain. Spot let off his foot and sat down on his waist.

He pinned Red’s arms and looked down at the crying king with at least two broken bones.

“Surrender, and I’ll let you live,” Spot said.

“Never,” Red spat.

Spot shrugged. “Fine.”

He stood and stomped down on Red’s stomach with all the strength he could muster. Red screamed out once again before Spot stomped on his mouth. He started crying harder.

“Surrender,” Spot said.

Red shook his head.

Spot shoved him off the pier.

Red sank like a stone.

~~

Race saw Spot and Red on the end of the pier. Spot said something, but he was too far away to hear. Red shook his head no, and Spot pushed him over the edge.

Red made a huge splash as he hit the water. He didn’t come back up for air.

Two more boys dove off the dock as Spot watched. A few minutes later they pulled Red up on the pier and pumped his chest. After several minutes of this, they sat back on their heels in defeat. They talked among themselves for a few minutes before they picked Red back up and threw him back in the bay.

Race crawled up the ladder, Lil’ Bit clinging to his neck. The two walked up to the stunned crowd. No one said anything as the two soaking wet newsies joined the crowd surrounding Spot.

After several moments of silence, Spot bent down and picked up Red’s discarded cane. He tucked it into his suspenders, but it was too long and scraped the ground as he walked. Slowly, Spot turned to face his new subjects.

“Long live Spot!” York shouted. “Long live the king!”

The crowd took up the chant, all shouting variations of York’s chant. Spot let a small smile appear on his face as he drank it in for a moment. However, after about five cheers, he raised his arms in a ‘be quiet’ gesture. The crowd immediately silenced, eager to hear the first declaration of their new king.

“I’m honoured,” he started. “Really, I am. But this ain’t mind,” he said, shaking the cane. “I know I fought Red and all that shit, but that’s only ‘cause Rebel was in the water. And she had a broke foot. I know she woulda beat ‘im way before I did, but she wanted to make sure I was protected first. She knew that on the very small chance she lost they’d take it out on me, and she didn’t want that. And like York and Raf and Joey said, Brooklyn is more than a borough. And if anyone embodies Brooklyn, it's Rebel.”

At this Raf and Joey broke into cheers. The rest of the group joined them, cheering even louder when Bird and Rebel limped forward to take the cane from Spot. He bowed slightly as he handed it over, and Rebel laughed and bopped him lightly on the head with it. He smiled up at her, and she reached down to give him a hug.

“Thanks, Spot,” she whispered in his ear.

“You deserve it,” he whispered back.

~~

Two months later and it was time for the Brooklyn newsies to make the rounds of the boroughs. They had new messengers now that Crack and a few others had been disposed of. In their place came Rafaela and Spot.

They were greeted with hugs at the door of the Manhattan Lodging House. The sun was going down and they agreed to spend the night and discuss business in the morning.

Spot and Race decided to double up on the latter’s bunk. He had a top bunk, so the two climbed up and huddled together under the covers. They looked at each other and dissolved into giggles, both having had just a bit of the alcohol that Hatter had managed to smuggle in.

“I’m glad Rebel is king of Brooklyn now,” Spot said.

“She’s a girl, nitwit,” Race said, smacking Spot on the chest. “She’s queen of Brooklyn!”

“Nuh-uh!” Spot protested. “Rebel says that’s bullshit. She’s king same as Red was, same as I’ll be.”

Race grew silent. “Same as you’ll be?”

Spot nodded emphatically. “I’m prince o’ Brooklyn r’now. She’s training me to be king. Kinda like Red did to her. But better.”

“Are ya gonna . . . y’know?”

“Know what?”

“Kill her? Like you did Red?”

Spot snorted. “‘Course not. We’re getting rid of that ritual. It’s stupid.”

Race visibly relaxed. “Good.”

“Yeah, it is,” Spot agreed. He yawned loudly before burrowing deeper into the covers. “‘Night, Racey.”

Race smiled. “‘Night Princey.”

~~

Y’all. This is 7,161 words. I think this is the most I have written for one story. I first created this story on February 5th, and it is now reaching it’s conclusion. I feel it is only fitting to end Girlsies Week 2018 with a story about my two original girlsies, Rebel and Bird.

As I said, thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed! If you would like to be tagged in any future fics, reblog/like/reply to this post and I’ll add you!

@girlsiesweek  @albertdasilva @albertslamb @actually-races-erster @alixismad @ben-cook-can-cook @thebookofbella @broadwayandbookblog @brooklyns-here-enthusiast @bwaysrose @daeynore @daveys-pet-snake @delanceys-pantsies @djrebeldr @elmers-half-a-cup @esyazzmean @fallingoutofpanickedpilotss @fandomscraziness22 @heytheywascoronas @ishouldprobablyworkoutmore @i-got-personality @livingdeadmeme   @marvelmerlinao3 @mcoomcoo @newsieofnj @nymphadoratonksx @piercings-and-pearls @racetrackscigar @races-cigar @races-erster  @rebecko @santafeismycity @thesmallestbi @spot--conlon @stuckinmyneverendingheadspace @sparkleystallion @spracetrack-higgins @thatshiscigar @wetcoffeee @yokakey-d @yourfriendlyneighborhoodnewsie

[lilsherlockian1975]

Sherlolly. 33. For the theme n short fic ask

celebrity/fan au - Fun! Thanks, Gee!! This turned out a wee bit longer than I intended. Hope you like. ~Lil~ (I’ve got lots more to fill. I’m working on them and appreciate them all!)

John Watson was pissed. There were about a thousand places he’d rather be at the moment. (Like on a date with the lovely Miss Morstan, which he had to cancel when Sherlock had stormed into the clinic, demanding his presence just as he was getting ready to leave!) Riding in the back of a cab on the way to some book signing with his broody best friend was nowhere on that list. 

“Are you going to explain this?” he asked. 

When Sherlock had said ‘book signing’ John had waited impatiently for the upshot. Where was the murder? Where was the puzzle?

“No,” the detective answered.

The doctor clenched his fist and cracked his neck. He’s your friend. You will not strangle him in the backseat of a cab. John took in the other man’s appearance for a moment. That’s when he noticed the difference. Sherlock The Body’s Just a Transport Holmes always wore the most expensive clothes and took far too much care with his hair to really believe in that ‘beauty is just a construct’ nonsense. But today… today the man was polished within an inch of his life! Also, he was undoubtedly nervous. John couldn’t remember ever seeing the man so unsettled.

“Sherlock? Are you..?” 

The detective’s head whipped toward him. “What?” he asked with thinly veiled aggression.

There is something going on here. Though Sherlock often pointed out that his friend didn’t see ‘certain things’ - not observing, he called it - John had learned a lot about the man sitting next to him in their two years of friendship. That’s when it hit him; he had to force himself not to smirk.

“Does this have something to do with that book? The pathology book?” John asked, almost certain that he had it figured out. 

Baker Street was never quite ‘clean’ (even though John bitched at his friend like an old fishwife) but it was somewhat better than when he had first moved in and the man-child did make some effort to put away his toys. In the last month, however, John had often noticed a book sitting next to Sherlock’s chair. Then he noticed it in the kitchen late one night and on the settee the next afternoon. He even found it in the bathroom one day. At one point he had wondered if the detective didn’t own several copies of the damn thing. 

“This isn’t a case at all. You just want to meet the author of that book.”

The detective smirked, though it lacked his usual confidence. “It seems I’m finally rubbing off on you, John. Keep paying attention and soon you’ll know the difference between a suspect and a witness.”

“At least I know who the prime minister is,” he mumbled under his breath.

Twenty-five minutes later they were walking into a small bookstore in Soho. 

“Not much of a turnout,” John commented. There were no lines and the store wasn’t much bigger than the sandwich shop below their flat. 

“How many people do you suppose are interested in forensic pathology?” He said the word ‘people’ like it was tantamount to a single cell organism. And one that he didn’t particularly like.

“Still…” John started as they made their way to the back of the shop. That’s when he saw her. A tiny smiling woman sitting next to a mountain of books talking to a spotty faced teenaged girl in large, ill-fitting glasses.

“… if you’re really interested, leave me your email and I’ll send you some information,” the woman said. 

The girl gasped. “You’d do that?”

“Of course! I wish I had someone to point me in the right direction when I was younger. I’d love to help in any way I can,” the woman returned, smiling brightly.

“I… I…” the teen stammered. “I don’t know what to say. I mean… you’re my favourite pathologist of all time!” 

Favourite pathologist? Do people have favourite pathologists? For a moment John thought the girl was going to cry, but she managed to write down her email and shake hands with the author before hurrying off to join a group of girls standing to the side. They all squealed as they left. Weird. 

He was so distracted by the spectacle that he almost missed Sherlock’s approach. 

“Hello, Dr. Hooper,” the detective said as he handed her his worn copy of the book. 

I didn’t even notice that! Him and his damn pockets! John did notice, however, that his friend’s voice was even deeper than usual. 

“Hi!” the woman said as she took the book, smiling and blushing up at his friend. 

John had seen this before… many, many times. That man’s looks were such a waste! The woman I could have pulled with those damn curls! He could make a witness, of the right sexual persuasion, sing like a canary with the slightest hint of fake flirtation.

“It seems I got in right under the wire,” Sherlock said.

“Yes. You might just be my last victim,” she replied with a giggle. 

When he smiled John realised that something was off. That wasn’t Sherlock’s false ‘get what he needs from a woman smile’. The man looked genuinely happy. What the hell?

“You’re much better at forensic analysis than comedy, Miss Hooper,” he said with none of the bite of his usual commentary.

Her face started to fall, but Sherlock quickly followed up with, “That wasn’t an insult. This book is brilliant, doctor. But you know that, don’t you? How many weeks has it been a bestseller?”

“A few.” She bit her lip and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Um, whom do I make this out to?”

Ah, John thought, who will Sherlock be today? Nigel Britwistle? Ridgewell  Luckinbill, perhaps? Felix Pickles was one of his personal favourits.

“Sherlock Holmes,” he said, causing John to do a double take. 

“That’s an unusual name,” Dr. Hooper said as she began to write. “Old English?” 

“It is,” Sherlock answered, practically beaming.

When she finished, she handed him the book and stood up. “Well, I’m finished for today,” she said as she started to box up the books from the table. 

“Did you have a good turnout?” Sherlock asked and then he did the strangest thing of all… he started to help her! 

“I did, actually. About five hundred, since lunch. Yesterday’s turnout was better.”

“Yes, I had wanted to make it to your signing at Waterstone’s. Unfortunately, I had a case,” Sherlock said as he added another book to the box.

Waterstone’s? That store was huge! John was more than a bit shocked. It seemed that this Dr. Hooper was the J.K. Rowling of forensic pathology!

“A… case?” she asked. “What sort of case?”

“I’m a detective,” his friend responded far less arrogantly than usual.

“You’re a..?”

“I should clarify, I don’t work for the Yard. I’m a consulting detective. The only one in the world, actually.”

There’s the arrogance.

“Really?”

“Yes. I invented the job,” he explained as he finished up with the books. “I’d love to tell you more if you’re not busy.”

“Ahh…” She looked at John (possibly for the first time) and then back to Sherlock, seemingly a bit apprehensive.

“Coffee, I thought, if you like,” Sherlock said in a rush. “There’s a decent shop just around the corner.”

She hesitated for a moment longer before saying, “Just let me speak to the manager to let him know that I’m all finished.” She started to walk away but paused and gave them both a pointed look. “And where we’re going, of course.”

Once she was out of hearing distance, John turned to his friend. “All right. I’m flummoxed. What the hell’s going on?”

Sherlock was watching her as she spoke to the store manager. “I believe that I have a date, John. Do keep up.”

“A date? You don’t date! What do you need her for? A case?” he asked, then thought for a moment. “Oh! You found a mistake in her book and want to reopen one of her old cases.”

“That book is flawless, John. As is her work. It’s not a case.”

“Are you trying to recruit her to work at St. Barts?” Nearly everyone at the hospital basically hated the man! “I doubt she’ll give up a lucrative book deal to be your personal whipping boy, no matter how many time you use that voice on her. She seems too smart for that.”

Turning to him with a glare, Sherlock said, “Of course she’s smart, John! She’s brilliant! And I don’t need another whipping boy, I’ve got you for that. No, I need her for something else entirely.” His tone softened at the end and his face… well, that was a look John had quite literally never seen before.

“And what is that, exactly?”

Sherlock smiled brightly then turned his attention back to the woman across the store. “Pay close attention, my friend, because I believe you’ve just met the future Dr. Holmes.” 

After several seconds of stunned silence, John finally found his voice. “Are you screwing with me?”

“Or perhaps I’ll take her name, who knows?”

“You’re joking!”

“There’s nothing wrong with taking the woman’s name. Don’t be so provincial.”

“I’m not talking about that, you tit!” John hissed. “Are you winding me up, because…”

“No, John,” Sherlock interrupted. “Not about this. Not about her.” He picked up his signed copy of the book and looked at the inscription with a grin before turning back to his friend. “Come with us and have one cup of coffee, then make some excuse and bugger off. Got it?”

He nodded mutely still too stunned to respond. Sherlock didn’t do relationships and had never mentioned marriage in the entire time John had know him, at least not reverently. Not only that but he had just met this woman. Even having read her book, how could he possibly be contemplating spending the rest of his life with her? It went against everything he thought he knew about the man. Then there was the woman herself. What if she was married? Or gay? What if she had a deep and burning hatred for tall, curly-haired, cocky bastards who thought they knew everything?

Just then Dr. Hooper walked back up. “Okay, Thomas knows I’m going with you so if my body turns up in the Thames, he’ll know who to blame.” She looked at John and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

Sherlock beat him to the introduction. “This is my best friend, Dr. John Watson.”

John paused before offering the woman his hand. Sherlock had never introduced John as his best friend before. Associate, blogger, assistant and even friend on the very rare occasion, but never ‘best friend’. Finally extending his hand he said, “Nice to meet you, doctor. Sherlock is a big fan of yours.” He was proud of managing that much in his shocked state.

She blushed as released him to pick up her coat and bag. “Nice to meet you too.”

Once she was ready, the three of them proceeded out of the store and onto the pavement. John hung back, letting the pair walk in front of him so that he could observe them. A tiny part of him wanted to see the detective crash and burn, knowing for a fact that Sherlock knew nothing about women, at least nothing about how to date them.

“So, did you have questions about the book?” she asked.

“Not so much, no.” 

She didn’t respond, just looked up at the detective curiously. 

“I’d actually like to know more about you, if I’m honest.”

“There’s not much to tell, Mr. Holmes.”

“I beg to differ. And please, call me Sherlock.”

“Oh, well, then you should call me Molly, I suppose,” she replied with an awkward laugh. “What would you like to know?”

John wondered as well. Sherlock usually knew whatever he deemed important about a person at first glance.

“Everything, I should think. But let’s start with how you got that scar on your left index finger. It’s not a scalpel cut, far too ragged.” He stopped walking and took her hand in his to study closer. “Too old as well. You were eleven? Perhaps twelve.”

“Yes,” the woman answered breathlessly.

Sherlock gently ran two fingers across the old scar then looked up. “A soup can,” he said with a knowing smirk on his lips.

Dr. Hooper had never taken her eyes off of his face the entire time. “How did..?”

“It’s my job to know, Molly. And I’ll tell you all about it.” He started walking but didn’t release her hand.

“You will?” she asked, seemingly unconcerned that she was now holding hands with the man that she’d just met.

“Indeed. But I believe that we have plenty of time for that.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“Come now, you’re the famous writer, Molly. Can’t you see that this is just the first page of the book?”

John never knew why Sherlock had brought him that day and he certainly didn’t know why he’d been allowed to witness such an overtly romantic display, but he was grateful nevertheless. 

Besides, it made his best man’s speech a breeze to write.

Thanks again, Gee! Love you!

[tracklist-fic]

Tracklist Fic | 001 / The Beginning

Title: Tracklist | An original, mature, Ed Sheeran fanfic CO-AUTHORED BY: @tea-and-toblerones and @sippin-on-red-wine Rating: Mature (lil bit of smuts only in this one)

Note: Hey everyone!!! Sorry for the delay. We’re so excited to publish our first official Track. Please let us know what you think! We love seeing those likes/reblogs/comments/inboxes -- writing is wonderful but it’s even more special when we know it’s well-loved!

Have you read the Prelude? Click here to catch up!

Ed........................

I sat in The MixRoom’s lounge, waiting for Mark's staff meeting to let out so we could begin talks about my next album. My leg was bouncing almost uncontrollably as I chewed on the tips of my fingers, a nervous habit I'd developed as a child and never been able to shake off.

I liked Mark, he was a good chap. Laid back, good sense of humor, nothing ever seemed to phase him. He's someone who had earned my respect and someone who's advice I always took into consideration. He also pulled no punches. If something was shit, he'd be quick to tell you. He wouldn't try and sugar coat it. He'd just look me in the eye and go 'Ed, your vocals on that take sounded like shit. Take a break and give them a rest, they're sounding a little stressed.'  If he criticized, he always had some advice to make it better the next go around. I quickly learned to listen to him, rather than arguing.

The door had cracked open, ushering in the sound of idle chatter, papers rustling and people moving about. I could hear his voice floating in.

"Go get the booth ready for a session later on today. Oh and put some of those butterscotch candies in there too. They requested it, saying it helped with their throat." The door swung the rest of the way open and Mark came out, a huge smile on his face, "Ed! It's been a while. I was wondering when you was going to stop in."

The first time I met Mark I damn near shit my pants. The guy was a giant, tall, built like a tank. His blonde hair was always kept buzzed short. He could be intimidating if he didn't have such a good natured face that was almost always smiling. He did have the air of someone who's bad side you didn't want to be on. He reached his hand out, which I graciously took, returning the grin.

"I meant to have been back in the studio a couple months ago but shit man, I just really enjoyed my time off."

"All that time off spent vacationing and you're still a pale bastard." He joked

"I'm a ginger. We don't tan, we burn, mate and I'm English on top of it. Our bodies aren't equipped to handle the sun. That's why all the vampires flock to London, innit?"

"Thought that was werewolves."

I pause, giving it some thought, faintly hearing ah ooooo werewolves of London in the back of my head. "Shit, you're right."

Mark motioned for me to follow him to his office so we could discuss business. I settle down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. His walls were covered in albums that had went gold and platinum. I smiled when I saw my own album, mostly cos I signed it ‘This wouldn't be worth a shit if you weren't such a cheeky bastard.’ He settled down in his desk chair, shuffling papers and some cd's around. Once he had cleared an area, his elbows came up on the desk, his fingers carding together. Down to business.

"I'd like to run something by you, if you don't mind."

I lean back in the chair, my hand coming up to my chin. "Alright."

"Since you've been gone I've been training an apprentice." He must be wanting to ask if I would care if they sat in on our sessions. "Now, they've handled some pretty big clients with little to no intervening on my part. I think they're ready to make the plunge and deal with a client all by themselves. While they've never been with someone quite your level, you're the ideal client for them to start with. You're not demanding or overwhelming. Plus you're involved with every step of the process and are vocal about your vision and how you imagine the final product sounding, without being a prick about it."

I run my hand over my chin as I mull over what he's proposing. I trust Mark's judgement but having an apprentice who's never done something of this magnitude overseeing this album is a bit terrifying. Especially since what I have in mind is so unconventional.

"I dunno man, I don't know how I feel about being a guinea pig. I've got some ideas that are what you'd consider outside the box that I'd feel more comfortable with someone with experience handling."

His expression didn't change much. His hands were moving across his desk, searching for something. "If I didn't think they could hack it, I wouldn't have them around. I definitely wouldn't be suggesting to try them out." He slid a cd over to me that was labeled 'J's demo's'  "Give it a listen and tell me what you think. If you're still not comfortable, I'll take charge. But I think you'll be pleasantly surprised by what you hear."

I take the cd, setting it on my lap as we continued talking, mostly just catching up and me telling him all the places I visited on my holiday and how I was going to incorporate all these experiences in my songs. I could tell by Mark's face that some of them were going to end up on the recording room floor but kept his opinions to himself. Probably because he's banking on me choosing his apprentice.

I stand up, shaking his hand one last time, setting an appointment for tomorrow at 11 to start going over ideas. I look down at the cd, planning on putting it on in the car as I drive around town.

"Hey, can you recommend any good bars? I'd like to grab a pint or two later on tonight and keep under the radar."

"Yeah, go to the Copperstill. It's a nice, low key bar. I doubt you'll find any problems there."

"Thanks mate, I'll see you tomorrow morning then."

I put the cd into the car stereo as I drive around doing some errands. I hit play and the car is filled with a quick upbeat song with a underlying percussive beat that I instantly started bobbing my head to. This was one that urged you to get up and dance. It wasn't in your face trance music, it was subtler, one who's beat you'd be humming or tapping later on. The next one had a bright sounding piano paired with an acoustic guitar. When I heard the trumpet during the chorus it caught me by surprise. This had more of an acoustic feel that I found refreshing.

By the time I had finished the cd, I had made my mind up. There had been a mix of everything on this list. Quick dance tunes, Slow and smooth ones that made you sway to the beat. An angry sounding one that made me want to jump and scream. Mark was right, I was pleasantly surprised.

I had pulled up to the bar that he had recommended. I caught myself humming to the beat of one of the more upbeat songs. Figured as much, It'll be stuck in my head the rest of the night.

The first thing I notice when I walk in is the large group of guys gathered at a table being obnoxiously loud. I automatically spot out the leader of the group. Tall, athletic looking, sporting a backwards snapback. As he was shotgunning a beer, his mates chanting Newman! Newman! Newman, I noticed some sort of tattoo running up his arm.

I try and make my way past them, one stumbling out in front of me, almost falling into me. He hits my chest with an open hand in what I guess he thought was an apologetic sort of way.

"Sorry bro."

I just nod, not wanting to get pulled into a drunken spectacle. The bartender sauntered over to me, throwing an irritated look toward the rowdy group. Her eyes rolling before she turned her attention to me.

"Sorry about the douche convention being held tonight. What can I get for you?"

"Whatever's good on tap. I'm not too picky."

She nods, snagging a glass on her way to the tap, her blonde ponytail swaying. The light catching it, causing it to look like spun gold. As she filled my glass I could see her staring at the group of guys, who had somehow managed to get even louder, with a look of disgust. She slid a coaster in front of me before putting down the glass. I thanked her which she acknowledged with a nod before checking on the other patrons at the end of the bar.

As I sat there drinking my beer, I stared at my reflection in the mirror behind the bar. I had to admit I looked a bit pathetic sitting here all by myself. I could see the alpha of the group attempting to rap along to the song that was play. He had flipped his hat around and put aviators on as he waved his fingers around to the beat. A blonde girl had joined the group laughing and brushing her fingers across his chest. Even from here I could see the lust pouring off her.

I decided that if I was going to sit at a bar and drink I should probably eat something. Lunch had wore off long ago and I knew drinking on an empty stomach was a bad idea. I waved down the bartender, who looked even more surly than she did the first time. I knew it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the group that was now banging on the table. Her tone was polite but she had the air of 'I'm so over all of this.' I did get a slight smile when I ordered loaded fries without the things that actually made it loaded.

When I had asked for the match to be put on I had all intentions of actually watching it but I found myself more invested in the girl than the game. I was appalled when one of the guys swaggered up to the bar demanding drinkings, throwing a crumpled wad of money at her when she asked for payment. It was at that moment, looking at that beautiful face staring down at the balled up money, that I had decided to do whatever it took to make her night just a bit better. The mixing of a cocktail for herself just solidified the decision.

I spent the next couple hours chatting with her but I could tell her attention was elsewhere. Even with the fraction of focus I was receiving I could tell she was a force to be reckoned with. I decided to try my luck and ask if we could meet up sometime. She quickly threw out there she wasn't looking for a relationship. When I had suggested it didn't have to be a date I could see all of her attention being pulled to me. Her posture straightened and I realised she may have been offended. I quickly tried to backpedal but she latched on to the idea saying her shift was done in twenty minutes. The alcohol that I had been consuming throughout the night was urging me to go for it. What's the worst that could happen?

Jac........................

"Fancy meeting you here, Jac."

My heart was absolutely beating out of my chest and I felt like I might puke. How could I have been so stupid? Years and years of busting ass to FINALLY get your big shot at success, and you fuck it all up to have a crazy-hot one night stand with Ed fucking SHEERAN!? Goddamn it, Jac!

I was totally speechless. Panicking. Desperately wishing I could rewind the last twelve hours of my life and try to not colossally fuck things up. This opportunity? To work on his next album? It was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. I'd never get another shot like this. And I KNEW I could smash this thing. I couldn't walk away.

He was perched on the coffee table right in front of where I was melting into the sofa.

I should probably say something.

“Look, Ed.”

I finally met his eyes with my own, seeing them in proper light for the first time. Oh, damn, never seen that color blue...

“I’m really sorry about last night. I had… NO IDEA. Mark really kept this one under wraps. I wouldn't have……. If I had known that I'd be working with you. Please, I hope that we can put that aside and move forward. You're a hard worker, I know your whole story. I am, too. I've got no Plan B. This -” I paused, gesturing to the studio, “- is my entire life. I understand if you don't want to work with me, but I really hope that you at least give me a shot. I know a lot about your sound and I have a lot of ideas on how to take it to the next level, but in an authentic way.”

“Well, firstly, I think a proper introduction is in order,” he grinned, extending a hand out to me. “I'm Ed.” No shit -- Oy, can the attitude, Jac.

I shook his hand, gripping it firmly. It was important to have a strong handshake, especially when you were a young female working in a field that was typically dominated by men.

“I'm Jaclyn Thorn. Most people call me Jac.”

“It's really lovely to properly meet you, Jac.” He toys with my name is his mouth, again, looking very pleased with himself. “Listen, I absolutely want to work with you. Mark gave me your demo, and the mix of sounds you've cultivated -- it got me really, really excited. I couldn't get your stuff out of my head yesterday.”

Holyfuckareyoukiddingme.

“-- and Jac?” He questioned. “I'm not sorry about last night.”

My head was still spinning, trying to wrap itself around the fact that he not only listened to my demo, he liked it and had it stuck in his head. Then I was wrapped around his head -- No Jac, don't go there. Though the way he said wasn't sorry about last night had me slightly worried. Did he think this was going to be a continuing thing? Is he still trying to pursue a romantic relationship? Surely he knows better than mixing business and pleasure. Ultimately I decided to look past his comment and focus on what we were here for: the album.   I motion for him to sit on the couch next to me so we could be comfortable as we discussed the plans for his new project. I can't say that I was entirely shocked when he sat right next to me. Plenty of couch there bud, but my all means, sit right on top of me. Personal space is overrated. His body was angled towards me, with his elbows resting on his knees with hands clasped together. His face was wearing a mask of interest. Not mild interest, not fake interest, geniune, 'I deep care about what you have to say.' interest. I have to admit it was an intense stare that felt almost intrusive.

C'mon Jac, you got this. He could not even be giving you the time of the day. Besides, he's know for fully giving people his attention but I guess it's different when you’re at the receiving end of it. "Okay, so walk me through how you'd like the album to sound." I found, surprisingly, it wasn't hard to bring my work voice out. Hopefully this will help establish more of a professional relationship than the hot dirty one we currently had. "Mmm, I thought Mark said we we're working on the album until tomorrow?" I could he was teasing, he didn't need to add the 'I'm obviously joking' knee bump with it. I could feel the anger unexpectedly rise in me. I wasn't sure if it was directed toward him for not taking this seriously or at myself for being so fucking stupid and letting what happened last night happen. "Look, you may not think this is that big of a deal. Your last two albums went platinum. Most people that have two successful records can tour using just those two and still live comfortably. So, I'm going to ask you again. Can you put aside what happened and focus on the music?" He dropped his head and for a brief moment I thought he was going to start yelling. When he lifted his head I was shocked to see him looking quite upset. I instantly regretted my sharp tone with him. Of course he thinks this is a big deal. It's Ed Sheeran Mr. 'I work my ass off no matter what'.

"Of course I think it's a big deal." His voice barely breaking above a whisper. "I've been gone for so long, what if...what if it's been too long and they've forgotten me? That all the work I've put in for five years has been for shit because people are quick to forget and jump behind some new singer. What happens if I release this album and nobody cares?" His head had fell to his chest, his leg bouncing ferviously. Oh fuck, I went and broke Ed Sheeran. Way to go Jac... "Well, I'm going to make it my personal mission to make this album, not only a hit, but your best one yet. You're still on the rise Ed, I promise you nobody's forgotten about you." I place my hand on his leg, hoping to comfort him and undo the damage I had caused. He took a deep breath "You're right. I'm all up in my head."  His hand wrapped around mine. "Thanks for the pep talk, Jac." Yeah, okay thanks for making this awkward now. I clear my throat and motion down to our hands with my head. He looks down and quickly lets go offering up an apology. I removed my hand from his leg, which in hindsight probably wasn't the smartest move. "So, your album, does it have a title yet?" I was hoping bring it back around to work would lighten the pretty heavy mood in the room. "Divide." He replied, his voice gaining some of that passionate spark I had saw earlier. "Ah, so, sticking to the math theme I see." That earned a smile.

"Yeah but it fits the feel of the album as well. It's not just named that to go with the other two." 

That had made me perk up. "The feel? What type of feel are you going for?" "So, everyone knows I've been on holiday pretty much going where ever I feel like." Yeah, you lucky bastard. I'm lucky to take a daytrip to the beach. "While I was bouncing from place to place I picked up a lot of new and different sounds. I want to record my holiday." "Record your holiday? What do you mean?" This sounded different than what he's done before. He definitely had my interest now. "I want to combine a bunch of different songs from different regions. I spent some time in Ghana and that experience drastically changed the way I view things, so I'd like to have a song that has an African vibe. I'd love to have some Irish folk on there, y'know go back to my roots and I wrote a song with my brother who writes classical music. Of course I'll still have some love songs and a couple grime sounding songs with R&B. Essentially, I want every track to sound totally different than the others. So it's divided, see?" I stare at him blankly. Now I see why he said I'd be perfect for this album. It also had me wondering if Mark knew this going in and that's why he tossed my name out there. He was taking a huge risk if he went through with this. We really couldn't predict how people would handle all these different styles being thrown at them wrapped up in one album. "Wow...there's nothing like that anywhere on the charts..." "I know, I could be shooting myself in the foot here. I should probably just stick to what i've already done--" I cut him off, shaking my head. "No, you misunderstood. There's nothing like that on the charts. Meaning this would definitely stand out. Just because it's not big now doesn't mean it can't be. You could open up a whole new style and experience for them. If anyone could make Irish folk or African popular, It's Ed Sheeran."

There was a little spark in his eyes as they bore into my face, his features stoic as he must have been trying to form a complete thought. A moment passed and he finally shook out of it.

“I like you.” Just three little words, but they made my stomach flip. And not in a good way. Does he mean, like… *LIKE* me? Or did he mean my aesthetic?

I quickly changed the subject. “So, how many songs do you have on deck so far?”

I could practically see his brain switching gears, he couldn’t resist diving right into any conversation that was centered around the music. Well, then, I intend to keep it that way.

“Maybe, around 40 or so? They’re all pretty raw, though, and I’m open to doing a little more writing. Do you write, or just produce?”

“Well, my strengths are really in production, but I dabble in a bit of everything, naturally.”

We chatted for a good half hour or so, my nerves finally calming down a bit as we both lost ourselves in the conversation, talking songwriting and musical influences.

He glanced down at the thick-banded black watch on his wrist. “Shit, I’m late for my next meeting. Sorry,” he apologized. “What time should I be in tomorrow?”

“No worries. ‘Round 9AM work for you?”

We agreed, and he came toward me as if to give me a hug goodbye. I did NOT want to be pressed up against those broad shoulders of his, so I quickly deflected by putting my hand up for a high-five.

A high-fucking-five. What the fuck, J.

He snorted, meeting my hand with his own and flouncing a soft “Bye, Jac,” out of his lips before walking out of the studio.

I clocked in at Copperstill, my brain on auto-pilot. I had barely even noticed Dylan entering until he positioned himself at my bar, calling to me in a surprisingly polite tone. I noticed he had left his snapback behind. It was the first time I had saw him without it in I couldn't tell you how long. I noticed he had let the top grow out, while keeping the sides short. Now that it was longer, just brushing his brow, I saw that his hair was slightly curly and carefully disheveled. I almost didn't recognise him without his douchebag attire. "Hey Jac, could I get a beer please?" Okay, what do you want? You're never this polite unless you want something.You can change your clothes but it doesn't make you any less of a douche. "Sure, anything else?" I couldn't keep the sarcastic tone out of my voice, not that I really tried. I had no interest in whatever it was he wanted. "Your undivided attention when you get a minute." "The beer it is. I can't promise you anything else. Some of us have to work for a living, trust fund kid." Let's see how long he stays polite for now. He hated it when I brought up the fact that he didn't have to stress over money. Everything he owned was paid for him, leaving the money he earned working to be spent however he saw fit. Which usually meant extravagant trips and loads of music festivals. I may have been jealous. "Well, when you get a bit, I'd like to talk." Still maintaining the same polite tone he used earlier. Would the real Dylan please stand up, because you're not him. I set his drink in front of him, not lingering around or giving him a chance to say anything other than a thanks before heading down to the other end of the bar. I would be lying if I said I wasn't a bit interested in what he had to say. I'm guessing fake Barbie didn't work out so well last night. Or maybe it did and he realised what he was missing. The cynic and optimist battled with one another the entire night. Dylan hadn't budged at all, remaining in his seat. He had stopped drinking after two beers opting for water instead, which was very unDylan like. My curiosity got the best of me so once my shift ended I sat down at a table with him, sipping my third or fourth drink who's counting? "So what's so important that you'd wait around all night for me?" After a deep breath "I wanted to tell you I finally took your advice." "My advice? I haven't given you any other than 'fuck off' and you clearly haven't taken that 'cause here you are." "Actually it was fuck off and grow up, if you want to be that way."  A smirk crawling across his face as he looked up at me with those faded blue eyes. They don't hold the same magnetic pull that a certain someone's elses have. "Well go on then, I don't have all night. I've got an early morning tomorrow."  I cross my arms and lean back in my chair waiting for whatever it was he wanted to discuss. "I stopped taking money from my dad. I'm paying for everything on my own now. I took your advice and grew up." "Well congratulations, you're a big boy now. Is that what you wanted to tell me?" I couldn't believe this is what he hung around to tell me. That he wasn't being supported by his parents anymore. What do you want, a standing O? "Come on Jac, this was huge for me. I know it bothered you when we were together." a whine had slipped out of his mouth that struck a nerve. "We're not together, remember? You wanted to go be a bro more than a boyfriend." I spit back at him, my eyebrow coming up. “You don't have to tell me I was a shit boyfriend. I know I was. I was an even worse ex. Coming in here, being a total ass to you. I'm gonna change Jac." I'm gonna change. Yeah, how many times have I heard that line of bullshit from men. Hell, how many times have I heard him say exactly that. Then he turns right around and goes partying with his friends, coming home reeking of bitter beer and pungent weed. This isn't going to be any different. If he's broke he can't afford to buy beer and weed, though.. "You're gonna change?" I snort. "Okay, sure, let's pretend for a second that I do believe that load of crap. How do you plan on proving it?" He looked a bit rattled by my response, "Wait, you're gonna let me prove it to you?" "I asked you how not to show me how." I clarified. "By not being a piece of shit?" He offered with a sheepish look. So you have no clue. "Do you even know how to be a decent human being?" I was past the point of caring whether or not I was being rude. "By doing the opposite of what I did when we were together?" He chuckled weakly, "Look, all I'm asking for is one chance. One final chance to make it up to you. If it doesn't work, I'll leave you alone." One chance. One chance and you'll leave me alone. It's almost worth it to be rid of him... After I took a minute to think over everything I gave my answer. "Fine. You get your one chance. You better bring your A game because I'm not playing around here." His face broke into a smile and I was reminded of the younger Dylan I had met. It was easy to forget that he hadn't always been a colossal tool. Sure he had always been rich and slightly entitled. Everything he owned was top of the line. Swanky house, fancy car, always dressed to the nines. The Dylan I fell in love with was a sweet, naive one that was getting a taste of the real world for the first time. That's what made his transformation into a frat guy even more upsetting. When I looked across the table at him, that's who I saw. The bright eyed curious boy with a fierce passion for movies and a love to travel. He had reached for my hand but I moved it, grabbing my half empty glass of booze instead. He didn't even try to play it off and act like he was reaching for something else. It remained there as I finished off my drink. When I stood up he looked up at me from under his lashes. I could see his jaw working as he chewed on the inside of cheek, a nervous habit of his. Once, during a particularly stressful finals week he almost chewed a hole through his lip. "Can I show you how much I appreciate this?" I look down at him and let out a sigh, "Look, I'm not really in the mood to be...giving any favors. I've got an early start tomorrow." Truth was it wasn't him that I wanted to taste. I wanted my mouth wrapped around someone else's thick­, hard cock, surrounded by that fiery-- Whoa, okay, you need to put a stop to those thoughts right now. You agreed it was going to be strictly professional now that you're working together. These thoughts are the exact opposite of what you need to be thinking. Get it together girl, damn. I was so wrapped up in my intense and highly inappropriate daydreams that I hadn't heard him stand up nor did I notice he was right in front of me until his hand brushed my hair off my shoulder. "I asked if I could show you my appreciation. I didn't say you had to return the favor." BLAH BLAH BLAH IMMA ROCK YOUR WORLD BABY YOU'RE GON SEE I'M A CHANGED MAN. LOOK HOW NICE I'M BEING YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE TO SUCK ME BACK. THAT'S HOW GENEROUS I AM. MAKE ME A CROWN, GIVE ME A SCEPTER COS I'M THE KING OF NICE GUYS. Jac, are you seriously falling for this? His mouth worked against mine as walked backwards to my car. His hands traveling down my waist, pulling me tight against him. I reached back feeling around for the door handle. Once my fingers found the latch I yanked it open and crawled in. He wasted absolutely no time, already pulling down my pants and thong and throwing them on the floorboards. His fingers worked their way inside me, clumsily feeling around like he was just taking a stab in the dark. Pun intended. His tongue was swirling around my mouth taking up way more space than it had any right to. It almost felt like I was in a tongue war with an octopus's tentacle. Cold, wet and unappealing as he continued to fumble his way around down there. Jesus was he always this bad? Or have I been elevated to a better level? His mouth tore away from mine, leaving a fair bit of spit trailing with it. Seriously he couldn't have been this bad before. Do the fake barbie bimbos he goes after enjoy this? He shifted down, crouching down so he was face level with my, very dry, core. He didn't seem to notice as he dove in. I wrinkled my nose as his tongue worked around. What in the actual fuck is he doing? It feels like a fish flopping around down there. IS HE TRYING TO BITE ME? DOES HE THINK HE'S BEING PLAYFUL? As he did, whatever it was he was doing because it was not pleasuring me that's for damn sure, I found myself wishing I had turned him down. No, I wished I was with Ed again. His skilled fingers targeting that exact spot that just made me quiver. The way he hummed against my clit as his mouth and fingers worked in tandem. I could feel myself getting aroused by the thought of it. Dylan must have thought it was his doing because I heard him whisper: "You miss this baby girl? The way my mouth feels on you?" No, not in the slightest. I actually want you to get off me now. This isn't doing it for me. Sorry, not sorry. I finally had enough and sat up. "Look, no offense Dylan, but I really do have an early start tomorrow and it's just not going to happen tonight." His head pops up, a confused look on his face. "Oh...I thought you were enjoying this...but you're right. This just isn't the right place...it's hard to make a parking lot of a bar hot when you're sober." His hand wiping off the excess spit that was coating his chin. My mind flashed back to Ed pressing me into the side of my car. His cock pressing into me through his jeans. My hips grinding against it as I straddled him in this very seat. His mouth on my neck, hands traveling over my body. No, the problem isn't the place. It's you.

You're the problem.

I quickly re-dressed, pulling my thong and jeans back on.

“I think you should go, Dylan.”

“Well… when can I see you again?”

“I don't know, I'll call you, ok?”

He left a timid peck on my cheek before pushing the car door open and hopping out. I sat in my own backseat for a while, my thoughts racing.

The fuck was that, Jac? He's a Grade A toolbag, you know that. And really? Comparing him to… Stop. Just stop.

I took a deep breath and crawled up into the driver's seat. The ride home went by in a blink, my head clearly overwhelmed and, thankfully, on auto-pilot.

I climbed the stairs up to my little apartment and sighed with relief when I reached the landing. Something caught my eye, a little glass vase of flowers were set on the doormat in front of my apartment. What the…

It was a bouquet of technicolor daisies, all pinks and purples and blues and reds. The kind they dye bright colors at the supermarket. Wedged inside the bouquet was a small handwritten card:

Look forward to working with you x

So they were from Ed. Okay.

Was it a professional gesture, or a romantic one? Shouldn't someone of Ed Sheeran’s caliber have an assistant who could send flowers for him? I had the sneaking suspicion that he had bought these, scribbled out the card, and left them here on my doorstep all himself.

I slipped the key into the lock and spilled into my apartment, utterly exhausted from the last thirty hours. I set the flowers on the kitchen counter, trying not to read into them too much.

In a desperate need to feel clean, I ran a hot shower and stood under the spray for a prolonged period of time. Fuck the draught. I just wanted to wash away all the bad decisions I had made, my skin crawling at the memory of Dylan's hands on me in the car. The way my heart had jumped up into my throat when Mark introduced me to Ed this morning. Was that just this morning? God, this has been a long day.

The hot water didn't soothe or cleanse my soul as I'd hoped it would.

What if Mark found out? About Ed? I'd be off the project, maybe even let go. Damnit, Jac, you've worked too damn hard to lose this.

The water was starting to turn cold, so I turned the faucet off and got out, towel drying my body and hair. I grabbed a ratty old band tee and pulled on a pair of boyshort panties before climbing into my bed.

It smelled of him, all subtle cinnamon and clean smell. And suddenly the night before was flashing before my eyes again, as if my brain were saying HEY !! REMEMBER !! THIS !! LET'S !! THINK !! ABOUT !! IT !! SOME !! MORE !!

It was going to be another sleepless night.

THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING!!!!!!!

[4birds-of-a-feather]

Chapter 26 - Man, it doesn’t show signs of stoppin’ [part 3]

Birds Of a Feather

(In the previous chapters: Layla’s stuck at SeaTac and gives a call to WC Boyfriend who, once more, confirms to be the shittiest boyfriend ever; in the meantime, Sara has reunited with her long-lost cat and an acquaintance of her family, but it wasn’t all peaches and dandelions. WARNING: the other super-short update – we know that we had promised you to update sooner, but we were busy with our job, studies and festivities – just in time to wish you a fantastic 2018!)

Sara walked upstairs back to the loft, frantically rummaging in her shoulder bag to find the apartment keys. When she arrived on the landing, she jumped. “Fuck, mr. California! You scared the shit out of me!” the girl angrily shouted, almost dropping her headphones “The fuck are you doin’ out here???” The singer was in fact sitting on the floor, next to the front door – notebook and pen in his lap. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he quickly grabbed the objects and hid them behind his back “It’s just that I went for a walk but forgot my keys on the table, and Jeff’s gone to a party, so…” “No problem: Layla left me hers” she made the keys clink under Eddie’s nose, so the singer smiled and stood up while she made the lock spring open. When they went inside, Sara stopped in the hallway to hang her coat, scarf and bonnet, while Eddie was looking at her, scratching his nape. “Weren’t… weren’t you supposed to spend this day with your family?” he finally asked, almost startling her. The girl gulped, rubbed her blubber eyes and put on a rather convincing cheerful voice, trying not to let him notice her real attitude. “Oh, yes, it’s just-I went to my parents’ house and I noticed that my mom’s relatives from Portland were there too… They’re annoying and know-it-all and kind of churchy too… <Why in hell did I mention Portland? Fuckin’ A, Fancini! Congrats!> … So I just drew the attention of my dad, without making the others notice me, and I explained him that I couldn’t tolerate ‘em, so he agreed and made up some persuasive excuse too… I guess my mum will understand, even if they’re her siblings and shit like that” she ended her monologue and finished to hang all her things, while Eddie was still looking at her. “So… this means you survived” he gave her a warm smile and she did the same. “Yeah, I guess so… Man, I fuckin’ hate these festivities! Hypocrisy flows in torrents” “Don’t tell me… The fuckin’ triumph of bleeding hearts, ugh” the singer soon joined her in that anti-Christmas rant and the two of them quickly ended bursting into laughter. “Glad to see another cynical and black soul around here – the world is too full of retarded Santa’s little helpers” “Man, I hate those lil’ fuckers!” Eddie laughed again, then his eye fell upon a packet full of ribbons that was under the Christmas tree – Sara’s gaze followed his own one. “Oh, you noticed Layla’s work of art…” “… How the fuck does she know that yesterday was my birthday?!” he finally exclaimed, making the girl look at him in disbelief. “Wait a minute: yesterday was your birthday?!” “… SHIT” “Why the fuck didn’t you tell us, Eddie??? You really are grown up in the woods, for fuck’s sake!” Sara scolded him, her eyes plopping out of her head. “I don’t know… I just didn’t want to bother, that’s all” he shrugged, not knowing what else to say. “… you really are weird” the girl sighed, shaking her head “Anyway, that’s your Christmas present… Layla always remembers this kind of things so, in your shoes, I wouldn’t be bothered…” “Didn’t she buy you anything?” Ed asked her, noticing that his pack was the only one under the Christmas tree. “Who do you think you’re talkin’ to??? Of course she bought me something, I’m her fuckin’ best friend!” she gave him a little slap in the nape “But I’ve already hidden it… ya know, with that animal of Ament that freely scampers in this loft, you’ll never know what he could do to my wealth” The guy laughed again “I think I’ll take the risk – I’ll leave mine here” “As you wish, mr. California – I won’t be the one who’s gonna stop you… don’t say I didn’t warn ya” He nodded and started to go in his room’s direction, then stopped and looked at her. “I guess I’m goin’ in my room to listen to some records… Wanna join me?” Sara winced a little, but quickly regained her usual aplomb. “Yeah, why not?” she shrugged “Just gimme a minute and I’ll come” “Ok, great – I’ll leave the door open, no need to knock” The girl nodded and made her way to the bathroom, while he stood in the hallway a few other seconds; when he saw the ringlets at the end of her ponytail disappear, he finally went in his bedroom.  

<Nothing happened – you’re perfectly capable to have a natural conversation without embarrassing yourself… you’re gonna fuckin’ own this, you’ll see> Sara splashed her face, then looked at her tired reflection in the mirror: she could still spot some glitter but decided that her cheeks had already been rubbed enough – oh, and her face was the embodiment of misery. <I’m gonna be fuckin’ owned, ugh – this motivational bullshit is pathetic> She took a deep breath and made her way to Ed’s room, stopping just outside: Quadrophenia had just started playing when she peeped out from the doorjamb. “Am I still welcome?” Eddie raised his eyes from the books he was browsing and gave her a smile. “Always – come in!” he went to close the door and gestured for her to find a place to sit; she decided to take a seat on the floor, near the bookshelf where he was standing before. Soon after the guy approached her, waving something with a playful grin: “What did I tell you? Here, see for yourself” He handed her the infamous Polaroid he had taken with Joe Strummer and the girl sneered. “Since a month has almost passed, I thought you had made the whole story up…” she provoked him, without tearing her gaze from Strummer’s autograph at the bottom of the picture. “Yeah, in fact this photo is false as the fact that in 1977 I saw Springsteen and the E Street Band…” he casually added, going to sit next to her. “… you did what???” “… and I also saw The Who in 1979, when I was almost fifteen years old” “YOU LUCKY BASTARD!” Sara kicked him, making him laugh. “Why, are you telling me you never went to a concert?” Eddie mocked her with an evil smile. “Yeah, in fact Fleetwood Mac in 1980, Cat Stevens in 1976 or Led Zeppelin in 1977 were just hallucinations” “HOLY SHIT!” the guy exclaimed, surprised “Wait a minute, Cat Stevens in 1976? How old were-” “Eight years old, and he played divinely” she smiled again “Anyway, I won’t be jealous about you seeing The Who – Moon The Loon was already underground, I can tolerate it” “Shit, you were just a child! And Zeppelin at nine years old – I’m not surprised you turned out like this” Eddie spoke again, then laughed for her second statement. Soon after The Real Me began to play and Sara’s smile turned into a big grin. “The Ox is fuckin’ awesome here – I mean, I can totally say that he’s my favorite bass player without any doubt” “You love Quadrophenia too?” Eddie’s eyes lit up at the thought of a fellow fan of The Who. “Well, that’s not my favorite album made by them, but my second favorite song that they composed is here, so I guess I have to give it some credit” “Just spit out the title” “Love, Reign O’er Me, obviously” “I knew it – sooo, this means that your favorite album’s Tommy…” “Nope – Who’s Next” she gave him a mischievous grin “My favorite song is there, guess it!” The guy mentally listed the tracklist, then answered: “The Song Is Over, right?” “… you’re starting to impress me, ya know?” Sara mocked him, and he laughed. “Sooooo” after a while Ed cleared his throat “what are our plans for Christmas’ Eve?” “Well, since our beloved chef’s not here… I guess we’re fucked, mr. Surfin’ U.S.A.” “Nope, listen: food problem will be solved with pizza delivery… but what about after dinner?” “Why are you lookin’ at me as if I were the life and soul of all parties?!” “Hmm, maybe we could go out and drink somethin’…” he ignored her and went on with his suggestions. “… so then we would be surrounded by stupid people with their fuckin’ stupid Santa Claus hats or Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer antlers?! No, thank you!” “Or we could reach Jeff at the party he went to…” “You really want a Seattle remake of Silent Night, Deadly Night, don’t ya?” The guy laughed again, then raised his hands in order to declare himself innocent: “Oook, I get it! How about stayin’ at home and watchin’ some old movie provided by yours truly?” “Are you really makin’ me responsible for our pre-Christmas entertainment?” “C’mon, don’t be too modest! I liked Neighbors and I’m sure-” “Of course you liked it, I kept tellin’ you that you’re Belushi’s alter-ego!” Sara interrupted him, while he stuck his tongue out. “… I was telling ya that I liked Neighbors and I’m sure you’ll do a great job this evening too, that’s all” “… Whatevs” “Great! An Italian one, please” “What? Don’t tell me you’ve ever watched one of them!” “Yep, Miracle in Milan” “NO FUCKIN’ WAY!” the girl exclaimed, sincerely enthusiastic “D’ya know that its last scene inspired the E.T.’s one with the bicycles lifting into the air?” “Shit, that’s why I had a déjà vu when I first watched it!” “Sorry, I’ll stop immediately with my movie geek act – I know it’s weird, I just can’t help it” “No problem, I learnt something new” The girl gave him a grateful smile, then resumed her considerations:  “Hmm, so you watched somethin’ from Neorealism… What about Commedia all’Italiana? Err, I mean, Italian-style comedy?” she quickly corrected herself, while Ed smiled because of those few Italian words. “Yeah, why not? I mean, Neorealism is great, but I’d like somethin’ lighter” “Well, ‘lighter’ is not the word I’d use to describe I Mostri, but it’s an awesome example of how great satire could be” “I’m in your hands, I’m sure you won’t disappoint me” Eddie cracked another smile “Dubbed?” “In your fuckin’ dreams, Vedder! I’ve got the subtitled version, this is no place for heretics!” “Yeah, I thought so… I also bet that on March you showed off the Italian flag when Cinema Paradiso won the Academy Award, am I right?” “… you almost got it” was her embarrassed answer, while the guy laughed and stood up to put his notebook in a drawer. “That’s your holy Bible full of personal lyrics, huh?” she asked him, and he immediately turned to face her, as if he had just received a punch in the face “Because that’s what your songs are… Autobiographic, like a diary” Eddie didn’t say anything and lowered his head, and soon Sara was forced to interrupt that awkward silence. “I’m-I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to sound like a bitch but, well!, apparently that was the final result…” she wrung her hands “Man, I really suck with social interactions” “It’s ok, don’t worry” the guy finally opened his mouth again and went to sit on the floor, next to her. “Did all that stuff happen to you?” she asked, after a while. “Except for the incest, yeah… I have lacked for nothing” “… shit” she took a deep breath, trying to clear her thoughts “I’m-I’m so sorry, Ed” “Yeah, I know you really mean it” he said in a low voice, then brought his knees to the chest. “Would my humble singing your praises make you feel a little better?” “Why, did you really like the songs or are you just givin’ me a lump of sugar?” he abruptly raised his head and shot her a nasty glance. “Fuck, do I really look like a person who gives compliments away?!” she retorted, starting to get worked up. “Are we really assembling a conversation by using only questions?” he went on, finally being able to chuckle, while the girl soon followed him – she mentally thanked him for making both of them a bit more relaxed than before. “Anyway – yes, I really liked ‘em, I think you’re a worthy lyricist… At least, the few times I can understand what the fuck you’re singing” At those words the guy laughed heartily and gave her a playful push, to which she answered with another one, a bit stronger. “But yeah, jokes aside: we can totally say that I’m in presence of talent” she winked at him and he thanked her, a bit embarrassed but pleased all the same. When Eddie resumed to talk, I’m One was playing in the background. “Oh, I was almost forgetting to tell ya that I really like your voice” Sara immediately froze, then slowly turned in his direction. “I beg your pardon, what did you just say?” “I said that I like your voice… I heard you, you sing pretty well” “WHEN DID YOU HEAR ME?!” “Well, a few days ago, when we hung out at that bar and-” “Holy Marvin Gaye, I knew that the whole karaoke thing was a shitty idea!” she facepalmed. “… but I heard ya yesterday too, while you were taking a shower” “Fuckin’ A, Vedder! Since when are you overhearing me?!” the girl asked him, her eyes almost plopped out of her head. “Err, since when you’ve started to sing Elton John out loud…?” “That’s because I thought I was alone! I thought that nobody was at home, except me! And instead you were there, lurkin’ like a vulture!” At that last comparison the singer laughed out loud, making Sara even more irritated. “C’mon, don’t be offended! I just wonder why you’re freakin’ out like that!” he tried to ease the situation, given how she didn’t seem to relax. “Because I don’t want anyone to know it, genius! I don’t like it, it’s just a personal thing” “… a personal thing?” “Yeah, a promise I made to someone – someone really important, but that was just a thing between the two of us” “Hmmm, understood” he thought over something, then resumed to talk “My father… he sang too. I mean, that’s what other people told me – I met him a few times, as a family friend, but I didn’t talk to him that much… And then one day my mum took me aside and told me that who I thought was my father was actually my step-father, and that my real dad was ‘that man that once in a while came to visit us, you remember?’ but he had already died, and I-I didn’t know what the fuck I was supposed to do, or say, or think, or feel, and-” Eddie stopped talking and took a deep breath, probably in the attempt to not cry, but Sara had already noticed his eyes becoming bright with tears. “It’s ok, Eddie, you don’t have to talk about it” she carefully put a hand on his shoulder and softly squeezed it, while he let out a deep sigh. <Am I the first one to hear his story? Well, who cares! I mean, he trusted me and told me all these things –  maybe I should tell him about-> The girl’s thoughts were interrupted by the noise of a guitar’s sound box – Ed had grabbed the instrument and now was strumming it absent-mindedly, trying to tune it. “You play guitar?” “Yeah, a little bit… Well, playing is a huge word: let’s just say that I strum away on it” “Hmmm, I see” “You’re gonna make me listen to somethin’, right?” “What?!” she almost choked “Absolutely not – this is a categorical no!” “I’m sorry but I won’t accept refusals of any type” “… are you blackmailing me?” “Hmmm, maybe… you think I am?” “I think so, Alvin without the Chipmunks!” The guy laughed: “C’mon, just a song! It’s just the two of us – nobody will ever come to know this, I promise” Sara rolled her eyes, so Eddie went on: “Silence gives consent… fine, let’s do this!” He casually plucked some strings, then finally had a flash of inspiration and began to play. “I’m sure you know this one, I saw this album in your collection” “Great! Have you searched my bedroom too?!” she hysterically asked him, but he ignored her. “C’mon, be ready! Your turn is finally coming!” the guy played the last introductory chords and Sara finally began to sing, her eyes still rolling. “Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly… All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise…” Eddie smiled to himself and the two kept on performing the song; at a certain point he slowed down the fingerpicking and started to whistle, imitating the birds chirping, while the girl looked at him in a perplexed way – but then burst into laughter. “The hell are you doin’???” “C’mon, try it – be a blackbird too!” he suggested her, still laughing, and when she emulated him he smiled satisfied “See? That was easy” “… idiot” the girl laughed again, and resumed to sing the final lines: “You were only waiting for this moment to arise, you were only waiting for this moment to arise, you were only waiting for this moment to arise…” Eddie finished to play, then smiled at her. “Well, you did learn to fly… Congratulations on your voice” “You’re just a flatterer, but thanks” she blushed, then cleared her throat “Instead, congratulations on your guitar style! You don’t limit yourself in strummin’ away on it… you play it, Ed” “Nope, I’m not that good” “Have you ever considered the possibility of playin’ in the band? Like, for real” “In the band? A band with three guitars?” “Yeah, why not? Kind of a Lynyrd Skynyrd thing, ya know” “Well, I’m just the new guy – I don’t know if Mike and Stone would agree…” he shrugged “Plus, as I said before, I can’t seriously play it” “Hmmm, as you wish… But, in your shoes, I’d give it a try” “Who knows, maybe in the future? Like ten years from now, just gimme enough time to practice…” “Why, are you really believin’ that you guys are goin’ to last that long?!” she provoked him, and the guy laughed. “No, you’re right – but, in the meantime, I’d be really glad to make at least a duet with you at the karaoke” “No fuckin’ way, I’ll never set foot again on that goddamn place, sure as hell!” “Ok, as you wish… but, sooner or later, you will sing somethin’ with me” he pondered “Like a collaboration… I should seriously write somethin’ for two voices” “Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Vedder! This is a secret, I told ya once and I won’t tell you again: keep your mouth shut or there’ll be big troubles!” Eddie pretended to go along with her wishes and gave her a mischievous smile – then his gaze fell on something that was peeking from the pocket of her sweatshirt. “What’s that?” “Oh” the girl suddenly remembered its existence and pulled it out “Just a mixtape I was listening to before” “Can I?” he extended a hand and she gave it to him “Footprints like puddles – strange choice for a title… I like it” “It’s-err… It’s just a silly title, I wrote down random words” “It seems well put together to me…” Ed fumbled with its case and finally pulled out the tracklist. “It’s just a couple of songs for the days when I get the mean reds, nothing serious” “The… the mean reds?” he hadn’t even started to read through the track titles but stopped immediately “What’s that?” “Well… ever watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s?” the guy nodded and she went on “When Audrey Hepburn gets ‘em, she jumps in a cab and goes to Tiffany’s – and it calms her down, just like that” “Ok, now I get it – this right here is your personal Tiffany’s, right?” “It is” “Then it’s better if I don’t intrude” he quickly opened again the case and started to put away the tracklist, but her hand stopped him. “… Go on, I think you could appreciate it” He looked at her, a bit puzzled: “You sure?” “Yep – go on” The guy smiled and finally began to read it. “Let’s see… we’ve got Leonard Cohen – woah, Ella Fitzgerald! – Brian Eno and Tom Waits… you put The Boss too, awesome” “Yeah, Racing In The Street reminds me of the way I feel when I choose not to open my umbrella on rainy days” “I think he’d be honored to know it… well, you should totally lend this to me, there are a couple of songs in here that I don’t know and I’d like to hear ‘em” he stopped, scratching his nape a bit embarrassed “… of course, only if you feel ok with that” “Yeah – err, yeah, that’s fine… I don’t mind” “Great, thanks” “You’ll tell me what you think about it, ‘kay? And I also wanna know if you appreciated the ones you hadn’t heard before my magic tape came to your rescue” “… you just got yourself a deal” “That’s what I like to hear” Sara looked around, her gaze stopping on the surfboard in a corner, the big waves painted on some walls, the books and vinyls piled on the desk and shelves – a few were also scattered on the floor; she found out that the room really reflected Eddie’s soul – at least, for the little bits she knew about him. The girl also found herself really missing her old chamber, the one that was waiting for her in that godawful mess of her loft, with most of all her belongings stocked there and the furniture apparently put in a random way – when in reality it had been carefully arranged by her. Out of the corner of his eye Eddie clearly saw her sigh, so he quickly tried to introduce a new topic in order to offer her a little distraction. “Say… can you play some instrument?” Sara startled, a confused expression upon her face. “Who? Me?” the guy nodded and she went on “Nope – when I was a child I used to play the harmonica from time to time, but it was nothin’ serious” “Oh, I see – and you got a favorite instrument? One that you really enjoy listenin’ to, and maybe you’d also like to learn how to play?” “HA! Lemme surprise you: banjo, mandolin, kazoo – ya know, all those weird things” she listed, all proud  “Oh, and I love bass too… but don’t tell Ament, pretty please!” “Ahahaha, ok! Pinky swear” he laughed, then they entwined their little fingers and the deal was made “But yeah, really unusual choices… I was expecting something entirely different” “Like what?” “Like… I dunno – violin? Piano? Maybe the harp too… You strike me as someone who would enjoy these instruments a lot” “… I strike you as someone this ordinary? Wow, Ed – you really have a way with words” “Shit, I-I didn’t mean that, I just-” “Relax, I was just teasing you!” Sara let out a carefree laugh “I know that on the outside I may give this impression… and let’s not talk about this squeaky, little voice of mine – it’s obvious that you’d link it to a violin instead of a kazoo” The guy laughed and gave her a playful push, then resumed his observations: “See? That’s why a collaboration of the two of us would be so interesting – and stop it, your voice isn’t squeaky” “You’re the one who has to stop it, Ed! Erase this crazy idea of yours right now or-” “Or what? You’re gonna kick my ass? Punch my cute face with those small, childish hands? I don’t think so, Fancini” “VEDDER, YOU’RE SO GOING DOWN” she roared and threw a cushion at him that perfectly landed on his face. “Ouch! How can such a little person be this evil???” he grabbed another pillow and did the same with her. “You’re one to talk! Beware the mighty Big Foot!” “See?! Well, I’m going to expose you in my next song, which is gonna be this caustic piece about how one should never trust Italian girls with big, brown eyes because in reality they’re Satan’s daughters – and, the good news? I’m so gonna force you to sing some lines, the ones with the nastiest insults” he laughed again, avoiding a cushion “I can’t wait to hear your angelic voice singin’ something along the lines of ‘you’re a sewer rat decaying in a cesspool of pride’…” “Angelic my ass! Stop talking about me singin’, nobody has to fuckin’ know it!” Sara gave him a strong push that made him fell legs in the air, her irascibility growing as she heard him guffaw without restraint. “Ok, ok, nobody will ever know this thing! I swear!” he shouted breathlessly among his laughter. “… nobody will ever know what?” were the words that came out from Layla’s mouth, as she suddenly peeped out from the door.

[marvelhead17]

Miracle (Original Female Character x Cable)

Chapter 36

Summary: “How did you fix it?” he asked. “Ask Ellen the Teenage Warhead,” Wade shrugged as he stood up, “As for baby Hitler he ended up having a diaper change, funny story I was actually going to call Cable since he was so keen on killing Russel, I thought this would be like taking candy from a baby, if that means replacing it with a bullet that is,” Warnings to cover the whole fic: Graphic depictions of violence, use of weapons, mild to strong language, mentions of rape, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage, referenced torture and psychological abuse/manipulation, nightmares and night terrors, sexual humour, sexual content. Word count:  1.7k

Two Months Later

“Are we almost done here?” she sighed from her leaning position against the wall.

“Cool it Jonesy, I’m almost done,” Deadpool called from somewhere in the back.

The X-Force had just rounded up a drug dealer and his thugs; he’d been dealing to minors for years and with Team Maximum Effort Deadpool found their hideout and managed to raid the place without causing death or serious injury, just yet. Cable and Hayden stood guard by three of the thugs who were all tied to chairs while Wade dug through all the paperwork in the leader’s office, Domino stood guard by the leader who was knocked unconscious by Lady Luck.

  (“Seriously a cat fell from one of the rafters and onto him while Domino was on the chase, you just can’t write this shit,” a direct quote from Deadpool when the others had all gathered together earlier.)

  “I told you not to call me that, asshole,” she yelled irritably before gently thudding the back of her head against the wall.

“So what are you, like a groupie or something?” one of them asked.

“Do I look like a groupie to you?” she gave the man scowl.

“Don’t let him get to you, he’s just trying to annoy you,” Cable remarked before returning his gaze off into the distance, clearly bored of waiting.

“Well I certainly don’t take you to be the muscle of the group,” the man continued, and then he smirked, “I bet you’re one of the guy’s bitches,”

Her head snapped in his direction, “Excuse me?” she asked through gritted teeth.

  “Listen pal, you’re barking up the wrong tree-” Cable spoke up but the man spoke over him.

“You heard me, so which one is it? The motherfucker mercenary, or the one who looks like he could be old enough to fuck your mother?” he nodded his head towards Cable.

She moved from the wall and pointed a finger at him, “You better keep that fucking mouth of yours shut before I break your fucking jaw you worthless piece of-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the man interrupted, “That’s all you bitches do is yammer on and on, you’re so fucking annoying-”

Hades stepped closer and grabbed the man’s cheeks in a tight grip with one hand; her eyes glowed a bright violet, Cable stood back knowing she wouldn’t be able to control herself from lashing out at him too at this point.

“You listen to me very carefully,” the man’s eyes widened as she tightened her grip ever so slightly, “I’m not afraid to crush your pathetic skull if you provoke me any further or say another comment about him in my presence,” she paused to let the words sink in and to squeeze a bit tighter, the man felt his bones micro fracturing in his cheeks and he gulped as his breathing quickened, “You’re a scumbag and I’m not worried about killing scum, I’m nobody’s bitch,”

She squeezed harder and the bones in his cheeks fractured, causing the man to scream in agony, the corner of her mouth turned up in satisfaction. She released her grip and stood back, her eyes returned to normal as she relaxed herself.

  “You’re fucking insane,” the man whimpered in a slight slur as Deadpool walked into the room with Domino.

“Okay so the bastard is de- what happened here?” he raised a brow from under his mask, “I could literally cut the tension in here with my katana,”

Hayden crossed her arms and looked to Deadpool but said nothing, Cable glanced at her and then to the others.

“Some words were said, Hades wasn’t too happy with them,” he put simply and she scoffed at that. “What, you want me to tell them the details?” he asked her while raising his hands.

“Let’s just get outta here,” she sighed and stormed out the room, Cable raised his shoulders.

“What the hell did I do?” he called after her and the others shrugged.

“You did nothing, that’s exactly the problem,” the man spoke up again.

“Shut up shithead,” Cable growled at him, “Are we done here?” he nodded his chin to Deadpool.

“Yeah, just gotta finish off the witnesses,” he cocked his gun in the air and the smile was clear despite the mask, the man’s eyes widened.

“I’ll catch up later,” Cable said before he followed after Hayden.

“Yeah I might just go too, I’m not so keen on the killing part, sorry sweetie,” Neena said as she edged herself further out the room.

“Fine,” he sighed, “More for me,” he smiled and clicked the gun.

                                                            * * *

                    “Hey Weasel, gimme a shot of one of your strongest, I feel like I deserve a lil’ reward for today’s catch,” Wade slapped the bar counter and sat down eagerly, Weasel nodded and looked at Hayden who sat herself down next to him and was tapping the counter irritably.

“Fanta and God help you if you give me that orange bullshit,”

“I know, last time you threatened to castrate me for not giving you Grape,” he shuffled uncomfortably and then turned to get the drinks ready.

“Oh come on Haydes, don’t be a pussy, have a drink for once!” Wade whined, she gave him a glare before she noticed Nathan and Neena standing near the doorway and seemed to be having a serious conversation, and then she looked back at him.

“You know what? Why the hell not,” she said as Weasel slid Wade’s shot across the counter to him.

“Seriously, you’re going to have a shot?” Weasel raised a brow.

“No don’t be stupid,” he raised his hands and was about to put the bottle away before she continued, “Leave the bottle.” He paused and then slowly put the bottle in front of her.

“Oho- what do we have here; maybe you’re not a lightweight after all,”

“I’ve already told you before dumbass, I’ve had a whole bottle of this before and it does nothing for me,”

  “One-hundred bucks says you’re bluffing and I call bullshit,” Wade scrounged around for his wallet and placed the note on the counter.

“We have a hundred, care to raise it?” Weasel placed his hand on the note and raised a brow at Hayden.

“I’ll raise you another hundred, because I know for a fact that you’re going to lose,” she slammed the note down oozing in confidence.

“We have a challenger!” Weasel yelled, making Nathan and Neena turn their heads in their direction.

“This’ll be the easiest win I’ve had against you in some time, you’ll be shit-faced from that one shot,” she smirked.

“We’ll see about that!” Wade half-yelled, “Countdown from three and we drink, and Weasel you’ll have the honour of counting down to this moment of truth,”

“Thank you Wade, I’m truly, deeply honoured,” Weasel touched his chest and his eyes brimmed with tears. “Alright,” he clapped his hands after the moment was over, “Let’s do this! Three… two…” Hayden and Wade each grabbed their respective glasses in their hands, “One!”

   They both threw their heads back as they let their drinks burn down their throats, Wade’s was a rather short trip but nonetheless he shook his head and coughed heavily before gagging slightly, he froze in shock as Hayden chugged the bottle down effortlessly.

“Holy- fu-uck- balls,” Wade managed through a coughing bout, “What- the sh-it Hay-den,”

She placed the bottle down with a loud clink and looked at Weasel with a deadpan expression, “Got another?”

“Uh, are you sure you want to-”

“Did I fucking stutter?” she hissed.

“Oh-okay,” he nervously handed her another bottle, she popped the cork with the only real satisfaction that she had for the day.

“What the hell is going on here?” Nathan asked from behind them, having just witnessed her finishing the entire bottle, and knowing full well that she isn’t one to drink unnecessarily.

“Well, I just won two hundred bucks,” she gave a crooked smile as she waved the money before shoving it into her pocket, “And I’m about to have another drink, you want some?” she raised the bottle to him and he pushed it away cautiously.

  “Since when do you drink?” he asked with concern edging around his words.

“Today,” she took a light sip, “But who knows how long I might go on for,” she shrugged before she turned away and downed the bottle once again without faltering. “Hit me,” she thumped the bottle on the counter and slid it to Weasel.

“Uh…” Weasel looked anxiously between her and Nathan, who glared behind her directly at him, “I don’t think I-”

“Just ignore whatever look he’s giving you- this is none of his damn business,”

“Of course it’s my damn business,” he grunted, “What the hell is going on with you Haydes? This isn’t you-”

“Oh please enlighten me Nathan! Who am I?” she turned in her seat after grabbing the third bottle of the night, Weasel immediately hiding himself away just imagining what Nathan might do to him nearly making him piss himself in fear.

She stood just a few inches from his face, staring up at him with anger clear in her face, he placed his hands on her shoulders lightly and calmly spoke to her.

“Please, Haydes you’re drunk, let’s just-”

“I’m not drunk!” she swatted his hands from her shoulders and then took to polishing off the bottle in her hand, “You have yet to see me drunk,” she poked his chest and then hiccupped.

  “Hayden would you just listen to me-” he reached out for her hand.

“No, fuck you! Don’t touch me,”

Wade spoke up, “Haydes he’s just trying to-”

“No, I don’t wanna hear it!” she covered her ears in a childish manner.

“Oh she’s definitely drunk now,” Wade said.

“I’ll have you know,” her words slowed now, she turned on her heel to face him and wobbled, “That drunk I am most certainly, not,” she corrected with a raised finger.

“I think we should get you home,” Nathan spoke gently as he reached out for her.

“I’m not drunk! See,” she spun around in a circle, “I’m totally fine!” she added cheerfully despite wobbling as if she was dizzy, a soft violet glow emitted from her abdomen.

“Um, Haydes why are you glowing like that?” Wade asked nervously.

“On second thought,” she took an uneasy step and her gaze dropped to the floor, “I might just take a nap,”

There was a sudden blinding flash of violet that made everyone cover their eyes before she collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

________________________________________________________________ >> Chapter 37 <<